The Beachcomber

by Josephine Cox

  Her voice was small and reluctant. “Tea,” she answered. “I don’t want any more to drink.”

  Taking in a deep breath, he blew it out in a rush. He hoped she wouldn’t blame him too much for what had happened. “Okay. Tea it is, then.”

  “afterward … I want you to take me home.” She lapsed into a sullen mood.

  He nodded. “Whatever you say.” He wondered if he had destroyed what slim chance they’d had of getting to know each other better. It would be such a pity, he thought sadly.

  When he brought the tea, she cupped the mug in her hands and slowly sipped the hot, soothing liquid. She didn’t speak, and neither did he, though the atmosphere was thick and uncomfortable in that softly lit room.

  While she fidgeted in the armchair, he sat opposite, occasionally glancing up to see if she might be more settled. “I’m sorry,” he blurted out, “about what happened.”

  “So am I.” She didn’t even look up.

  He nodded. “We had a good evening, though … the restaurant, I mean.” He gave a small nervous laugh. “I don’t suppose you’ll want to do it again, though … will you?”

  Putting her cup down on the small table beside her, she gave him a shriveling glance. “Never!” Her voice was flat and hostile, like the look she was giving him now. “I’d like to go home now.”

  Not wanting to leave it like this, he warned, “You’ll only waste your life, hankering after my brother. If he’d been at all interested in you … in that way, don’t you think he would have shown it by now?”

  Her features hardened. “Not your business!”

  “It’s just that … I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  “LIAR!” Leaping out of the chair, she fixed him with an accusing glare. “You’re just out for what you can get! I should have seen all along what you were up to.” When she darted forward he thought for a minute she was about to launch herself at him. “You took me out tonight with the intention of getting me drunk and then into bed. You bastard!” All of a sudden she was lashing out, clenched fists at his head and shoulders, and shouting obscenities that shocked him to the core.

  Grabbing her fists he held her off. “No, I didn’t. Okay, maybe I do find you very attractive. But it might not have happened at all if you hadn’t disturbed me from my sleep!”

  “GET OFF ME!” Kicking and screaming, she only fell silent when he slapped her hard around the face. “Listen to me, Lilian. Do yourself a favor and think about what I said.” Lowering his voice, he entreated, “Don’t make things hard for yourself. Tom isn’t interested in you, not as a lover. If he felt anything for you in that way, he’d have been in touch, wouldn’t he?”

  Relaxing his hold on her, he was caught off guard when she lashed out yet again, this time scoring him on the face with the edge of her nails. Almost instantly the blood burst through the broken skin to trickle down his cheekbone. “How could you know how Tom feels?” She smiled at him, a wicked, triumphant smile.

  Angry at being attacked for no good reason, he blurted out what he had learned from Tom’s letter. “Tom is moving back into the real world … he’s thinking about love at long last. But it isn’t you he’s turning to. It’s a stranger. A woman he’s met in West Bay. So you see, Lilian, that’s how it is, so you might as well save yourself a lot of grief and accept it. Tom is starting a new life and you’re not in it. It’s as simple as that.”

  In the wake of his angry outburst, the silence fell like a blanket, silencing them both before Lilian spoke again, her voice pained and trembling. “YOU’RE A LIAR!” She looked at him through tear-filled eyes, yet when he went to take her in his arms she tore into him, again and again, until he staggered backward, horrified at the look of murder in her eyes.

  Suddenly she was across the room and out the front door.

  By the time he got there, she was already running down the street, her arm raised to a cruising taxi. The taxi stopped and she climbed in.

  A moment later, as she drove by, the look on her face was terrible to see.

  Going back inside, Dougie poured himself a drink, mentally reflecting on the colorful events of the evening. “Christ, Tom!” He gulped down his drink and poured another. “She is one dangerous woman!”

  Pouring himself another drink, he took it to the chair where he sat, drinking and thinking, the twisted humor of the situation beginning to overtake his astonishment. “I should have let her find out for herself.”

  He gulped down another mouthful of drink. “Whoo!” When he recalled how she’d gone for him, he couldn’t help but chuckle, his fingers tracing the weal down his face. “You’d better watch out for that one, Tom,” he laughed. “She’s a wildcat and no mistake.”

  CHAPTER 7

  AFTER NUMEROUS ATTEMPTS to find work within a five-mile radius of West Bay, Kathy had at long last secured an interview to work at the holiday site, right on her doorstep. Wanting to look her best for the interview, she had gone into the nearby town of Bridport, where already the market was in full swing, to find something to wear.

  Cool against the sweltering August heat, Kathy wore her lemon dress with its swingy skirt and wide belt. On her feet she wore the white stringy sandals that she had bought from the bric-a-brac shop in Lyme Regis only the day before. Her brown hair, a little longer now, and lightened by the sun, was hanging loose about her shoulders. In her pretty eyes there was a spark of happiness, and a deep-down feeling of contentment inside her. These days the bright lights and fast pace of London life seemed a world away.

  Wandering among the stalls, searching for something that would make an impact and carry her through the interview, she felt good. She needed to look her best, she thought. She needed to be cool and casual, yet formal enough to show them she was serious and capable.

  In the letter she had received two days ago, Kathy was informed that because the manager was away on holiday, the owner himself – a Mr. Charles Bradford – would be conducting the interview. That prospect only made Kathy all the more nervous.

  “Morning, m’dear.” Spying a likely customer, the little woman peered over her stall. Short and round with a giant of a smile, she had seen Kathy looking through the rail of dresses.

  “If you tell me what you’re after, I might be able to help.” With astonishing speed she scurried around the stall. “Let me see …” She sized up Kathy’s slim figure, making a mental note that if the nicely shaped legs were just a bit slimmer, the figure would be perfect. Nevertheless, she had met Kathy before, and considered her to be lovely both in appearance and nature.

  Tapping her finger against her teeth, the little woman came to the conclusion, “Size ten, am I right?”

  Kathy smiled. “Sometimes ten, sometimes twelve,” she revealed, “depending on how tempting the cakes in the baker’s shop are.”

  The little woman chuckled. “Same with me,” she confessed. “I’ve a shocking sweet tooth … could never resist a lemon meringue, not even if my life depended on it. Not that we get many treats like that these days …”

  While she talked she swung the dresses aside, one after the other. “There’s nothing here that would suit you,” she told a disappointed Kathy, “but if you come round, I’ve a few specials at the back.” Giving Kathy a wink, she led the way to the back of the stall, where she undid a few boxes from underneath. “I haven’t had time to put these out yet,” she explained, “but I’ve an idea there’s something in here that would suit you a treat.”

  Intrigued and full of hope, Kathy watched the little woman take the items out of the boxes. So far, as the woman shook them out and hung them up, there was a pretty pink twinset, three long skirts, two dresses, and a few summer blouses, none of which Kathy fancied.

  She shook her head. “No, sorry. They’re not what I’m after,” she told the woman, as she unfolded one garment after the other.

  “Hang on a minute, m’dear!” the woman replied with a disarming grin, “there’s a couple more yet.” Digging deep into the last oversized box, she pulled
out two more items. “This is the lot,” she explained, shaking out the first. “By! You’ll look pretty as a picture in this.” The item in question turned out to be a green dress with a button-front and wide fancy belt.

  While the woman held the dress first this way then that, pressing it to herself and then against Kathy, it seemed for a minute that Kathy might be tempted. But when she finally decided against it and turned away, thanking the woman for her help, Kathy’s roving eyes caught sight of a snippet of pale blue material peeping out from beneath a selection of blouses hanging from the stall support. “Is that a blouse or a dress?” she asked curiously.

  Puzzled, the little woman followed Kathy’s gaze, her eyes opening wide when she spied the garment. “Oh, I’d forgotten that!” she cried excitedly. “It’s a dress … I think.” Reaching up, she managed – with some grunting and groaning, and a little help from Kathy – to take down the entire collection. “There!”

  Dropping all but the one item onto the stall, she held it aloft. “I remember now!” she declared. “Some woman bought it, then fetched it back the next day … ‘too tight around the waist,’ she said. I’m not surprised,” the woman added with a chuckle, “because if my memory serves me right, she was twice around the gasworks.” Holding out her arms as wide as she could, presumably to encircle the poor creature, she smiled a sad little smile. “Shame, though … she had such a pretty face.”

  Sneaking a glance at Kathy’s small waist, she observed, “I don’t reckon you’d have that sort of a problem …” She peered at the label. “It’s a bit grubby around the collar … but all it needs is a good wash.” She handed the dress to Kathy for inspection. “You can go behind the stall and try it on if you want.”

  Kathy didn’t need persuading. The dress was exactly what she had in mind. Cornflower-blue, with a pretty white collar, it was perfect. The waist was fitted, the skirt was straight, and it was her size. She need look no farther. ‘How much is it?”

  “Er, let me see …” The little woman peered at the label again. “It says two pounds ten shillings here, but, seeing as it needs a bit of a wash, give us two pounds. It’s good material, and it’ll look wonderful on you. This is the kind of frock you’ll wear again and again.” She gabbled on, eager to make a sale, and reducing the price a bit at a time, until the deal was finally done. “All right … give us one pound ten shillings,” she decided. “It’s daylight robbery, but I’ll settle for that.”

  Ten minutes later, armed with her dress, and a new pair of blue, small-heeled sandals, Kathy called into the corner café for a well-earned break. “Tea and toast, please,” she told the friendly waitress. That morning she had rushed out to catch the bus, with no time for breakfast, and now her stomach was turning somersaults.

  “There you are, Miss.” The waitress was in her mid to late fifties, already burdened with age and weariness, yet with the brightest of smiles in her eyes and a way of putting folk at their ease.

  While Kathy patiently waited, she lazily offloaded the tray, explaining each item as it was placed on the table. “One pot of tea … nice and hot, and a slice of toast and dripping.” Sliding the tray away, she gave Kathy her best smile. “How’s that, m’dear?”

  Kathy nodded. “That’s lovely.” She smiled back. “Thank you.”

  Grateful for another satisfied customer, the woman ambled away, as if she had all the time in the world; even though she appeared to be the only waitress, and the café was already beginning to fill up.

  Digging into her breakfast, Kathy felt good about life. She had her house and her health, and now she had the chance of a job. On the face of it, everything seemed to be shaping up to her expectations.

  “All right are you, dear?” All too soon, the waitress was back with the bill.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “And did you enjoy your cuppa?”

  Kathy assured her, “It was just what I needed.”

  She checked the bill and managed to find the exact change in her purse, together with a few coppers for the woman.

  “What you got in your bag then, dear?” Straining to see inside Kathy’s shopping bag, she seemed disappointed when she couldn’t make out its contents. “I never got time to go shopping … not proper, like. I’m allus on the rush.”

  Kathy had got used to these kind, friendly folk. They took an interest, and that was something she had not really been used to, but she was amused at being asked what was in her bag. That was a new one on her.

  “I’ve bought myself a frock and a new pair of shoes,” Kathy replied. “I’ve applied for a job at the caravan site and I want to look my best for the interview.”

  “Oh, that’s good.” The woman sat herself in the chair opposite. “Let’s have a look then, dear.”

  Seeing how the woman looked tired and was probably using her curiosity as an excuse to sit down for a minute, Kathy took out the dress and let her see. “Ooh!” Fingering the material, the woman smiled with pleasure. “That’s really nice … though I’d never squeeze myself into that, I wouldn’t! Never in a month o’ Sundays.”

  She pointed to the bag. “What else you got in there, dear?”

  Kathy took out the shoes and, being careful not to incur bad luck by placing them on the table, she handed them over, smiling to herself as the woman lovingly ran her hands over the shoes. This kindly woman was a complete stranger, yet here she was, handing her shoes over to be examined. Because of the woman’s naturally disarming nature, it seemed as though she’d known her for years.

  The woman caressed the shoes. “You might not think it now,” she remarked with a sigh, “but, when I were younger I used to wear shoes like this. It’s a pity, but when you get older your feet get all swollen up and you’ve to wear what’s comfortable, not what’s pretty.”

  When she gave a full smile, as she did now, Kathy could clearly see a number of gaps in her otherwise surprisingly white teeth. “Just look at you, dear … such a pretty little thing you are.” Giving Kathy a smile and a nod, she gestured to the dress and shoes together. “I bet you look a treat in this little lot.”

  Warming to this dear soul by the minute, Kathy confided, “I was really lucky to find them, and at a reasonable price. I need to look smart if I’m to get this job. I’m really keen to stay in West Bay,” she admitted. “When I came here, I wanted to make a brand new start … I wanted to be on my own, away from it all,” she added, almost to herself.

  “I see. And have you no family?”

  Kathy took a moment to reply, and then it was with a bitter taste in her mouth. “No,” she answered, “I’ve no family, not to speak of anyway.”

  “You’re like me then, dear. I were an only child, and my parents are long gone. Oh, I’m wed o’ course, but we never had children, more’s the pity.” Her eyes clouded over. “I would have loved a daughter.” She looked down at Kathy, then glanced around the room. “I know this isn’t much to show for a lifetime’s work, but it’s all bought and paid for. It’s provided us a living. But it would have been nice to have children to hand it all down to.”

  She gave Kathy a wink. “Got a boyfriend, have you, dear?”

  Kathy shook her head. “No.”

  “What!” The woman was shocked, “A good-looking girl like yourself. Oh well, never mind, dear. I expect once you’re settled in you’ll have more time for that sort of thing.” Suddenly her face dropped and she seemed unbearably sad. “Listen, my dear,” she began in a warning tone, “when you do meet somebody, take your time. Don’t rush into any old relationship, because sometimes they’re not what they seem, and you can get really hurt.”

  “I won’t.” Kathy suspected from her manner that the poor soul might be talking from experience.

  “Make sure you love him and he loves you … moreover, make sure he respects you as a person. He has to allow you an opinion, otherwise you’ll never feel part of a couple. Instead you’ll feel left out and useless, and you don’t want that, do you?”

  She sighed, a long, deep
sigh. “It’s funny how you let the years go by without seeing things … then, when you come to realize it’s all been a terrible waste, it’s too late to do anything about it.”

  Getting up, she pushed her chair back and seemed as before, smiling and wishing Kathy well. “I hope you get the job, dear.”

  “Thank you.” For a few minutes there, Kathy had glimpsed a deep sense of loneliness and regret.

  Suddenly, startling them both, a man’s voice boomed out from the far side of the room. “Mabel!” Standing behind the counter, the man was a large, red-faced, angry mound of flesh.

  Both Kathy and the woman glanced back. Grimacing and pointing, the man made it plain he was none too pleased at Mabel hobnobbing with the customers. “Get a move on!” He appeared oblivious to the customers’ curious stares. “I can’t do everything myself!”

  “That’s my husband,” the waitress told Kathy nervously. “He’s a miserable old git!”

  Suddenly she leaned down to confide, “I don’t mind telling you, dear … if I were thirty years younger and had a figure like yours, I’d not be working in this dump. I’d be away, somewhere exciting.” Rolling her eyes, she muttered, “Somewhere as far away from that old bugger as I could get.”

  “Mabel! Come on, will you!”

  She grimaced. “See what I mean?” Taking out her pencil and pad, she wrote something down and handed it to Kathy. “I don’t suppose you’ve much time, especially if you get that job … but I make a nice cherry cake, so if you’re ever down Monk’s Way, you might stop off and visit me. He’s allus down the pub on Friday and Sat’day night,” she added, “and he sleeps it off most of Sunday.” She handed Kathy the note. “It would be nice if you could pop in and have a chat.”

  Kathy promised she would pop in if she was ever that way.

  As the woman went off, she called out, “I never asked your name, dear?”

  “It’s Kathy.”