The Beachcomber

by Josephine Cox

  Coming up the path, Tom saw that the curtains were open. Stepping onto the lawn, he peeped through the window. There she was, arms folded beneath her head and her face turned toward the fire. He smiled. “As I thought,” he whispered, “just the same.” There was something very comforting in that.

  He knocked on the front door.

  It was a moment before she answered.

  The door opened and there she was, silhouetted in the soft light coming from the hallway; a small, familiar figure, sending a rush of contentment through his senses. In the background he could hear a song from the film, Singin’ in the Rain, playing on the wireless.

  “Hello, darling.” His voice was soft, his eyes adoring. “You look wonderful!” In the pale blue dress with white collar and fitted waist, she seemed so young, he thought, so vulnerable.

  For a brief second she stared through the semi-darkness, her eyes taking in his face, a momentary look of confusion in her gaze. “TOM!” Suddenly she was in his arms, and he was swinging her around. “Oh, Tom, thank God you’re back!”

  Laughing and crying, she held him by the hand and led him inside. It had been the worst time of her entire life, but now that Tom was here everything would be all right.

  Standing there, the room wrapping its warmth about them, tight in each other’s arms, they held each other close. For a time they were silent, just content being together. The light was dimmed, the fire crackled, and they were so much in love. There was no need for words.

  In that precious moment, it was as though they had been through the darkness of a long frightening adventure, and now they were through it together, still safe, more in love than ever.

  There was a need in them, a deep, trembling need that would not be held back any longer. Momentarily releasing her, he crossed the room and quietly closed the curtains, shutting out the night and its prying eyes.

  She waited, her heart fast with anticipation, her eyes following his every move, until he was back with her, kissing her on the forehead, on the mouth, down the curve of her neck. And she, with uplifted face, offered herself to him.

  Reaching down, his dark eyes enveloping her, he slid her dress away, then her undergarments, gasping with amazement as he unfolded her nakedness. “You’re so beautiful!”

  Discarding his own garments, he drew her down to the rug, the heat from the fire playing on the skin of his back as he leaned over her. “I love you,” he murmured, his face so close to hers she could imagine herself melting into those dark eyes and being lost forever.

  Now, as he entered her, she clung to him, afraid he might be disappointed in her, afraid he might not find her to be the woman he believed she was. But she need not have worried, for she was everything his heart desired.

  The lovemaking was not a frantic thing, nor was it soon over. This was another adventure, a most beautiful, wonderful experience: discovering each other’s bodies, touching, exploring; the exquisite binding of two lonely, desperate souls.

  It was the long-awaited realization of a love that had grown from the heart and was now blossoming to fulfillment.

  When it was over, they lay there, content in each other’s arms, eyes closed, faces uplifted, their glistening bodies gently washed over by the heat from the fire.

  They lay there for a while, side by side, with Kathy rolled against him, her arm over the expanse of his chest. Drawing her close, Tom stroked her arm, his senses lulled by the smooth softness of her skin, and the gentle rhythmic warmth of her breath against his neck.

  Some time later, when they were dressed, he brought her a drink and they sat together, talking of their love, making plans. As yet, neither of them was ready to break the moment by revealing the darker things on their minds, of jealousy and murder, and all those things that have no place in a quiet heart.

  Yet, at some time, they had to be said.

  After a while, he held her at arm’s length. “I telephoned you a few times,” he revealed. “I left messages, but you never rang back.”

  Dropping her gaze, she answered, “There is something I have to tell you. You know my sister, Samantha, came to see me.”

  Tom nodded. “Of course, she was here when I left for London.”

  “She wanted to take this house from me. She said Father should have left it to her, because she was the eldest.”

  Tom knew now why she hadn’t called him. He had sensed the tension between the two women, and now he knew the cause of it. “And you didn’t call me because you knew I’d be straight back on the next train, is that it?”

  Kathy nodded, taking a moment to break the awful news to him, her voice trembling. “Something happened,” she whispered. “Something terrible!”

  “What do you mean?”

  The horror of it all was overwhelming. Kathy shook her head, unable for a moment to go on. Even now she had not come to terms with the sudden, terrible way in which Samantha had died.

  Taking her gently by the shoulders, Tom softly urged her, “Go on, darling. What happened? Tell me.”

  And so she told him about how Samantha had refused to leave until Kathy had signed papers that would give her half the value of the house, that she and Samantha had fallen out over the whole issue, and that she had asked Samantha to leave that day he had left for London, but she wouldn’t. “It was just after you’d gone, dark, pouring with rain,” she explained. “Samantha had started out to the pub. She just grabbed my coat and went.” She paused, swallowing hard, her hand shaking as she wiped the sweat from her forehead. “She never got there. They came to tell me.” Her voice broke. “She … oh, Tom!”

  “Easy now. Take it slowly.”

  With Tom’s kind urging, she continued, telling him how Samantha’s body had been discovered in the water. “She was wearing high heels – she always loved the latest fashions. She must have slipped on the wet stones and fallen into the harbor. They think she knocked herself out somehow – on the wall or a boat – and she … oh, Tom.” Kathy could not go on any further.

  Tom took her gently in his arms, his mind in turmoil as she wept softly. How could it be? Dear God! What a terrible thing to have happened.

  While he was going over what Kathy had said, a frightening thought came to him.

  Kathy had just described how Samantha had “grabbed my coat” and gone out into the night … it was pouring with rain. My God!

  Could someone have mistaken Samantha for Kathy?

  He recalled what Dougie had said in those last few minutes. “I killed them … all.” That’s what he’d said … “You had everything. I killed them … all.”

  No, it was an accident. Tragic, but an accident.

  “Tom?”

  He was startled from his thoughts. “What, darling?”

  “Are you all right?” She had seen how pale and pensive he’d become.

  “I’m just sorry that you had to go through all that alone,” he said, his voice somber. “You should have told me!”

  “I know.”

  “What about Jasper? I’m surprised he didn’t let me know.”

  “He wanted to,” she confessed, “but I asked him not to.” She kissed him on the mouth. “But you’re here now, and that’s all that matters.” Nestling into his arms, she asked gently, “What happened, Tom, back there?”

  Wisely, Tom told her only as much as he thought she needed to know. About Dougie and the outcome of the police investigation, and what a stroke of luck it had been that the owner of the breaker’s yard should be selling up and discover the car. He explained how his own brother had been the one who drove them over that cliff-edge. When she reacted with horror, he took her back into his arms. “It’s over now,” he said. “We have to look forward, you and I, together.”

  Together. It had a wonderful sound, thought Kathy.

  For her own sake, he told her just enough. He had to be strong.

  The rest he kept to himself … about Dougie’s last words, and the fact that the son he had adored was not his son, but Dougie’s.

 
He did not tell her about Lilian’s obsession with him, nor that she was a sick woman in need of help. There would be time for all that in the future, when their lives were more settled.

  When the clock struck ten, there came a knock on the door. It was Jasper. “Glad to see yer back, Tom, lad,” he said, shaking Tom by the hand. “I was in the shop having a tot o’ the good stuff with my dear old friend, when I saw you get off the bus. I weren’t sure as to what you might be doing … whether you’d want the cottage warmed, or if you had any other ideas, like?” He looked from one to the other, delighted to see the love light in their eyes.

  “Good to see you too, Jasper.” Tom thought the sight of that old hairy face was reassuring.

  “Anyway, here’s the key. I’ve lit the fire and you’ll find a hot-water bottle in the bed … them sheets get icy cold once the weather turns.”

  He smiled at Kathy. “All right, are yer, lass?”

  “I’m better now that Tom’s back,” she answered. “Thanks all the same, Jasper.”

  “Aye well, I’ll not keep yer.” Tipping his cap in his usual fashion, he gave a long yawn. “I’m off to me bed.” He gave Kathy a wink. “I’ll see youse both tomorrer, eh?”

  Tom thanked him. “If you call in at the cottage first thing, there’s something I’d like to run by you,” he suggested.

  Jasper nodded. “I’d like a chinwag,” he said. “I’m sure we’ve a lot to talk about, you and me.” He glanced at Kathy, comfortable in the crook of Tom’s arm. “But right now the two of youse will have more to talk about. You don’t need an old geezer like me standing on the doorstep.”

  He tipped his cap at Kathy once more before ambling away, whistling in the dark, the tap of his boots echoing against the pavement.

  An hour later, Tom asked Kathy if she wanted him to stay the night. Even though he knew she had been here on her own for the last weeks, he was worried about leaving her alone.

  Sensing his concern, Kathy was tempted, but she decided against it. “Best not,” she said. “You get back and settle into the cottage,” she said. “Jasper’s lit a fire up there, anyway.” And besides, “If the locals saw you coming out of here in the morning, there’d be tongues wagging all over West Bay.” She chuckled. “Not that I’m too worried about that.”

  “And will you be all right … on your own?” He hated himself for saying it, he knew how independent Kathy was, but he couldn’t help but be concerned, even now.

  “I’ve been safe up to now,” she answered.

  “All right.” Kissing her goodnight, he told Kathy to get a good night’s sleep, because he was taking her boating tomorrow. “We’ll go right out, where nobody can find us. Just you and me … out there, with only the wind and skies for company.”

  It sounded wonderful, to him and Kathy both.

  Liz and her son were outside in the garden when the postman dropped the letter through the letterbox. “Look, Mummy!”

  Thrilled with his new dragon-kite, Robbie let it loose, laughing and leaping about when the sharp breeze picked it up and carried it high above the garden. “It’s flying!”

  Liz came to watch, mesmerized like a child as she followed its maiden flight. “That’s wonderful!” she cried. In truth when she bought it that morning she had never really believed it would take off, let alone fly through the air like that.

  Dipping and diving, it soared above the rooftops, and for a moment seemed as if it would escape the boy’s clutch, but then he tugged it back, calling frantically for Liz when it got caught up in the top of a birch tree.

  Taking her broom, she reached up, wrapping the handle around the string. She gave a hard tug; the string broke and Robbie fell backward, disappointed but not beaten. “If you hold me, I’ll climb up,” he said, so she did, and within five minutes the kite was safely back on the ground.

  “Bring it inside,” Liz told him. “We’ll have to retie the string and mend that tear.” The dragon had a gash right through his mouth.

  “He looks like he’s smiling.” Robbie laughed, and Liz had to agree.

  Once inside the kitchen, Liz took out her sewing basket and, with a few deft moves of the hand, she stitched his mouth and wove the string back together. “There!” Presenting the boy with it, she declared proudly, “He’s as good as new, but if you let him escape into the trees again I might not be able to mend him so easily.”

  While Robbie went back into the garden, she began making her way upstairs. “Best change the beds,” she muttered as she went. “Going to the early market has made me late.”

  Usually by this time on a Saturday she had the beds changed and the washing blowing on the line, but today she and Robbie had got on the eight o’clock bus to Leighton Buzzard, and now, what with the excitement of that kite and everything, she was way behind with her chores.

  As she passed the front door she caught sight of the letter lying on the mat. Stooping, she picked it up. Straightaway she recognized Jasper’s handwriting: large and scrawling, it was peculiar only to that dear old man.

  Tearing open the envelope, she began to read:

  Dear Liz,

  I hope you and the boy are well. I have two reasons for writing to you. Firstly, I would like to thank you for the wonderful time I had, and for the kind way you and Robbie looked after me.

  The other reason for me writing is to tell you about a shocking thing that happened in West Bay.

  Robert’s oldest daughter, Samantha, paid a visit to Kathy. There seems to have been some disagreement about the house.

  Kathy asked her to leave and she refused. By all accounts it seems to me that Samantha wanted her out. She demanded that the house be sold and that she receive half the proceeds.

  Of course, Kathy refused, especially since she knew that Samantha had been given a very expensive property belonging to her mother, which, like everything else, was wasted on Samantha’s extravagant lifestyle.

  All that aside, though, and remembering that these two were sisters, what happened came as a terrible blow to Kathy. While in West Bay, her sister Samantha fell off the harbor wall and drowned. Forgive me if I shock you with this news, but there is no other way to say it.

  They reckon she hit her head on something; it was just very unfortunate.

  Kathy has been devastated. Her mother came to see her, but not with a mind to console her. Instead, she was very cruel and spiteful, blaming Kathy because she did not bend to Samantha’s wish regarding Barden House.

  You can imagine how this has affected her.

  Knowing what a kind and loving person you are, and how devoted you were to Kathy’s father, I wonder if you would find it in yer heart to come and see her, as a friend? I know this won’t be easy, lass. But I’m sure it would mean so much to Kathy. You would love her, Liz. She’s so much like her father in manner and nature.

  If you feel this is beyond you, then don’t worry.

  Yours affectionately,

  Jasper

  Shaken by the awful news, Liz had to sit down. Holding the letter in her trembling hands, she read it for a second time. “Dear God! What a terrible thing to happen … and to one of Robert’s daughters.” It was inconceivable.

  Lately, she had been toying with the idea of going to meet Robert’s daughter, Kathy, but now she didn’t know what to do. Would Kathy feel that she was interfering? What if she took offense at her turning up out of the blue … taking it upon herself to feel she had a right to console Kathy?

  And what about the way she and Kathy’s father had set up house together? It would be understandable if Kathy bore some kind of grudge.

  Unless, as Jasper had pointed out, Kathy was made in the same caring, sensible mold as her father.

  Wailing and moaning, Robbie came running in. “It wasn’t my fault! The wind took it out of my hands!” he cried. “It’s got stuck in the tree again. Come and see.”

  “What am I going to do with you, eh?” Affectionately, she ruffled his hair. “Come on then. We’ll try and get it down, shall we?”<
br />
  The boy saw the letter as she thrust it into her skirt-pocket. “What’s that, Mummy?”

  “It’s a letter, son.”

  “Who’s it from?”

  “Jasper.”

  Robbie danced on the spot. “Is he coming to see us again?”

  “No, Robbie. He wants us to go and see him, in West Bay.” She did not tell him why. There was no need for that.

  “Oh, can we, Mummy? Please!”

  “I don’t know, son. We’ll have to see.”

  “I love Jasper,” he said. “He’s my friend.”

  As she led him out to the garden, her arm around his small shoulders, she looked down. “He’s my friend too.”

  The boy glanced up, his dark eyes smiling up at her, melting her heart.

  He was so like his father, she thought. More and more of late, there were times when she imagined Robert was looking at her through the boy’s eyes.

  She thought maybe she should go and see Kathy, if only for Robert’s sake.

  Then she wondered. He had kept them apart all that time. Maybe he didn’t want her to meet his other family.

  She was torn.

  Should she go, or should she reply to Jasper and say she wasn’t able to, for whatever reason?

  If she decided not to go, she believed Jasper would understand her motives. He was a good man. A friend of Robert’s too.

  But there was time for her to think it over.

  In the end, all she wanted was to make the right decision for them all.

  CHAPTER 22

  KATHY WAS ADAMANT. “You go and do what you came to do,” she told Tom. “I need some time alone in the church.”

  “Are you sure?” Tom didn’t like to leave her there in the big London church alone. He knew how, within the hour, her mother would arrive. Soon after that, her sister would receive the blessings before being laid to rest. “I can always tend to my business afterward.”