by NC Marshall
I awaken again startled and promptly jump from the bed. The clock on the wall tells me it’s seven-thirty. I’d better hurry if I’m going to get down onto the beach in time to meet Ali. I am anxious to see her and find out what is going on. She mentioned she was in trouble and I want to help her in any way I can.
I throw on a loose vest top and a pair of jeans. It looks as though it’s going to be another scorcher today, the sky outside bright and cloudless already. I hastily throw my long hair into a bun at the nape of my neck in an attempt to stay cool and hurry outside in the warm morning air. I pass the maid, who smiles politely and says “Good morning,” as she carries on along the pathway with her cleaning supplies in tow, as I rush past the other cabins. Rose is standing near her talking to one of the other guests and she waves to me and smiles as I pass her before continuing her conversation.
As Ali assured me in her note, the beach is deserted. I glance up and down the shoreline as I make my way along the sand. Slipping off my sandals, I roll up the bottoms of my jeans to my knees and head towards the south end of the beach where the rocks are. I let the water wash over my feet, and gasp as the cold hits my skin, foam bubbles around my toes as I continue on and the temperature becomes tolerable. I can’t remember the last time I walked along a beach and let the ocean cover my feet like this. I miss living so close to the coast. It gives me a small feeling of freedom and leaves me, as always, questioning my tiny and insignificant part of this earth when faced head on with such an overwhelming specimen of nature's power.
As I near the large cluster of rocks, the strong odor of salt and sea kelp penetrates the air, making me once again think of the past. The rocks were the place I would always arrange to meet Ali and Jenna when we were younger, so I know this is where Ali will be today. I glance at my watch and sit down on a rock that is still slightly damp from the high tide. It’s almost eight—she will be here soon.
The beach is peaceful this morning with only the sound of the ocean lapping at the shore and a few seagulls dancing at its edge as the sun continues its daily ascent into the sky. I remember being here during the summers as a teenager with Ali and Jenna; lying on towels on the warm sand, admitting secrets to one another—usually based solely on the boys we fancied at school. I fight hard against images from a little later on in time, of me and Jake. The two of us all over each other when we first met, laughing happily as we skipped in and out of the water, our bodies close, stopping only briefly to kiss each other before the next wave broke. Before it all changed.
A lot of time passes, I’m not aware of how much until the nearby café staff start to bring out tables and chairs and set them on the wooden outdoor terraces preparing for the day ahead. It’s almost nine a.m. and I am both worried and terrified at the fact Ali hasn’t shown up. The beach starts to come alive with families out for a morning stroll and Sandbroke residents take their daily jog across the sand. I glance again at my watch—it’s obvious she isn’t going to show—Ali was never late, ever. She was ridiculously well organised and prepared. She was always the first to arrive anywhere we went. I doubt that would have been a part of her to change over time. God, let her be safe.
I stand from the rocks and brush the dried sand from my legs. My stomach grumbles and as I begin to walk I feel a little light headed. I had been unable to eat anything last night as I was in too much of a state. My supper had ended up being thrown in the bin back at the cabin. I am anything but hungry, but I know I must force myself to eat something; I’m no use to anyone feeling the way I do now. Grabbing my handbag, I head to the café and am greeted warmly by a waitress as I enter.
“Just take a seat. I’ll be with you in a minute,” the girl says in a friendly tone. I nod and head to a table near the window looking out directly onto the beach. The strong smell of freshly brewed coffee and sweet homemade cakes fills the air. I glance around at the large interior that no longer looks anything like it used to when I lived here. Inside, the place looks more like a trendy bar than the old rundown beach shack that it used to be. I remember it selling warm cans of soda, and the floor was always coated in a thin layer of sand, but it boasted the best fish and chips in miles. Now it is a fashionable-looking area dressed in decorative fisherman's nets, with smooth-carved wooden furniture surrounding a large glass bar in its centre stocking a vast array of wines and spirits. Old black and white photos are arranged on the wall showing Sandbroke’s maritime history throughout the years. The waitress returns with a notepad and pen in hand and reaches to adjust her apron before greeting me.
“What can I get you?” she asks.
“Do you serve breakfast?” I ask, hoping she says yes. I don’t have much food back at the cabin and don’t relish the thought of having to go into the busy town centre.
“We do,” she says, handing me a menu from a nearby table. I scan it quickly, bypassing the trendy options before ordering the plainest thing I can see—poached eggs with whole grain toast and a pot of English tea.
My breakfast arrives as the place starts to get busy. Families with small children begin to fill the tables surrounding me and cram into the small booths, the enticing smell of bacon and eggs now floods the air. I am staring out of the window finishing my pot of tea, deep in thoughts when a voice interrupts them.
“Mind if I join you?”
I look up to see Mark hovering over me.
“Mark, hi. Sorry, I was miles away. Please take a seat.”
I study his smart uniform as he orders himself a coffee from the waitress he seems to be on first name terms with. I notice her eyes linger on him before she finishes taking the order, reinforcing the well-known fact that most women find it virtually impossible to ignore a man in uniform. He has a different look today when compared to the unshaven face and casual untucked shirt he wore when I met him at the station yesterday.
“Aren’t you based at the station today?” I ask, pouring myself another cup of tea from the small silver pot in front of me.
“Just on my way in now,” he answers. “I’ve been at a meeting, but just had to pop in and make the coffee run before I head back to the station.”
“I can't get used to the idea that you became a cop,” I say, pointing at his uniform lapels and giving him a playful shove. Time rewinds in my mind and I feel fourteen again, joking around with him like I used to.
Mark laughs. “I know, look at you sitting next to a real live policeman,” he jokes.
“I’m honored,” I say, smiling back. “They have you well-trained over at the station, then?” I nod at the coffee he’s holding.
“They certainly do. Actually, I was hoping Tom would be here too.” He looks around the place before setting his sights back on to me.
“Your brother?” I ask, knowing exactly who he is talking about and feeling my cheeks go a little red. Mark’s younger brother Tom—or Tommy, as those lucky enough to know him well had called him back then—had been in my year at school. I’d had a mad crush on him for years, until Jake came along.
“Yeah, you remember Tom, don’t you?” Mark asks me, flashing a grin. He knows full well how much I had liked Tom back in my teenage years; I have no doubt Trisha would have filled him in on all the details. I pick up my cup of tea and take a sip, trying to act casual.
“Are you meeting him here?” I ask.
“He should be starting work any time now.” He glances at his watch.
“You’ve just missed him, Mark. He left early to pop to the suppliers,” shouts the waitress from behind the bar, clearly eavesdropping into our conversation.
“Thanks, Tia,” Mark shouts back over his shoulder.
“Oh, Tom works here?” I ask. I’m a little disappointed by the fact the intelligent straight A student that I had held such high hopes for had ended up as a bartender, but then I can't judge. I myself was a straight A student and had wound up in a similar type of profession as a waitress. The small city centre restaurant that I work in is a far cry from this place.
“He owns the pla
ce,” says Mark. Pointing to the bar's name at the top of the menu resting on the table. ‘Logan’s Tavern.’ I nod, all becoming clear.
“It’s a great place,” I admit, taking another look around.
“Yeah, it’s really popular. But he’s worked hard to get it to this point. It was a dilapidated mess when he first bought it. Tom and I inherited a little bit of money when our grandfather died. I blew mine on an expensive car and a few luxurious family holidays. Tom, being the sensible one of the two of us, invested his share into buying this place when it went up for sale a couple of years ago. The rest, as they say, is history.”
I smile.
“So when you are heading back home?” asks Mark, clearly maneuvering the conversation away from his younger brother.
“Later today,” I answer, feeling a large stab of guilt in my chest. “I only came down here to show you guys the e-mail and see if I can be of any help. But it seems you have everything under control. Besides, I have to get back to…” I trail off and stop myself abruptly before saying ‘my daughter.’ I had already told Mark yesterday that I don’t have kids and I don’t want to confuse the situation. This is a small town and news travels fast. Although I’d like to tell Mark the truth, I can’t risk word getting back to Lucy’s father. “Get back to my job,” I add quickly, feeling myself grow anxious.
“I see.” Mark studies my face before reaching for his coffee.
“Have you heard anything more about Ali?” I ask, hopeful that someone has come through with some information as to her whereabouts.
“No. Chrissy is leading the team in doing some more door-to-doors in the area this afternoon to see if anything new has come up, but like I told you yesterday she seemed to have become a very private person. Nobody knew a lot about her. No family that we know of and no friends.”
“So, which neighbour reported her missing?” I ask. “She must have let that person into her life, at least.”
“It was her next door neighbour, Mrs. Robertson. Well, if you can class it as ‘next door.’ All the houses around Cranley Quays are pretty far apart.” I nod, acting like this is news to me. “Ali walked Mrs. Robertson’s dog for her on a daily basis. When Ali didn’t show up for three days solid, she became worried and called us. To be truthful, we all thought Mrs. Robertson was probably a little mixed up. She’s eighty-two and let's just say her mind isn’t as young as it once was.”
“But Mrs. Robertson was right?”
“She was. If it hadn’t been for her calling us nobody would have known any different. Nobody would have even noticed Ali had gone.” Mark glances out the window thoughtfully.
“Did you find out where the e-mail she sent to me came from?”
“Yeah, it was sent from her own home computer. Her e-mail account had barely been used in recent years, apart from that one message sent to you.”
“What about phone records. Can you access them?” I realise now I’m asking questions I should have asked Mark and Chrissy yesterday at the station, but I was so flummoxed at the time we ended up discussing very little.
Mark shakes his head. “The department is still looking into them now. Her home phone line was only connected after her moving six weeks ago, and has only been used to call two numbers, both of which were just local Chinese takeaways. Didn’t seem she was a big fan of cooking.” Mark smiles, trying to lighten the mood before he continues. “We have a record of the calls you made to the number and the messages you left on her machine, but nobody else called her on it.”
“Not that surprising. I hardly use my home phone either and I've had mine for years,” I offer.
Mark nods. “She didn’t have a mobile registered to her, but could possibly have a pay-as-you-go phone that she used for the majority of her calls. The phone and all her debit and credit cards must be with her as they weren’t in the house when we searched. We’ve found no suspicious activity on any bank accounts registered to her, up to now.”
Mark looks a little uncomfortable and I know that I need to stop with the questioning as he has most likely told me far more than he should on a professional level.
I really need to tell him about the note Ali left for me, but I don’t dare. Ali swore me to secrecy and there’s a reason she doesn’t want the police involved. Mark must notice the look of anguish on my face.
“We’re trying our best, Em, but the fact she was such a private person isn’t helping with the case. I’m sure we will find her. I have my best team on the job they won't leave any stone unturned. It’s still relatively early days.” He rises to his feet, draining the last of his coffee from his mug before squeezing me on the shoulders reassuringly.
“Thanks for coming down Em, it was good to see you. I’ve got your number, I’ll be in touch as soon as we hear anything.” I nod, feeling useless and tremendously guilty for leaving. As Mark turns towards the bar to pick up his take out order, his mobile phone starts to ring he reaches inside his trouser pocket quickly answering the call.
“Hi Chrissy, yeah, I'm just coming back now… Yes, I see… I'm on my way.” Mark finishes the call and turns to face me again, he looks shaken. I’m already on my feet.
“That was Chrissy.” Mark begins to dial another number into his phone as he flings some money on the bar and picks up his car keys. As he moves toward the door leading to the back car park of the bar, I chase after him.
“What is it Mark?” I ask, unsure if I really want to hear the answer.
“There’s been a body found washed up on the beach fifteen miles south of here in Pemblington,” he answers, as he reaches his car and opens the door. “They think they’ve found Ali.”
Part Two
Chapter 8
Sandbroke was unusually quiet the summer I met Jake, with a lot of its normal annually returning tourists taking up on the tempting deals from low cost airlines offering no frills flights to the Spanish Costa’s and beyond; they had recently started to boom in business.
It was a cloudy day, but mild. An invisible energy hung in the air, hinting that bad weather could possibly be on its way. Outside the sky was dull, the streets hauntingly quiet at the height of the summer season. I was in an American style diner, which was on the high street back then. The place only lasted a few months before it was refurbished back to a country style tea room that seemed to go down much better with both the residents of Sandbroke and holiday makers alike. I had recently broken up for the summer holidays after finishing my final year of high school a few weeks earlier and was excited about what the approaching weeks would bring. Jenna and Ali were with me. The three of us messing around, giggling and laughing, lost in our own private jokes, as we always were back then. Jenna was sipping on a chocolate milkshake, Ali enjoyed a huge vanilla ice cream covered with multi-coloured sprinkles, while I nursed an iced tea. I think that was my attempt at coming across as grown up and sophisticated back then. I didn’t really enjoy the taste. Never have.
Ali was busy telling us about a drama school that she was interested in getting into after finishing college and Jenna was telling her she should go for it. I made an escape to go outside to get some air and some quiet for a bit. Although I loved Ali to bits, sometimes she spoke about nothing but herself. Unlike Jenna, I wasn’t prepared to massage her ego any more than I had already that day. I was to my limit, so I decided to leave them to it for a little while. I knew Jenna secretly liked it when it was just her and Ali; I always had the sense that she was a little jealous of the bond that I had with her.
I squeezed out of the red leather booth. My trainers squeaked against the ridiculously unsubtle black and white checked flooring as I made my way to the door of the diner. That's when it happened—the best moment of my life then, and with hindsight, the worst now. The moment I met him.
As always, I wasn’t looking where I was going, staring at the ground. Before I knew it, I had walked straight into him. I smashed hard into his chest, sending him backwards, the coke he was holding sloshed onto him, quickly soaking through his c
lothes.
“I’m really sorry,” I said, finally looking up. I think my mouth almost certainly visibly fell open. He was tall, like me, with a mess of golden floppy hair and bright blue eyes. I was transfixed from the first moment I saw him. Mistake number one.
“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” he said, rubbing at his wet, brown-stained T-shirt with his tanned hand. I flushed, embarrassed, and could vaguely hear Ali and Jenna giggling hysterically from the booth behind me.
“Let me buy you another one,” I replied, fidgeting in the back pocket of my jeans to find the loose change that I knew was in there somewhere. Swiftly, he moved his hand and touched my arm to stop me dead in my tracks.
“Why don’t you buy me a drink tonight instead?” he asked casually.
“Um… um.” My words wouldn’t come out.
He laughed. “I take it that’s a yes,” he said. I nodded back, managing a smile of sorts.
“Brilliant, then that’s sorted. I’ll meet you here tomorrow night at seven. Is that alright for you?”
“Yes. Great,” I blurted back instantly, feeling taken aback, but undoubtedly impressed by his undeterred confidence and forwardness. He carried on walking towards the door and I turned to head back to the girls, who were now dead silent, clearly gobsmacked at what they had just witnessed. I was grinning from ear to ear like a Cheshire cat.
“Oh, what's your name?” he shouted from behind me. As I turned back, he flashed me a smile that made me go weak in the knees.
“Emily,” I said, a little more self-assured now that I was back at the table with my friends.
“Nice to meet you Emily. I’m Jake. See you tomorrow night.”
Chapter 9
That first date with Jake was nothing short of amazing, as much as it pains me to say that now. We met outside the diner as planned and headed straight to a little wine bar on the seafront near Ceaders. I wore a bright red dress, borrowed from Ali, and it hugged tightly to my thin frame. It was much more daring than anything I would have chosen for myself, but Ali talked me into it using her powers of persuasion that never failed to succeed on me. My long mousey hair was curled, hanging down to my waist, and I had far too much makeup on in the hopes that I would get into the bar without question and they would serve me unaware that I was underage. I was only sixteen at the time, but unfortunately wasn’t unfamiliar with bars and drinking culture. Ali, Jenna, and I would regularly catch the train to Cranley on a Friday night and sneak into its beach club, which was always filled with teens, most of whom we knew from school. My mum and dad would have killed me if they had known, but they never found out. We would all cover for each other and were never rumbled. To this day, my mum and dad don’t know about it.