See You Soon

by NC Marshall

  It only has three words printed across the screen in capital letters:

  I’M STILL ALIVE

  *

  Mark drops me back at the holiday park. A little later, I head to the supermarket in the town centre, where I mindlessly whiz around the aisles as quickly as I can to pick up necessary supplies to take back with me to the cabin. I've decided to stay on in Sandbroke another night, rather than head back home today as I had originally intended. I feel too exhausted by the events of the last few hours to even contemplate travelling. Lucky for me, the cabin is vacant until the weekend.

  The drive back to Sandbroke from Pemblington Bay with Mark had been almost as quiet as the drive there. He was as deep in thought as I had been, and I found myself wondering again if the job has taken its toll on him the way I knew it would me. He told me he has been in the police force for over thirteen years now. He has seen a number of bodies throughout his career, but I’m sure that it doesn’t get any easier with time. He’s gone back to the station to update Chrissy and the team, but promised me he will call if he hears anything else about Ali.

  The walk back to the cabins helps to calm me down a little and I am once again relieved that I didn’t bump into any old Sandbroke residents who remember me. A picture of Ali printed onto posters surround me as I leave the high street. Her pink painted lips and beautiful brown eyes copied from the same photo I had seen on her bedroom wall smile out from shop windows and lamp posts, appealing to anyone who has seen her since her disappearance or knows anything about her.

  It’s starting to get dark by the time I get back to the holiday park. I’m annoyed that most of my time today has been wasted following a false lead when it could have been spent helping to find Ali. Then I feel amazingly selfish, when I think about the poor dead girl's family who will undoubtedly soon be traced and told the devastating news of their deceased loved one gone far too soon. It’s a cruel world.

  Entering the holiday park, I make my way through the winding paths towards my cabin. The carrier bag that I’m holding is starting to cut painfully into my hand so I pick up my pace. I pass families and couples heading towards the clubhouse and nod to greet them politely as I pass. I’m almost at the corner of the row where my cabin is based when I see her.

  She sits on a swing in the children's play area. It's difficult to see at first because it is so dark, but I can tell it's her. I drop my bag to the ground. Contents fall onto the grass and I hear a small cracking sound as the half dozen eggs I have just purchased make contact with the gravel. I look around me. There is no-one in sight; the music from the clubhouse has now disappeared as the wind has changed its direction. Now all I can hear are the waves in the distance and the creaking sound of the metal hinges that hold the swing she is sitting on. She has her head to the ground looking at the play bark that covers the area.

  “Ali,” I shout, but it's not loud enough for her to hear me with the distance between us. I head towards her not allowing myself to take my focus from her. As I get nearer, I can see in the dimming light that she wears a blue blouse that I remember seeing in one of the photos back at her house. It’s a memory that comes back to me easily because it’s the identical shade of Lucy’s eyes. Her long black hair hangs sleek and loose resting on her knees. She doesn't see me and continues to swing slowly back and forth. The creaking of the swing becomes louder as I approach.

  I’m almost at her when a young couple emerges from a nearby cabin. They have their arms around each other, the man says something and the woman giggles loudly. Ali’s head snaps up as she realises there are people near her, and she quickly gets up from the swing.

  “Excuse me, can you tell me where the nearest place is we can get something to eat?” The man asks, his attention focused on me.

  “Erm…,” I watch as Ali begins to run away from the kids’ play area and I start to jog after her. “Logan’s down on the beach,” I shout, as I move past the young couple to follow in the direction that Ali has run in.

  “Cheers,” says the man as he throws a thumb into the air.

  I continue to run, but by the time I reach the swings Ali has disappeared. I look left and right, shouting her name, then frantically rotate in a full circle, but I know instantly that it's too late. The wind picks up its speed sending my hair up around my head. I pull my jacket around me tightly, feeling a sudden coldness run through my entire body as I look out into the darkness.

  Ali has gone.

  Chapter 12

  “So you think it was definitely her you saw tonight?” asks my sister.

  “I think so, yeah. I’m totally confused to be honest, Trish,” I answer. I squint at the full moon, perched high above the dark, black ocean. The howling wind knocks at the cabin windows. I reach to tilt the blinds in front of me and shut out what has turned into a dreary and miserable night.

  I've been on the phone to Trish for almost half an hour now. She called me wanting to know what had happened after she had spoken to my parents who had told her I was staying on another night in Sandbroke. I hadn’t gone into full detail with my parents. I know how much they worry about me and they don’t need any added stress. Instead, I have vented off all my frustrations to Trish, who is now as thoroughly mystified about the whole situation as I am.

  “I really think you need to tell Mark that you think you’ve seen her, Em.”

  “I know I should, but the one thing that Ali asked me not to do is tell anyone, especially the police. There must be a reason for that, Trish. If I tell them it might make things worse.”

  “But if you’ve seen her, she’s not technically missing anymore.”

  “I know, but she still hasn’t returned home, so something isn’t right.”

  “And it’s definitely her that sent you the note?”

  “Yes, it was written in her handwriting. It’s never changed.”

  “It’s just so weird… but she seems okay, she isn’t hurt in any way?”

  “I think so. When I saw her earlier tonight she seemed fine, so at least I know she hasn’t been harmed. But she doesn't want anybody to see her for some reason, which is maybe why I think she didn’t show up at the beach this morning and why she scarpered before.”

  “What about the body found on Pemblington Bay today, is there any link there?”

  “Nope. Just a pure coincidence. Mark had a phone call when we got back to Sandbroke saying that a surfer was reported missing in Cranley. Looks like it could be her.”

  “Poor girl.” Trish sighs and pauses, considering. “And nobody in the area had any contact with Ali?”

  “No, doesn’t look like it. She had been living in London for seven years back when she was acting. She only had her Mum here.”

  “Is that why Ali came back there?”

  “Yeah, I think so. Mark said she came back here six months ago and Sandra died a few weeks later.”

  “That's a shame, I remember Sandra was a nice woman.” Trish sighs. “So Ali was a bit of a loner then?”

  “Seems that way, yeah.”

  “I find it really hard to believe, she was always such an outgoing kid. It seems strange for her to turn into an outsider.”

  “Apparently it’s true. The police questioned some of the people she worked with in London but nobody has seen or heard from her since she left to come back to Sandbroke.” I recite the updated information Mark gave me before I left him today. I’m grateful that he is being so honest and keeping me fully briefed on the case. It’s a shame I can't return the favour and be truthful with him too.

  “Do you think Ali is still in some sort of trouble? The same trouble she mentioned in the e-mail she sent you?”

  I rub at my aching temples, then take a sip of orange juice, pushing the half eaten slice of overdone toast and cold vegetable soup to the side. “I don’t know, Trish. Maybe. I have an awful feeling about all of this. I hope I’m wrong.”

  A loud knock at the door makes me jump. At the same time I hear Max—Trish’s husband—mumble something on h
er end of the line. I vaguely make out the noise of one of their daughters crying in the background.

  “Trish, I have to go. There's someone at the door, I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

  “Yeah, me too. Okay, Em, look after yourself and please be careful. Text me before you go to sleep.”

  “You too, I will. Bye, Trish.”

  I try not to let myself get emotional over my sister’s concern. Trisha has always fulfilled her role as an overprotective older sister and worries continually over my safety. She hates it when she knows I’m anywhere alone. The fact that I am alone and back in Sandbroke only makes it worse.

  I cancel the call and pop my mobile back into my pocket before jogging to answer the door. What if it’s Ali? God, I hope it is. She could have come back once nobody was around. I swing the door open hoping to see her, but it's just one of the holiday park’s employees.

  “Hi, Miss Moore. I was told you are staying on for another day with us. I was just going to drop these in for you. I’m Claudia, I help out with the housekeeping for the cabins.”

  The young-looking girl smiles pleasantly and hands me a couple of large fluffy white towels with a small selection of toiletries perched on top.

  “I’ll come first thing in the morning and do a full clean,” she adds.

  “Thank you,” I say, as she turns and leaves. One thing I certainly can’t knock here is the service.

  I take the towels straight through to the bathroom and decide to take a hot shower. Drawing the blinds, I strip off and enter the walk-in cubicle. The stream from its flow immediately starts to clear my cloudy head. As I soap over me and wash my hair, thoughts go through my mind at a thousand miles per hour. Mark, Chrissy, Ali, Jenna, Jake, the poor dead girl on the beach today. What is going on?

  I exit the shower and pick up the towel from the floor; the bathroom is filled with the scent of lavender scented soap and aromatherapy oils. I inhale deeply and rotate my still tense shoulders, but I know relaxation at the moment would be nothing short of a miracle. The towel is still neatly folded, I quickly unravel it and wrap it around myself. As I do this, something on the floor at the front of the cabin catches my eye through the gap in the bathroom door. Securing my towel, I make my way to the entrance to discover the item on the floor is a large piece of paper. I bend to pick it up, assuming it must be Claudia’s. But as I turn the paper I realise it's not something of Claudia’s at all. It’s one of the posters appealing for Ali that I saw in the town centre earlier. The photo of Ali alone sitting on a picnic blanket placed on a bright green grassy area, her lips painted bright pink dominates it.

  My hand trembles as I turn to read the words written on the back of the poster in thick black marker pen. The same curly neat handwriting as in the note yesterday:

  Friends Forever

  Chapter 13

  My hair is still dripping wet and matted as I run through the holiday park and towards the reception lodge. Rose looks a little taken aback by my appearance when she sees me enter. She leaves a young member of the staff to deal with some customers and promptly makes her way over to me. I had thrown on the first thing that I had put my hands on when I’d gotten out of the shower—leggings, my old running trainers, and a massively oversized football top that I usually wear only for bed. The poster had taken me by surprise and scared me. I need to find out where it came from. It must have been Ali. That’s the reason she was at the holiday park tonight. But still, nothing is making any sense.

  “Is everything okay?” asks Rose, meeting me in the centre of the lodge.

  “Yes, yes.” I manage to compose myself a little, aware that I must look and sound like a crazy woman to the other people here.

  “I've, um, just found a message to me from an old friend. It was put under my door. I think it might have been left around the same time as the maid delivered some towels to my cabin. Would it be possible to speak to her just to see if she spoke to my friend or knows anything about it?”

  “Yes, of course,” replies Rose. She quickly crosses the room and picks up the intercom speaker asking for Claudia to come straight to reception.

  A couple of minutes later, Claudia enters the lodge.

  “You wanted to see me, Miss Donnelly?”

  “Yes, thanks, Claudia. Miss Moore has received a note from a friend close to the time you dropped the towels in for her. Did you push a note under Miss Moore’s cabin door or see anyone that did?”

  I wait anxiously as Claudia retraces her steps from the previous hour at a painfully slow speed.

  “I'm sorry, I definitely didn’t leave a note. I don’t remember seeing anybody else around when I dropped the towels in. I have only seen guests today.”

  I nod back at her, frustrated.

  “Oh, but there was a lady who I saw a little earlier this evening,” she adds suddenly. “I didn’t recognise her. I assumed she was a new guest who hasn’t been here before and was lost. She was coming out of the supply cupboard as I was going in. I thought she must have taken a wrong turn. It happens from time to time.”

  Rose starts to say something, but I rudely butt in.

  “What did she look like?” I ask.

  “I only saw her from behind. She was wearing a blue shirt, I think, with very long black hair,” she answers, this time without hesitating.

  My heart skips a beat. I nod silently and back away to the door. Claudia, Rose, the young guy on reception and their customers are looking at me confused.

  “That’s her, thank you Claudia.” I manage to pat the girl affectionately on the arm as I pass before I leave the reception lodge. Once outside, I ram straight into the solid chest of a person standing in my path. I pause to try and pull myself together, and glance up at the man before quickly apologising. His hair is pulled into dreadlocks and he has bright green eyes. He accepts my apology before I rush past him.

  *

  I don’t head back to my cabin. Instead, I make my way down to the beach. My head is spinning and I hope that some fresh air might start to help me see things a little more clearly. The stroll takes me less than ten minutes and I feel a small sense of relief as I slip off my trainers and let my feet sink into the cool sand. The sky is black and cloudy; the wind down here is strong and it whistles loudly in my ears. The shoreline is deserted and the rough sea beats against the shore in a soothing repetitive rhythm.

  I walk farther away from the cabins leaving them behind me. I can hear the distant beat of music coming from the clubhouse accompanied by the sound of people cheering and clapping enjoying their summer holidays, like they should be. Tears threaten to fill my eyes and I wipe at my face angrily. Why is Ali doing this? She was fine to deliver the photo to the cabin today, so it seems she is in no danger. Why is she doing this to me? I feel as though I am part of a game that only she knows the rules to. What does she want from me? Why is she trying to send me messages? Is it because she hates me because I unintentionally shunned her from my life when I met Jake? Will I ever know? Will I ever see her again?

  A gust of wind ruffles through my still-damp hair, causing an icy shiver to run down my back. I glance up from the sand. I’m standing near Logan’s Tavern, which has closed for the night and sits shaded by the darkness of the pitch black beach. I slow as I get closer, where a silhouette I can't fully make out is loitering in the shadows watching me. The figure—a man maybe—is tall and well-built. He holds a cigarette in his hand, which he lowers to a table as his head snaps up and he seems to notice me looking at him. I wipe at the tears that have started streaming without warning down my face. Through my blurred vision, the man on the decking starts to become clearer. I let out a small sob, my knees going weak as I realise who the figure is. Jake.

  I’m crying loudly now, unable to control it. Feeling as though I’m losing control, I turn quickly as he hears me and starts to head in my direction. Turning my back on the man I once loved, I start to run. But the sand is too soft and slows me too much. He soon reaches me and I hear him behind me. Why was I so
stupid? Why did I come back here? My breathing quickens as he nears me. My heart hammers in my chest, making me dizzy.

  I hit the rocks before I know it. I’ve stupidly run too far and gone past the steps that take me back to Ceaders. The rocks are slippery under my feet from the earlier high tide. My lapse in concentration does me no favors as my bare foot catches on a clump of seaweed and I slip, throwing me forward. I fall onto my knees and let out a yelp as the jagged edge of a rock slashes straight through my thin leggings, stabbing painfully into my shin. I bite my lip to stop myself from yelling out in sheer agony.

  I listen as he gets closer; spray from the raging sea close to me covers my clothes. I’m frozen to the spot, still on my knees. I look around for an escape, and begin to scramble around on the rocks, but I know I won't be quick enough. I close my eyes and pray he hasn’t seen me, that somehow and I can hide within the darkness or that I’m imagining it—like the other times in the past when I’ve mistaken another man for him. Through the foggy haze of confusion, fear, and pain, I hear a sound, a man's voice talking, but it's not one I recognise. Relief washes over me. It’s not Jake.

  “Are you alright down there?”

  The man reaches me. A hand touches me lightly on the shoulder, causing me to flinch.

  “It’s okay.” The man removes his hand from my shoulder and puts it in the air. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Slowly, I look up toward the figure standing above me. He puts out a hand and helps me to my feet leading me off the rocks and back onto the soft sand. My leg hurts like hell, and the dim light shows a shimmer of blood heavily patching my trousers. I wince as the salt from the rocks hits the fresh wound.