Castle on the Hill

by Agatha Frost

  “I have bigger dreams than Vegas,” Misty said, her smile smug in the warm glow of the bulbs. “That’s not all of it. I have more in storage, although I’m sure things keep going missing.”

  “You wear all of this here?” Liz asked.

  “No way,” she scoffed as she ran a tiny comb through her neat brows. “They were too expensive. I wouldn’t waste them here. I’m destined for greater things than this tiny town.”

  Liz turned away from the costumes. She joined Misty in the mirror and watched as she expertly finished her makeup. There was no denying her beauty. Her pale powdered skin looked soft to the touch, her lips naturally plump and luscious. She reminded Liz of a silent movie star, and she considered that she might like the entertainer a lot more if she did not have the ability to voice her arrogance.

  “This town isn’t so bad,” Liz said with a shrug as her eyes danced over the twenty or so makeup brushes, none of which she knew the use for. “I love it here.”

  “It’s okay for some people,” Misty said, her eyes darting up and down Liz’s simple exterior in a flash. “Derrick is going to help me get out of here. He has a brother who works in the West End in London. Scouts are going to be coming any day, and then I’ll be on a first-class ticket out of here. First the West End, and then Hollywood.”

  “Won’t you miss Scarlet Cove?” Liz asked as she watched Misty apply blood-red lipstick. “It has beautiful views.”

  “It’s a dump,” she said, her lips barely moving as she finished lining her pout. “Some places deserve fish and chips, and some places deserve caviar. I’m caviar, and I deserve a better platter to showcase my worth.”

  The door to the dressing room opened, and the balding man with the glasses who had parted Polly and Misty walked in.

  “Be humble, my star,” he said, glancing sceptically at Liz as he strode to Misty’s side. “It’s only a matter of time before my brother sends his talent scouts, and then you can live the life you’re destined for. Beautiful, talented women like you shouldn’t flounder in places like this.”

  Misty beamed at Derrick in the mirror as he rubbed her shoulders. Liz wondered what had come first; Misty’s ego or Derrick’s smoke blowing.

  “I hope your brother gets here sooner rather than later,” Misty said, exhaling heavily before applying blush to her pale cheeks. “This place is sucking out my energy. I need a bigger stage.”

  “And you’ll get it,” Derrick assured her. “But you have to pay your dues. My brother is busy, but he’s given me his word that he will be here the second he can tear himself away. Your future is as good as secured if you stick with me, but until then, you have an audience waiting.”

  Liz took that as her cue to leave, not that she could stand another second of Derrick’s ego-inflating pep talk. She left them alone in the dressing room, sipping her wine as she headed back to the table. When she saw Natasha hanging off Simon’s every word, she wanted to head straight for the door, but she knew it would send the wrong message.

  “Where did you go?” Nancy asked as Liz sat next to her, glad she was on the opposite side of the table from Natasha and Simon. “Bathroom?”

  “Something like that.”

  While they waited for Misty’s performance to begin, Jack and Nancy chatted about work, leaving Liz to sit and stare at Natasha and Simon, who seemed to be in a world of their own. They spoke in low whispers, Natasha’s giggles breaking the silence every minute or so. She caught Simon looking up at her more than once, but when she sensed his eyes on her, she made sure to stare patiently at the stage.

  When the lights finally dimmed, the applause started. Liz was glad of the distraction, even if she could still hear Natasha’s shrill giggles over the roar of the crowd.

  The red velvet curtains parted, and Misty took centre stage. She looked every inch the starlet in a gold floor-length sparkling gown. The backing track for The Pointer Sisters’ ‘Fire’ started, and she began to sway and sing. After hearing Misty talk in the dressing room, Liz had expected an excellent voice to leave the woman’s lips, so she was surprised when she heard a soft, almost baby-like sound echo around the bar. Without the backing dancers and costumes to act as a distraction, she was just an average singer in a pretty dress.

  Liz looked around the bar. The elderly folks were tapping their feet, and the tourists were watching with interest, but the half-empty bar was very different from the raving audience Derrick talked about. Liz spotted Derrick in the wings of the stage. He shot Misty a thumbs up, not that she could see him. Liz picked up her wine, her eyes landing on Natasha and Simon. In the dark, she felt safer watching them without being seen. Natasha looked at Simon the same way Nancy looked at Jack, and even though he was not returning the look, he was also not pulling away from her hand, which was resting on his shoulder.

  Liz polished off her wine, told Nancy she needed the bathroom, and headed straight for the door. As she walked home in the dark, the bitter cold biting at her skin, she managed to think of forty-three other things she would rather do than sit in a cabaret bar with Simon and Natasha.

  7

  It had become part of Liz’s routine to walk down to the seafront with Paddy after closing the shop. She had thought the routine would stop when the weather turned, but she had found a comfort in wrapping up warmly and walking against the bitter wind. It reminded her she was alive, and her brain was never more active than when she was inhaling the icy sea air.

  With Paddy pulling on her arm, she walked past Coastline Cabaret. It was still early in the evening, but it seemed busy inside. She heard someone call ‘eighty-eight! It’s two fat ladies’ followed by a woman shrieking ‘BINGO’. She wondered how Misty spent her days off. She could not imagine her sitting at home with her feet up watching television like the rest of the town.

  She reached the harbour, her mind firmly on Nathan. It felt like most of Scarlet Cove had already forgotten about the beheading, as though it was now just an extension of the ghost story, which would stay buried until next Halloween. She had been checking the local paper’s website for updates, but the police did not seem any closer to figuring things out than she was. It was not that she wanted to get there first; she just wanted a resolution.

  She reached the harbour and noticed Christopher’s office lights were on. She walked down the jetty towards the warm glow, glad when she saw Christopher working behind his desk.

  “Elizabeth,” Christopher said with a smile, jumping up and opening the door. “What a pleasant surprise. How can I help you?”

  “I was wondering if you had made any of those calls yet?” she asked, the growing emptiness of her shelves burning a hole in the back of her mind. “For the suppliers?”

  “Ah, yes,” he said with a nod, pulling the door open. “Come in.”

  She walked into the tiny office followed by Paddy. The heat from a portable gas fire was so intense, it took her a second to catch her breath. After unravelling her scarf, she sat on the other side of the desk, and Paddy curled up by her feet.

  Christopher shuffled through a stack of papers, his brow creased. For a brief moment, she wondered if his promise of finding a supplier had been bravado on his part. She was a little surprised when he withdrew a sheet of paper with a green sticky note labelled ‘Elizabeth Jones’ attached to the top.

  “Here they are,” he said, handing them across the table. “I’ll make some coffee while you have a look through the numbers.”

  The last time she had been in Christopher’s office, she had been trying to find clues linked to the murder of his head fisherman, Frank. Christopher had been one of her suspects for a brief moment, and even though the fatal rat poison that had led to the man’s demise had belonged to Christopher, he had had nothing to do with the murder; she was happy to see the rat poison was gone.

  She scanned the paperwork, relieved to see that most of her favourite brands were there, and even more pleased to see the huge difference in price from what she was currently paying.

  “I can�
�t believe how cheap this is,” she said, looking at him sceptically. “Is there a catch?”

  Christopher handed over a coffee, his tight smile giving away that he seemed a little offended at the suggestion that he would try to trick her.

  “There’s no catch,” he said as he resumed his seat. “I give you my word.”

  Liz looked over the prices again. When she had first started looking at suppliers to stock her shop, she had hit a brick wall more than once. All the places with the good prices had wanted her to make huge quantity minimum orders, which was what had led her to her current supplier. Now that they had her up against a wall, she wondered if they had seen her coming a mile off.

  “This will really help,” Liz said as she folded up the paper. “Thank you so much.”

  Liz stuck around and finished her coffee. To her surprise, Christopher did not try to inject Simon into the conversation, nor did he suggest that they go on another date. Instead, they chatted idly about the weather and local gossip; it made a pleasant change.

  When Liz left Christopher’s office, she intended to go straight home to spend some quality time with a bottle of wine, but instead she felt compelled to walk past Crazy Waves after one of Christopher’s gossip titbits had revealed that Polly was apparently back at work. When she saw the young stylist sitting behind a desk in the empty salon, Liz tied Paddy to a lamppost, unable to walk by without checking how she was.

  She walked up the two steps to the salon door and pushed it open, the electric shop bell chiming out. Polly jumped up from her position behind the nail desk where she had been absently filing her nails.

  “Liz?” she asked, squinting into the dark. “Are you here for a trim?”

  Liz glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost six in the evening, and she was sure that Polly’s salon closed at five, just like her own shop. Despite this, the hope in Polly’s eyes told Liz she should probably accept the offer; her hair did need a trim.

  “If it’s not too late?” Liz asked. “Can I bring Paddy in?”

  “Sure,” Polly said as she reached for her scissors. “It’s not like anyone else is here.”

  Liz untied Paddy and brought him into the shop. He immediately jumped up onto one of the bright red leather stylist chairs, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. Liz knew he would stay there until she was ready to leave.

  She sat in her usual middle chair and unravelled her scarf. Polly wrapped a gown around her neck, her smile subdued in the mirror. She no longer had red, puffy eyes, her usual beehive was a simple, neat ponytail, and she had applied a little makeup, but she still looked nothing like the usually tanned and preened Essex girl Liz had grown used to.

  “How are you?” Liz asked as Polly gently combed through Liz’s bushy, knotted hair. “You look well.”

  “I’m just taking it day by day,” she said with a shrug. “I thought coming back to work would make me feel better, but it hasn’t. I haven’t had a single customer all day. I called all my regulars this morning to let them know I was back. They all offered sympathies and all that rubbish, but nobody booked an appointment.”

  “They probably don’t know what to say,” Liz offered. “They’ll come back. You’re good at your job.”

  Polly paused her combing for a moment and rested her hand on her chest. She looked as though she might cry, but she held it together. She grabbed her scissors and started on Liz’s split ends.

  “I thought you’d be closed by now,” Liz offered as she glanced at the clock in the mirror. “I was passing on the off-chance and saw the lights.”

  “I can’t stand being cooped up in that house any longer,” Polly admitted, her lips curling up at the edges. “I still have all of Nathan’s things. I can’t bring myself to sort it out, but I can’t bear looking at it for another day.”

  “I’ve been there,” Liz said, remembering how difficult it had been to sort through Lewis’ shirts and records. “In my experience, the sooner you start, the better you’ll feel.”

  Polly did not say anything, instead choosing to simply nod. She seemed to get lost in the cutting, so Liz decided against interrupting. She did not care about her looks as much as most women, but the last thing she wanted was a wonky cut. When Polly was finished, she ran some product through Liz’s frizzy hair before pulling off the gown.

  “I miss him,” Polly said, her eyes wide and blank as she clung to the gown. “I should hate him, and a part of me does, but I still miss him.”

  She could not hold her tears back this time, so Liz reached into her handbag for a packet of tissues.

  “Thank you,” Polly said, pulling one out to blow her nose. “It’s not normal, is it? He cheated on me, and he was using me, but I still loved him. My love was real, even if his wasn’t. How do I get over that, Liz?”

  Liz wished she had the answers. She thought about what had happened with Simon, and a hard lump formed in her throat. Did she love Simon? She was not sure if she wanted to answer that.

  “If you need any help with Nathan’s things, I could help?” Liz offered, deciding it was better to be proactive than just offer empty words of sympathy. “I know it’s none of my business, but –,”

  “Are you sure?” Polly jumped in, her eyes lighting up. “I wouldn’t want to ruin any plans you might have.”

  “I don’t have any plans,” Liz said. “Well, I was going to start on a bottle of wine, but I can bring that with me. I could ask Nancy to help? We’ll get it done in no time with the three of us.”

  Polly nodded as a soft smile pricked up her lips. It warmed Liz to know that she might have made a tiny difference in Polly’s day. She thought back to her darkest days after Lewis’ death, and it had been the kindness of strangers that had got her through. Strangers holding open a door, or letting her jump the line at the supermarket because she was only buying a carton of milk had lifted her days. Flowers and sympathy cards from friends had made little difference.

  “Why are you being so nice to me?” Polly asked as Liz plucked money from her purse. “Everyone else is avoiding me like the plague.”

  “I know how you feel,” Liz said as she handed over the money, which included a generous tip. “Everyone deserves a bit of kindness, and I like you, Polly.”

  Leaving Polly to close up the salon, Liz headed home to drop Paddy back at the flat with a promise to return quickly. She walked across the empty market square, horror rising up within her when she spotted Simon and Natasha heading into Driftwood Café with Ellie in between them, each holding one of her hands.

  Liz did not know what possessed her, but she quickly crouched behind a bin. She glanced over it, relieved when she saw them inside the café. She thought she might have got away with her embarrassing move, but then she saw Misty marching across the square, a phone clutched against her ear.

  The singer stopped in her tracks to stare down at Liz like she was a piece of dirt on her shoe. Liz smiled clumsily at Misty, who looked as beautiful as always, even though she was only wearing jeans and a cream double-breasted trench coat.

  “What on Earth are you doing?” she asked, holding her phone against her shoulder. “You look crazy.”

  “I dropped something.”

  Misty seemed to decide against giving Liz any more of her time. She pushed her phone back up against her ear and continued her marching.

  “Derrick, you need to get me out of this place. It’s full of freaks.”

  Liz stood up as she listened to Misty’s stiletto heels clicking on the cobbles. She looked in the direction of Driftwood Café, not surprised to see Simon and Natasha looking in her direction. Ellie waved, so Liz waved back, but she avoided looking at Simon and Natasha as she hurried to her flat door.

  8

  “It’s very pink,” Nancy said as she stepped into Polly’s sitting room. “It’s very you, Polly.”

  Liz shot Nancy a look to tell her to play nice, but she shrugged as though she did not know what she had done wrong.

  “Thanks,” Polly said as she
followed them in, still in her clothes from the salon. “Try and ignore the mess if you can. I haven’t really felt up to cleaning.”

  Liz looked around the small living room, and it became painfully obvious that Polly had not tidied since her last visit. The pizza boxes were stacked even higher, and there were now wine bottles to match.

  “Who wants wine?” Nancy announced jovially as she pulled two bottles from a blue plastic bag. “It’s the good stuff.”

  Polly nodded awkwardly, her cheeks blushing as she looked around her messy living room. Liz smiled at her to let her know it was okay. Liz’s home had looked similar after her own loss.

  “I couldn’t find any clean glasses, so I suppose mugs will have to do,” Nancy announced after rummaging through the kitchen. “They’re big mugs though, so it means less pouring.”

  Nancy poured the first bottle into the three mugs, only leaving a little behind in the bottom. Not seeming able to waste it, she emptied the rest of the bottle into her mouth as her first sip. Liz only took a small mouthful, deciding it would be better to work with a clear head.

  “Right, ladies,” Liz said, clapping her hands together. “Before we start on Nathan’s stuff, why don’t we get your house back to normal? I’ll start in here. Nancy, you can do the washing up.”

  “Ugh,” Nancy moaned with a pout. “I hate washing up. I always get Jack to do it.”

  Nancy shuffled reluctantly into the kitchen, leaving Liz and Polly in the living room. Liz flicked on a pink radio, which was tuned into a pop station. She grabbed the roll of black bags that she had brought from her flat and yanked off two of them. She passed one to Polly and shook open her own. It only took ten minutes for them to reclaim Polly’s living room from the mess.

  “That’s better,” Liz said after tying up the second bag. She planted her hands on her hips and looked around at their handiwork, glad they had already made a noticeable difference before they had even finished their first mug of wine. “Where’s Nathan’s stuff?”