‘So, you come all this way, to a small, forgotten, and dying place like this, just because you like little seaside towns? Is that it?’
And there it was. Beth flushed and felt incredibly stupid. She still wasn’t thinking clearly after what she’d just seen.
‘Well, when you put it like that it sounds—’
Jim held up a palm and cut her off. ‘Listen. I don’t like being lied to. There ain’t nothing here for tourists. And, I’m sorry, but you saying you got upset at what you heard in the pub back there has about as much truth to it as a politician’s speech. Now, to be honest, it ain’t none of my business what you are doing here. I don’t much care. But I’ll tell you this: Netherwell Bay ain’t a place you want to stay. So, you’d be wise to take my advice and just leave town as soon as you can. Forget whatever it is that brought you here and go.’
Beth was silent for a moment, before answering honestly, ‘I can’t.’
Jim nodded. ‘I see. Well, if you’ll excuse me, miss, I’ve had a hell of a day. It started badly, and then I had to spend most of it with the police. Thought a drink in this place,’ he motioned to the Trout and Lobster behind him, ‘might have helped, but that didn’t work out too well. So now I just want to go home. If you won’t take my advice, then good luck to you.’
He then turned and walked away. Beth wanted to shout after him again, to get him to stop, to try to gain his favour. But she knew it was pointless. It would come across as being too desperate, and the man’s guard was already up. It was a lost cause with him… for now.
But there was still something she could do while standing around. Beth walked up to one of the news vans. It was white, with the words ‘North East News’ brandished across the side in blue. She knocked on the door. A woman with long blonde hair and immaculate makeup was sitting inside the passenger side. Beth instantly knew this woman was a reporter who would be featured on camera. The window lowered and the young woman greeted Beth with a smile.
‘Can I help you?’ the woman asked.
‘Yeah, just wondering what’s going on? A few people inside the pub back there are saying there have been some murders. Is that true?’
Beth had no idea how much information the reporter would be willing to share, if she even knew anything. Being one herself—for a newspaper rather than a television channel—Beth knew her kind were a funny breed. Some were happy to divulge a little information to bystanders in the hopes of learning something new. Others, if they had nothing to gain, were very tight-lipped.
‘We’ve heard that, too, but not a whole lot more. Possibly three dead,’ she replied. ‘Can you tell me what you know?’
Beth shrugged. ‘Just that there have been some people killed—murdered, apparently—and that it looks pretty gruesome. I don’t know anything else. Just curious.’
‘Well, the police aren’t saying much yet. We are hoping for a statement soon, but I don’t know any more than that, to be honest. We don’t even have enough to run a proper story, and all we know for sure is that there’s a police presence here. The murders aren’t even confirmed, just what some locals are saying.’
‘Okay, thank you,’ Beth said, beginning to grow frustrated.
‘Hey,’ the woman said, suddenly digging into her pocket. ‘Do me a favour, will you?’ She handed Beth a card with the name Karen Porter written on it, along with a mobile phone number. ‘If you do hear anything else that is of interest, will you call to let me know? We’re struggling for leads here.’
‘I will,’ Beth said with a smile. It was a lie, of course, unless she felt the woman could help her with her own search.
Beth turned and looked back out to the beach. This time she kept her gaze away from the police, and gazed out to the sea instead.
The murders, Josh’s message, the things she was seeing… something was very wrong here in Netherwell. She didn’t have the first clue as to what that was, yet, but she had an awful feeling her little brother was somehow tied up in it all.
If he was still alive—and she prayed to God that he was—then Beth was going to do everything in her power to help him. She swore to herself that she wouldn’t leave this place until Josh was safe. No matter what it took.
She would figure this all out for him.
10
Jim made his way back to his bungalow, crossing the river at the first footbridge he came to, which took him to Old Town. He then hiked up the steep bank.
The area of town on this side of the river was smaller than the main section, and was part of the original settlement. Netherwell Bay had only expanded beyond the separating watercourse decades after the first homes were built.
The incline made Jim’s calves burn like it always did, but he pushed on, passing the small houses to his right. The day’s events weighed heavily on him.
Even beyond the obvious. The interaction with that lady back in the town centre stuck with him, too. After first seeing her, looking pale and scared, he’d thought she had found something similar to what he had that morning.
But no, instead she had tried to feed him what was clearly a bunch of bullshit, and he was good at spotting bullshit. He had no idea why, but it was clear the woman just wanted to find out what he’d seen over in Hollows Cove.
Jim had never in all his years living here seen the lady before, and Netherwell wasn’t a place that got many visitors. Still, something had seemed familiar about her, and as soon as he heard her speak, he’d put it together.
The woman’s accent was the same as young Josh’s.
The two certainly had a look of each other. Brother and sister, he'd wager. And, if she were anything like him, then that meant she was trouble. If not, then the poor woman probably didn’t want to know what had become of Josh.
Jim made it to the crest of the bank, where the houses to his right curved away. Suddenly, a realisation struck. That was probably why she was here—looking for her brother. He couldn’t be certain, of course, and he’d made quite a lot of assumptions, but Jim figured it wasn’t a bad guess.
Jim followed the curve of the houses, walking along the now level road ahead. His bungalow was towards the end of the row, and the back looked out over the grass of the clifftop, giving a majestic view of the sea. The Overview Lodge, Ms. Jacobs' bed and breakfast guest house, was situated at the far end of the street. Being three stories, it dwarfed its neighbour, separated from it by a long double driveway. The Overview Lodge, like most other buildings along the street, had a white rendered finish to the walls to protect from the driving rain and wind, and the pitched roof was a dark red tile. It had bay windows on either side of the entrance door, and those were repeated up each of the three floors. It was a grand-looking place, though it got little business. Jim knew that the only reason it still carried on was because Ms. Jacobs owned it outright.
She was a strange woman. To Jim, at least. Her smile always seemed like a condescending sneer, and she mainly kept to herself.
Jim continued on, getting closer to his home. Given all that had happened that day, it suddenly felt like an age to Jim since he had left his little house that morning. He’d followed a different route then, following the pathway down the other side of the cliff while weaving through trees and shrubbery, a much more naturalistic trail than the way he’d taken back, which had cut through the town centre. Of course, he had been massively waylaid today. Given Nethwerwell didn’t have its own police force, he’d had to go out of town to give his statement. The officers had taken him and Jess to the station via a police cruiser, after he’d insisted his dog come along, and had dropped them off near the Trout and Lobster when finished, but only after grilling Jim on everything he had seen.
According to them, such an act of savage violence and murder was unheard of in Netherwell Bay. Obviously, their memory didn’t stretch back very far. Or, more accurately, they were too young to know what had happened in this town all those years ago.
Because if they did know, they—like Jim—would be terrified it was happening
again.
Jim reached his bungalow, which had pastel-green render, a grey slate roof, and wooden sash windows—the frames of which he’d freshly painted only this past spring. He’d kept the place in as good an order as he could, but without Ada around to give it her special touch, the house wasn’t the same. It was still Jim’s, though. Bought and paid for.
He unlocked the latch and stepped through the door, into the open living area. Jess brushed past his legs and trotted over to her water bowl in the kitchen, which was accessed off the living room by a door in the far wall. Jim heard the dog noisily lap up the liquid, no doubt spilling a good portion onto the tiled floor.
There was no entrance lobby, and the front door led straight into the living area itself. He’d kept the flower-patterned wallpaper that Ada loved so much, though it dearly needed replacing. A large fireplace with a chunky timber mantelpiece was fitted to the side wall, and the floor was lined with a thick blue carpet. The room was quite cluttered with Jim’s books and magazines strewn about and a high leather sofa opposite the fireplace. Jim dearly loved to read and hadn’t bothered buying a television after the one he’d shared with Ada broke a few years prior. The mantelpiece above the fire was lined with pictures, mostly of Ada, and her urn sat centrally on it.
A door to the right of the living room led out into a short corridor, and from there the toilet and two bedrooms could be accessed. Jim knew he should really go to the bedroom and change, feeling grubby after his day, but he just couldn’t seem to muster the energy. Instead, he shuffled over to the sofa and dropped down into it, sighing as he felt the aches of his body catch up to him. A deep feeling of worry had burrowed into his gut, building constantly since that morning, to the point he felt sick.
‘Hell of a day, hun,’ Jim said to the brass urn on the mantelpiece. ‘I have a bad feeling about what’s coming.’
11
‘Well, I have plenty of room,’ the old woman on the other side of the counter said to Beth. ‘But that really isn’t the point. Our policy is that guests have to book ahead.’
Beth held back an exasperated sigh and tried not to show her annoyance. ‘I understand, and I’m sorry. If I’d planned ahead better I would have booked, but this has all been very last minute. Would you mind letting me rent a room? I’d really appreciate it.’
The Overview Lodge. That was where Beth now found herself.
After Beth’s brief interaction with Jim, she had felt at a loss and was unsure of her next step. With dusk setting in, though, she knew there was no chance of her going back home that night. That focused her mind and made the next step simple: accommodation.
She’d spotted a small shop only a few hundred yards away that was still open. Beth had trotted inside and spoken to the owner, asking about any local accommodation. The Overview Lodge was the only place the man knew of, and he gave Beth directions. While at the shop, Beth bought a pack of sandwiches, a few bottles of water, and a container of fruit salad, just in case this Overview had no food facilities. After a brief hesitation, she had also added a couple of bottles of strong red wine to the order.
It was a short drive to the hotel, and Beth just wanted to get a room and try to relax. Trouble was, the owner seemed intent on making things difficult. She was a small, frail looking woman with a stern face, light makeup, and grey hair pulled back in a bun. The angular glasses perched on the old woman’s nose reminded Beth of a strict schoolteacher who was well overdue retirement. The old woman was dressed in a long-sleeved blouse with a flowered pattern.
She had introduced herself as Ms. Jacobs, then promptly refused Beth’s request for a room. Beth had assumed they must have been full if the woman wasn’t willing to let her stay, but that apparently wasn’t the case.
The little old woman studied Beth with an expressionless stare. Beth, for her part, resisted leaning over the counter and screaming, ‘Do you want my fucking money or not?’
Beth’s day so far had been a royal bitch, and at that moment all she wanted to do—no, needed to do—was to find somewhere comfortable and take a nice hot bath. Hell, even though she was hungry, food could wait. She just needed somewhere to lay her head.
‘Fine,’ Ms. Jacobs said, eventually. ‘But you will have to pay upfront. That is non-negotiable.’
‘No problem,’ Beth replied, setting her bag down on the oak reception desk and pulling out her purse. The reception area was little more than an entrance hall and stairway, but a spacious one. There were doors off to the left and right painted white with thick, detailed architraves. The ceilings were high, and the area was lit by a dangling chandelier and tasteful, wall-mounted lights. The floor was tightly butted pine planks with a polished finish, and the stairs had a plush red carpet. The whole area smelled strongly of incense.
‘So how many nights will you be staying?’ Ms. Jacobs asked, smiling politely. It was an unnatural smile, however, forced, and Beth noticed stained teeth behind the woman’s thin lips.
Beth paused. She hadn’t considered that. ‘Erm… three nights?’
It was the first number that came into her head. Beth wasn’t sure if that was enough time, or even too much time. Regardless, if she was able to help Josh, but overpaid as a result, so be. If she needed more time, then she would likely have to negotiate with Ms. Jacobs again.
‘Three nights,’ the old woman repeated. ‘That will be six hundred pounds.’
Beth paused. Two hundred pounds a night seemed excessive for a room in such a small town, especially one that had no tourism to speak of. Still, Beth knew that she would get nowhere trying to barter, and Ms. Jacobs had likely inflated her prices just because she could. Beth had been too eager by practically begging for the room, playing right into the old woman’s hands. So, Beth decided to accept with no argument.
‘That’s fine,’ Beth said, then pulled out her credit card. As the transaction was going through, Ms. Jacobs cast Beth a curious gaze.
‘Everything okay?’ Beth asked, a little uncomfortable.
‘Your accent,’ the woman replied. ‘Not a local one. You from down South?’
Beth nodded, not feeling the need to lie. ‘Yes, I am. That a problem?’
The woman scoffed. ‘Of course not. Just don’t get many southerners here. Can’t imagine what brought you to Netherwell Bay.’
Beth decided to leave that unanswered, and the two remained silent until the card machine started to print out a receipt. Eventually, Ms. Jacobs handed Beth a copy, along with a key.
‘Room three. First floor. Take the stairs here.’
‘Thanks. What time is breakfast tomorrow?’
Ms. Jacobs shook her head. ‘We don’t serve it.’
Beth’s eyes opened a little wider.
‘But it’s a bed and breakfast,’ Beth exclaimed.
The woman just shrugged. ‘The Chef isn’t working today.’
Six hundred pounds for only three nights, and no breakfast? It was a con. But Beth was desperate, and so she swallowed her annoyance. ‘I’ll eat elsewhere. Thank you.’
Ms. Jacobs just nodded and again sat at her desk. She picked up the book she had been reading and started to study the pages. Evidently, their interaction was finished.
‘Bye then,’ Beth said and headed upstairs, her carry-all in hand. She easily found the room on the first floor, and, upon entering, was quite impressed. Not two-hundred-pounds-a-night impressed, but still. It could have been much, much worse.
The room was spacious, with a high, four-poster bed that looked nice and soft. The pillows and quilt had white covers with grey, flowered patterns which matched the pelmet at the head, and valance at the base. The walls had white wallpaper to them, and the carpet was a very light grey, and it felt soft and thick underfoot. Tied-back curtains framed a tall window with Georgian bars across the glass. The view out over the cliff’s plateau was as good as Beth had hoped, though it was growing quite dark outside now, which lent the vista an ominous feel.
An old-style television sat on a chest of drawers ag
ainst the wall opposite the bed. A door beside the drawers led to the en-suite. The bathroom was roomy as well, with a double shower, toilet, and vanity unit with a handwash basin set into it. A large mirror stood above the vanity unit and white tiles covered the walls and floors.
If this place had been situated somewhere else, such as London or another major city, then the two hundred pounds a night would have seemed like a bargain. She started to unpack, hanging the clothes she’d brought with her in the wardrobe and placing her socks and underwear in the top of the chest of drawers. She then sat on her bed with her sandwiches, fruit salad, and one of the bottles of water. The tuna and mayo sandwich was serviceable and was washed down with the lukewarm water. The food filled a hole in her belly, but she endeavoured to have a hearty meal at some point early tomorrow, knowing that she would need fuel to keep her going through what would undoubtedly be a long day.
Beth then used the remote to flick on the television, then scrolled through the channels, though she was disappointed to find the hotel only had the five basic terrestrial channels available. She hoped to find the local evening news, thinking they might run a story about the murders.
The reporter back in town had said she’d learned nothing concrete, so Beth doubted there would be anything worth hearing as yet, unless the police had put out a statement. Sadly, the news wasn’t playing, so she had to settle for a gameshow. The host was funny, and it was a bit of mindless entertainment that Beth hoped might quiet her thoughts. She was feeling stressed, and the throngs of an oncoming headache started to drum in her temples.
But her brain wouldn’t cooperate. For one, she kept thinking about Josh, and the whole fucked-up situation of the murders in town. No matter how much she tried to convince herself differently, Beth’s instinct told her the two were somehow linked. She just prayed that Josh wasn’t among the people who were dead.
The Netherwell Horror Page 6