The Wrong Turn

by NC Marshall

  “Yes miss, it's that big building with the red door, at the far end there.” The skipper points to the end of the street where I can see a large building up a small bank, overlooking the water.

  “Thanks very much.” I reply, before starting the short walk.

  I make it to the office as it starts to rain. Scolding myself for not bringing an umbrella, I race to take cover under the door’s porch. I try the handle, but it doesn’t budge and I'm starting to think that I've wasted my time when the door swings open with so much force that I almost fall through it.

  “Can I help?” asks a tall, well-built man with short-cropped, dark hair and wearing a smart, navy suit. I know instantly – it’s him!

  “Hi, I, I—” For some reason, I've forgotten how to speak and I stammer before pulling myself together. “I’m, erm, looking for someone. Actually, I think it might be you!” My cheeks are burning with embarrassment.

  The man stares back at me vacantly.

  “Are you Will Travers?”

  “Yes.”

  I nod and take a step closer to him, holding out my hand, “I’m Megan Cooper.” Will shakes it gently.

  “You might not remember me,” I continue.

  Will’s silence confirms my suspicions that he has no clue who I am.

  “I was in a car accident last week, up near Newcastle, and you helped me,” I continue.

  There’s a sharp glint in Will’s eyes as the realization hits him.

  “Oh, yes, of course. I’m really glad you're OK, Megan.” His tone seems flat – there’s no emotion at all in his voice, and I suddenly feel ridiculous for tracking him down. There are a few seconds of awkward silence before I remember why I’m actually standing outside his office.

  “Oh, sorry,” I reach into my handbag and remove the key. “I think this is yours?” I hold it out to him.

  Will continues to look unimpressed, adding to my feeling of foolishness.

  “You came all the way here to give me this?” taking the key from me, his expression turns to quizzical.

  “Yes,” I reply. “And I wanted to say thank you. If it hadn’t been for you showing up like that, I would be dead. You saved my life!”

  Will shifts his weight and rubs at his unshaven chin.

  “You’re welcome,” he says quietly, looking down at the ground.

  “You left your jacket behind, that’s how I found the key, but I had to throw the jacket away because it was very badly...scorched.” The police still have the jacket in their possession and Will doesn’t need to know that; however, I’m not sure why I feel the need to lie.

  “I can buy you a new one? I know they’re expensive.” I dig into my handbag to pull out my cheque book, but Will reaches out to touch my arm and stops me in my tracks. I look at him properly for the first time and our eyes meet.

  “No, you don’t need to do that. It was just an old coat.” His stare holds mine. His eyes are huge and almost as blue as the water in front of us.

  “Oh, OK, if you’re sure!” I take a step back, feeling awkward, but not insisting he takes the money. Judging by the sports car parked by the door, and the fact that he could afford a coat that probably cost him in excess of £700, I doubt he needs reimbursement.

  “Well, thanks for returning this, Megan.” He holds up the key and slips it into his suit pocket; I nod, taking that as a hint that our conversation is over.

  “Thank you for saving my life!” I respond, flatly. I begin to back away from the shelter of the doorway and out into the heavy rain.

  “Any time,” Will smiles briefly, before the door closes.

  Chapter 15

  I’m soaked through and feeling really fed up by the time I get back to the cottage. Eva, still in the same nightwear I left her in an hour ago, jumps up from the sofa as soon as I enter the living room.

  “Christ, you’re absolutely drenched!” she exclaims, stating the obvious. She takes my wet coat and I squeeze the rainwater from my dripping hair before I fall heavily onto the sofa. Eva moves to the open fire and, from a wicker basket, throws some more kindling onto it before she sits back down.

  “So, what happened?” she asks, pushing a stray blonde curl behind her ear and tucking one foot beneath her.

  “Oh, not much really” I reply, as casually as I can. “Went to his office, gave him his key, I said ‘thank you’ and he said ‘you’re welcome’.”

  “And that’s it? No explanation of why he was in the North East last week?”

  “Nope.”

  “And he didn’t give you a reason for not giving his name, or coming to the hospital?”

  “No.”

  “You didn’t talk?”

  “No, the conversation was over before it began really.”

  “That’s a bit strange!”

  I remove my boots and socks, trying to regain the circulation in my frozen feet.

  “Yep.”

  “So, you really didn’t have any sort of chat with him?” Eva continues to throw questions at me.

  “He didn’t exactly seem the chatty type, Eva.” I say, a little irritated by the constant stream of questions being thrown at me as I’m barely through the door.

  “And he didn’t even invite you in from the rain?”

  “No, he bloody didn’t! Hence why I am now like a drowned rat.” I gesture towards my soaked jeans and limp wet hair.

  Eva smiles and reaches over to rub my arm affectionately.

  “Sorry, Meg – I know you’d hoped for some answers today.”

  I suddenly have a deep feeling of dissatisfaction and I can't really explain why. What was I hoping for when I finally met this man? Had I really been expecting anything other than the reaction I got? I can’t deny that he’s all I have thought about since the accident, and, in a strange sort of way, I know that I have developed a kind of fascination with this stranger who saved my life. After meeting him this morning, however, I feel utterly disappointed.

  “Well, I’m feeling a lot better now,” says Eva. “Why don’t we go and get some lunch somewhere nice. My treat?”

  “Sounds like a plan,” I reply, rising to my feet again. “I’ll just go and grab a shower and get changed.”

  I hear Eva’s phone ringing as I dry my hair, but I can't make out the conversation through the wall of the cottage, only her muffled voice. A moment later she has a huge, excited grin on her face when she pops her head around the bedroom door.

  “What’s up?” I ask as I open my make-up bag and begin rubbing moisturizer into my cheeks.

  “That was the lad I met in the pub last night,” she replies, brightly.

  “Who?” I laugh, “you mean, that Jack guy you were talking to at the bar for barely a few minutes? I didn’t even realize you’d given him your number!”

  Eva nods proudly, “he’s asked me out for a few drinks and lunch today.”

  “That’s brilliant, Eva!” I reply, smiling.

  “Do you honestly not mind though Meg? I know I said we’d go out today, and I feel guilty for leaving you, but he was…”

  “Gorgeous! Yes, I know, and don’t be silly. I’m a big girl and can occupy myself for a few hours. Get out there and have some fun.”

  “I know, but I came here to keep you company after all.”

  “It’s fine, honest. It’s stopped raining now anyway so I’ll have a walk and take a look around the village. I spotted a little art museum earlier, so I might visit that.”

  Eva scrunches her nose. Although my idea of a good day out involves learning and culture, it couldn’t be further from what Eva enjoys. Jack has given her the perfect excuse to avoid being dragged round an art museum while I admire the paintings and give her a running commentary of something she has absolutely no interest in.

  “Thanks a lot, Meg,” Eva beams at me, “I promise we’ll go out tonight and spend tomorrow morning together before we head home,” she adds, before she leaves to get ready for her lunch date.

  ***

  The sun is shining again, and t
he earlier cloudy sky has given way to a bright and clear afternoon, as I make my way to the village centre. Adjusting my woollen scarf against the bite of the coastal breeze, I keep a slow pace. The village remains as relaxed as it was when we arrived yesterday, with only a few weekend tourists peering into the small gift shops, and the odd local dog walker wandering along the narrow maze of cobbled lanes. I decide to treat myself to fish and chips and, sitting on a nearby bench overlooking the water, I unwrap the paper. The smell of vinegar hits me full force and, as the heat rises up to thaw my cold face, I dig in hungrily.

  It's only when I spot an old couple walking hand-in-hand along the path in front of me that loneliness strikes. The emotion doesn’t rise from the fact that Eva isn’t with me and I’m in a place I’m not familiar with. I’m an independent woman and always have been; doing my own thing comes naturally to me and I’ve stood on my own two feet from a young age. When I lost my mum at 19, it reinforced how self-sufficient I actually am. I climbed the career ladder at work, gaining a respectable position within one of the largest retail firms in the country.

  On a day-to-day basis I keep busy, so that the feelings of loneliness are kept at a manageable level. However, it’s times like these, when I let my barriers down for a few seconds, that the pain returns and I’m cruelly reminded that I am, after all, a widow and I’ll never again share special moments with the man I truly loved.

  Feeding the seagulls a handful of battered fish, and throwing the remainder of my lunch into a nearby bin, I head towards the museum I’d spotted earlier, located near the ferry landing. I’m grateful for the warmth as I enter – I’m still frozen from the soaking I received earlier and I doubt I’ll thaw out properly before the day is through. I decide to grab a coffee in the café before I look around.

  I join the small queue and, as I’m nearing the front, I realize the man standing in front of me is Will Travers. Feeling the same awkwardness I had on our earlier meeting, I decide to avoid another encounter with him and turn to walk away. However, as I do, I catch my elbow on the corner of a container full of cutlery and it crashes noisily to the floor. Will bends down to help me clear up the mess and only acknowledges who I am when we are crouched on the floor at eye level.

  “Oh hi, Megan, isn’t it?” he asks, a smile forming and then quickly fading to the expression of non-emotion he’d had earlier.

  I nod, as I place the last of the cutlery into the plastic container he’s holding and we stand back up.

  “Yes, it is. Hello again, Will.”

  “That will be £2.80,” interrupts the young girl behind the counter, handing Will a small cup of coffee.

  “Please, let me.” I thrust a £10 note into the girl’s hand before Will has the chance to protest, “and I’ll have a latte, please.” I smile, and the girl turns away to prepare it.

  “Thank you!” says Will, taking the cup and cradling it in his hands.

  “It’s the least I can do,” I reply. The girl behind the counter hands me my drink and change, and I turn to leave.

  “Erm, Megan, would you like to join me?” I spin on my heel, surprised, and meet his eye.

  “Yes, that would be nice!” I respond.

  I follow him to a window seat overlooking the estuary, and I briefly wonder if there are many buildings in this village that don’t boast a picturesque view.

  “So, you’re staying here in Morteford?” asks Will casually. He lifts his mug of coffee, blows on it, and takes a sip.

  “Yes,” I reply, “my friend and I are staying in a holiday cottage just down the road.”

  Will nods in acknowledgement. “Will you be here for long?”

  “No, we go home tomorrow.”

  “So you came all the way here just to return my key?” Will sounds sceptical, and I’m not surprised. My actions do seem a little eccentric.

  “And to say thank you, yes.” Once again, I feel a sense of embarrassment and totally removed from the woman who stands up to present in front of a crowded room of patronizing businessmen, able to put them in their place at the drop of a hat.

  Will looks out over the estuary, thoughtfully.

  “So, where’s your friend today?”

  “Eva? Oh she met a guy in the Anchor Tavern last night and he invited her out for lunch this afternoon.”

  Will smiles. “The Anchor, eh? I regularly drink in there.”

  “Yes, I know, we were waiting for you last night – the lady at the place you’re renovating said you might be there.”

  “Aaah, so that’s how you found out where I work?” The penny drops.

  “Yes.” I smile.

  “What’s the name of the guy your friend has gone out with?”

  “Jack something or other.”

  “Oh, that’ll be Jack Dalton! Nice guy, but not like him to have the guts to do something like that – he’s usually pretty shy around women, so must have taken the chance! The local men aren’t used to seeing beautiful women like yourself.”

  I blush, and on realizing what he’s just said, Will quickly changes the subject.

  “Are you recovered now then, after the accident?” He fiddles with a loose thread dangling from the sleeve of his jumper.

  “Yes, I’m fine thanks. I was in hospital for a couple of days though, so they could keep an eye on me.”

  “Before they took you in the ambulance, the paramedics said that your injuries weren’t too serious.”

  “Yes, just a little smoke inhalation and a few cuts and bruises, but they said I’m lucky to be alive.”

  Will looks back out over the water and sighs.

  “I’m really sorry I couldn’t come with you, but I had a flight to catch. I was on my way to the airport when I saw your car at the bottom of the ravine.”

  “Were you on business in the area?” I grab the chance to find out the real reason he was away from home.

  “Yes – my business partner and I have some clients based near Newcastle. I was just meeting up with them, then returning here to pass on the details to Elliott. I felt terrible leaving you like that, but, like I say, the paramedics said you were OK and I was running late to drop off the hire car and catch the last flight home.”

  I nod, but wonder if, in his position, I would have hung around longer.

  “It’s OK, I totally understand,” I lie. “I’m just grateful you were passing by when you did.”

  “How did the accident happen anyway?” asks Will. “Can you remember anything about it?”

  I shudder – reliving the memory is a daily, and ongoing, struggle.

  “There was a car coming towards me so I swerved to miss it and went off the road.”

  “There was another car?!” Will seems shocked. “I didn’t see another car.”

  “You wouldn’t have! It was long gone by the time you got there, and the police think it was kids joyriding.”

  “And they didn’t stop to see if you were OK?”

  “No, the police reckon they were probably too scared to stop and were half expecting they’d hand themselves in, but I’m not sure they’ll come forward voluntarily now.”

  “If they have any sort of decency, or a conscience, then you shouldn’t have to wait too long.”

  “No, maybe not. I haven’t heard anything though so I’m presuming they’re still looking into it.” I pick up my mug, take a sip of the still-hot coffee and again think back to the visit from the detectives earlier in the week.

  “I hope they catch them,” says Will softly.

  “Yeah, me too.”

  “Did you tell the police that you were coming here to find me?”

  “No, I didn’t really think they needed to know; besides, I decided to come here after I’d spoken to them.”

  Will nods and I spot what I think is a fleeting look of relief.

  I’m draining the last of my coffee when my mobile rings, and, when I reach into my bag expecting it to be Eva, the display shows a number I don’t recognize.

  “Hello, Megan Cooper speaking.”


  “Megan, hi, it’s DCI Morgan.” His authoritative, thick Geordie accent rings loudly in my ear.

  “Oh, hello, how can I help you?” I ask, feeling the anxiety bubble to the surface.

  “DI Taylor and I popped round to see you today, but you weren’t home. Your brother, Luke isn’t it, told us you’re away for the weekend?”

  “Yes, due back tomorrow.”

  “That’s good as we need to speak to you again. Can you call us as soon as you return please?”

  “Yes, course, but what’s this all about?”

  “Nothing to worry about and everything’s under control – just a few things we need to ask you.”

  “Oh alright. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Great, thanks Megan. Speak to you then.”

  I hang up on DCI Morgan and look back at Will.

  “Everything alright?” he asks.

  “Yes, well I think so. The police want to talk to me when I get home.”

  “About the accident presumably?”

  “Yes, although he didn’t say.”

  “Maybe they’ve found the kids who were driving the car?”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  I reach for my coat and stand up, not really feeling in the mood to look around the gallery.

  “I think I’ll head back to the cottage now.” I push back my seat, and, as I stand, so does Will.

  “I’ll walk back with you if that’s OK? I’m meeting Elliott in the Anchor soon.”

  I nod, but am not really listening. There was something about DCI Morgan’s tone that has made me nervous, and I start to think that this whole mess isn’t over yet and that, possibly, it’s only just begun.

  Chapter 16

  Charlotte closed the hotel door behind her and slumped down heavily onto the perfectly made, king-sized bed. It had been a bloody gruelling day! Nevertheless, she knew that they were getting closer to the truth, and that it was only a matter of time before the answers they wanted would be revealed. She switched on the TV and glanced at her watch; it was almost 8.30 pm and she said she’d meet Tony downstairs in the restaurant at 9 o’clock, so she’d better get a move on.