Super Short Stories

by Stan Mason

  ‘No time for that now, sweetie,’ he interrupted. ‘It’s a beautiful night and Jack’s waiting over there for us!’ He took her arm and led her all the way across the beach to some rocks where the sea lashed the shore below them. He pointed to a set of wooden steps leading down to the water’s edge. ‘Down here!’ he ordered in a hushed voice. ‘Down here!’ He made his way down the steps ahead of her.

  She followed him, peering through the mist, as the hulk of a motor vessel came into sight. ‘You’re using a boat with an engine,’ she muttered, with concern in her voice.

  He shrugged his shoulders aimlessly. ‘It’s too choppy for the row-boat tonight. Anyway, the ship’s way out from the shore. Too far to row comfortably.’

  ‘Isn’t there a risk the Customs boat might hear the noise of the engine,’ she persisted.

  ‘Maybe,’ returned her companion irritatedly, ‘but they’ll never find us in this weather. That’s for sure! Not in this weather!’

  They stepped on to the boat and Miles put his arms round her waist, lifting her to the stern of the vessel. ‘This is going to be a cinch, sweetie!’ he told her with a boyish grin on his face. ‘You take it from me. A cinch! Then we’ll go to The Crown to celebrate. What do you say to that?’

  Before she could reply, Jack had started the motor and the boat was under way. The vessel cut far out to sea with the helmsman peering through the mist as though he could see some distance ahead. The engine throbbed sporadically at first and then chugged monotonously until Tamsin became used to the rhythm. It wasn’t long before they were well away from the shore, completely shrouded by the mist.

  ‘What’s on the compass, Jack?’ asked Miles inquisitively, although he had full confidence in his helmsman.

  ‘We’re right on course,’ returned his colleague. ‘Right on course!’

  Tamsin was cold and miserable. She could never really understand why Miles had asked her to join the team. Without doubt, this was a man’s venture. A woman could hardly be expected to lift and carry heavy boxes of contraband. Ultimately, her presence on these sorties was pointless. Yet he insisted she came with him each time. There was one occasion where they were almost trapped by a Customs vessel. Miles had pressed a loaded pistol in her hand to use against them if they were challenged. When she refused to take the gun, his eyes almost turned yellow with rage causing fear to well-up inside her. Fortunately, it had been unnecessary to use it, but the threat of desperate action was always at hand and she cared little for it.

  The same ship’s fog-horn sounded twice, but this time it was so close it almost deafened them. Miles slapped Jack heartily on the back. ‘You’re a good lad, Jack!’ he commended, grinning all over his face. ‘Right on course, as you said!’

  Out of the mist, the grey shadow of a large ship became visible. The helmsman cut the motor and they drifted silently towards it. When the boat was moored, the two men boarded her. There was a great deal of hustle and bustle and they returned shortly with a number of boxes packed with cigarettes, whisky and rum. Swiftly, they transferred the cargo to the smaller vessel, untied the painter, and then pushed off. Without delay, Jack started the motor and they headed back towards the shore.

  ‘I told yo it would be easy!’ boasted Miles arrogantly. ‘The ship will be there for two days if the weather holds out like this. We’ve got a hell of a lot of stuff here. Cigarettes, whisky and rum! Let’s get it back to Fisher. It’s just what the doctor ordered!’

  Tamsin shivered in the damp weather. She cared little about the contraband or those who would make money from it. Her mind simply wanted to get back to the warmth of her cottage. Admittedly, Miles paid her well for very little effort but somehow the excitement faded when she began to have doubts about his intentions, and she lost interest in him. After realising he was totally shallow in every thought and deed, all her initial feelings of love, romance and the prospect of marriage evaporated. There seemed to be nothing left in her life at all. If she was going to change her life it had to be done soon. By now, she had overcome most of her grief for her parents. Therefore, it was time to leave the area and make a new life for herself somewhere else.

  They soon neared the shore about two miles to the north of the bay. Jack brought the vessel alongside a small jetty and moored it to a rail.

  ‘Let’s make it snappy!’ ordered Miles. ‘We don’t want to hang around here too long!’

  The three of them jumped out of the boat. Miles and Jack carried the boxes into a nearby house; Tamsin dragged a couple of them along the jetty on a small trolley. . Within fifteen minutes, the boat was empty and Tamsin and Jack climbed aboard for the final part of the journey. The helmsman started the motor, and prepared to set course for their return as Miles joined them carrying a bag containing the money. He climbed into the boat with a broad grin on his face as Jack released the painter and set sail. Miles opened the bag and took some notes from the top bundle which he handed to Tamsin.

  ‘Here you are, sweetie!’ he told her. ‘It was a good haul tonight. Like taking candy from a baby, isn’t it?’

  She took the money and tucked it into a pocket in her slacks, brightening up a little. At least there was some compensation for her sadness and apathy... .especially as she had decided to make plans to leave for good! She glanced at Miles who was occupied in counting the money. She wouldn’t be seeing his face for much longer. Definitely not for much longer!

  In a short while, the boat began to near the shore and Jack cut the engine allowing them to drift in quietly. There was the sound of the keel striking the sand and the vessel shuddered to a halt. They were back! Miles leapt out of the boat into the shallow water and waded ashore followed closely by the other two.

  ‘Well that’s over for another evening,’ he sighed, with a certain amount of relief, clutching the bag of money tightly. ‘Let’s go down to The Crown and celebrate!’

  ‘No, Miles... not tonight!’ she told him. ‘I’ve got a headache. I need some rest.’

  He seemed surprised. ‘Suit yourself!’ he growled, his face clouding over. ‘If that’s the way you feel... stuff it!’

  ‘Really. I’m very tired,’ she explained, trying to soften the blow. ‘I’m going to have an early night.’ She turned away from him and began to walk along the beach slowly.

  ‘All right!’ he shouted, not caring whether anyone could hear him. ‘If you want it that way it’s O.K. by me!’ He was angry and not a very good nurse to his bruised ego. ‘The next job’s tomorrow. Same time, same place. Don’t you forget it!’ She stared at him through the wisps of mist, his short yellow hair sprawled damply against his forehead.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she called back. ‘I’ll be on time.’ She walked off towards the cobblestone road leaving him staring at her figure until she disappeared in the mist.

  ‘Women!’ muttered the smuggler, shaking his head slowly. ‘Who can understand them? You can’t live with them; you can’t live without them!’

  Tamsin returned to the cottage without delay. Once inside, she stripped off her black garments and stepped into a pale blue dress, covering her shoulders with a matching blue cape. Then, with a brief glance in the mirror and a quick brush of her hair, she was off again. This time the journey was strictly for pleasure. As she drove past The Crown Inn a thought struck her that Miles might come storming out if he saw her to give chase, but nothing happened. She sped on to a pleasant restaurant in the nearby town four miles away which had bright decor, hidden lighting, and good food. During the tourist season a resident band played most evenings. However at this time of the year one had to be satisfied with the music from a juke-box, or not have any at all.

  She entered the warm cosy atmosphere of the place becoming more animated as the cold gradually drifted from her bones. There were few people about at this time of the year, exposing a lot of empty tables. She sat at the bar and ordered a tabu and lemonade which she sippe
d slowly. All was still and quiet, and yet somehow she sensed she was being watched. Her eyes moved from the glass in front of her and travelled along the bar until she found herself staring directly at a tall handsome man, dressed in a smart blue suit, who was looking directly at her and smiling. His grey eyes drove through her like shafts of steel. Her stomach turned a somersault at the sight of him, while the hand holding her glass began to tremble.

  He nodded amiably and leaned towards her slightly. ‘Hi,’ he greeted. ‘Mind if I join you? It’s pretty lonely in this place tonight. Not like in the summer.’ He moved down the bar to sit on the stool beside her and waved to the barman. ‘A whisky for me and... ... ’ He turned to her questioningly. ‘... ..what are you having?’

  ‘Oh, no more for me,’ she replied nervously, trying not to look at him because the sight of him made her knees go weak. ‘One is enough. I was just about to order dinner.’

  ‘Well what a coincidence,’ he said enthusiastically. ‘I was just about to do the same thing myself. I hope you don’t object to company. I hate dining alone.’ He looked at the barman again. ‘A whisky... and two menus please!’ He took her by the arm and led her to one of the tables across the room. As they sat opposite each other, the man clasped his hands in front of him and looked directly into her eyes. ‘My name’s Philip,’ he told her.

  She felt a violent fluttering in her stomach, having lost her appetite for food temporarily. She was completely hypnotised by the man’s charm. ‘Tamsin,’ she managed to say.

  As he gazed at her, his face became thoughtful. ‘I have a feeling we’ve met before. But it wasn’t here in this town. I never forget a face. It’s a talent I have. I never forget a face.’ As he racked his brains for the answer, the barman brought them each a menu and set the glass of whisky on the table. They examined the list and ordered the meal before staring at each other again. ‘If you’ll forgive the well-worn cliche, what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this in the close season? Do you live here?’

  ‘Yes I do,’ she lied. ‘I’ve lived here for years.’ She bit her tongue at the stupidity of the remark. She was out of her mind! They had met only a few minutes earlier and here she was telling him lies. She had never lied so blatantly to anyone before in her whole life, yet this stranger had penetrated her first line of defence and she had begun to panic. On reflection, it was not that she was lying... .she simply couldn’t think straight!

  He prattled on throughout the meal about boats and seaside towns and people in general conversation. For Tamsin, the time seemed to pass at tremendous speed and she found it almost impossible to take her eyes off him. After they had finished, he put some money into the juke-box. Soft mellow music wafted across the room and he approached her warmly. ‘Let’s dance!’ he invited in a whisper as the cold shafts of light from his eyes once more pierced her heart. Before she realised what was happening, she was in his arms moving forwards and backwards gently to the rhythm of the music. For her, it was like dancing on air. This was the warmth and affection she wanted to feel, not the shallow cheap brand of love Miles tried to force upon her. When the record finished, she sat down at the table weakened by the wonderful experience she had just enjoyed. Suddenly, he stared at her face intently and rapped his knuckles on the table. ‘Polperro!’ he exclaimed triumphantly. ‘Polperro!’

  She looked up at him as the spell was broken. ‘Polperro?’ Her mind flashed back quickly.

  ‘You were in Polperro. I remember now. Do you recall being there?’

  ‘Well, yes... I sometimes visit an aunt there.’ She had now told him a second lie.

  ‘A-ha!’ he said, his ego rising. ‘I knew I’d seen you before. Come to think of it, you were wearing a strange outfit. In black. Yes, completely in black. Am I right?’

  ‘You have an excellent memory,’ she responded, not knowing what to say as her heart thumped with anxiety. She had been in the town on a smuggling mission with Miles. ‘What were you doing there?’

  ‘Oddly enough, I was on holiday. A kind of busman’s holiday.’

  ‘Oh, you’re a bus driver,’ she commented.

  He threw his head back and laughed. ‘You’re a caution,’ he guffawed. ‘A real caution!’

  They left the restaurant and he walked with her to the car. She climbed into the driving seat and lowered the window. He stared intensely at her pale face, his lips barely a few inches from her own. ‘I will see you again, won’t I?’ he advanced sincerely. ‘I know I shouldn’t say this but I think you’re terrific! So beautiful, so lovely, so desirable.’

  She swallowed hard, overwhelmed by his comments. ‘I’m sure we’ll meet again,’ she managed to say, her heart thumping loudly, as her emotions created havoc in her mind. In the next second, his lips touched hers lightly, like a feather... cool... vibrant... sensational! Then suddenly he was gone! She drove home and entered the cottage feeling as though she was walking on air, but ecstasy soon turned to revulsion. The smell of stale cigarette smoke drifted across the room and a familiar voice cut through the silence.

  ‘Hallo, sweetie, where have you been?’ Miles had forced an entry into her cottage and he sat on the sofa inside the front room slobbering drunkenly with a stupid grin on his face.

  ‘Get out, you filthy pig!’ she shouted angrily.

  He stood up unsteadily, waving a finger at her in reproach. ‘Aw, come on, sweetie! You know me better than that!’ He lurched forwards intending to grope at her but she smacked his face so hard it made her hand sting. He didn’t seem to feel any pain and merely leered at her with a drunken grin. ‘Hey! sweetie!’ he exclaimed in slurred speech. ‘This is me. Your old friend, Miles!’ He moved towards her with greater determination and forced her against the wall trying to press his lips against hers. The smell of whisky and stale cigarette smoke came at her in waves and, for a moment, she thought she was going to pass out. Then she reviewed her position and decided to take the offensive. As a last resort, with his body pressed closely to her own, she sank her teeth deeply into his shoulder as hard as she could bite.

  He reeled back furiously, feeling the pain this time. ‘You bitch!’ he snarled. ‘You rotten bitch! Who do you think you are... the bride of Dracula! Now I’ll have to get injections for rabies, you silly cow!’

  She stood with her back against the wall absolutely petrified, waiting for the next onslaught, but nothing happened. Miles staggered to the door, opened it, and disappeared into the night with one hand clamped to his shoulder. Tamsin closed her eyes and leaned back on the front door with relief. Then she went to her bedroom and sat on the bed, her whole body conflicting with emotions following the events of the evening, and she fell on the blanket sobbing herself to sleep.

  She slept quite late the next day and woke to cast a baleful eye at the mist which hung relentlessly over the town. This time, however, the sea grew more restless and choppy; by the evening it had become extremely rough. She dressed herself in the usual black outfit, and sauntered down to the beach. Her instincts were very much against this trip. They told her not to go but she had little alternative if she wanted to earn money. In any case, a promise to Miles was not one to be broken easily.

  Visibility was better than on the previous evening and when she arrived at the wooden hut she discovered that Jack was waiting for her. Silently, he beckoned her to follow him and they soon reached the boat which was bobbing about violently in the stormy sea. Miles stood at the tiller and he spun round to look at her as he heard a noise behind him, turning his head away again in anger as she jumped into the vessel. She couldn’t help but notice the large piece of padding under his T-shirt where she had bitten him. Jack started the motor before Tamsin gave vent to her feelings.

  ‘Do we really have to go tonight, Miles?’ she asked urgently. ‘I have a feeling something’s going to go terribly wrong. Look, even the mist has started to become patchy!’

  ‘Mind your own bus
iness, woman!’ he snarled savagely. ‘This is your last trip anyway. So just keep your mouth shut!’ He looked at the helmsman. ‘I told you women were bad luck, Jack. It’s a known fact. They always are on boats!’

  She bridled, resenting his attitude strongly but they had begun to move out to sea into deep water. It was too late to return to the shore. The waves rolled and tossed the small vessel forcefully; it was obviously going to be a much stiffer journey this time. Consequently, it took them a lot longer to reach the ship this time with Jack having to fight the wheel to keep them on course. Eventually, they arrived at their destination and moored alongside the big ship. The two men clambered aboard to collect another cargo of contraband.

  ‘We’d better get going,’ declared Miles, as soon as they had stowed the illicit goods on the boat. ‘There’s a change in the wind. It looks like the mist is lifting. Let’s get back to Fisher as quick as we can.’

  Jack started the motor and they began to make their way back. However, ten minutes after they had left the ship, his ears perked up at a foreign sound. ‘There’s another boat out there,’ he warned.

  They all listened intently and then Miles turned to the helmsman and issued an order. ‘Change course and head west for the beach! Forget Fisher! We’ll have to make a diversion!’

  ‘But we’ll end up well out of our way!’ declared Jack. ‘At least four miles north of the point.’

  ‘Don’t contradict me!’ commanded Miles adamantly. ‘Just do as I say!’

  The boat swerved and rocked as the order was carried out. Tamsin was scared. She knew in her heart something would go wrong from the start but Miles had refused to listen to her. On a night like this, the only motor vessel out on the high seas would be another smuggler... or the Customs! By now, the throbbing of the engine of the other vessel could be heard clearly. Suddenly, a beam of light from a powerful fog-lamp speared through the mist.

  ‘Let’s cut the motor!’ suggested Jack urgently.