Leaving George

by Diane M Dickson

  “I don’t think I’ll be able to find it in the dark. I’ll show you tomorrow.”

  “What? What did you say? Who the hell do you think you are to start dictating terms? You’ll show me when I say you will! You’ll show me today.”

  He climbed back to sit beside her and dragged a bottle of water from his pocket. He lifted it to his lips and drank deeply. She held her breath; surely he would give her a drink. He must know how she needed one. Her desperate eyes watched as the water glugged and bubbled and his throat worked swallowing the cool liquid. Without a glance at her he finished the contents and then dropped the empty plastic bottle into the swirling depths. She felt hate then; more than she had ever felt in her life. More than for George and his brutality and more than even for this man up until now. It lit a fire deep inside that she feared would consume her and tip her over the edge into insanity. She clenched her fist and felt the pain in her fingers as she held back the fury.

  Pauline was exhausted. Every bone and muscle ached with a deep throbbing relentlessness. Her eyes were sore, her throat was dry, she wasn’t able to reach her pools and her head pounded. The brute sat beside her silent and calm.

  “Who are you?”

  “What?”

  “Your name, what’s your name?”

  “What the hell has that got to do with you?”

  “Nothing, sorry nothing. I just thought that… I don’t know your name.”

  “You don’t need to know my name. You don’t need to know anything about me. All you need to be thinking about now is where that bloody rock is and what I might do to you if you’re lying to me. So shut up.”

  She felt his tension, “Have you got any water?”

  “No, No I haven’t got any bloody water, you just saw me finish the water. Now – shut up.”

  How far could she safely go? She needed to needle him to the extent that he would act but not so much that he would lash out again. She couldn’t take any more pain.

  “Can I sip from that little hollow? That’s what I was doing.”

  “Oh bloody hell. Can’t you shut up?” He clambered to his feet. She held her breath as he scrambled to the entrance. “Please, please, please.” Silently pleading she was tight with tension.

  “Right, come on. Now listen to me. I can put the gag back in or you can promise me that you won’t shout or scream. Your choice but I’ll tell you this, you try and draw attention to us and you will think that what has happened up to now has been a church picnic. I can think of ways to hurt you that you can’t even begin to imagine. Do you understand?”

  She nodded.

  He bent and began to untie the rope around her ankles. Every nerve was a red hot needle. There might just be one chance and if there was she must grasp it. She must risk it all now because once he found that she had lied and that there was no bag she was sure that he would not let her live.

  Chapter 24

  He unwound the rope from her feet and in a flood of pain her arms were pulled from behind her back.

  “Christ, oh good Christ.” Blackness hovered at the edges of the world and she bit the inside of a cheek to force herself to focus and cling to consciousness.

  He tied the rope again around her wrists and cut off the excess, dropping it to the bottom of the cave. His merciless fingers lifted her head. Tears filled her eyes and as she blinked them away they dribbled across his hand.

  “Bloody hell. Bloody snivelling women.” He dashed the moisture on the legs of his jeans.

  “Listen to me now, bitch. We are going to walk up the cliff. I’ve left the rope loose so you can balance. See how kind I can be when you co-operate? But if you make any silly moves, if you try to attract attention, if you do anything that annoys me you are going over the edge. Do you understand?”

  Pauline sniffed and nodded. Holding the trailing edge he led her forward. Though she was stiff and sore the long miles of hiking had made her strong. Her muscles remembered how to flex and stretch and on quivering legs she staggered towards the fading light at the cave entrance.

  He pushed before her and gesturing with a hand behind him to keep her back he moved on to climb the first of the rocks. He turned towards the beach and watched for maybe a minute, perhaps more. When he was satisfied he tugged on the rope. She followed like a tethered beast.

  For the first part of the climb she concentrated on finding her footing. As her joints loosened and warmed her movements became more fluid, stronger with each step. He was two paces ahead and confident in his ability to clamber on the wet cliff. She watched, assessed, waited.

  She tripped, tugged on the rope and he turned back with a snarl. “Bloody well take care bitch, you’ll have us over!”

  “Sorry.” She kept her head down her gaze averted. She tripped again and came down on her knees.”

  “Shit! Will you stop?” He turned and stepped back half a pace.

  “I’m sorry, I’m stiff and sore. My legs won’t work properly.”

  “Stop whining.” With a shake of his head and a sigh he leaned and tugged at the binds around her wrists and then he hooked a hand under her elbow and hoisted her upright. “There, now come on.”

  She wobbled on the next step and fell again; this time fully across the rocks. The rope tightened and he spun round in alarm. “Bloody hell! Can’t you be careful?”

  She lay full length and began to sob. He slithered towards where she was with her head on the rock and her leg between two great boulders.

  “I’m trapped. I don’t think I can move. Please, help me. My leg’s stuck.”

  He threw the rope aside in fury and stepped across her.

  As he bent to the rocks she closed her eyes and drew up her knees. With all the strength left in her battered body she kicked out at him. Both feet connected with his lower belly and he tumbled back amongst the loose stones at the edge of the promontory.

  “Shit!”

  Pauline curled forward and threw herself at him. She screamed with the effort and felt him grab at her hands, pawing at her arms in panic. The ground beneath him was unstable and rocks and pebbles cascaded into the swirling water. She shook him off and fell back onto her behind. Drawing up her knees again she planted both feet flat against his chest and with a mighty kick pushed him further over the brink.

  “Bitch! Bitch!” He screamed at her, but he was clawing now at the crumbling edges and she kicked again and again beating down on him with her heels and thrusting with all the strength left in her legs. She heard the crack as his nose broke under the onslaught of her pounding feet and then with a rumble of rock and a final screech from him, the verge collapsed and carried him away into the tumbling waves.

  He screamed again.

  She heard the thud of him bounce against the rocks.

  Then there was nothing but the cry of the gulls and the waves breaking on the shore.

  She couldn’t move. She simply lay on the rocks for now and just breathed but knew that she would have to look.

  On hands and knees she crawled forward. Then, stretched full length again, because she suspected that her legs wouldn’t hold her, she peered over the edge. His body was far below. She couldn’t tell if he was alive. He made no effort to swim and as the water took him towards the rocks she believed that at the very least he was unconscious.

  She was still bound but able to push to her feet and clamber to the beach side of the rocks. Far below, walking in the evening light was a group of teens, a dog walker. She yelled to them and held up her arms. The nearest group turned and peered towards her. She lowered her aching arms; they would come now. She tried to shout but all that she could manage was a keening wail and then two of them turned and began to run away. As they did the sounds of their panicked calls floated back to her. They pointed as they went and then the others joined the dash; they ran from her, they ran from the creature in the rocks, they ran from the fabled figure on the headland, the ghoul from the past.

  Hysteria took her now and she began to laugh as the tears rolled down he
r filthy face and the effort and the anguish took the strength from her legs and she flopped to the ground and lowered her head into her hands. If he had been alive surely he was dead by now. She couldn’t help him. She couldn’t help herself, all she could do was to sit in the sunset and cry.

  At last the world wheeled away and darkness descended. She was done, there was nothing left and so it was over.

  Chapter 25

  The cold forced her back to the world, cold and the shivering. When she opened her eyes the sky above was indigo, silver stars were sliding through the blanket and so she knew she had been out of it for a while.

  The pain in various parts of her body had become an old enemy by now and so pushing herself to a sitting position brought no surprises. The world tipped and swam but righted quickly and the slight nausea passed leaving her feeling drained.

  The horror of the fight swarmed back in. She lowered her head and forced herself to breathe deeply. Was he still there? Did the body still swill back and forth at the foot of the cliffs? Of course she would need to go and look.

  She had killed a man.

  What was she going to do now?

  This wasn’t something that could be fixed. He was dead. Wasn’t he? Her mind’s eye recalled the image of his body, arms flailing as he rolled towards the rocks.

  It was her fault he was dead. How would she ever be able to bear it? Right now most of what she felt was empty. The fear was gone, the horror numbed by a sort of disconnection.

  First she had to get rid of the rope which was still around her swollen wrists. He had loosened it when she tripped repeatedly and so, with a little effort she was able to wriggle her hands free. She tossed it to one side among the boulders.

  She leaned sideways and then rolled to her knees and, using the rocks for aid, managed to push herself upright. Stiffly she made her way to the edge of the cliffs and made herself look. His body was still caught in the tumble of rocks at the base of the promontory and the receding tide raised his arm and waved a hand to her. Surely it was just the action of the water? Could she be sure? Maybe he was still alive? Horror consumed her and bile rose in her throat.

  She must clamber down. She should at least do that. She ran, small uncertain steps back and forth looking for a safe place but there was none. Often she glanced back to where he lay. White water broke against the body. Surely he must be dead. But then, did he try just now to raise his head?

  “Hello? Hello, can you hear me?” The only response to her desperate call was the roll of waves and the distant cry of a single gull making for his roost.

  She didn’t want to be responsible for the death of anyone! It was unthinkable! More tears, yet more, and she wiped them away on the back of her hand and admitted to herself it wasn’t possible to reach him and that he was beyond help.

  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry but you hurt me. I wish you hadn’t hurt me!” Leaving the whispered words to fade into the breeze she turned and staggered back towards the beach. She slipped and scrambled down the rocky side, opening old wounds and rubbing fresh grazes onto her hands and arm. But she felt none of it, for her soul was broken, her feelings were dead.

  Was it possible that it had been just one day since he had forced her along the beach? Had driven her terrified and shaking and with no idea of the horror that she would endure and the tragedy that would unfold? She trudged past the road and to the dunes where he had hidden her bag and coat under some fallen pine branches. It was no surprise to find that they had gone. No great loss; a cheap phone, a few pounds in her change purse. It didn’t matter.

  At the cottage the little gate was ajar and she pushed through and up the sandy path to the kitchen door and there she stopped. What was she thinking? She must go to the farm, call the police, tell someone what had happened.

  Could she bear it?

  If she didn’t what then? There was another option: just leave the body to be found by a passing fisherman or an unsuspecting dog walker. Could she expunge this event from her history and pretend it had never happened? If she called the police they would question her and dig into her past. Perhaps they would find her account of the events as unbelievable as the motor cyclist had done? There were two distinct paths, one – the hardest – was to get help and face the consequences. The other was to run again, to fly from the terrible day and lock it away in the back of her mind and live with it.

  She raised her hand to the door and realised that she had no key. If it was locked then she would have to go to Dolly and ask to be given access. Perhaps the choice wasn’t to be hers to make after all.

  Chapter 26

  “Dolly, I’m sorry to disturb you but I’ve lost my key.”

  “Oh good heavens, Pauline! What’s happened?” Dolly stretched out her arms in automatic response to the figure standing in front of her. Then she hesitated; the other woman looked so damaged that she didn’t know where it would be possible to touch without causing harm.

  “I’m fine.” Pauline tried to smile as the lie left her lips. “It’s just that I’ve lost my key and I really need to get into the house. I’m sorry… I’ll pay for the locks to be replaced.”

  “Locks? What are you talking about? What’s happened? Come in for Pete’s sake! Come in. Can you manage? Have you been in an accident? Oh no, you haven’t been mugged? You’ve been mugged! Oh you poor thing. Come on in, I’ll call an ambulance.”

  “No, no please. I’m fine.”

  “Fine? You certainly are not fine! Have you seen yourself? Your poor face! No, you need an ambulance, and the Police. I’ll get the police. Come in… will you just come in?”

  Pauline gingerly climbed the three old stone steps. Holding onto the door for support she made her way into the narrow hallway of the farmhouse.

  Dolly took her arm and led her towards the open door in the cream painted wall. “Now, first of all, where are you hurt? Are you sure you don’t want me to call an ambulance?”

  “No, no, I’m sorry to disturb your evening, really I am. I just want to get into the house and have a bath actually…”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t go off on your own. Let me at least get you a cup of tea and help you to clean up those wounds.”

  “Wounds.” Pauline raised a hand and touched her swollen lips. The aches and soreness that she felt had become so much a part of every movement that she had given no thought to her appearance. “Is it bad? Does it look bad?”

  “Well, I’m sorry, but yes. Whoever did this… Did someone do this? You haven’t told me; what happened to you? Was it an accident or were you mugged?”

  An escape was presented to her. In just those few words, several possibilities opened up and she searched for an answer that would be so much better than the truth. Then like a grey blanket exhaustion and defeat descended and she was just too tired and battered to begin to form the lies.

  “No, I haven’t been mugged. Oh Dolly, there’s a man, dead. I killed him.” As the words became reality her shattered spirit finally unwound into tears of fear and horror. Dolly flopped onto the settee beside her and wrapped her in a gentle hug as she sobbed. Great wracking gulps convulsed her trembling body. The other woman crooned soft, disbelieving murmurs.

  “Now, now come on, come on. Don’t be silly, calm down. Hush, hush.”

  As she regained control Pauline pushed back and took hold of both of Dolly’s hands in hers. She drew in a deep, steadying breath. “I have Dolly! I couldn’t help it. I think he was going to kill me, I really do, and I pushed him, oh God. He’s in the rocks at the bottom of the cliff.”

  Uncertainty and disbelief met her gaze now. “What happened? Did he take you away? Oh no, no… have you been raped? Oh Pauline!”

  “No, no. I haven’t… he didn’t. No. I don’t know what to do next though.”

  “Well, we’ll have to have the police. You do see that, don’t you? If he took you away and there was an accident or… well… whatever happened, you have to tell them. They won’t blame you, I’m sure they won’t. Ap
art from that you know we have to get the coastguard, get him back. We can’t risk someone finding him. Think how awful that would be? No, we must get some help.” The sensible schoolteacher like part of her took over now and Dolly stood and reached for a soft woollen blanket that covered a nearby chair. She wrapped it around Pauline’s shivering shoulders.

  “Now, I’m going to make you some hot tea. I’m going to send Jim up to the rocks so that he can get an idea about what has to be done; you know, to fetch the body back, and he can call the police.” She turned and walked from the room shouting as she went. “Jim! Jim! Get down here will you? We need some help!”

  Pauline laid her head back against the soft cushions and closed her eyes. Her mind raced. What was she to do now? To stick to the truth would expose the past lies or she could cover the mess with yet more subterfuge. For just one brief moment it seemed that maybe it would have been better had she been the poor broken body washing about in the waves at the foot of the promontory with all her troubles gone and finished.

  Chapter 27

  She wanted to be clean. The soft sleeping suit that she wore was stained and ripped. It was impossible to distinguish bruising from dirt on her hands and her nails were filthy and torn. She ran a hand through her hair and felt grit there in the salt laden strands.

  “Dolly, please can you just give me a key and let me go and have a shower? I feel disgusting.”

  “I’m sorry my dear, the police were very firm on that. They’ll be here soon, Jim has spoken to them and they are on the way. They said you weren’t to try and clean yourself up though before they’ve been. It’s evidence you see.”

  “Evidence?”

  “Yes, the way that you look, bits of stuff on your skin and your clothes. Oh now don’t cry, please don’t. It’s horrible I know, but it’s for the best that they see you like this,” she swept a hand towards where Pauline curled on the couch, legs drawn up under the blue blanket. “Well then they’ll see, won’t they, that you weren’t to blame.”