by Lynda Stacey
As though noticing her discomfort, Niall wiped the rain from his face, gave her an easy smile. ‘Here,’ he shouted, ‘stand inside.’ He took her hand, pulled her towards the shed. He looked her up and down, and quickly averting his eyes, pulled off his jacket. ‘Here. You might wanna wear this…’
Gratefully, Molly took the jacket, pulled it on and zipped it up. ‘Thanks.’ Blushing, she anxiously stepped inside, stared into the moonlit shadows and to take her mind off of once again being trapped, she paid far too much attention to a twisted old spade that hung by the shed’s broken polycarbonate window, felt sure she hadn’t seen it before but knew that it was just another item that had been discarded, forgotten and left behind. Another part of the people that had lived there. Gingerly, her hand went out to touch the tool. The plastic coating had long since dropped away from the metal handle, the blade all damaged, obviously well used, and she struggled to hold back an overwhelming sob that left her throat. Had her mother done the same? Had she stood in this tiny little shed, picked up this spade, planted flowers and vegetables? Closing her eyes, she pictured her mother’s face, her smile, the way her eyes would sparkle when she spoke. It was a sight that gave her immeasurable happiness and sadness, in a tidal wave of emotions that threw themselves around in her memories, all at once.
Then, as a jet-propelled log flew past her wellington clad ankles, she found herself back in the present. Fearful that the door was about to slam, that once again she’d be locked inside, she jumped forward and with her balance unsettled felt herself fall.
‘Steady there.’ With lightning reactions, Niall’s hand shot forward. ‘You all right?’ His fingers twisted with hers, his touch firm, but gentle.
‘Oh my God, thanks, yes, I’m fine, I…’ She blew out, slow and steady. ‘Thank you.’ Nervously she released her hand from his, ran it through her hair to push the wet tendrils back from her face, wished for an elastic to tie it back, then nervously knuckle rubbed her eyes. She realised her mistake and that a combination of being out in the rain and rubbing her eyes probably meant that she now had make-up smeared all over her face like a tsunami of colour in all the wrong places.
Embarrassed, she turned away, pulled a sodden tissue from her pocket, quickly swiped at her eyes, then for something to do, she began moving the randomly scattered logs into a much neater pile at the back of the shed, as she continued to dodge the others that flew in through the door behind her.
As the last log was thrown, Niall stepped in, purposely leaned against the top of the door and silently gazed at the garden.
‘What are the chances you’d let me design it?’ he suddenly blurted out, tipping his head to one side and pointing. ‘After all, Michael already paid for the plans, they’re already drawn. Ready to go.’
‘What, you drew plans for a garden?’
‘Yep. We measure, plan, produce 3D drawings, everything.’ He began to laugh. ‘The vegetable plot, it’s in the wrong place. We were going to push it further that way, into the far corner, where it’d get the right amount of sun and shade, it’d also be closer to the outside tap. Making it easier to set up a sprinkling device, save you having to water it by hand.’ His finger waved at the area of the garden he spoke about. ‘Raised beds would be better, save you bending too much, we could fill them with topsoil, plant small bushes around the sides, make it look visually pretty, create an edible garden. It’s always good to grow your own.’ He turned, smiled. ‘And over there you need trees, they’d create a natural barrier, protect you from the elements and the greenhouse, well, if I’m honest, I’m kind of surprised it’s still standing, ’cause the wind up here is brutal and right there, where it’s been standing, it takes a battering every time it blows a hooley.’
Taking a step back, Molly looked over his shoulder, admired his silhouette, the translucency of his shirt, and with just enough moonlight she took in the shape of each and every one of his muscles and felt herself blush as he turned to fill the doorway. His body was hovering far too close to hers and now in the shadows, she could only imagine the look on his face, the smile, the way his lips formed a perfect pout.
Rubbing a hand across his neatly trimmed beard he turned back to the garden, seemed to study the terrain. ‘If it were mine, I’d move the greenhouse right out of view. Put it next to the cliff. Lay a new base.’ He nodded decisively, turned, caught her eye. ‘Come here, look.’ His arm went to her, rested easily on her shoulder. ‘It needs to go over there and instead of a fence next to the cliff, I’d build a wall, but not with bricks, they’d crack with the movement, so instead, I’d keep it natural, create a raised bed out of sleepers, with plants that are not too high, obviously, you want the view, but you also need the safety. It’d create a natural barrier, stop anyone from accidentally dropping over the edge,’ he joked, pointed to the area behind the house. ‘And over there, that’s where the patio should be, the hot tub, the garden furniture, a lawn, borders, one or two small trees, bushes, bamboo that would make a lovely rustling noise in the wind and hopefully, on a good day, it’d create a bit of a sun trap.’
Molly could see his excitement, the buzz of ideas that flowed from him and nodded appreciatively. ‘You have no idea how much I’d love for you to do all of that, especially the idea of the hot tub, I can’t think of anything nicer, but…’ She looked down at the shed’s floorboards, thought of the debts her mother had left behind. Had no idea how she’d ever pay them back. ‘There’s no way I could ever afford it. Our mum’s estate, it hasn’t been settled yet. I’m still trying to work out what does and doesn’t need paying.’ She rolled her eyes upward, caught his gaze, held it for a moment too long. ‘Sorry,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t know why I told you that, but the truth is… the garden will have to wait.’
Feeling self-conscious, she ducked under his arm, stood just outside the door. The rain had stopped as quickly as it had started and with relief, she held her arms outward, palms up. ‘Well, look at that, it stopped right on cue.’
Trudging across the grass, Niall walked with her. His eyes were cast down, and as they came to stop close to her front door, he went quiet, nervously stepped from foot to foot, making Molly wonder if he were waiting for an invitation, for a ‘Will you come in for a coffee? A cosy night in? A night of mad passionate sex?’ Shocked by her thoughts and with eyes as big as saucers, she stared across the bay, thought of how her life had been and how just a few years before, at a time when she’d been young, free and single, she’d have happily invited him in, made him coffee, thought about the rest.
Since Dan, she’d kept herself to herself. Hadn’t wanted to get involved, not with anyone. Her mum’s death had made her wary and living in Dan’s house had made it impossible. After all, they’d once been a couple. Bringing another man home would have been like rubbing salt into the wound, especially when he hadn’t wanted the split. Taking slow, deliberate breaths, Molly stood, watched the way the waves rolled up and over themselves, their silver tops, with only the moonlight to highlight their path. The only sound louder than the crashing of waves was that of the branch which annoyingly still tapped against the front window of the house, disturbing her thoughts, bringing her back to the moment.
Rolling her eyes, she pressed her lips together, smiled nervously. ‘I know, I know, it’s annoying, isn’t it? Another job I’ve added to the ever-growing list. I’ll get round to it…’
Stepping forward, he studied the tree. Its proximity to both the house and the edge. ‘You’d be a bit crazy if you tackled that. It isn’t hanging on by much, looks as though it could fall at any minute and if you grabbed it, well… I reckon you could topple right over the edge.’ He walked across to the tree, pressed a hand against it. ‘Why don’t you let me sort it out for you, wouldn’t take me a minute?’
Breathing in, she gave Niall what she hoped was a casual smile, didn’t want to take advantage. ‘Look, no. It’s fine. You’ve done enough.’ With the shed in her sights, she pointed across the garden. ‘It would have taken me ages to
clear the logs and the branch…’ She stretched, her heart pounded, her stomach twisted with nerves. ‘It’s only annoying when its windy.’ She laughed. ‘Which of course is just about all the time up here, but then… serves me right for going to live on the edge of a cliff, doesn’t it?’
Pausing, Niall took the time to think about his words. ‘You know, I really didn’t mind helping you…’ He threw her a smile, kept his eyes fixed on hers. ‘And leave the branch. I’ll bring the safety gear over. Chainsaw will sort it in seconds.’ He laughed. ‘Besides…’
Molly felt her heart race, saw the way his eyes drew her in, held onto hers for a moment too long. Catching her breath, she nervously took a step backward, realised she was still wearing his jacket and went to unzip it.
‘Seriously.’ He paused, held out a hand, caught her fingers with his. ‘Please – don’t take it off… I mean, I’m not complaining, but for the sake of your modesty…’ he winked, ‘I’d keep it on.’
Seeing the amusement in his words, Molly couldn’t help but smile back, caught the way the moonlight lit up his face, the unmistakable, sensual way he pursed his lips and even though he’d been drenched by the rain, what was left of his aftershave still played with her senses. ‘But…’ She looked down at their conjoined hands, forced herself to breathe, felt his lips precipitously touch hers. Just a graze at first, then with his hand cupping her chin. Then, with clear, defined movement, he began gently surrounding her mouth with soft, tender kisses. The headiness of his aftershave stimulated her senses, she felt alive for the first time in months, felt his lips leave hers momentarily, only to begin searing a path down her neck. Closing her eyes, she moaned with desire, allowed him to take control. Then, without warning, his lips returned to hers. Moving sensually, he captured them in a passionate, more demanding way. His tongue gently teased to send shivers racing through her body, like mini electric shocks. With each kiss the intensity deepened, the warmth spread through his fingers, moved over her shoulder, down her back, traced the curvature of her spine. Then he stopped. Held his face close to hers, the onyx sparkle of his eyes reflecting in the moonlight.
Self-consciously, Molly began to twist her fingers around themselves. Closed her eyes for a beat, inhaled the sea air, blew out through puffed up cheeks, then looked everywhere she could to evade his gaze. ‘Oh, you forgot your shopping.’ She watched as he walked towards it, lifted the shopping bag, reached inside, pulled out the bottle of red wine. Waved it in the air.
‘You fancy a drink?’ He pouted, his mouth still red, almost bruised from kissing.
Quickly, Molly’s eyes went from his mouth to the bottle, her gaze landing on the silver label, the deep red swirly letters. The exact brand that had been left on the side at her mum’s on the night she was killed. With the air squeezing itself out of her lungs, she did everything she could to force it back in. Tried desperately to calm herself. Didn’t want him to see her panic, tried to think logically. It was just wine. A single bottle of wine. Nothing more. It was a popular brand. All the shops sold it. What’s more, she should have known that one day she’d come across it again. So why did she feel as though it were poignant. Why was she suddenly terrified of inviting him in and why was she standing here, looking for Charlie, waiting for him to walk up the path, shake Niall’s hand. After all, he knew criminals, he employed them. Which meant there was a chance they could have met.
Shaking her head, she kept her eyes on the bag, swallowed hard, felt incapable of shifting her gaze, of catching his eye. ‘It’s late, I need to go in… I need to call my sister,’ she heard herself making excuses. ‘I need to make sure she’s okay. You know, before she goes to sleep.’ She paused, grabbed at air. ‘I left her at our gran’s and…’ She felt her breathing accelerate and with eyes fixed on the bottle, she inched slowly backwards, gained space between her and the door.
Sensing her indecision, Niall looked down, to one side, held his hands out, palm forward. ‘Hey. No worries. It’s fine. All is good and I’m gonna… you know.’ He pointed to the gate, looked around, gave her a pensive smile. ‘I’m gonna go.’
Nodding, Molly practically threw herself at the door, closed it behind her and slid down the wall to sit on the bare floorboards, held a hand to her chest.
With air that was already difficult to breathe, the sudden and loud knocking at the door behind her brought her a new, deeper sense of trepidation. For a moment, she simply sat, closed her eyes. Unable to move. Wished she’d turned off the light. Then slowly, she began shuffling, inch by inch across the floor, towards the kitchen.
‘Moll…’ Another short, sharp, knock vibrated behind her. ‘Moll, you in there, come on, open the door. It’s me, it’s Dan…’
18
Smugly, Charlie O’Connor walked slowly along the lane, towards the coastal path and meandered between the cars that were already parked, most empty of their occupants who’d already gone to the beach and were riding the waves or walking along the cliff tops. He glanced cautiously from one vehicle to the other, all the time checking that they were empty, that he hadn’t been seen.
Taking his time, he made his way to a small wooden bench that stood by the cliff. Dropping onto it heavily, and with slumped shoulders, he concentrated on the sunrise, took deep inward breaths. Suddenly, he realised how long it had been since he’d smelled the sea air, how different it was to how he remembered. That in the ten years he’d been inside, everything had changed, and he curled his lip angrily, knowing what he’d lost. What he needed to get back.
For a moment, he stared through tired, narrowed eyes at the dormer bungalow that stood in the distance. Its position on the cliff top precarious, yet perfectly surrounded by a natural landscape that he’d love to admire, and would have, if only that house hadn’t brought him so much misery, caused him so much loss. A loss that still wasn’t over.
Holding a hip flask up in the air, he swirled the whisky around inside, held it up in salute. ‘To my daughter,’ he whispered, laughed and finally, after much deliberation he lifted it to his lips and held it there thoughtfully. Then tipped the flask in a fast, upward motion, before swallowing with a satisfied, ‘Arghhhh.’
Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he screwed the cap back on. He dropped the flask onto the grass beside him, and with his hands hooked behind his head he leaned back, closed his eyes, took pleasure in the early morning sunshine warming his face. In his mind, he could hear every sound. Found himself homing in on every voice, every person that walked along the beach. Listened carefully, wondered if Beth would be one of them.
Turning on his seat, Charlie caught sight of the old black BMW as it pulled into the car park. Watched the way it steered into position between two other cars. The driver, a bald, stocky man sat within, glaring in Charlie’s direction with a furrowed brow and dark, piercing eyes. Climbing out, he limped uncomfortably across the grass, a long wooden walking stick held aloft in his hand. It barely touched the floor, giving Charlie the impression that it had been brought as a weapon.
Standing up, Charlie cautiously held out a hand, saw the man’s indecision, thrust it back into his pocket where his own weapon hid. Rolling the pen knife over in his fingers, he stood his ground, waited until the man reached him.
‘Took your damn time, didn’t you?’ Sitting back down on the bench, Charlie moved to one edge, rested an arm across the backrest, indicated the seat beside him.
‘I haven’t got long,’ Matt Kelly snapped, waved his stick in the air. ‘So whatever it is you want, you need to make it fast.’ Nervously, he paced back and forth. Took a step towards the cliff edge, anxiously looked over and, with the colour draining from his face, he stepped away and stood behind the bench as though using it as a protective barrier. Holding on tightly, Charlie noticed the way his fingers turned white, his nails unconsciously digging into the wood. ‘Don’t even know why I’m here. I owe you nothing, O’Connor, do you hear that? Nothing.’
‘Matt, come on. Chill out, you’re gonna give yourself a heart attack. Now
, sit down, take in the sunrise,’ Charlie whispered, almost dreamily. He sighed. ‘See that.’ He pointed at the sea. ‘That boat. I’d like to go on a boat one day, wouldn’t you? A cruise maybe, or just on a cruiser, round the bay.’ He laughed. ‘Can’t see me ever getting on a damn cruise, can you? Now, please, enjoy the moment.’
‘Sit down, enjoy the moment?’ he spat. ‘I’d rather jump off the bloody cliff than sit with you. Now. You either tell me what you want, or I leave.’ Anxiously, he turned, looked over his shoulder, rubbed the palms of his sweaty hands down his jeans, tugged at the collar of his shirt. ‘Well?’
Launching himself over the bench, Charlie took Matt by surprise. Knocked the walking stick out of his hand, grabbed him by the throat and slowly squeezed. All the time, adding more and more pressure. ‘You need to sit down when I ask, or I might just throw you off the fucking cliff. Blink twice if you understand me?’ They stood nose to nose and Charlie smiled as Matt blinked, then forcibly walked him around the bench and eased him onto the seat. ‘There you go, that wasn’t hard, was it?’ Slapping him on the side of his face, Charlie winked, gave him a sarcastic smile. ‘Next time, you do as I say, first time. Got it?’
‘What the fuck do you want, O’Connor? I won’t ask again.’ He shuffled along the seat, until he balanced stiffly on the edge.
‘I want to see my daughter,’ Charlie growled. ‘I want to see Beth. She has something I want. And you, you’re going to make it happen.’ Charlie knew he was treading a fine line. His parole had restrictions and he knew that by taking one step within a half mile of Beth he could easily end up back inside. But he’d waited years to see her, to set things straight. To get what he wanted and now… now he had every intention of doing just that. Just as soon as he knew where she’d be. All he had to do was get her on her own. Without her sister. He pointed across the cliff, to the house perched on the edge. ‘See that house, that’s where she lives.’