by Lynda Stacey
Puzzled, Matt sat forward, wiped beads of sweat from his brow in relief. Pulled at his collar, undid the top button. ‘So, if you know where she is, what the hell do you need me for?’ he said with his eyes firmly fixed on the walking stick.
‘Well, I can’t just walk up and knock on the door, can I?’ Rolling his jaw, Charlie looked down, saw two women walking along the beach, their arms hooked together, their feet touching the edge of the water. ‘Against my parole.’ He stood up, took a step towards the cliff and inquisitively, he picked up a stone, threw it at the beach and watched as the girls turned, looked up. With disappointment crossing his face, he shook his head, sighed. ‘Your sister,’ he said decisively, ‘she lives around here, doesn’t she?’
Matt nodded, slowly. Then jumped up from his seat. ‘Oh, no. Not a chance. You’re not bringing our Shirley into this. I won’t have it, she’s a good kid, never been in any trouble with the police. I won’t have her working for you.’
Looking directly into Matt’s eyes, Charlie saw the beads of sweat that continued to roll annoyingly down his forehead, the twitch of his eye, the trembling of his lower lip. ‘No, Matt, not your Shirley, I wouldn’t do that.’ Charlie spoke calmly, paused, lifted a hand, tapped the side of his nose. ‘But that nephew of yours,’ Charlie dropped in. ‘He owes me. I got him out the crap a couple of years ago. Saved him from going down. Didn’t I?’ Throwing his head back, he let out a loud, humourless laugh. ‘What is he now? Sixteen?’ Looking back at the sea, Charlie waved a hand in the air, then leaned forward to pick the hip flask up from the grass, took another long, satisfying slurp. ‘I think it’s time you give him a call. Tell him I need a word.’
19
Waving to her grandad, Beth held onto the gate until her knuckles went white. Tutting, she watched miserably as his car turned the corner and his taillights slowly ambled down the lane, disappeared out of sight.
Standing there for a moment, she considered the day, the amount of unpacking they still had to do and wished she were back at her gran’s, playing with the puppy, lying on the rug in front of the fire, or eating another bowl full of her grandad’s homemade ‘whisky butter porridge’. It was a smell and taste of home. A flash of happiness that had been broken the moment Molly had phoned and insisted she came back to the house.
‘I’ll take you,’ her grandad had quickly said. ‘Let me get my boots on.’ He’d made a play of finding his boots, allowing the puppy to chase his laces. ‘I could do with a bit of fish for tomorrow’s tea, so if we go now, I’ll take a drive by the harbour, see if any of the local fishermen have anything good to offer.’
At first, the idea of her grandad coming to the house had made her smile. She loved the thought that he’d see the place. See how much there was to do. And in his own generous way, she thought he might stay for an hour or two, help them unpack. But he’d refused.
‘I don’t want to come in,’ he’d said. ‘Bloody house, it’s caused me enough trouble to last me a lifetime. Last thing I ever want to do is step foot inside it.’
‘Hey kiddo?’ The front door sprang open and Dan’s voice suddenly burst through her thoughts, making her jump with surprise, then squeal with delight.
‘Hey, you, what you are doing here?’ She gave him an over exaggerated wink, a cheeky half smile. ‘You two have a good night?’ she questioned in a whisper, quickly realising that her plan had worked and felt pleased with herself for pretending to fall asleep and texting Dan the moment Molly left. Smugly, she reached up, kissed him on the cheek. ‘So good to see you, but…’ she pointed to the sand, ‘if you want another half hour or so, I could always bog off down the beach.’ She began to smirk, poked him in the ribs. ‘Unless of course, you know, you’re a bit exhausted…’ Her teenage giggles infiltrated the hallway.
‘Beth, enough of that. Now, have you seen the bacon?’ Molly’s voice bellowed from the kitchen, making Beth freeze on the spot. ‘I know there definitely was some. It was right there, in the drawer. Put it there myself, Friday night, as soon as the men brought the fridge in.’
‘Welcome home, Beth,’ she mimicked, took a deep breath, gave Dan a look that would have melted butter and whispered with a giggle, ‘What makes her think that I know where it is?’ She stood on the step, peered in through the door, spoke to Molly. ‘How should I know, maybe you just thought you put it there. I mean, did you check the cupboards, or… or oh, oh, I know, maybe it’s at the side of my bed right next to that picture of dear old Michael.’ Rolling her eyes at her sister, Beth flounced up the stairs. She went into the room that she’d chosen for herself and began rummaging through the bags of clothes that still stood piled up in the corner.
After dragging on a pair of clean jeans, a hoodie and a pair of old denim trainers, Beth stamped back down the stairs. ‘See what I’ve had to do. Double denim.’ She pulled a face. Held a foot out for Molly to see. ‘I’m going out,’ she yelled, heard the door slam behind her, smirked.
Zipping up her jacket, Beth skipped along the cobbled path, headed for the lane. Dodged the puddles and tutted as her feet slipped from side to side. Her hand went out to hold onto one of the tall, willowy trees. Its branches reached so far over the path that she almost had to duck to walk beneath them. Holding her position, she stooped to wipe the mud from her trainer, peered through the fence and into the neighbouring property. ‘So, that’s where the man-mountain lives, is it?’ Pursing her lips, she looked from one irregular sized window to the next. Not one looked to be the same shape, there was a mishmash of styles, all screaming out to be changed, replaced. Tipping her head to one side, she tried to imagine what kind of a man he was, what he actually looked like. She cursed the way Molly had gushed about him for a whole hour after she’d met him.
Angrily, she stood up and kicked out at his six-foot gate, heard it swing open with a loud, distinctive groan. The unexpected sound made her duck behind an overgrown privet, where she clasped a hand over her mouth, hoping he wasn’t at home.
Whilst cowering, she held onto the edge of the gate, took in a deep breath in and with one eye on her own house, and one eye on his, she began forming a plan. If she were to get Dan and Molly back together, the man-mountain had to stay away, and with a smirk on her face and a final glance at the house, Beth turned the corner, saw the wooden steps and stood at the top, looking down.
‘So, this is the famous beach, is it?’ Warily, she made her way down to the sand, immediately pushed her hands in her pockets, felt a shiver travel up from her toes. ‘Jesus…’ she yelped, wished she’d worn her ski jacket. ‘And Molly reckons it’d be fun to walk on the beach, does she?’ She huffed. ‘Well, I’ve got news for her. It isn’t.’
Keeping her back to the sea and the oncoming breeze, she faced the cliff, looked vertically upward, tried to work out where their garden began and ended and eventually, after much deliberation, she spotted the overhanging tree, the one whose branch tapped on the window.
‘Hey…’
Holding her breath, Beth slowly turned. She smiled with relief as a young, half dressed man ran towards her. Pushing a hand through his curly blond hair, he balanced a surfboard precariously under the other, gave her a cheeky smile and propped his surfboard up against the cliff. Throwing his towel at the sand and pulling at the neoprene wet suit, he carefully stretched it up and onto his arms. ‘So, you’re either new around here, or you’re trying to work out how to scale that cliff and burgle that house?’ He pointed, wrinkled his nose and shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t bother, cliff doesn’t look too safe.’
Laughing, Beth shook her head. ‘Not at all. I was just trying to work out how easily I could blow the cliff up and watch the whole thing disappear into the sea.’
He took a step back, reached behind his back, zipped his wetsuit. ‘Okay…’ He paused, laughed. ‘I’m taking it you’re not too keen on the new owners?’
‘Sure, I am,’ she chortled. ‘I guess I am the new owner, along with my sister. We only got here Friday. Right in the middle of the storm a
nd…’ She swept an arm outward as though beckoning the sea. ‘There’s nothing to do around here.’
He began to walk across the beach, picked up a small pebble and tossed it towards the water. ‘You could always come surfing? Water’s great.’ He gave her what looked like a pensive yet inviting smile. ‘Or…’ Arching his eyebrow, he winked, cheekily. ‘There’s always other stuff we could do. Places we could go.’
Beth quickly took a step back, felt the colour rise to her cheeks. ‘Hey, stop it. I’m fifteen. I hate it here, and my sister, I think she’d like to ground me for at least a year.’ She looked up, caught his eye.
Moving cautiously, he sat down, inched closer. ‘We’re almost the same age, it was my sixteenth birthday a couple of weeks ago.’ He leaned against her, bumped shoulders. ‘I’m Jackson, live in the village.’ His hand went up, pointed to the steps. ‘I’m down here most days. ’Cause, as you say, nothing much else to do…’
Feeling the heat rise within, Beth casually put a hand to each side of her face, squeezed her elbows inwards, and gave herself a silent but much needed hug to hide her embarrassment. She couldn’t believe he’d spoken to her. Didn’t know why he had. Searching the beach, she looked at the other people who walked and played on the sand, realised how many others he could have spoken to. But he hadn’t. He’d spoken to her. The thought made her quiver with excitement, making Beth openly preen herself and flick her hair backwards.
With waves that were increasing by the minute, Jackson moved a little closer, rested an arm casually across her shoulder. ‘Seriously, you’d love it out there. Getting your balance is the tricky thing. Once you’ve learned how to do that, it’s easy.’ He dusted the sand from his feet, pulled a pair of tight-fitting neoprene pumps on.
Quickly wrapping her arms back around her knees, Beth leaned against the rock face, used it to shelter her from the breeze, watched the waves as they rolled towards her and felt uncharacteristically tempted by his offer. ‘Jackson, how would I learn, you know, to surf?’ She eyed the board. ‘Would I have to get in the water?’
Jumping up, Jackson lowered the board to the sand. Stood on it, his hands held outwards. ‘Nah, you could do it here.’ He held out a hand, pulled her up to stand on the board in front of him. ‘That’s right, keep your head up.’ His arm went around her waist. ‘Put your arms out, chin up, don’t look down… and don’t move too quickly and if you lean forward, close your mouth and expect the board to shoot backwards… if you don’t keep your mouth shut, expect to swallow the sea and everything that floats around in it.’
She felt herself topple. ‘Oh my God… see, I told you I wouldn’t be able to do it!’ She stepped onto the sand, felt happy that the landing was solid, remembered the plastic straws – they were still out there, floating around in the sea – and felt nervous of taking the board on the water.
‘Come on, back on the board.’ He held out an encouraging hand. ‘Try it again.’
Feeling his arm slip around her waist for a second time, Beth’s stomach turned with excitement, she could barely breathe, enjoyed the sensation of his touch. ‘Ohhhhh,’ Beth squealed, gripped tightly to his hand, began to laugh. ‘Thought I was about to fall again.’ She took a deep breath, felt his chin on her shoulder, his face next to hers.
‘That’s right, perfect. Imagine the wave, see it coming, steer the board.’ His arm tightened around her waist. His body rocked sensually behind hers, making her gasp.
Laughing, Beth quickly stepped off the board, out of his grasp. ‘Well…’ She looked him up and down, admired the shape of his arms, the way the wetsuit hugged his legs. ‘I think that’s today’s lesson over.’
‘Well, that’s a shame, ’cause I think you were just about picking it up.’ Suddenly, his arms were around her. ‘Watch out,’ he yelled, and Beth heard a prolonged crunch, followed by a thunderous bang. Her whole body was propelled across the sand. She landed against the cliff. Pain shot up her spine. The air left her lungs and her eyes became fixed on the tree that had fallen from the cliff top and landed on the beach beside them.
‘What the hell just happened?’ Taking short, sharp, exasperated breaths, she looked up to see exactly where it had fallen from. Quickly realised that she wouldn’t be bothered by the branch ever again, nor would it tap on their living room window the next time they had a storm.
Jackson sat forward. ‘I’d say that if I hadn’t just saved your life… you’d be under that tree,’ he said smugly. ‘Which means… now…’ He cupped her chin with a hand, pulled her towards him, stared into her eyes. ‘Now, you owe me. Big style.’
20
My fingers press heavily against the ground. I’m sneaking through the undergrowth, keeping one eye firmly on the house, and feel a spark of nervous adrenaline as the back door opens and Molly slowly steps out. She’s just a few feet from me. If I reached out, I could almost touch her barely dressed body. Her dressing gown is splayed open. The short pale green satin nightwear rides up on her thigh and I catch my breath, hold it in, notice the way she looks wistfully at the shed, the trees and then, right at the area where I’m crouching behind conifers, a deep red autumn viburnum, and I take in a sharp intake of breath, allowing the aroma to captivate my senses.
After just a few seconds, I hear the door close. I’m unsure as to whether she’s gone back in, or stepped further out and I take a risk, lift my head above the proverbial parapet, crawl forward and while taking careful considered steps along the border, I make sure that I don’t stand on the ground covering honeysuckle, the small crocus or the lavender that blows haphazardly in the breeze.
Tiptoeing nervously around the back of the greenhouse with my feet perilously close to the edge of the cliff, I look over, feel the fear and unease rise within me, crouch down to balance on a small ledge and wait patiently until I hear the youthful voices on the beach below.
Smiling slyly, I close my eyes as I eavesdrop, take a pleasure in the pure, innocent giggles as they turn into loud spouts of raucous laughter. The sound battles with that of the sea, the waves crashing on the beach below, seagulls crooning as they swoop and, without realising the danger, I hang my legs over the edge of the cliff, allow myself to peep at the beach.
Wondering how and why my life has come to this – to watching others. I’m saddened by the fact that my path has already been determined. Soon, both my life and theirs will be very different. And I sigh, wish for a day when there will be no more looking over my shoulder, or thoughts of murder. It occurs to me that I’ve fought with my conscience for far too long, and angrily I lift my hands, rub viciously at my head, bang my fists into my skull. Hear an undignified, but muffled growl that leaves my throat and I battle with the rights and wrongs of what I’ve done, wonder if I can really go through with it and kill them both? It’s a task I don’t want, there’s been one too many deaths already and I find myself staring at the horizon, focusing my mind, knowing that it won’t be over – not until I put the deed behind me, just as I have before.
Peering at the two youngsters, I enjoy the battle of wits between them. It’s more than obvious that Beth likes him, her smile is lighting up her face. She’s young, playful, her mannerisms are coy and innocent. What’s more, he doesn’t seem to mind. And neither do I, until the moment when she gives him the look of a she-devil, steps off the surfboard, pouts her lips and allows him to wrap his arms around her, moves her body sensually against his.
Through narrowed eyes, I press my lips tightly together. Stop myself from shouting, from screaming at him, from telling him she’s only fifteen, a mere child, and in my temper I stand up. My hands automatically gravitate towards the tree, which is already balancing precariously, its life literally hanging on the edge, and with every ounce of energy I have, I push at the trunk. Then laugh as a thunderous noise is heard and the tree topples over the edge and directly towards Beth and her boyfriend.
For a single moment in time, I really don’t care which one of them it hits.
21
The keen
gardeners of Filey had all come out in force, meaning that Daniel’s Audi TT, albeit noticeable, had been easily hidden between all the other cars. Sitting in the driver’s seat, he slouched, pulled his collar up and his baseball cap down.
Watching, he found amusement in the mix of people who flooded through the double doors, pushing trolleys full of late flowering perennials, huge bags of decorative bark, pea gravel and an abundance of plants that would no doubt all die before the winter was over. The oversized trolleys added to the hilarity, as it appeared that most of the customers had completely underestimated the size of their cars, and stood scratching their heads before struggling to safely fill their car boots, with quite a few purchases ending up on back seats, in footwells, on passenger knees or were left on the trolley while the car was packed, unpacked and repacked.
Dan nodded thoughtfully. He knew he was losing Molly, she didn’t look at him the same, or speak to him the same, not any more. That playful attitude he’d always loved about her had gone and he tried to come up with a plan of how to ensure he was at the house as often as he possibly could be. What’s more, he had to make sure Niall saw him, every time he was there. Hoped he’d take the hint and keep a distance. The last thing he wanted was for Molly to get used to her new neighbour dropping in and out. Helping out around the house, the garden, becoming useful, or getting friendly. He gave a sharp shake of his head; Niall McCormick wasn’t part of his plan and he certainly didn’t want him to become part of Molly’s plan either.
Giving himself a wry smile, he congratulated himself on turning up the night before. The way he’d sat next to her, held her close. Once again comforted her at a time she’d needed it the most.