No Place Like Home

by Lynda Stacey

  Feeling satisfied that between the phone’s torchlight and the full moon she could just about see her route, she focused on a puddle. It was just a few feet away and she stumbled towards it. Standing with her feet wide apart, Molly leaned forward, wobbled and looked down at her reflection in the water.

  ‘He shouldn’t – he, no, he shouldn’t have done that – should he?’ she slurred, still didn’t understand what he’d meant, what danger he thought she’d be in. A sob left her throat and tears of frustration filled her eyes. She felt scared, alone, as far from home as she could be. Staring down and into the puddle, she could see Charlie’s face. The way he’d looked at her across the bar, the way he’d smiled, lifted his glass, watched as she’d drank what was left of the water. Her mind continued to swim, to sway in all directions. Feeling sure she’d been drugged, she struggled to stand, didn’t like being out of control and she cursed outwardly as she leaned to one side and felt the firmness of a gate beneath her hand.

  Looking up, she saw the first of the bungalows. It was a property, old and derelict, hidden amongst the trees. It was hard to work out where the property stopped, where the undergrowth began and which of the two was more prominent than the other. Holding her phone up in the air, Molly could just about make out the old sash windows, with ivy that grew up and around them like an unwanted blanket covering everything it touched, giving the house a look of being forgotten, abandoned and unloved. It was a feeling that resonated, a feeling she’d slowly become accustomed to. Everyone she’d ever loved had hurt her, left her or had been cruelly taken away without sense or reason.

  Rolling her eyes towards the sky, she picked out a distant star. The memory of the evening flashed through her mind, and although hazy, she could still see Dan’s face staring down at hers, along with the way he’d kissed her gently, but forcibly held her. Most women would have welcomed his advances, after all, she had loved him and possibly she could have forgiven him. So why hadn’t she? It had been more than obvious he’d wanted her.

  ‘He isn’t Niall, is he?’ she whispered, stunned by her own emotions. She saw Niall’s face, his smile, the kiss they’d shared, the warmth, the sensitivity, but most of all the passion. The way his fingers had felt like mini electric shocks on her skin and now, how she desperately wanted him to kiss her again. She laughed as the realisation hit home. Her eyes flooded with tears.

  ‘What if it’s too late? What if I totally cocked it up?’ She pushed the phone into her pocket. Leaned against the gate, felt droplets of water fall like a shower from the tree beside it, making her cringe and laugh, but she didn’t move. Didn’t want to move. ‘Life shouldn’t be this difficult, should it?’ she managed to say, gasped as the light was swallowed. And darkness surrounded her. ‘It just shouldn’t.’

  Closing her eyes, she listened to the noise of waves. Took pleasure in the way they crashed on the rocks below. The sound was slow, repetitive, yet in their own way, explosive. It was a sound that was strangely reassuring. A noise she’d fast become used to. Then, the noise of a taxi slowing, stopping, made her turn. The lights blinded her and like a rabbit, she stared at them, unable to move, until she heard a voice cut through the darkness.

  ‘Moll!’ Dan shouted as a door slammed. ‘Yeah, keep the change and no, don’t wait,’ His footsteps moved quickly but didn’t quite equate to a run, although it was more than obvious that he was jumping the puddles, and dodging the quagmire.

  Panic prickled her skin. She didn’t want to see him, not tonight, and anxiously she looked over her shoulder, pushed at the gate, stepped beyond it and crouched down to curl her body around the trunk of the tree. Heard the footsteps go past within just a few feet of where she cowered, her whole body physically shaking. The sound of Dan’s voice continued to echo along the lane, grew more and more distant until she heard Dillon bounce against the metal of Niall’s gate and bark. Swallowing, she tried to decide what to do, which way to go, and with trembling hands, she pulled herself up, inched her way through randomly planted trees, a mini woodland with fallen leaves that had been left to rot exactly where they’d landed. A rough path had been cut through the middle of them, a distinct indication that someone else had recently been there, someone else had taken this same route.

  ‘Damn it, no, she isn’t here. What do I do?’ Once again Dan’s voice cut through the darkness, and without knowing why, she shrank behind the house, where she pressed her back flat against the wall. For a moment she listened to the conversation, thought he might be talking to Beth, but then her mind flipped over and over as his tone became harsh and aggressive. ‘Not a fucking chance, it’s not happening.’ He paused, his voice shaking with temper. ‘I don’t care what you want. Not this time.’

  Furrowing her brow, she shrank close to the floor and with only the moonlight to guide her, she crawled through the undergrowth where an old car stood, the grass so long, so dense that the vehicle could barely be seen from the road. Hiding behind it, she waited until his voice grew distant, his footsteps disappeared and once she felt sure he’d gone, she pulled her phone from her pocket. Flicked at the screen.

  Staring down at the luminous screen, she felt the brightness scorch her eyes, a painful reminder of where she was, how dark it had become. Squinting, she knew she needed to send a message, to let Beth and Gran know she was okay, she needed to tell them she loved them but could barely focus on the screen. She tapped away, hoped she made sense, then gasped and held her breath as the message went and her phone beeped, loudly.

  Waiting, she listened. Couldn’t hear anything but the sea and slowly she crept back to the house and with the solidity of brick beneath her fingertips she inched her way around it. Internally, every part of her wanted to scream. Something deep inside told her to run, to never come back, and she felt an overwhelming need to disappear, to jump down a rabbit hole or to simply open the tiny wooden door that led to the eaves of her house, her very own Narnia, the perfect escape. But she knew she couldn’t. This time there was no escape. No running away.

  With her anxiety building, she followed the side of the house with her fingers, grazed the wall, the door, the window, felt the way the wooden frame suddenly crumbled beneath her fingertips. Then, a sharpness that made her yelp, and cautiously she stepped away. Rubbed her fingers down her jeans, leaned forward to look more closely at the window, couldn’t see, and with trembling, clumsy fingers she once again used her phone as a torch. Saw the nail sticking up. Felt the sudden need to peer into the house, around what was left of the torn, threadbare curtain.

  Two copper taps hung from a wall. A plastic bowl stood beneath it. An array of dirty, unwashed pots were randomly piled inside. A loaf of bread had been cut into, a slice left on the table untouched as though someone had been about to make a sandwich and forgot. Curling her lip, she took in the littered windowsill and wondered who would want to eat amongst so much dirt. Then, inquisitively, she tipped her head to one side and through clouded eyes, she took in the small wheelie case, the denim shoes that looked much too similar to the ones Beth had worn just a couple of days before. A rush of concern was met with disbelief. ‘What are the chances…’ She didn’t want to think, didn’t want to believe that the pumps were Beth’s. But knew that the likelihood of two people on a lane of three houses owning the same pair of shoes had to be remote.

  Moving around the house, Molly hooked her handbag across her body, shone the torch through another window. Furrowed her brow as she saw a carpet. All rolled up. Thrown in a corner. Its pattern distinctive, unmistakable and even in her drunken state, she recognised it.

  ‘Molly, I know you’re there.’ Dan’s voice suddenly came from the side of the property, making her heart boom audibly in her chest. Swallowing hard, she heard his footsteps, which squelched as they moved through the leaves, then stamped angrily as he reached the path.

  Taking in a deep breath, she felt her head swim. She didn’t feel in control. The voice no longer sounded like the gentle, caring Dan she knew, the person she’d loved, r
elied on, lived with. Now, she felt herself shaking with fear. The nausea turned in her stomach and fearfully, she curled herself into a ball behind the wheelie bin. Every breath was magnified. Every beat of her heart louder. Harder. Stronger than she’d ever known it before.

  Suddenly the gate clanked. She didn’t know if Dan had walked away or if someone else had entered the garden and, in her panic, she began to scramble through the undergrowth, towards the sound of the sea. She wondered if there was a way to inch along the edge of the cliff, the narrow ledge between this house and Niall’s, a place where she knew the two gardens met, where Dillon might still be patrolling.

  Crawling on hands and knees, she ducked behind trees, bushes, and kept one eye on the moon, the other on the sea, listened to the waves crashing against the rocks below. With her fingers reaching out, her hand suddenly shot forward, the sandstone crumbled, she lost her grip on the phone and suddenly, it dropped over the edge. Unable to see where it had gone, and too afraid to make a noise, she carefully lay down on her belly, reached out. Felt nothing.

  With her mind spinning, Molly closed her eyes. Tried to imagine what she’d have said to Beth if she’d gone into a stranger’s garden in the night, crawled through undergrowth and along the edge of a cliff in the darkness. Hearing a noise, she turned, listened, as hot, scalding tears roll down her cheeks. She could no longer work out what to do. The old, derelict bungalow suddenly blurred before her eyes. The gate and garden had become shrouded in darkness and she could no longer hear the sound of Dan’s voice, or his footsteps. Feeling lost, alone, she didn’t even know why she was hiding. It wasn’t as though she’d ever been fearful of Dan and now, feeling full of her own stupidity, she sat on the cliff edge, allowed her legs to dangle over the side. Pulled her coat tightly around her and stared at a sea that reflected back at her in the moonlight.

  38

  Shivering relentlessly, Molly realised that sleep had taken over. Her hands felt numb, awkward, making her stretch them out and wiggle them around anxiously until the feeling began to return. Confused, she tried to understand where she was, why she was so very cold and why small spots of water were hitting her in the face, making her waft her spongy hand angrily outwards. ‘Don’t…’

  Grimacing, she imagined Beth to be standing there, playfully splashing water at her face, doing all she could to wake her up. With annoyance, Molly rubbed her eyes, felt the pain behind them.

  Reaching out, her hand curled around wet, rotten leaves. Panicking, she began to breathe fast. Realised that she was still outside, that daylight had just about broken, raindrops had begun to fall, that she hadn’t made it home and that she was still precariously close to the edge of a cliff. Crawling into a space behind a tree, she used it as an anchor and while silently chastising herself, she took in a breath of fetid rotten compost, which hit the back of her throat with force, making her sit up and retch.

  Desperate to get home, her hand pulled at her bag. It was still hooked across her body and she flicked it out of her way until it landed over her shoulder and then, unable to stand, she scurried on her hands and knees towards the bungalow. She felt for the path and with her knees scraping on the gravel, she tried to stand and then, one foot at a time, made her way along it until she could see the gate and the lane beyond.

  Hearing a noise, she stopped. Listened. Looked back at the hiding place she’d occupied during the night, tried to decide if she could get back to it quickly, but froze as the gentle rustling grew louder. It was a rustling that was quickly followed by a familiar, welcome panting, and a wet, friendly nose. Nestling up to her, and as though sensing her mood, Dillon gave her a loving lick, before lying down as close as he could to give off a soft but sorrowful howl.

  ‘Hey, boy.’ She threw her arms around him. ‘Where’s Niall? Go on. Go fetch Niall.’

  A few seconds later, she heard his voice. The sound of the gate. The footsteps as they grew close, then his hands as they reached out and took hers. ‘Jesus Christ, Moll, what are you doing? You’re freezing.’ He scooped her up into his arms. ‘Come on, I’ve got you.’

  With relief that hit her like an oncoming wave, she sank unresisting into his arms. ‘I didn’t know where to go.’ Her voice began to quiver. ‘I was…’ Her fingers gripped onto his jumper. Held on. ‘I got all lost,’ she whispered, and, with her mind still spinning, she began to feel the warmth of his hold.

  ‘How did you get here?’ Niall’s arms held her tightly to him. She could hear Dillon walking by his side, the slam of the gate as they went through it, and down the lane, towards home.

  ‘I was in town, I think I…’ She paused, shook her head. Twisted in his arms, looked over his shoulder. ‘My car. It isn’t here. I… I must have got a taxi.’ Images of the taxi came back, the door that wouldn’t open, the money dropping on the floor. ‘Yes, a taxi. I remember coming home in a taxi and…’ She looked back at the gate, the bungalow. ‘I must have fallen asleep – in the garden…’ She tried to remember what had happened, why she’d been there. Crazily, she thought she remembered Dan, the sound of his voice. Feeling scared and disillusioned, she shook her head, and the thought of drugs came into her mind. A sob left her throat, as she felt sure she’d been hallucinating, imagining the voices, the words. After all, why would she hide from Dan? ‘I’m so cold.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ve got you. We’ll get you warm.’ He pulled her in closer. ‘Why didn’t you go home?’ His voice cut deep, his words stern. ‘That garden, Moll, there’s no fence, just a sheer drop, you could have—’

  Shaking her head, she held tightly to him, felt his body heat through her clothes. ‘I don’t know, but I don’t think anyone lives there… I was looking through the window, I think I was imagining things, I thought I saw some shoes.’ She gazed wistfully back at the house. ‘Beth’s shoes. Why would I think I saw her shoes in that house?’ Turning back to meet his gaze, she felt the soft graze of his lips on hers. The kiss was soft, welcoming and within a second, Molly had pulled him closer. Then as though afraid to touch him, her hand went up to his face and for a single moment all she could feel was his breath on her face. Wanting more, she pulled him towards her. ‘Niall…’

  He paused, purposely thoughtful. Gave a sharp shake of his head, turned his mouth away from hers. ‘You have no idea how much I want to kiss you, Moll… but this – this isn’t quite how I planned it, so…’ He paused, fixed his eyes on hers. ‘Let’s get you home.’

  39

  With flashbacks of the night coming and going, Molly sat in the bath. Swished the bubble-filled water around her, lathered shampoo through her hair and sighed with relief as the warmth finally began to penetrate her skin, and the shivering stopped.

  ‘You all right in there, Moll?’ Niall’s voice came protectively from the other side of the door, where she could imagine him pacing, waiting for her to come out. ‘I’ve just nipped Dillon home. Given him some treats for finding you.’ He paused, laughed. ‘And obviously I came straight back. Wanted to make sure you were okay. I…’ He paused nervously. ‘I hope that’s all right?’

  Barely able to breathe with excitement, she rinsed the water from her hair, took pleasure in the way it trickled down her back, felt every single beat of her heart as it pounded within her. ‘I’m almost done,’ she shouted as she stood up, wrapped a bath sheet around her body, and another smaller towel around her head like a turban. ‘The water was lush, I could have stayed in there all day, it feels so good to get warm.’ Closing her eyes for a beat, she knew she was rambling, tried to think about what she should say, what thanks she should give, how she should give it. Decided that Dillon deserved more than a treat.

  Looking in the mirror, she could see the blush of her skin. Every part of her pink with warmth. She pulled the towel free of her hair, watched as it dropped roughly onto her shoulders. The make-up she’d worn the night before had washed away, leaving her to look fresh and awake, all seen through eyes that were now clear and focused.

  ‘Shall I make some coff
ee?’ Niall shouted up the stairs, his voice now distant, and Molly imagined him back in the kitchen, looking for mugs, for coffee. Laughing, she thought of the first time he’d been in her kitchen and wondered which he’d go for today, the instant or the real.

  After quickly throwing clean clothes on, she purposely pushed her feet into her big, fluffy white sheep slippers, tiptoed down the stairs, and smiled as he passed her a mug.

  ‘Ah, hot chocolate.’ She slurped at the drink. ‘Good choice.’

  Moving towards him, she lifted a hand to his face, allowed her eyes to lock with his and then slowly, she lifted herself up and onto her toes and smiled seductively, as Niall’s arms went around her. Taking his time, his lips lowered to hers and began to move sensually, possessively, making every touch explosive. Every kiss became deeper, more passionate, more ardent. The feel of his hands, firm, strangely familiar. Gasping, she felt his fingertips move up and over her shoulders. Her whole body tingled with excitement. Each touch became faster, more deliberate, more spine tingling than the one before, as his hands began to roam slowly and possessively over her body. Then, as his lips left hers, he stopped abruptly. The sound of his breathing accelerated.

  Hovering, his eyes searched hers. His voice broke as he spoke. ‘You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to do this.’ He hesitated with his forehead touching hers. ‘If you want me to stop – if you want me to wait…’ he said, with his mouth just millimetres from hers, ‘I will.’

  Leaning into him and wide awake with adrenaline, Molly smiled. ‘Niall, I…’ She felt the colour rise to her cheeks, knew she wanted him, didn’t know how to say it.

  ‘Say it,’ he teased, his hand gently touching her face, cupping her chin, pulling her towards him. It was as though the waiting was almost too much, and suddenly an immediate passion had taken its place. ‘Say it, Moll.’ Lifting her into his arms, she felt herself melt in and out of his kisses. Every movement of his lips, every beat of his heart, every touch of his fingertips made her feel as though she’d never been touched before. Yet, deep down, his firm, powerful touch was exactly as she’d imagined.