Текст книги "Leaving George"

Автор книги: Diane M. Dickson

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

Chapter 7

First things first. Pauline logged on with her Macbook and ordered a new phone. Then she picked out some clothes. What she had managed to bring with her would do for a few days but now she had achieved the first part of the journey she would be able to handle more luggage. Her wardrobes had been full but she wanted none of the wrappings of that downtrodden and lonely woman. She felt no regret for leaving behind her the soft armour of gowns worn to events she had never enjoyed. Nor for the sweaters and skirts with invisible stains of violence and hurt which were gone from the fabric but still vivid in her mind.

After toast and more coffee while she surfed and shopped she left the cottage and headed down the narrow road towards the village. The embankments were high and overgrown with tall grasses and wildflowers. The dopey murmur of bees and the zip of smaller insects filled her ears and the frantic scuttering as smaller creatures fled punctuated the regular slap, slap of her shoes on the hot tarmac. Once or twice she had to make sure she walked very close to the bank to avoid oncoming traffic and she found herself wondering how the injured rider was doing back in the hospital.

She bought some bits and pieces at the little supermarket and with a quiet chuckle picked up a couple of bottles of wine from their small selection, after all every bugger wants wine, don’t they?

As is the way of these things the walk back seemed shorter and in little more than an hour she was back in the garden drinking cold orange juice and clicking through the online editions of the papers. At first she found nothing and assumed that no news was good news. Surely if the man were dead it would be mentioned somewhere and then she spotted a tiny article. It reported simply that ‘yet another’ sheep related accident had put a motorbike rider in hospital and posed the question, ‘When was something going to be done about the animals wandering loose along the roadsides?’ The rider wasn’t identified and when the article was published he was simply in hospital in a serious condition. So, not dead then. Well, not at eight thirty that morning, but it still didn’t sound good. No matter; even if the police did try to find her again she was sure that the obfuscation had been enough to cover her tracks.

The endless blue of sky and sea curved in a great arc before her. Warm sun stroked her shoulders, easing the tension and smoothing away the worry. The drama of yesterday was a world and a lifetime since and she would let it go…

The narrow road beyond the farm was dusty with a messy mixture of earth and sharp sand. Pauline followed in the footsteps of the small caravan of holiday makers who trod this way most of the morning. The dunes seemed higher now she was amongst them. The long grass whispered and sang and called her on towards the louder melody of the ocean and then there it was. Dancing white waves and heaving billows of deep blue and sapphire and violet. She paused and gloried in the vision. Wind whipped and pulled at her hair. Sounds of children and gulls were whisked past her ears and on and away into the ether. She filled her lungs and eyes with it and let her mind whirl into the past, when the beach meant nothing but pleasure; sun tightened skin and the cold shock of a run through breaking surf.

Slipping and slithering she came through the dunes and onto the light sand and then the line of pebbles at the tide line. She slipped off her sandals and felt the squidge of sandy mud between her toes and she grinned. This was truly wonderful. George had never liked the beach and after several tries early in their marriage she had given up the fight and now realised just how much she had missed this wild, warm, wonderful world.

A tiny recess in the rocks offered shelter and she leaned against the warm hardness and shuffled her bottom into a comfortable place. She heaved a great sigh. The distant sounds of pleasure tickled at the edges of hearing and the soughing of the vegetation in the dunes was mesmerising. She laid her head back against the stone and closed her eyes.

Drifting and drowsing she started visibly when a quiet voice invaded her peace. “Penny for your thoughts? They must be nice if the expression on your face is anything to go by!”

“Oh, Dolly! Hello!”

“Sorry if I disturbed you.”

“No, it’s fine. I was almost asleep and that wouldn’t be a good idea really. I haven’t put on any sunscreen yet. I hate the stickiness.”

“Yes, me too, but they tell us we have to do it don’t they? I saw you there and thought I’d just pop up and let you know I booked you in for the extra time and I’ll be in tomorrow morning to tidy for you.”

“Lovely, thanks. Can I order some milk and a loaf? I’ll pop in later and buy some salad.”

“Great. And we have some really lovely strawberries just arrived; do you want me to put some aside for you?”

“Oh yes please.”

“Well, I’ll leave you in peace. I’ll be in the vegetable shop until about six tonight. I’ll see you later on then.”

As the other woman trudged away through the soft sand Pauline was suddenly swept up by a feeling of loneliness. She had said she was used to being alone and this was true, but that didn’t mean that she was always happy about it. However it was easier than pretending all was well when it was far from being so. It was easier than making up stories about falls that hadn’t happened and cupboard doors that were in fact innocent of causing anyone any harm. To have someone though, who you could trust to chat with, was such an innocent thing and she wondered how she had allowed herself to become so very cut off from all her old friends. A bubble of panic roiled in her stomach. She was going away to a country where she knew no-one and where, though she felt confident in her language skills, she would be unfamiliar with the customs of daily life. Had she made a stupid mistake? Had the desperate need to escape led her to flee too far and too fast?

Chapter 8

“Hello, Pauline. I’ve finished now. You didn’t really need me to come in did you? There was nothing out of place. Three days already and the place is as tidy as it was when you arrived. I’m not going to charge you for today.”

“Oh no, that’s not right! I asked you to come. To be honest I didn’t realize how much I’d be out. I’ve been at the beach so much and I’ve had lovely long walks so I haven’t been around enough to trash the place.” Pauline smiled at Dolly across the room. “Do you want a cup of coffee? I was just going to make one. Do you have time?”

“Oh lovely, yes. I usually have one when I get home anyway so that’d be great. Look, I’ll tell you what, I usually charge for an hour, so why don’t I come in for half an hour on Monday and I’ll lump the two together. Then we can decide what to do for the next couple of weeks. I don’t want to take advantage. Usually people who come down with children have all sorts of mess to clear up, sand everywhere and toys, you know. I don’t mind it at all, it’s important people enjoy their stay.”

“Oh Dolly, that’s very kind of you. You know when I leave here I’m going to be running a holiday place myself. More of a bed and breakfast to start with, but then I’m hoping to have a barn converted into flats.”

“Oh well, the best of luck. It’s hard work but it’s lovely when the people are nice. Some of them are quite difficult to deal with mind you. Is it in Cornwall your place? Are we going to be business rivals?” Dolly winked as she pulled a chair out from under the kitchen table and snagged a biscuit from the plate.

“No, I’m buying a place in France.”

“On your own?”

“Yes,” Pauline grimaced as she nodded her head. “Eeek and all that!”

“Wow! Well you’re very brave.”

“My granddad left me some money and I thought, well, if I don’t do it now I never will so there we are. I have to say I’m nervous but excited as well.”

“So… when is this happening?”

“The house will be mine in about another month and I'm planning to be there for a couple of weeks before that.”

“Are you selling up here then?”

Oh why had she blurted out the information? Now she was going to have to back pedal and smudge the truth again.

No she wouldn’t.

“Actually my ex-husband has the house here. He’s keeping that.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s fine.” She leaned forward and touched a finger to Dolly’s hand where it curled around her steaming mug. “Really, it’s fine. All that is in the past and I’m moving on.”

“Well good for you.”

A knot of nerves fluttered deep in her belly as the words rolled from her lips. On the one hand it was all true, but in reality George didn’t even know that she’d gone yet. What would his reaction be, as the days and weeks rolled on? She couldn’t think that far, couldn’t even guess what he would do. Maybe in the dim and distant future, when she was strong and secure, she could get a solicitor and arrange a divorce. For now it was enough to be away from him. She pushed the darkness aside and smiled at Dolly. “Anyway, that’s why I’m spoiling myself a bit. I think it’s the last chance I’ll get for a while.”

Dolly smiled gently. “So then. Are you enjoying your stay so far?”

“I am. I’m going out for another long walk later and then tonight I have a treat planned.”

“Oh right, are you going into the village? To the bistro? You need to book on Saturdays you know, I can give them a ring if you like?”

“No, nothing like that. I’m going to take a bottle of wine and go down on the beach and walk in the surf in the moonlight! You’ll think I’m mad but ever since I saw the silver glow on that first night I’ve wanted to do it.”

“Down on the beach? At night on your own?”

“Yes, you like the beach don’t you? I bet you’ve done it loads of times!”

“Well yes, I love the beach, certainly. And I go down there every day if I can. I missed it so much when we lived up near London and now I can’t get enough of it. But not at night.”

“Not at night?”

“No, not me.”

“It’s not illegal or something is it?”

“No, no of course not. It’s just that we don’t. Nobody does, not at night.”

“But why; it looks beautiful.”

“Yes, from here, from a distance I dare say it does but… well you know Cornwall, these beaches, this coastline. It has a dark and violent history. Things have happened over time that have left a mark on the land.”

A mark on the land. If it hadn’t been for the serious, almost fearful expression in the other woman’s eyes Pauline would have laughed, but as it was she simply tipped her head to one side and waited for more information.

“Well, I know it sounds melodramatic and everything. It’s probably just old wives’ tales and stories to frighten children but…well… we just don’t. Now and again people have done and then they just stopped.”

“Why? Why do they stop?”

“Oh look, I’m being silly. If you want to go down on the beach then that’s what you should do. Thanks so much for the coffee.  Enjoy your day my dear. Take care.”

Well that was odd. Pauline had taken the landlady for a level headed, down to earth woman and the strange conversation left her puzzled. Her nerves were on edge anyway; tomorrow George would be home and she couldn’t help thinking about what his reaction was going to be when he found her gone.

She shook her head, rinsed the mugs, and then turned to pick up her shoulder bag. She strode out of the house and off towards the cliff top walk. Maybe she would just stay in the cottage tonight and read her book. Tomorrow night she would go to the beach. Yes, she’d leave it until tomorrow.

Chapter 9

Sunday morning. Warmth oozed into the bedroom and outside the window birdsong and distant squeals of children on their way to the beach told her it was not early. Pauline pulled the duvet over her head and squeezed her eyelids tightly together. It was Sunday. Today George was to arrive home. She played the scenes through in her mind.

He would come in through the front door and throw his case down in the hallway. There would be no greeting, no friendly call out to her for he hadn’t ever expected she would leave what she was doing to greet him. He would fling his keys into the brass bowl in the hall. In the past that would have given her an idea of his mood. If they slammed against the metal causing it to ring and chime then she would take herself through to the lounge and curl into the chair in the corner, giving him space. If they jingled gently as he lowered them into the basin then she would put the kettle on for a cup of coffee and thank her lucky stars that the meetings had gone well or whichever woman he had been with had been pliant and undemanding and left him satisfied.

She acknowledged a long time ago that it was pathetic for her life to be governed by these unknown sisters but there had been no alternative.

Today though, what would he think? What would he do? What conclusion would he draw from the empty silence? Perhaps he would storm from room to room calling her name? No doubt he would go back outside and double check the car port to see if her car was still there. She imagined him slamming into the kitchen where there would be no aroma of a carefully prepared meal and no wine open to breathe on the work top.

She pushed aside the duvet and wriggled up on the pillows.

Would he worry? Phone calls to friends would embarrass him. They were all his friends anyway. She had lost touch with hers when the bruises became too regular and the explanations for them weaker, the ugly truth increasingly obvious. Neighbours, golf couples would all tell him no, Pauline wasn’t with them. No, they hadn’t seen her, not for a few days now that they considered it.

How long would it be before he realised that the autofeeder for the cat had been set and would, by now, be empty. For a moment her eyes filled when she thought of Samson; how she loved him. She knew though that George was as sentimental as she when it came to the old tom. Whatever else he did he would take care of the cat. Probably one of the first things that he would do would be to empty the litter tray and open a tin of tuna. By that time surely he would know that something had happened.

Then what? Would he call hospitals, the police? Or would he make a sandwich and pour himself a drink and sit and fume and plan his revenge for when she did come home?

She slid her feet out from under the covers. Today was going to be difficult. She expected to feel on edge and nervy but… it must be lived. Lived and consigned to her history...

The cottage garden was bright and welcoming when she made her way downstairs. Trees swayed in the sea breeze and, as she drank her coffee, sparrows niggled and fought over the bread crumbs she scattered on the grass. Twinkling in the near distance the ocean called to her, tempted her, but her soul was uneasy.

Watching young couples playing in the waves and the families enjoying the weekend treat of a trip to the coast held no appeal today. Though she was proud and pleased to have made the break, her heart was still sad that her marriage had failed. All her young dreams had been crushed by cruelty and meanness. The bright young couple had become part of a sad statistic.

“Hello, are you in the garden?”

“Oh Dolly, hello. I’ve just made a pot of coffee; do you want one?”

“Yes please. I’m not disturbing you am I?”

“No, it’s lovely to see you. I’m having trouble getting going today. I haven’t made my mind up what I’m going to do yet.”

“Well I’m just on my way now down to the village. It’s the craft fair on the green today and I didn’t know whether or not you’d seen the notices. It’s a nice day out. Gates open at twelve, you can get something to eat – well if you like hog roast, hot dogs that sort of thing and there’s a beer tent and a cake and coffee corner. If you’ve nothing to do why don’t you pop down? For once we’ve got a lovely day for it and there’s nice bits and pieces of craft for sale and all the proceeds go into the village fund for the school and the village hall and so on. Don’t feel obliged – I just thought I’d let you know.”

“Oh right, well I might pop down later.”

“Are you alright? You seem a bit down?”

“Oh, I guess I have a lot on my mind today and it’s making me a bit unsettled. A village fete sounds just the sort of thing to take me out of myself.”

“Well, it’s not the fete, that’s in September but it’s a lovely day in any case.”

“Excellent. Thanks so much Dolly.”

“Pauline…”

“Yes?”

“Did you go to the beach the other night? You know you said that you were thinking of going down in the dark, did you?”

“No, I didn’t as a matter of fact.”

“Ah, I just wondered if that was why you were feeling unsettled. Maybe you had gone down and perhaps – well not enjoyed it.”

“No, I will go though. Does it worry you, the idea of me down there?”

“Oh, don’t take any notice of me. It’s silly old stories and when you grow up with them they are just part of life I suppose.”

“But, what are they, these stories?”

“Well… now I don’t want to put you off doing something you want to, but… well… there is a story about a ghost roaming the cliffs and beaches at night. I know it’s probably rubbish but some people reckon that if they’ve stayed until it’s got dark that they’ve seen a figure on the headland and it’s spooked them. There’s nothing to it really I’m sure… but not many people like to go down there. Do you believe in that sort of thing? Spirits, ghosts and such like?”

“I’m not sure to be honest. Anyway I’m sure no ghost will be interested in me will they? I’m only a visitor after all!”

“Yes, I’m sure you’re right. Oh, there’s the car. Jim is taking me down. I have some cakes to take with me. I’ll watch out for you later. Thanks for the coffee.”

“Yes, I’ll see you later. Bye Dolly.”

The company had cheered her and now that the day had a shape and substance to it her mood lifted. George would surely sneak into her thoughts now and again but when she considered him it was with a flush of pride at her actions and not a little buzz of – well what? – yes, that was it; a feeling of revenge…

It was old fashioned and easy and charming. She roamed around the field, drank warm wine in a tent that smelled of damp canvas and remembered her distant past. She allowed her mind to bask in the remembered happiness of childhood and as the day wound down felt grateful for whatever instinct had led her here, where childhood memories were pleasant and the joy was simple.

All would be well.

She leaned back in a plastic chair and closed her eyes. Noise buzzed and flowed around her, blending into a pleasant hum. Sun warmed her face. She relaxed.

Then suddenly from nowhere a sliver of unease trickled down her back and she shivered. She opened her eyes and rubbed at the goose bumps on her arms. A movement at the corner of the beer tent then caught her eye. A dark shape was moving quickly away. She was fully awake now. The tension of the day was getting to her and it was time to go back to the cottage. She pushed up from the chair and made away across the field, the smell of crushed grass and warm wood filled her senses as she regained her equilibrium.

The road was quiet in the gathering evening with just the distant cry of the gulls and the regular beat of her feet on the tarmac. She heard an approaching car and moved closer to the hedge. It slowed as it drew nearer. She felt the rumble as it rolled alongside and glanced back it was close very close. She clambered up onto the steep verge and grabbed at a branch to steady herself. The bulk of it was level with her now. The windows were tinted and all she had managed had been a glimpse of a dark shape at the wheel. Her heart thumped as the vehicle came almost to a standstill. Her stomach tightened with nerves and then, with a roar it sped away and on into the distance. She shook her head, some people were so thoughtless, and now she had prickled her hands on brambles and her trouser hems were stained from mud in the gutter. She should have taken the licence number. As the thought crossed her mind she acknowledged that it would have been meaningless. Nothing had happened, not really.

It was late afternoon and the day was almost over. She hopped back to the firmness of the road and strode on towards the cottage. A huge landmark had been reached. Now that he must know for sure that she had gone the freedom seemed more real, more final. It was good, it felt really good.