Текст книги "Leaving George"

Автор книги: Diane M. Dickson

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

Chapter 10

Sunday was gone, and in the event it had been easier than Pauline had anticipated. The spectre of unfinished business had nibbled at her subconscious and now she could put it behind her.

It was Monday. By now George would know for sure that something real, something final had taken place. Whether or not the police were involved didn’t matter anymore. Down here beside the ocean in this quiet spot she felt sure that she was well hidden. Though the events of the week had replayed in her mind repeatedly she could see no way that anyone could trace her.

From today the rest of life was before her. The morning felt warm and bright and the cliff walk tempted her out into the sunshine.

She was free and untrammelled and rather surprised that she simply didn’t care what happened to him from here on. His brutality and selfishness had killed any affection she had for him. He could wallow now in confusion and disarray as he tried to find his way around the kitchen, the washing machine, the cooker. It was unlikely that any of his female playmates would be interested in his dirty laundry or his empty belly and perhaps he would miss her. But she didn’t want to be missed because his shirts were crumpled in the bottom of the laundry hamper or because lettuce wilted and stank in the fridge. She knew he wouldn’t miss her for her arms or her smile or her loving because they had been gone from his life for such a long time. He had wasted them and cast them aside and so whether he pined or forgot she no longer wanted to know.

Long grass swayed in waves beside her, an echo of the rolling blue beyond the cliffs. Gulls screeched and dived against the brilliant sky and her spirits soared with them.

It was time to plan and organise. She gave a little skip and then feeling foolish glanced behind to make sure no-one had seen.

Two hours of walking left her well exercised and her limbs warmed and loose. She took a sandwich out into the garden with a glass of orange juice and set up her Macbook. She would contact the agent about the house. It was time for him to have her new email address. In preparation for her flight she had set up the new contact details and felt confident that nothing unexpected had happened. Buying a house in France did seem so much less stressful than in England with the date agreed well in advance and no chance of a last minute change of heart or nasty alteration in price.

She sent off the message and brought up the pictures of the place she was buying. It was old but had already been modernised. She knew her limitations and though gardening and decorating were well within her capabilities building work was not. For the first few months the four extra bedrooms could be let and the agent had been very helpful with information about how to obtain all the necessary permits and so on. And then there was the barn. Excitement fluttered in her stomach and anticipation widened her grin as she looked at the images. She had already had a surveyor take a look and pronounce it sound and suitable for conversion. It would make four holiday flats. There was already a pool and a big garden with mature trees and she had plans to make a tiny but beautiful holiday location. It would take time but she had it didn’t she. Thanks to Granddad she had the money and she had her freedom. She wrapped her arms around her waist and rocked slightly, holding herself in a hug. She felt so very blessed right then, so very lucky.

Her eyes swept the gorgeous vista in front of her. She would miss England of course but it wasn’t that far away. She could fly in a little over an hour from several different airports and so if she ever felt the need to come back it was simple. For now though she would enjoy the next couple of weeks, treat herself to some real relaxation and then be more than ready for the challenges, would welcome them.

Tomorrow she would go back into Newquay, have a lavish lunch and a walk around the shops but today she would spend in the garden with her book and then tonight, maybe tonight she would go down to the beach in the moonlight.

Chapter 11

The weather turned wet and stormy so Pauline’s adventure in the darkness didn’t happen. She filled her time with walks and reading and chats with Dolly who now came most mornings for a cup of coffee either in the garden or the bright little kitchen. Though she was frustrated she put the beach walk on hold until conditions were perfect.

Thursday was bright and warm. As the sun dipped in a blaze of crimson against a turquoise sky she left the house to make her way down to the deserted beach. She took off her sandals and her feet sank into the warm powder below the dunes. Slipping and slithering between the hillocks and then down across the flatness she reached where the wet sand gleamed in the darkness. Her toes wiggled in the rolling wavelets. The sensation of cold wetness underfoot and warm swirling water tickling her ankles felt odd and she savoured the strangeness.

She spun to face the way that she had come. The lights in the cottage shone in the darkness and beyond that the farm was lit by the lamp at the entrance and the muted glow from rooms behind closed curtains.

Pauline threw back her head. The moon was a little more than a thumbnail and the dark velvet of the night sky was scattered with countless silver pinpricks. It was mystical and she felt small and insignificant but at the same time so much a part of the universe that it started tears to her eyes and a warmth deep in her heart.

Out on the dark water the lights of trawlers bobbed and danced in the swell and the sound of an engine throbbed at the very edge of her hearing. It was beautiful, peaceful and other worldly. Moving along the hard sand the ocean washed her feet and the tiny breathing holes of the beach dwellers popped and bubbled in the dimness.

She walked as far as the rocks and trudged up through the soft sand and found the rocky seat that was a favourite during the day. The boulders still held the heat of the sun and she shuffled backwards to rest against the warm hardness. It was slack tide and the waves were little more than silver frills on the edges of the great billow. She felt safe and calm and so very lucky to be here in this moment.

She closed her eyes. The darkness had never held any fear for her. She knew only too well that danger and trouble came in the full light of day and not from hidden mysteries but from the hands of those best known and closest. The murmur of waves lulled her mind and the dull rolling of the sea amongst the rocks sounded like the heartbeat of the very earth itself. If she were to sink down now and become one with the beach and the water and the wondrous sky she would have no regrets.

After a while a chill breeze rippled across the dunes and drew the tiny hairs on her arms to attention. She dragged on the warm sweatshirt that she had brought and with a sigh pushed herself up and began the walk back to the cottage and a cup of tea and the cosiness of the bright little lounge.

Should she come again tomorrow, or would familiarity spoil the magic? Well, the weather, her mood and instinct would inform her decision, but not the stories of ghosts in the sand dunes and hauntings on the cliffs. She had felt no threat and no fear and had loved the whole experience.

As she trekked the last few yards to the little gate in the back garden there was the rumble of an engine. No light showed on the road and no swish of tyres gave witness to a passing vehicle. She paused beside the wall. A few hundred yards down the road a gleam in the hedgerow drew her attention. The moonlight glinted on a hard reflective surface – didn’t it? Was a car parked in the gateway to the cow meadow? She couldn’t be sure...

She closed the door behind her and went to the window to pull the drapes. The garden was shades and shadows save for the beautiful rambling rose. Tree branches shifted in the stiffening breeze and down against the wall of the barn. Where the farm and cottage shared space a darker shadow formed and moved and was swallowed by the night. She gulped. All the time on the beach she had known not a moment of unease and here, back in the snug little house she felt a chill of fear. She snatched the curtains closed and turned on the lights and double checked the locks on the old oak doors. Her neck prickled and she needed the noise from the radio and the comfort of a blanket around her shoulders but with no idea what she was afraid of.

Chapter 12

Later, in the darkened bedroom Pauline replayed the evening. She relived the pleasure of the walk on the sands and then the strange finale which had left her unsettled and nervous.

Had there been someone in the dark garden? She just couldn’t be sure. Certainly there was movement in the corner by the barn wall. It could have been a trick of the light, a cloud on the moon or just imagination. There was the rumble of an engine though. Perhaps that was just the trawlers out on the water and the effect of echo and wind. There had been a glint of something from the field gate. The moon was tiny and surely the light so very faint that it couldn’t reflect on anything. The street light could perhaps be coming though and yet the movement of the trees in the breeze had made it tricky to see properly. Was there something? Was it imagination?

She flipped over onto her side and dragged the duvet tightly around her shoulders. The house was secure. Though it was away from the village it was hardly deserted. The farm was just a few hundred yards away. She had her new phone on the bedside table. She was safe and in any case why should there be someone in the garden or in the lane? It didn’t make any sense and here she was spoiling the wonderful evening worrying about something that hadn’t happened.

She closed her eyes and used a meditation technique to lull herself into sleep. She travelled in her mind to a desert island and walked the deserted beach and the real and present swoosh of the waves from across the meadow made the familiar, virtual journey very real. When she slept she slept deeply with dreams of the beach and the water and a presence in the cove and when she woke in the bright morning she puzzled about who the figure had been standing on the cliff top watching her. Dream and reality had melded and blurred and it was fascinating.

“Hello – are you there?

“Morning Dolly, come in I’ve put the kettle on.”

“Lovely. How are you today?”

“I’m fine thanks. I can’t believe how quickly the time is going though. I realised today that this time next week I’ll be packing up to leave. I’m going to miss it here.”

“Aww that’s nice to hear but you’ve got a lot of exciting things ahead.”

“Yes, yes I have. I have had a wonderful time though and last night was so brilliant. I went down to the beach in the dark and walked on the sand and sat in the rocks. It was amazing, hey and no ghost!” As she made the light-hearted comment a knot of unease pulled at her and she turned away, unsure whether the moment showed in her face.

“Well that’s good. It was a beautiful evening. Did your friend go with you?”

“Sorry?”

“Your friend, did he go with you? I hope you don’t mind me mentioning this by the way. You have rented the cottage and it sleeps four of course and it’s fine to have someone to come and stay but you do need to let me know when there are extra people in. It’s all to do with the fire regulations.”

“I’m sorry Dolly – I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Oh. Well that’s odd. Mind I didn’t see him myself. Jim told me about him.”

“Who?”

“Okay, Jim said that when he went up to check on the beasts in the top field he saw a friend of yours in the garden. He waved and the bloke waved back and then just went and sat on the little bench. It didn’t seem strange or suspicious and the chap didn’t seem put out. Jim said it was just as if he was waiting for you.”

“Are you okay Pauline, you’ve gone very pale. Hey, here, sit down.”

“Sorry Dolly, sorry, just a dizzy spell. I’m fine really. I… I just need my breakfast. But I assure you, I haven’t got a friend here and I’m not expecting anyone. It must just have been someone needing a sit down perhaps? Maybe it was someone local? Perhaps if you ask Jim again?”

“Yes, yes I will. Well how odd.”

The chill that she felt was nothing to do with a change in the weather and Pauline breathed a sigh of relief as the other woman gathered up her things and left to work in the vegetable garden.

She sat in the chair by the window staring out at the little wooden bench. Who the hell had been sitting there while she was away? She knew no-one apart from Dolly and Jim and none of the people from her past had any idea where she was.

Did they?

Chapter 13

The barn wall formed part of the garden boundary. Beside the old stones the soil was damp and soft. Pauline peered down through the heather and rose bushes. She had to check, though she hoped there would be nothing to find. The shadow and movement had been imagination and a movement of the light, hadn’t it? No, not that, for she could see them now: footprints unmistakable in the dark earth. Perhaps they had been there for a long time? She had never come over here before peering and poking about; why would she? The branches scraped at her arms and hands. As she knelt to look more closely she caught her cheek on a sharp thorn and hissed with shock.

“’Ave you lost somethin’ there?”

“Oh, Jim!”

“Your face is bleedin’. You need to be careful rootlin’ down amongst them roses.”

“Yes, yes. I’d better go in and wash it.”

“Did you find it?”

“Find what, sorry?”

“Whatever you were lookin’ fer. Did you find it?”

“Oh, I wasn’t looking for anything.” She pulled herself up short and then decided not be embarrassed. She would tell him what she was doing. She would explain even though he would likely think her fey and silly. Jim was a down to earth farmer, he would ridicule her worries. Of course he knew nothing of where the fear came from and why she was reacting the way that she was.

She took a deep breath. “I was looking to see if someone had been here Jim.”

“’Ere, in this corner?” His glance down at the disturbed flower bed told her more than his puzzled words.

“Yes, here in this corner. I thought that I saw someone in the garden last night, in the dark.”

“Aye, well. You’d been down on the beach b’aint ya.”

“Yes, I went down to walk on the sands in the dark. Did Dolly tell you?”

“Aye, she did. Daft ideas folks get, no wonder you’m ‘avin’ fancies. Anyway, let me in there.”

He didn’t push her aside but the way that he muscled in left Pauline no option but to move back onto the grass. All she could see for a moment was his round behind sticking out from the foliage and she had to fight the urge to giggle in spite of her fears. He used the gnarly old stick that he carried to swipe aside the sharper branches and then moved backward wiping his dirty hands down the front of his trousers.

“Aye, somebody’s bin in there. ‘T’weren’t me; too big for my feet. ‘T’weren’t Dolly neither. That chap I see yesterday, Dolly said it weren’t a friend a yourn, s’that right?”

“Yes… I mean no. No, I wasn’t expecting anyone. Nobody at all.”

“Well, it could’a been a rambler. Them bugger’s don’t know ‘ow to keep to the paths ‘alf the time. Find ‘em in the field with the beasts, in the farmyard, on the meadow. They just think the whole bloody place is some sort of ‘oliday camp. This though, this is far in the corner. I dun’t know what to make a’this.”

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach and Pauline had to clasp her hands tightly to hide the shaking of her fingers. She couldn’t think of anything to say to this wrinkly old man as he stood before her with his head tipped to one side, puzzlement on his weather beaten face.

“Do you want me to call the officer?”

“The officer?”

“Aye ‘im from the village. Police officer. Mind what he can do I can’t think. All he can do is look and that won’t ‘elp.”

“No, no I suppose not. What do you think I, erm, we should do?”

“I reckon all’s we can do is to lock up them doors and close yer curtains.” As he spoke he reached out a grubby hand and laid it on her arm. “Don’t you fret my dear. I’m just a shout away.”

She could tell from this unlikely behaviour that her distress was showing on her face and she turned away so that Jim wouldn’t see the swim of tears in her eyes. He was coming at this from a very different place than she. It wasn’t a mystery to him but little more than a minor case of trespass to be sighed over and forgotten. For Pauline though the fear went deep. It couldn’t be possible could it that George had tracked her down? Surely he hadn’t stalked her and stood in the garden watching? Yet if it was George, if he had come, then what would he do? She gulped back the panic.

“Thanks Jim. I guess I’ll just have to be careful with the locks and so on.”

“Aye, p’raps I should think about burglar alarms for yon windows and doors. All more trouble though, all more fuss.”

“You going off down the sands now?”

“I was going to walk on the cliff path.”

“Aye, well you enjoy that. I reckon there’s a storm comin’ so you make the most of it while you can.”

“Bye Jim. Thanks again.”

He turned without another word and raised a hand in a sketchy wave as he stomped back the way that he had come into his farmyard.

Pauline went back into the cottage and collected her bag and coat. She checked the windows and pulled the bolt across the back door. She could do no more and so would put it out of her mind.

George couldn’t have found her and she wouldn’t let him take her pleasure. He had taken so much already and she was moving on. The tears were close as she strode away and out onto the well worn footpath. Clouds across the sun echoed the sadness that she couldn’t deny despite her resolve.

Chapter 14

Rain crept in during the day so Pauline cut short her walk. For a while she stood at the cottage window staring out at the dripping foliage, feeling alone and sad for the first time since she had made her break. If she and George had children there would be someone to talk to now, someone she would have brought with her. Truthfully though, she had to acknowledge if they had had children then it would mean that more people would be hurt by what had happened. If they had children she would have been tied even more tightly to George. The thoughts whirled and scuttered in her mind, aimless meandering considerations that didn’t cheer her but lowered her mood even more.

She gave her head a shake. She mustn’t let herself get down, not now when it had all gone so well. Perhaps it was time to leave this lovely little place and get started on the French adventure. There was only slightly less than a week to go though and she did love the cottage and the beach and it was impossible to know how long it would be before she had the chance for another holiday.

And then she knew what she had to do. Pulling on her oldest trainers and a waterproof jacket she went out into the rain. She lifted her face to the gentle wash and immediately her spirits soared. She would go down to the beach and get soaking wet, she would paddle at the edge of the ocean and let the wind and the weather soothe her as it had always done. Many days hiking with bruises on both her body and her soul had proved that fresh air and exercise could do just as much and more than pain killers and sitting around wishing and regretting.

The sandy path was running with water. Before she had reached the dunes her trousers were soaked and her shoes covered in mud. She felt like a child, a naughty child out in the rain without permission. By now she was laughing with the joy of it and as the rain trickled down from her dripping hair she licked it away. She felt ridiculous and foolish and free.

The beach was deserted. Grey clouds rested on the pewter ocean and screaming gulls rode the wind, their white wings flashing against the lowering sky. This world was so different from the one of yesterday and yet in its own way just as wonderful. As she walked the problems and sadness lifted and blew away and her confidence returned. She would take it one step at a time, it had worked so far and surely the worst was over anyway.

She wondered what George had done. No doubt by now the house would be in disarray, her spotless kitchen unrecognisable. He would probably have someone in to clean and manage her old home and she was pleased to find that she didn’t care at all. The place had been so very full of pain. She couldn’t find it in herself to care what happened to the bricks and mortar or the goods and chattels that had been so much subterfuge and window dressing. All lies, valueless and dead.

She was opposite the cliff now. It would be too wet in the usual place but perhaps she could find some shelter and sit for a while and watch the rolling water and breathe great lungfuls of the rain washed air. She clambered over the boulders sliding and slipping now and again but making her way into the formation. There was a part overhung by rocks and she was able to push into the small space and tuck herself into a crevice. It wasn’t exactly comfortable but she could sit for just a little while and be at one with the weather and the wildness.

Visibility wasn’t good but it was possible to see as far as the place where the path emerged from between the dunes. She sat with her back against the damp rock and let her eyes roam unfocused across the beach and the waves.

A movement drew her gaze and she raised her head and screwed up her eyes the better to make out the dark figure across the beach. It wasn’t Dolly or Jim; it was far too tall for either of them. As she watched the man walked a little way forward and turned back and forth as if searching. Dark clothes whipped and slapped around him as he raised a hand to shield his eyes from the wet.

He didn’t go down to the water’s edge or turn and stride out along the sand. He had no dog that she could see. He was alone.

The rain was heavier now and she knew that she would have to move soon as she was soaked through. Although that had been part of the intention it would be irresponsible to stay too long in wet clothes with the cold rain trickling down her back. She could feel the chill and was already looking forward to a warm shower.

For the moment though something kept her in her tiny enclave. Some sixth sense hid her from the figure on the beach and as she watched he turned and climbed back up the dunes. He didn’t use the path but struggled through the tall grass. He bent now and again on the steeper dunes using his hands to help him struggle upwards. He reached the old stone wall and with a final turn to the beach and a quick scan around him he threw one leg over, hoisted himself onto the top and dropped into her garden.

Her heart pounded. What on earth should she do? Did anyone have the right to walk into that land? But even if they did then why approach from the beach? Why not use the gate? She pulled out her phone to call Dolly. Her fingers fluttered on the keys but at the last moment she clicked the off button and replaced the tiny handset in her pocket.

It wasn’t George. She would have recognized him surely, but had he sent someone? Had he found her? Yet how was it possible? She had been so very careful. Tears mingled with the rain running down across her face; tears of fear, shock and frustration. What on earth was she going to do now?