The Beachcomber

Just now, one of the late fishermen started his boat’s engine and headed it towards this turbulent funnel of water. As it travelled the short distance before it came out into open sea at the other end, the little boat was swayed and pushed dangerously close to the high walls. In the end, though, the fisherman skilfully negotiated the waters, and a few minutes later he was headed for the fishing sites, his lights low and his engine running softly.

Having a fear of deep water, Kathy was filled with admiration.

When the boat was out of sight she screwed up her fish-and-chip paper and tossed it into the nearest bin. After a long, lingering glance at the house, she returned, slightly reluctantly, to the caravan.

Less than an hour later, after a quick wash, she was undressed and in her newly made bed. Moments later, she was fast asleep, wearied by the long journey, and the emotional turmoil of seeing the house, in what she believed was a private moment. If she had realised someone had overheard, albeit innocently, she would have been mortified.

Not far away, in his cottage on the hilltop, Tom was pacing the floor. He couldn’t sleep. His mind was too full of thoughts, too active. Kathy had somehow brought back memories of his wife, and now he could not rid himself of everything else that went with it: the guilt, the belief that he should have tried harder to save them, the agony of knowing he would never see them again. Yet even while he tortured himself, he knew he had done everything humanly possible on that day. Thinking about it now merely hardened the rage inside him. He wanted revenge. He could taste it.

But he wasn’t ready yet. Now, just when he thought he was almost on top of it, when he was beginning to feel the time was almost right, his thinking had been thrown into turmoil. By this troubled woman, a pretty stranger who had intruded in his life as though for a purpose.

This evening, after he had inadvertently caught the end of her heartfelt outpourings, he had known her presence here had nothing to do with him. He felt foolish for ever having thought it might be.

All the same, she had unearthed something deep inside him, something he had tried hard not to acknowledge. Feelings of loneliness and need. The normal, manly feelings that were stirred by the sight of a warm, beautiful woman. For a long time now he had felt like half a man. Kathy’s touching words, her open, infectious laughter had only made him realise how lonely he really was.

But what a strange coincidence, he thought, to have seen her three times; twice in his native London, and now here, in this quiet, tucked-away place where he had sought refuge.

Beyond sleep for the moment, he put on his jacket and went out into the night. Up here, out on the cliffs, there were no lamps to light the way, only the moonlight, which hung low in the clearest of skies, shining down like some kindly beacon to guide his footsteps.

Picking his way through the low bracken, he went softly along the well-trodden path towards the cliff-edge, and down, side-stepping, half-climbing, half-sliding, to the bottom. Once he was down on the promenade, he cut round by the wall and onto the beach, almost all of which was now swallowed by the incoming tide. The sound of surging water sang in his ears, and the familiar tang of salt air stung his nostrils.

For a time he walked the beach as he had paced his room: frantic; driven by the same demons that had brought him here. With the sea lapping at his feet, he pushed onwards, to where the ground slipped away into the sea and there was barely enough room for a man to walk.

Once there, where he could go no further, he flattened his back against the rocks, a man alone with his troubles, his eyes raised to the heavens, and his heart breaking.

After a while, as always these days, his heart was calmed, his mind quieter. He began his way back, to the widest part of the beach, where he sat listening to the rush of breaking waves and the many comforting sounds of night: nesting seagulls ruffling their feathers; creatures of the water shuffling a path through the sand.

In the dark, where no one could see, the world was breathing all around him. It was his now, this part of night when others slept and dreamed. In the semi-darkness, this place, this world, this precious time was his, and he cherished every minute.

Content now, oblivious to the minutes and hours that ticked by, he stayed; satisfied just to look and listen.

After a time, when night began to merge with daylight, he made his way back.

As he wended his way along the clifftop, he thought of his wife again, he thought of Kathy and that quiet conversation while she sat on the wall eating her fish and chips. He heard her laughter in his mind and smiled. ‘She’s like a ray of sunshine,’ he mused.

From what he had heard of her intimate murmurings to her late father, he suspected things had not been easy for her.

In those few brief moments when she laughed at her mistake with the hot chip, then again when she was sitting on the house wall, he had seen a woman who had that rare talent of being able to laugh at herself, a woman of compassion and heart. A woman who had the ability to take the world by the horns and shake it into submission.

He wished her well.

Then he shut her out of his mind, for there were other things he must consider. Things of the past; things of the future.

The present was less important.

Chapter 5 (#ulink_0ab590cd-c203-58a9-9f64-c900e284ba60)

KATHY WAS AWAKE bright and early. She washed and dressed, tidied round and, taking her small cache of belongings, made her way down to the reception desk.

The clerk was still half-asleep, yawning and rubbing her hair until it looked as if it belonged to some scarecrow in a field. ‘Was everything all right?’ she asked wearily. For one irritating minute she thought Kathy was there to complain.

Placing the caravan keys on the desk, Kathy smiled. ‘Everything was just fine,’ she said, and it was, because now that she’d had a good night’s sleep she was ready for anything. ‘Where can I get breakfast?’

The clerk groaned with disgust. ‘Oh, however can you eat so early in the morning?’

‘It must be the sea air,’ Kathy answered, ‘it seems to have given me an appetite.’ She laughed. ‘My friend Maggie swears I could eat anyone under the table.’

The young clerk observed Kathy’s slim figure. ‘Don’t you ever get fat?’ she asked enviously.

Kathy shook her head. ‘Not yet, I haven’t. But I’ll probably spread out like a balloon once I hit forty.’ She laughed at the girl’s wide-eyed disbelief. ‘To tell the truth, I seem to be able to eat whatever I like and it makes no difference. Maggie hates me. She has to watch every mouthful she eats, or she piles on the pounds in no time.’

‘I’m the same. Lucky you,’ the clerk grumbled. ‘And you’ll find the dining room is just opening.’ Pointing to a side door, she suggested helpfully, ‘To avoid you going back out and in through the main doors, you can go that way. You’ll see the dining room straight ahead of you.’

Heeding the directions, Kathy followed her nose, the aroma of hot food taking her through the entrance hall and into a small dining room. Observing the military rows of square laminated tables, she marched through to where the food was only now being set out. There was a basket of toast, and several other hot dishes each containing a good helping of porridge, tomatoes and sausages. There was also a box of cereal.

At the end of the table, there was a fat man frying a couple of eggs on the hotplate. ‘Just one, please.’ Taking up a plate, Kathy held it out. ‘Turned over and well done.’

Sour-faced, the man scooped up a juicy egg and dropped it onto her plate; dripping in fat, it almost slid straight off the other side, save for a nifty backstep by Kathy. ‘Sorry, luv.’ He looked wretched, as though he’d been out all night on the tiles.

Reassuring him that no harm was done, Kathy took her plate along the buffet to collect a sausage, a wrinkled tomato and a piece of toast. She poured herself a cup of tea from the urn to finish.

By the time she got back to a table by the window, both toast and tea were cold, but that didn’t bother her too much. It was the fat man at the end of the table that drew her attention. As she ate heartily, Kathy couldn’t keep her eyes off him. Apart from the arm that turned the eggs, he never moved. ‘Like a robot!’ Kathy chuckled. Then suddenly he reached round to collect a clutch of eggs from the basket behind. Just that one, swift, rigid movement and he was back again, still as a statue, one arm hanging by his side, the other turning the eggs. For a while, Kathy was mesmerised.

The sound of children outside made her glance through the window. There was a whole family of them: mum, dad, grandparents and six healthy, boisterous youngsters. ‘Oh, my God!’ Kathy exclaimed. ‘Looks like they’ve got their hands full.’

Suddenly all hell was let loose.

As that particular family burst in through the doors, another followed, and soon the whole place was filled with excited, screeching children running amok among the tables.

One pretty little girl sauntered up to Kathy and stood by her table, big saucer eyes following every forkful of food Kathy put into her mouth. Embarrassed at the way the child was staring at her, Kathy cut off a piece of sausage and offered it to her. ‘Hungry are you, sweetheart?’

With frightening speed, a woman resembling an all-in wrestler swept the child up, with a stern warning for Kathy. ‘Don’t you mess with me!’

Nervously swallowing her food, Kathy watched as the woman carried the kicking child to the buffet, where she set about terrifying the fat man.

Seeing the humour of the situation, Kathy chuckled to herself. ‘I can assure you, lady … I’ve no intention of messing with you!’

A few minutes later, having finished her breakfast and been deafened by the growing uproar in the dining room, she made good her escape.

Excited and a little apprehensive, she made her way to the house. Stopping at the telephone box which was halfway, she took out two coins and, dropping them into the slot, asked the operator to dial Maggie’s number. ‘Be in, Maggie!’ she urged. ‘Come on, pick up the phone.’ She knew it was an extravagance, but she had to talk to her friend.

Another few rings and the voice at the other end of the line sounded grumpy. ‘Who is it?’

Kathy gave a sigh of relief. ‘It’s me, who d’you think it is?’

‘KATHY!’ At once the voice came alive. ‘Why didn’t yer phone me yesterday, you wretch? I waited in as long as I could.’

Kathy explained, ‘It was late when I got here. I rang you as soon as I sorted myself out, but you weren’t home.’ She lowered her voice. ‘You were out with that bloke, weren’t you? The one I told you to be careful about?’