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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?’
Maggie was on the defensive. ‘So! What if I were?’
Kathy knew it. ‘And …?’
‘And what?’
‘You know … was he just after one thing, like I said?’
‘No. He was not just after one thing.’
‘So, nothing happened then?’
‘I didn’t say that!’
‘So, what are you saying?’ Kathy knew the answer already.
‘All right, something happened, yes. But he wasn’t the one who made the running.’ There was a chuckle. ‘I were. He just went along.’
Kathy groaned. ‘There’s me travelling all day, worn out when I get here and not even able to stay in the house. And there’s you … dancing the night away, doing Lord knows what! And lying in bed half the next day.’ A thought struck her. She whispered, ‘He’s not still there, is he?’
‘No. He went home about two this morning … said he had to be up early for work. But I’m seeing him again tonight … and don’t you dare say anything! Or I’ll put the phone down.’
‘I’m saying nothing,’ Kathy replied, ‘but I still think he’s wrong for you. I reckon you might be heading for trouble falling for him hook, line and sinker, without even knowing him.’
‘I do know him!’ Maggie decided against putting the phone down. ‘I spent the bleedin’ night with him, didn’t I?’
‘Right then. Where does he live?’
There was an awkward pause. ‘I’m not really sure … somewhere the other side of Ilford, I think.’ Her voice rose in anger. ‘It’s not important. He’ll tell me when he’s good and ready.’
‘And did he say where he worked … when he had to rush off like that?’
‘I mean it, Kathy! I’ll put the phone down if yer keep quizzing me.’ Another pause, before she said lamely, ‘If I’d asked him where he worked, I’m sure he’d have told me.’
‘All right, Mags … I’m sorry. It’s just that I don’t want you to get hurt, and … well, there was just something about him that made me suspicious, that’s all.’
‘Hmh! That’s because you’ve got a suspicious mind.’
‘Promise me you’ll take it slow with this one?’ Her every instinct told her that this bloke was a chancer. Maggie had been through it all before and never seemed to learn. Sometimes she couldn’t see beyond all the attention and flattery. In the end she always got hurt.
Now that the well-meaning ‘inquisition’ was over, Maggie’s questions came fast and furious. ‘What’s the house like? Why couldn’t you stay there? And if you couldn’t stay there, where did you spend the night?’
Kathy explained about the caravan, which had turned out to be cosy and comfortable. ‘The site is just a short walk from the house,’ she said. ‘It so happened they’d had a cancellation and I was able to take the caravan for a night.’
Maggie was exhilarated. ‘See! I told you there’d be a caravan site.’ She went on enthusiastically, ‘Happen I’ll stay there with my bloke, seeing as you don’t like him.’ She continued, in a worried voice, ‘Will you be able to get the house right? I mean … it’s bound to cost you for getting the lights and the water on.’
Kathy sighed. ‘That’s not all. There’s paint peeling off everywhere, and it looks to me like the window-sills are rotten.’
‘I can’t believe yer dad let it get that bad.’
Kathy had wondered about that herself. ‘Maybe he was in love and didn’t notice, or maybe he was tight for cash since he was keeping two homes going. But it’s been empty for over a year … maybe longer for all we know. It’s stood right through the winter at least, and I’m sure the sea air can do a lot of damage.’
‘So, how will you afford to get it done up?’
Kathy confided her plan. ‘I intend getting a little job. I could buy paint and brushes, rub the wood down and do the work myself at weekends.’
‘Hmh! Rather you than me.’
The conversation inevitably came onto men. ‘Go on then!’ Maggie urged excitedly. ‘Have yer come across any good-looking blokes yet?’
Kathy laughed. ‘Give over, Mags, I’ve only been here five minutes!’ Kathy’s mind went back to Tom. ‘There was one man though … in the chippie … aged about thirty-five or six, I reckon.’ She recalled him clearly. ‘Nicest-looking chap I’ve seen in ages, only …’ She paused, trying to put her feelings into words.
‘Only … what?’ Maggie was not the most patient of people.
‘Well …’ Kathy couldn’t quite put her finger on it. ‘He seemed, I don’t know, kind of sad. I nearly choked on a hot chip and he told me to be careful.’ She could see him now, in her mind’s eye. ‘He had the loveliest smile.’
Maggie laughed. ‘Sounds to me like you’re the one who needs to be careful. Some bloke smiles at you in the chippie … and you’re gone.’
Kathy hotly denied it. ‘Don’t be daft! I’m not “gone”, as you call it. I don’t know him from Adam and I don’t want to. Besides, I reckon I’ve got enough on my plate without worrying about men!’
Maggie was incorrigible. ‘All right, all right!’ she chuckled mischievously. ‘If you say so.’
‘I do. So you behave yourself.’ As her money ran out, Kathy promised to write very soon. She knew the chances of Maggie putting pen to paper were slim.
On her way to the house, she paused to look at the boats in the harbour. Everything was beginning to come alive: it was still early but the boats were being fitted out and taken to sea; down on the slipway a man and a woman were launching their boat.
Some way along the harbour, two sleepy-eyed children walked along, holding their mother’s hand and looking as if they would still rather be in bed. Others were running and leaping about, excited by being at the seaside and impatient to get down on the beach with their buckets and spades. Kathy loved it all. After London, it was like another world.
Eager to get back to the house, she turned away. It was then that she saw the man from the chip shop emerging from the shop, his newspaper rolled up in his hand and his head bowed as if deep in thought.
She recalled what Maggie had said. ‘One smile and yer “gone”.’ That was not true, but there was something about this man that seemed to cling to her. It wasn’t just that he was handsome, or that, as he strode across the road, the sun shone down on his hair and streaked it with gold; nor was it just the pleasing sight of his long, lean figure in flannels and white shirt, with short sleeves revealing strong, bronzed arms. It was more than that.
There was something else. Something the eye couldn’t see. Something she had sensed last night when she saw him for the first time. There was a natural ‘goodness’ about him … a warmth that reached out, yet kept you at bay somehow. She had seen it in his eyes last night. Even when he smiled at her, she had seen how his dark eyes were full of sadness.
Intrigued, she watched him walk away, over the bridge and on, past the caravan site and up the hill, until she could no longer see him. ‘A man with troubles,’ she deduced quietly. But, she shook herself, she was not here to get involved with another man.
Continuing on to the house, she realised for the first time how wonderfully sited it was. There was a well-kept public green in front and a high wall at the back, with shrubberies and lawns either side, though, like the front garden, they were badly overgrown.
As she stood with her back to the door, she had clear, uninterrupted views of the harbour on one side – a hive of activity – and the river on the other, with boats and ducks, and a restaurant whose terrace spanned the water on wooden stilts. ‘You chose well, Dad,’ she murmured, and a great sense of quietness flooded her heart. ‘I know I’ll be happy here.’
The extent of disrepair was more than she had realised. Apart from the peeling windows and overgrown gardens, the path itself was pitted with holes and the gate was hanging on one hinge. There was a shed at the side of the house that was already halfway collapsed, and a broken window upstairs at the back. ‘Blimey, Kathy!’ She took a deep breath. ‘You’ve got your work cut out and no mistake.’
For one nerve-racking minute she wondered if she was up to it … or even whether she could ever afford to do it. But the longer she stood there, the more the doubts melted. One way or another, she was determined to restore this lovely house to its former beauty.
Delaying the moment when she would open the door and go inside, she sat on the front step, gathering strength and mentally preparing herself. ‘It was your house, Dad,’ she whispered, ‘yours and hers. And now it’s mine.’ She caught her breath in wonder and blew it out in relief. ‘I need a while to take it all in,’ she thought.
Having been to the shop for his ration of pipe-baccy and his daily paper, Jasper saw her sitting there, a small, solitary figure deep in thought. ‘Well, I never!’ He was surprised to see the house had a visitor. ‘Wonder who she is?’
As always his curiosity got the better of him.
