Leaving George Page 4

  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 s
hape 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.

  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.