Silent, The Desolate Evening

Two Years Earlier, Lucy

She wished she'd put on better clothing instead of rushing off like that. The weather had changed. Overheard, clouds had gathered, casting shadows along the private driveway. She hurried. As a child, she'd disliked the driveway, viewing it as long and lonely, a pathway to nowhere. The tall hedges and bushes blocked out the evening light, producing a dim hue and a chill, despite the clammy atmosphere.  

She quickened her speed, thinking of earlier and the disturbance in her room and the sense of someone watching in the field.  The Ogre, obviously. She reached the country lane leading into town. Ahead lay rows of fields with picnic tables and a golf course. The rain shelled her, like pellets. Halfway along the lane, she came to a village.

The village church, surrounded by headstones and a gate. She remembered the church from ten years ago, although she'd never gone inside, as Dad hadn't liked religion. For a few moments, she was a little girl again and Mum and Dad were there, smiling at her. Dad, indulgent, with flushed cheeks, slightly overweight in later years; Mum an older copy of herself, light skinned and auburn blonde.

Brushing aside the memory, she took shelter in the church porch and fidgeted with her phone. The downpour deepened. She sent another brief text to Ash.  He was off to a party, he'd texted earlier. She still hadn't told him about the Ogre's return.  

After a while, she set off again, sprinting the remainder of the way, over the main road and through the High Street, dodging a group of kids jumping up and down on the benches. Soaked, she continued on past the Tourist Information Centre and down the shore path, up the steps to the promenade, aware that she looked a mess.

This awful town.  Cold and windy and wet. Dirty and grey with the pier stretching out into the water.  She disliked the place. Lyme House had isolated her from real mum and dad. It had made Dad too busy to spend time with her and Mum too preoccupied with loneliness to notice. Now, ten years on, she saw it all again, how it had been back then...tagging along behind Mum and Dad on an empty pier in the rain on a Bank Holiday Monday, past an ice cream sign that had blown over, conscious of Mum and Dad's unhappiness and the rough waves.  A new start, Dad had promised before their move here.  But all along, Dad had planned to leave them. The police had discovered that later, and her adoptive family had never forgiven Dad.

And then, that woman again.  The woman with the long, dark hair from the music room in the flat where Mum and Dad had lived. A stunningly beautiful woman like a celebrity, playing a game with Dad. Touching one another, giggling. The woman and Mum seated opposite each other at the dinner table, but at some point, Mum had got up abruptly and left the room.  And after that?  No one knew.  

Tonight, the wind smelt of sea, fresh and salty, with an oily touch in the air. The promenade walkway was damp from the weather. Sand and mud and cigarette butts littered the path. A large group of school kids in hoodies stood outside the amusement arcade, laughing and stuffing their faces with chips. She kept her eyes on the ground when she passed them, sensing their collective gaze.

The rain slowed to a trickle. She sat on a bench near the railings and continued waiting for Arthur Harlesden, eyes fixed on the water and the Grand Theatre further along.  She had things to discuss with him, questions her adoptive parents had refused to answer, like Dad's final phone call to Arthur twenty minutes before the fire.  

She felt her mobile quiver in her bag.  Boyfriend Ashleigh responding to her text. Good. She reached in the bag for the phone, took it out.

Not Ash.

Private Caller.  Probably, Ash calling from a mate's phone and withholding the number. Having a bit of a laugh with her. Sometimes, he'd ring and get Bruce to bark down the phone.  

She answered the call.

No one spoke. 'Ash?'  

Silence.

The caller rang off.

She was about to ring Ash back.  Hesitated. She shivered and got up, aware of an unusual sensation.  Someone watching her.  Just like earlier in the field a few minutes before discovering that the Ogre had rummaged through her travel bag. She could feel it again.

She looked round.  Nothing, apart from the sea and the rain and the outline of the Grand Theatre and the kids further up the promenade, shouting, laughing and screaming.