by Sherri Bryan
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Charlotte arrived at the marina ten minutes later and leaned her bike up against the railings at the entrance to Pier 4. It was dark now and the marina was coming to life. Lit up with table lanterns and hanging garlands of white light, soft music drifted out of the bars and restaurants as they prepared to welcome their guests.
She looked around to see if there was any sign of the good Samaritan who had called her but, apart from a few drinkers sitting on the terraces of other bars, and customers going in and out of the Mini-Mart a few doors down, there was no one to be seen.
She walked through the door of the awning, her keys in her hand ready to lock the glass doors of the café. As she drew closer, she could see that the chain and padlock around the handle were securely fastened. She went up to the doors and pulled on them, just to be absolutely certain that they were locked, which they undoubtedly were.
I didn’t think I’d forgotten to lock up. Why on earth would someone call to tell me the doors were open? She scratched her head.
She was overwhelmed by a sudden feeling of unease and, right on cue, Pippin growled behind her. She turned to see him, hackles raised and teeth bared, as a hooded figure that had been crouching by a table in the corner of the enclosure stood up and came towards her. She opened her mouth to call out, only to find that her voice had deserted her. Then she saw a flash of silver. The figure had a knife and was coming straight at her.
She opened her mouth and found her voice again. “Help! Someone, help! Heeeeelp.” Flailing around with her arms, she kicked out blindly at her attacker in a desperate attempt to avoid the swish-swish of the blade.
In the confusion, Charlotte saw a white streak flash through the air, followed by a loud scream. Pippin was hanging by his teeth, halfway up the attacker’s leg, and wasn’t about to let go without a fight. The attacker plunged the knife downwards and Pippin fell to the ground.
“No! Pippin! No!” Charlotte screamed and tried to reach the little dog but the figure came for her again.
Suddenly, from nowhere, another figure rushed in, putting himself in between Charlotte and the attacker. They struggled, the knife swinging this way and that, but her rescuer managed to push the attacker back.
“Are you okay, Char … aaaggggh!” The rescuer fell backwards, clutching his face.
The attacker turned and, drawing the knife cleanly through the plastic panel of the awning, escaped through the hole and ran off down the footpath.
Charlotte started to shake and collapsed in a heap as her legs turned to jelly. She crawled over to Pippin and picked him up gently, tears pouring down her cheeks. His white coat had turned scarlet as the blood seeped from his wound
Adam and Yolanda from the Mini-Mart, who had been closing up when they’d heard the commotion, came rushing over. “Are you hurt, Charlotte? What the hell happened?” asked Adam, almost tripping over the outstretched legs of Charlotte’s rescuer. “Oh, my God, there’s someone else in here. Is this who attacked you?”
She shook her head. There was too much to take in. Cradling Pippin in her arms, she said, “Could you call the mobile vet, please?” She handed her phone to Yolanda. “The number’s on there under V. And please tell him I don’t care what it costs for him to come out after hours.”
Pippin looked up at her, panting frantically, and as Charlotte bent her head to him, he licked the tears off the end of her nose. “You’re going to be okay, little one,” she whispered to him. “You’ve got to be.”
“I’m going to call an ambulance,” said Adam. The amount of blood spurting from the slash on Charlotte’s rescuer’s face was significant. He took off his jacket and held it over the cut to stem the bleeding, holding his phone between his shoulder and chin as he spoke to the emergency services operator. “Hello, yes. I need an ambulance please. Charlotte’s Plaice on the marina in St. Eves. Yes, it’s a man with a deep cut to his face. What? Yes, he’s conscious.” As he gave the operator more information, the vet arrived.
Charlotte burst into tears — loud sobs that shook her whole body. “Please save him. He was looking out for me. He was trying to protect me …” She couldn’t speak any more.
“It’s too dark in here to see anything. I’ll have to take him into the back of the truck but you’re going to have to give him to me, okay?” The vet gently prised open Charlotte’s fingers, reluctant to release their precious cargo and, lifting Pippin into his arms, he quickly disappeared.
Yolanda bent down and put her arm around Charlotte’s shoulders. “He’ll be okay. Dave’s a brilliant vet.”
Charlotte nodded, her shoulders shaking with emotion. “I’ll be okay now. You go if you need to. Thanks for coming over — you’ve been such a help.”
“Are you sure? It’s no trouble for us to wait with you,” said Yolanda.
“No, really, I’m okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Charlotte sounded braver than she felt.
As she tried to compose herself, it occurred to her that she hadn’t even thanked her rescuer. She stood up and walked the few steps over to where he sat with Adam, between two tables on the floor.
She crouched down and saw a young man who looked vaguely familiar, but she was sure she didn’t know him.
He looked back at her and gave a weak smile. “So, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted…are you okay, Charlotte?” His attempt at humour was weak, but appreciated, and she smiled back at him.
“I can’t thank you enough,” she said. “I feel terrible. I was the one the attacker was after, but instead, you and Pippin were the ones who got hurt trying to save me.” She squinted at the young man. The more she looked at him, the more familiar he looked, but she just couldn’t think where she knew him from.
“This is going to sound terribly rude, seeing as you’ve just risked your life to save me, but do I know you?”
Before he could answer, the sound of a siren signalled the arrival of the ambulance. Two paramedics came rushing down the footpath and into the awning. They wore flashlights attached to straps around their heads, which lit up the dark space.
Charlotte gasped as she saw the young man clearly for the first time. Even in the light, he wasn’t instantly recognizable. With his attractive face scrubbed clean and his usually scraggly dark hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, he looked nothing like his alter-ego, the moody and intimidating pack leader of the Goths.
It was Ryan.
“Oh, my goodness! I didn’t recognize you!” Charlotte stared in amazement. “You look amazing!
Ryan’s cheeks flushed. “Yeah, well, Will wasn’t keen on the make-up and the piercings — thought I’d scare the customers away. Anyway, it’s a small price to pay if it means I’m earning a little every week to put towards my college fund and looking after my dad.” He proudly puffed out his chest. “I got myself a job at The Bottle of Beer, four nights a week. It’s great. And it’s all thanks to DCI Costello.”
Charlotte made a mental note to cook up a batch of dinners that Ryan could put into the freezer for him and his dad. It wasn’t much, but she hoped it would help them a little.
“Congratulations,” she said, with genuine warmth. “And thanks again. Honestly, I don’t know what might have happened if you hadn’t come along.”
“Don’t mention it.” Ryan winced as the paramedic sewed up his face, which sported a gash from his chin to his ear. “I just wish I could have saved your dog, too.”
The words had barely left his mouth when the vet returned. Charlotte felt as though a steel fist had tightened around her chest and she struggled to speak, her voice a whisper. “Is he okay?”
The vet nodded. “The blade gave him a nasty cut but missed anything of vital importance. I’ve put some stitches in, so he’ll be groggy from the anaesthetic for a while but, apart from that, he’s fine. I’d like to take him back to the surgery for tonight, though, just for observation. Pippin is a very lucky dog.”
Charlotte let out a huge breath. “He’s okay?!” she asked, fresh
tears running down her cheeks.
“Yes, he’s okay.” The vet smiled. “Would you like to see him before I take him away?”
Having once more lost the ability to speak, Charlotte nodded emphatically, a maniacal smile on her face. However, when she saw Pippin in the back of the mobile veterinary truck, her heart fell. Most of the coat on the right side of his little body had been shaved and an ugly wound bathed in yellow iodine ran from the top of his front leg up to his neck.
As he lay in his sedated state, his legs moved in a running motion as they often did when he was asleep, and Charlotte hoped that he was dreaming of chasing Frisbees, his favourite squeaky toy, and the lady dog from across the road. The pink tip of his tongue poked out from between his lips, and with every outward breath he took, his cheeks puffed out like a child at his inaugural trumpet lesson.
She stroked him gently and kissed the top of his head before leaving the truck in tears — a mixture of relief and sympathy for her little dog.
“You can come and get him tomorrow after five. Okay? If there’s any change in his condition and I need to keep him in for longer, I’ll call you.” The vet’s voice was calm and reassuring.
When she got back to the café, the paramedics had just finished stitching up Ryan’s face. They put a gauze bandage over the wound, gave him a prescription for some painkillers, and an appointment card showing the date he should go to the hospital to get the stitches removed. Then they were gone.
“Were you on your way to work?” asked Charlotte.
“Yeah, but I’m gonna be really late now. Will hates it if we’re late. Anyway, I don’t expect he’ll want me in tonight looking like Frankenstein, will he?” He dug his hands deep into his pockets and kicked the ground.
“Don’t be daft,” she said. “I’m sure Will won’t mind. You’ve got a pretty good reason for being late, don’t you think? And you’re a hero! I’ll tell him so! The customers will be flocking for miles around to have their picture taken with you!”
He laughed, his cheeks flushing again. “You’d do that? Speak to him, I mean.”
“Of course I would! In fact, I’ll do it now. Come on, let’s go.” They walked down to The Bottle of Beer and Charlotte spoke to Will, explaining why Ryan was late and how he’d saved the day.
Will, a surfer with sun-bleached dreadlocks and a permanent tan, vaulted over the bar and caught Ryan in a bear hug. “I’m proud of you, mate,” he said. “Come on, you can tell me all about it.”
Charlotte caught Ryan’s delighted eye, and winked as she left him to it. She walked back down the marina, slowing before she got back to the café. She’d been intending to go back and switch on the outside lights so she could get a proper look at the damage to the awning, but on second thoughts, if whoever had tried to attack her was still around, she’d be leaving herself wide open for a repeat performance.
Instead, she took a seat on the terrace of Lulu’s Noodles, Soups & Shakes, a new bar on the marina which sold, as the name suggested, noodle dishes, soups and milkshakes, and was run by Lulu, a vivacious young woman from Tibet. Her stomach growled as she thought of the bowl of shellfish soup she’d left behind, so she ordered a cup of chicken noodle soup with chive dumplings and called Nathan.
He answered a minute later. “Hi.” His voice was curt — a sure sign he was up to his eyes in something.
“Hi, you busy?”
“Well, one dead body, an ever-growing list of suspects and no closer to finding the killer. Yeah, you could say I’m pretty busy. Why? What’s up?”
Charlotte quickly explained what had happened.
“What?! Oh, my God, Charlotte. Stay there, I’m coming down now. Don’t move from where you are, okay?”
Ten minutes later, Nathan was striding purposefully down the marina towards her. She stood up and ran to him, the emotion at seeing him taking her by surprise. He stroked her hair as he held her close.
“I’m sorry. I just can’t stop crying.” She wiped her eyes on the ragged tissue she pulled out from up her sleeve.
“Well, it’s delayed shock, I would say,” said Nathan dryly, taking a white handkerchief from his jacket and handing it to her, “brought on by the fact that someone just tried to kill you. That usually does it for me.”
Charlotte laughed as she dried her cheeks. Nathan could always make her laugh, whatever her mood.
“I’d like to go into the café and turn on the outside lights. I want to take a look at the damage to the awning. D’you have time to come with me?” she asked.
Nathan raised his eyebrow. “Well, if you think I’m letting you go on your own, you’re very much mistaken. Come on.” They walked down to the café and Charlotte was grateful to see that her bike was still leaning against the railings. She let herself in and switched on the outside lights. Stepping outside, she gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.
The thick, transparent polythene that formed the window in the middle of the canvas frame had been slashed to ribbons during the struggle, leaving it flapping sadly in the breeze, and the inside of the awning open to the elements. To replace the specially treated plastic panel was going to be a costly repair job.
“Oh, no! Look at that! I can’t do without the awning with the weather we’ve been having, and I don’t have the money right now to get it fixed.” She bit her lip to stop herself from crying again.
Nathan wished that Charlotte would accept his offers of financial help from time to time but, on the odd occasion he’d tried to help out, she’d turned him down flat. She wouldn’t touch a penny of his money, even on the proviso that it would only be a loan
He took a close look. “Listen, you can do a temporary repair with tape. I know it won’t look great, but it’ll be okay until you can get it repaired properly, and at least it’ll keep everyone warm and dry.
“More importantly, though, I’d like to get someone down here to dust the place for prints. Whoever attacked you and Ryan may …”
“And Pippin,” interrupted Charlotte.
“Sorry…whoever attacked you, Ryan and Pippin, may have left some clues behind, especially in all the chaos. I’ll drive you home and then I’ll get someone out here, okay? You don’t have to stay. And I’ll get an officer stationed outside your house. I’ll be round later anyway, but until I get there, I want to make sure that you’ll be okay.
“Now, what can you tell me about the person who called you? Any distinguishing accent, quirks, anything at all? I know they probably weren’t using their own voice, but sometimes natural characteristics slip out when someone is trying to disguise it. Think hard.”
Charlotte’s brow creased and she crinkled her eyes as she thought back to the phone call. Apart from the fact that it had been a woman’s voice, there was nothing at all she could tell Nathan that would be of any use. She shrugged and shook her head.
“I’m sorry – I wish I could think of something that would give you more of a clue, but I wasn’t paying much attention to her voice at the time. Of course, if I’d known she was going to be coming at me with a knife shortly afterwards, I’d have taken more notice.” She gave a feeble laugh, but stopped abruptly. “You know, I’m not entirely sure that it was a woman who attacked me. I mean, I couldn’t see their face and they didn’t say anything. I’m just assuming it was because of the phone call.”
Nathan pulled her into a hug and kissed her gently. The desire to protect her was overwhelming. “Look, I’ll take you home now, okay? Try to relax if you can. Have a bath, watch some TV or listen to some music — and do your best not to think about all this. I’ll be back before you know it.”
He checked every room and every window in the house before he left. “You can’t be too careful,” he said, noticing the alarm on Charlotte’s face. “In any case, you’re going to be perfectly safe. I’ll get a car put outside as soon as I get back to the station.”
Charlotte double-locked the door and went into the living room. Her bowl of shellfish soup was where she’d left it but the shrimp tha
t had watched her leave earlier had long since sunk into the rapidly cooling depths of the deep orange broth.
Her mind was far too awake to consider sleep, so she switched on the TV and absentmindedly flicked through every channel, stopping at a station that was covering the final stages of the ‘Hard Man’ tournament — a month-long event that saw 100 men whittled down to just two, competing for the coveted ‘Hard Man’ trophy.
As Charlotte looked blankly at the TV, she watched as the contestants prepared themselves for the penultimate challenge — a 15-minute bout of unarmed combat, the object of which was to bring your opponent to the ground and keep him there for 30 seconds.
She watched the men take up their positions. As they bowed to each other and the referee blew his whistle to announce the start of the bout, the competitors prowled in a circle, each man’s eyes never leaving the other’s.
Suddenly, the smaller of the two rushed forward and, with a deft flick of his ankle, he toppled his opponent to the ground, holding him for the full count of 30 seconds.
Impressive, thought Charlotte, as the audience erupted into frenzied cheering.
Yawning, she turned back to her copy of ‘Hey, You!” magazine, but was far too distracted to read it. The sound of a car engine coming to a stop outside her window had her on her feet in a flash, and she was relieved to see that it was the police car, which Nathan had promised to send out.
She stood with her forehead against the cool window, and closed her eyes, only to open them quickly as her mind was flooded with thoughts of Pippin’s yelp, as the knife had sliced into his tiny body.
Offering up a prayer for her little dog, she climbed the stairs to bed.
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“You asleep?” Nathan’s whisper woke Charlotte immediately. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He sat down next to her.
“S’okay,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “I wasn’t really asleep — too much going on in my head. Are you coming to bed?”
“Yeah, in a bit. I’m going to make a sandwich first — I haven’t had time to eat and my stomach’s rumbling.”
