Christmas at the Beach Hut

by Veronica Henry

  She looked at her face in the mirror. She was shocked. Her eyes were hollow, her cheeks sunken, her bleached blonde hair lank. She knew she hadn’t slept well, but it was anxiety that made her look like this. The stress of walking on eggshells.

  ‘You know what you have to do,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t let yourself down. Don’t let yourself and Harley and River down.’

  She had to do it now. She knew if she ignored what had happened this time, she would ignore it again. And it would get worse.

  She did not want to be with a man who wouldn’t let a little boy get up at six o’clock on Christmas morning.

  She did not want to be with a man who squeezed her arm so tightly it left bruises when she’d come home later than expected the day before.

  She did not want to be with a man who had made her own son run away.

  She was scared. Her insides were churning as she made a plan in her mind. She was going to have to hold her nerve. She went to the loo, brushed her teeth, making all the noises Tony would expect to hear.

  She opened the lid of the laundry basket and took out yesterday’s clothes: hers and River’s. She pulled hers back on, then gathered their toothbrushes and toothpaste. She went out onto the landing and listened. She could hear Tony; that heavy breathing bordering on snoring that confirmed he’d nodded back off. River was quiet, so maybe he had too. She crept down the stairs, freezing every time a floorboard creaked, then tiptoed into the kitchen, holding her breath as she opened the door, praying it wouldn’t make a noise. She grabbed her handbag off the back of the kitchen chair, stuffing her phone inside it, then checked that her roll of money was still in the secret pocket. Then she popped open the dryer, pulling out all the clean clothes. Luckily it was a mixed load – some of River’s tops and jeans, two of her sweatshirts and some cargo pants, and a selection of underwear. She weeded out a couple of Tony’s T-shirts but folded the rest neatly and stuffed them into a big canvas shopping bag, squashing her handbag on top.

  The kitchen clock said twenty past six. She hurried into the hall, opened the front door and put the shopping bag in the porch. She put her sheepskin boots next to it, and River’s little blue Crocs, the ones he went to the beach in. They’d be the easiest to get on quickly. There was no time for laces. She went back into the hall, checking both their coats were hanging on the hook, ready to grab.

  She eyed the stairs, biting her lip. Her mouth felt as if she had tried to swallow a handful of sand. She could bottle it now; carry on with Christmas Day as normal. Give herself some time to figure out what to do. Surely that made more sense? Running away with only the clothes they stood up in was impractical. And what were the chances of her getting away—

  Stop it, she told herself. You cannot stay a minute longer with a man who makes you feel like this. Every day that passes is a day closer to something bad happening. She remembered the conversation with Harley, the desperation in her son’s voice, his fear. He had left them because he was afraid of what might happen. It was up to her to bring them all to safety.

  She crept up the stairs and back into River’s room. He was in that deep slumber that comes from falling back to sleep in the morning. She would have to wake him and urge him to be quiet; if she picked him up asleep she risked him waking and making a noise. She shook him gently.

  ‘Hey. River. Wake up, baby,’ she whispered. ‘You must be quiet though.’ She put a finger to her lips as he opened his eyes and looked at her. ‘Shhhh. We mustn’t wake Tony. Or he’ll be cross.’

  River nodded, solemn. He understood that threat. She hated herself for it.

  ‘Come on. I’ve got something to show you. A surprise.’ She felt mean, luring him with a lie, but she’d make it up to him. ‘I’m going to carry you downstairs, but you need to be super quiet.’

  She picked up his stocking from the end of the bed, held it up conspiratorially, ssshh-ed him again, then scooped him up. He put his arms round her neck and snuggled in, and the warmth of him made her melt. She had to get away. For River and Harley. For both of her boys.

  She pulled him in tight as she went down the stairs, hoping she wouldn’t slip on the wood. She made it to the bottom, grabbed their coats, pulled open the front door, piled the stocking into the top of the big bag that was waiting, then started to slide River’s Crocs onto his feet, all the time wondering whether there was something she had forgotten.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going?’

  She looked up and Tony was standing at the top of the stairs, in a T-shirt and pants. She jumped up and slammed the front door shut between them, rammed her feet into her boots and grabbed the bag.

  ‘What’s the surprise?’ asked River. ‘Where’s Harley?’

  ‘We’re going to go and find him, right now,’ she said, her voice strangled with terror.

  She ran up to the path to her car. Thank God it was parked behind Tony’s and not the other way round. She opened the back door – she never left the car locked – and pushed River in. She’d stop in a bit to strap him in, once they’d got away. She pushed the carrier bag in after him, grabbed her handbag, fishing inside for the keys, pushing aside all her handbag detritus, scrabbling, longing for the relief of her fingers closing round the furry pompom of her key ring. River was on the back seat, his knees drawn up to his chin, staring out of the windscreen with a look of horror.

  She turned. She saw Tony in the doorway, holding up her keys.

  ‘Looking for these?’ he asked.

  She stood up. Stay calm.

  ‘Harley phoned,’ she said. ‘He’s in trouble.’

  She leaned into the car, took River’s hand, pulled him towards her as gently as she could, put her handbag over her shoulder. They could leave the rest.

  ‘Mmm-hmm,’ said Tony, his eyes stony with disbelief. ‘So why have you taken River’s stocking? I thought we were all going to open it? Together?’ He started walking towards her. ‘You better come back inside.’

  She only had a split second to choose whether to stand her ground or run. Her eyes flickered to the houses either side. Should she scream? There was nothing to scream about. He’d done nothing. Yet.

  ‘Hold on tight to me,’ she whispered to River. Then she pulled him from the car and turned and ran, as fast as she could. Tony couldn’t chase her through the town in his pants. People would be up early – it was Christmas morning. They’d be opening their curtains, looking out.

  She didn’t have much time. Two minutes at the most before Tony managed to pull on his jeans and his shoes and come after them …

  She tried to remember her breathing from when she used to train at the gym, but already her lungs felt serrated. Down to the end of the road, round the corner – should she take the short cut down the passage that led to the harbour? No, she should stay in full sight of the public eye. She didn’t want to be cornered if he caught up with her. On and on she pounded, wishing she could see someone to ask for help, but there was no one outside. Not yet. She reached the end of the next road and swerved right, not daring to look back. She was at the shops now – maybe the newsagent would be open?

  It wasn’t. She ran past it, feeling despair rise as that hope vanished. At the end of this road was the harbour. She knew where she could head. Where she could hide.

  Everywhere she looked, Christmas lights were twinkling. Everyone in Tawcombe liked to outdo each other with their displays: Santa and his reindeer, huge illuminated Christmas trees and snowmen, all blinking on and off in shades of red and green and gold. It was slightly surreal in the silent mist of early morning. She didn’t pass a soul.

  She slowed for a moment to look behind her. She couldn’t see Tony. She’d managed to keep him off her trail. She turned right, towards the sea. There was a limit to the number of places she could hide before her escape route turned to water …

  She was stumbling now, along the harbour front, too exhausted to run. The
harbour was almost empty; most of the boats had been lifted out of the water and were stored in the car park until winter ended. The water looked as black as squid ink and she shivered.

  At last she got to the Spinnaker. There was a narrow passageway that needled in between the pub and the fudge shop next door. In the summer, the air would be thick with the scent of boiled cream and sugar mixed with the salty sea. Now, it just smelt dank. There was a gate at the front of the passageway that to a passerby would look locked. But she knew from working at the pub that it wasn’t; that there was a trick with the latch and you could get in, if you knew how.

  She put River down, panting, and fiddled with the latch, her fingers clumsy on the cold metal. There! It was open. She grabbed River and pulled him through the doorway, shutting the gate, sliding the lock back into place until it clicked. Tony would have no idea how to get inside.

  She darted into the passageway, following it between the cold damp walls to another gate at the back. She slid open the bolt and went through to the car park behind the pub. There was a high fence barricading off the area where the bins were kept. That would be the perfect hiding place until she could get help. If Tony came down to the harbour, he would have no idea where they had gone. With luck, he would think they had doubled back earlier.

  She put River down again, then realised he didn’t have his shoes.

  ‘Oh dear me,’ she said. ‘We left your shoes.’ She kept her voice light and sing-song so as not to betray her panic as she lifted him up again.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Let’s go behind here. Shhh. We’ll have to keep quiet.’

  ‘Are we hiding?’

  ‘Sort of.’

  ‘Why? Where’s my stocking?’

  ‘Just shush for a minute.’ She pulled out her phone to call Harley. Please let him answer.

  ‘Mum?’

  Her heart leapt with joy at the warmth of his sleepy voice.

  ‘Baby?’ She whispered as loudly as she could.

  ‘Oh, Mum! Merry Christmas. My God, what time did River get you up?’

  ‘Baby, I need your help. I’ve left him. I’ve left Tony.’

  ‘What? When?’

  ‘We just did a runner. Me and River. I haven’t got any of our stuff. He’s got my car keys.’ Her voice was starting to crack. She choked down a sob.

  ‘Mum. Stay calm. I’m coming to get you. Right now. Where are you?’

  ‘Round the back of the Spinnaker. By the bins.’

  ‘It’s OK – I’ll be about fifteen minutes. Tops. Just stay there.’

  ‘You know where the car park entrance is? You have to go down the road at the back.’

  ‘Course I do. It’s gonna be OK, Mum. Love you.’

  ‘Love you too,’ she murmured, but he had already hung up.

  ‘I’m cold,’ said River.

  ‘I know, baby. Harley’s going to be here any minute. We need to keep quiet.’

  ‘Are we hiding from … Santa?’ River looked confused.

  ‘No, darling. Never Santa. Now come here. Come inside my coat and keep warm.’

  Hurry, hurry, hurry, she urged Harley in her mind. The sea air was cold on their skin. Oh God, she thought, what have I come to? Hiding amongst the wheelie bins at half past six on Christmas morning? Why hadn’t she seen Tony’s true colours sooner? She was a fool. As soon as Harley got here, she would sort everything out. She’d done it before. She could do it again.

  40

  Years of listening out for the twins meant Lizzy was fine-tuned to crises. As soon as she heard Harley’s voice on the phone she knew there was a problem. She was immediately awake. By the time she’d scrambled out of bed and over to the edge of the platform he was standing at the bottom of the ladder looking up.

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘It’s Mum. She’s run away from Tony. I need to go and find her. Will you take me?’

  Lizzy was already scooping up her clothes.

  ‘I don’t even know why you’re asking.’

  ‘We need to hurry. She’s with River. They’ll be freezing.’

  ‘Give me two minutes.’

  She slid down the ladder and put an arm round his neck, kissing him swiftly on the cheek as she passed him.

  ‘Merry Christmas, chicken. I just need a wee and to do my teeth.’

  ‘Merry Christmas …’ He nodded, looking slightly shell-shocked.

  ‘It’s going to be OK,’ Lizzy called behind her, disappearing into the bathroom.

  Harley grabbed his shoes. His heart was pounding but he felt exhilarated. He had to get to his mum before Tony did. The slimy creep would either talk her back round or—

  He didn’t want to think about ‘or’.

  Two minutes later Lizzy emerged. ‘I’ll just get my car keys. I’ve left them at the top.’ She ran for the ladder and scrambled up it. Harley rushed for the bathroom while she looked for them, mentally working out how much time they had already lost.

  Soon they were outside in the cold air. It was still dark and damp, the air filled with icy droplets. They stumbled over the sand, running as quickly as they could.

  ‘Sorry,’ gasped Lizzy, unable to run as fast as Harley. ‘I’m not very fit.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ he said, wishing for wings. At least ten minutes had gone since his mum had called. His phone went again. He pulled it out of his pocket.

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘We’re on our way, Mum. We’re nearly at the car. Ten minutes. Hang on.’

  Leanne hung up the phone. She was crouched down with her arms round River as he sat on her lap; she didn’t have the strength to stand up and hold him, but her legs were screaming with the effort. He was starting to shiver, poor lamb. As was she, but she thought perhaps it was shock and fear as much as cold.

  ‘Harley’s on his way, baby,’ she said, and River’s face lit up. He adored his big brother. How on earth could she have put Tony first over them?

  ‘I thought I heard a little mouse.’ A shadow fell over them. Leanne looked up, instinctively pulling River tighter. It was Tony, leering down. ‘Look what they put out with the rubbish. I thought you’d be here. I knew you couldn’t have just vanished. And everyone brought up in Tawcombe knows the trick with the gate.’

  ‘Leave us alone.’ She looked up at him, trying to keep her voice steady.

  ‘I deserve an explanation, don’t you think?’

  He nudged her with his foot, pushing her off balance. She reached out a hand to stop herself falling over. She felt the gravel cut into her hand and her wrist give way. She bit her lip to stop herself crying out.

  ‘It’s over, Tony. Leave us alone.’

  ‘Over? After everything I’ve done for you? I don’t think so.’

  Leanne shut her eyes and squeezed River tighter. She knew whatever she said would be wrong. That Tony wouldn’t listen to reason.

  ‘You’d been put out with the rubbish when I picked you up. I put a roof over your head: you and your kids. That mouthy little brat who looks at me as if I’m something he’s stepped in. Most people would be grateful. I think you all need reminding who you were, what you were, what you are—’

  ‘Tony, I’m grateful. I really am. But it’s over. It’s not working.’

  ‘What isn’t?’ He frowned. ‘I mean, who paid for all that stuff in his stocking, huh?’

  He pointed at River.

  She raised her eyebrows and looked at him. ‘Father Christmas?’ she said meaningfully.

  He threw back his head and laughed. River frowned.

  ‘What’s so funny, Mum?’ he asked.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ Tony crouched down so he was level with River. ‘There’s no such—’

  ‘Don’t you dare.’ Leanne stood up. ‘You say one more word and—’

  ‘What?’ Tony
stood too, and they were now face to face, River beneath them, bewildered.

  Tony shut his eyes as if to calm himself, then opened them, his smile sweet, his voice even sweeter.

  ‘Tell you what. Let’s go back so River can open his stocking, shall we? Then you and me can talk things over while he plays with his new toys.’

  He sounded perfectly reasonable. Calm.

  ‘Can we, Mum?’ River tugged at her hand, excited by the prospect.

  Leanne sighed. It wasn’t fair to put River through this. He should be opening his stocking.

  ‘Come on,’ Tony wheedled. ‘This is daft. It’s Christmas. How about I make you breakfast? Coffee. Bacon and egg.’

  How did he do it? Flip from bully to charmer in the blink of an eye? He was smiling at her, all sweetness and light. She swallowed, her mouth dry. The trick now was to play along with him. Play for time.

  ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry. I over-reacted.’

  Tony reached out his arms to River. ‘I’ll carry you back. You’ve got no shoes, silly billy.’

  River giggled.

  ‘No,’ said Leanne, picking her son up herself and tensing for an altercation. ‘I’ll carry him.’

  As she pulled River into her, she saw a car pulling into the car park. Please, please let it be Harley. The car pulled to a halt as Tony turned, and Harley jumped out of the passenger side.

  ‘Oh, look, here comes the cavalry,’ sneered Tony.

  Harley ran over to them. ‘Mum. Are you ok?’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Come on.’

  Tony stepped towards him.

  ‘I think you’ll find your mother’s coming back home with me. Father Christmas has been, hasn’t he, River?’

  River nodded, wide-eyed and uncertain. Leanne stood, frozen. She didn’t want trouble. She didn’t trust Tony not to cut up rough. How was she going to negotiate this? They all looked at each other: Tony looming threateningly, Leanne stock-still, Harley tense and ready to spring, River confused and looking round at everyone.