Now they were talking about the village council. It would be meeting in the morning to rule on whether Martin could be allowed to stay in the village. Ted would fight Jess’s decision hard.
But where was Martin now? He deserved to know that his future was in the balance.
She closed the door and crept to the window. It was set into the eaves, with a sloping roof she could jump off.
She reached into her wardrobe for a warm sweater. Her coat was downstairs, on the hook by the door. She would have to do without.
Wrapped up in the sweater and two scarves, she opened the window. Cold air blew in; it had stopped raining but the evening was a bitter one, with a harsh wind coming in off the sea. She wrapped the scarves more tightly around her neck.
She pushed the window as wide as it would go then felt outside, her fingers searching for a place to stand or sit. There was a flat section immediately below the window. It would be somewhere to start.
She took her book from the chair next to her bed and put it on the bed. She picked up the chair and placed it under the window.
She stepped back and put one foot on the chair, then the other. She was next to the window now, nothing between her and the drop.
Downstairs, she heard Ted’s voice raised.
“I’m going to bed.”
She stared at the door. He never checked on her, but tonight, after everything that had happened…
Quickly, she closed the window and stepped down from the chair. She pushed it back to its spot and dived under her duvet, pulling it up to her neck. She lay there, watching the door, her heart pounding.
The window swung open. She hadn’t secured it. She heard footsteps making their way up the stairs.
Did she have time?
The footsteps arrived outside her door. No. She could claim she wanted fresh air while she slept.
The footsteps stopped. She imagined her father outside, listening. She bit her lip.
The window swung to and fro, rattling softly. She stared at it, her heart pounding. Shut up.
There was a creak from outside the door, then another door opening and closing. He’d gone to his and Dawn’s room.
She put her hand on her chest, breathing heavily. She was no good at this.
She pushed back the duvet and crossed to the window. With Ted in bed, Dawn would be sitting in the living room, staring out to sea through the darkened glass doors. She went into a kind of trance at this time of night, as if reaching into herself for the will to go up and join her husband in bed.
She wouldn’t notice Sarah leaving via the front door.
She closed the window, checking the catch, and padded to her bedroom door. She leaned on it for a moment, listening. Nothing.
She turned the handle and pushed the door open, peering into the dark hallway. No light filtered up the stairs; Dawn was sitting in darkness.
At the bottom of the stairs, she grabbed her coat and opened the front door. She slipped outside and pulled the door behind her, twisting the handle to make it close silently. Her key was still in the pocket of her skirt; by the time she returned, both Dawn and Ted would be asleep.
She surveyed the village square. The only light was from a half moon shrouded by fast-moving clouds. Lights-out was hours ago and not one house was illuminated.
Where would he be? In the JP, maybe? At Ruth and Ben’s house again?
No. Last time Martin had slept there, he had taken Ruth in the night.
She headed for the JP. The pub was dark, no sign of movement through the windows. She leaned on the glass, trying to make out shapes.
“Sarah?”
She turned to see a shape heading towards her. She closed her eyes, searching for a story. An excuse for being out here at night.
“Sarah, what are you doing out?”
“Sam?”
He joined her next to the window. His eyes were hooded and he looked puzzled.
“What are you doing here?” she asked him.
“Can’t sleep. Thought I’d take a walk. You?”
“Looking for my cat.”
She cast around them as if searching for the creature she knew was curled up on a chair at home.
“Is that wise?” Sam asked. “Zack told me you were out looking for it when they took you.”
She resisted the urge to tell him not to pry. “He’s probably over by our house. See you in the morning.”
She started walking.
“Can I help you?”
She turned. “No. No, its fine. Look, there he is.” She turned towards her house. “Snowy!” she hissed.
“Where?” he asked. The cat was all-white and would have been distinctive in the darkness.
“He’s gone round the side of our house. Probably trying to get in.”
“Oh.”
She gave him a smile. “Thanks, then. See you around.”
He looked dejected. Don’t be hard on him, she told herself. It’s not his fault.
“You’re working tomorrow, right?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“You need your sleep then. Maybe I’ll see you when you get back.”
His face brightened. She cursed herself for leading him on but held her ground. “See you tomorrow.”
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, of course.”
She watched him run away, towards the northern edge of the village. He must live over there, with Zack.
If Martin wasn’t in the JP, then maybe Jess had put him up at her house. She had plenty of space, after all. Jess lived in the last house before you reached the main road, as far from the centre of the village as possible. Sarah’s family lived in the big houses overlooking the cliffs, the houses allocated to council members, handy for the village square and community centre. Jess still hadn’t moved out of the house where her mother had died, before Jess was elected. Not long after the Dyer family had arrived here.
Sarah squared her shoulders and set off along the Parade.
Chapter Eight
Dawn watched the dark clouds flowing across the sky out to sea. It was windy tonight; mild by the standards of this coastline but a howler compared to the breezes where she’d grown up in Somerset.
She could hear Ted moving around above her, his heavy tread unmistakable. She always knew who was on the move in this house, who was coming down the stairs and who was entering the room. Sarah’s footsteps were light and quick; she tried to disguise them but Dawn could always hear. Ted’s, by contrast, were heavy and slow. He would lumber down the stairs each morning, prolonging the agony of anticipation as she waited for him to appear in the kitchen.
It was only when Ted was angry that his gait changed. His steps would lighten and he would be fast, nimble even. She dreaded the sound of that tread.
Beneath the creak of Ted’s footsteps, Dawn heard a second, lighter tread, so pale as to almost be a whisper. Sarah, coming down the stairs. This was how she sounded when Ted was in one of his moods; wary, hesitant. Scared.
Dawn drew in breath then held still, listening. The sound stopped as Sarah reached the bottom of the stairs. Dawn pictured the girl watching her, waiting to speak. She prepared herself for conversation.
Sarah didn’t head her way. Instead, she pulled the front door open and slid outside. Dawn listened, her heart pounding, as her daughter eased the door closed again.
She turned. The door was closed. Everything was as it had been except for Sarah’s coat missing from its peg.
There was a creak above her head; Ted falling into bed. She swallowed the lump in her throat. She would wait half an hour, as always. Until she heard his first snores.
She went to the hallway, running her fingers through the coats. She eased the door open. Outside, Sarah was crossing the square.
She toyed with the idea of running after her daughter, calling her back. But people would see. How many of them were watching Sarah from their darkened windows?
She closed the door again. Sarah would return in her own time. She wasn’t stupid.
“What’s going on? Why are you going outside?”
She turned to see Ted at the top of the stairs, rubbing his eyes with his good arm. His sling was tangled and spotted with blood. It made her feel queasy.
“Ted! You startled me. I was just locking up for the night. Go back to bed, please.”
He rumbled down the stairs, almost tripping in his haste. She pulled back.
“What is it?” He yanked the front door open and stared outside. Dawn held her breath. There were a few seconds of agony as he stared onto the square, then relief as he closed the door.
He turned to her. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. I was locking up.”
“I already locked up. I always lock up. You know that.”
“I was just checking.”
“You saying I didn’t do it properly?”
“Of course not.”
He pushed past her into the kitchen. He grabbed a glass and turned the tap on, splashing water on his sling. Then he leaned against the counter and took a long drink. Dawn watched, resisting an itch to look towards the door, to check that Sarah wasn’t returning.
Ted slammed the glass on the counter and marched to the stairs. “Sarah! Sarah, get down here!”
Dawn stepped in behind him. “Don’t wake her, Ted. Not tonight. Not after everything she’s been through.”
He turned, his eyes dark. His greying hair was messed up from being in bed and a strand leapt up from the top of his head.
“You’re acting strange. She’ll tell me why.”
“She won’t. She—”
He raised his hand and she flinched. “Thought I was asleep, didn’t you?” His eyes widened. “Were you out there with that boy?”
He tugged the front door open. Dawn tried to look over his shoulder; there were no sounds coming from the square.
He slammed the door shut. “Where is that girl?”
Dawn put a hand on his arm. “Please Ted, just calm down. She needs her sleep.”
He shrugged her off and bounded up the stairs, his footsteps light. He flung open Sarah’s door, the first one at the top.
Dawn squeezed her eyes shut.
Ted disappeared into Sarah’s room then emerged. Dawn couldn’t see his face; he was nothing but a dark shadow at the top of the stairs. But she could imagine his expression.
“Where is she?”
He thundered down the stairs. Dawn stumbled back into the living room. She hit the back of the sofa and all but fell over it. Ted followed her.
“Where is she?”
“I—I don’t know.”
He leaned in. His eyes gleamed and spittle ringed his mouth. “Tell me!”
He rounded the sofa and grabbed the jug of flowers she’d placed there two days ago, while he was gone. She normally kept the surfaces free of anything sharp or heavy. She cursed herself for not removing it when he returned.
He turned the jug upside down and shook it out. The flowers fell to the floor in a spray of water. Ted raised the jug and wielded it over his head. His eyes were bright with pain and anger.
“Tell me!”
“She went outside. I heard her. I don’t know why—” Dawn’s voice was shrill.
“Why didn’t you stop her?”
She shook her head. Her body felt cold, like she had frostbite, all sensation in her fingers and toes gone. “I—I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
He dropped the jug and stepped towards her. She backed away. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards him.
“There,” he breathed. “That’s better. Tell me the truth, Dawn.”
She closed her eyes. She knew better than to meet his gaze when he was like this.
“Maybe she was looking for Snowy,” she suggested.
Ted pointed towards the living room. “That cat there, on the sofa?”
Dawn felt her chest dip. “Oh.”
Ted glared at her. She shrank back, not meeting his stare. After a few moments, he dropped her arm. He turned and yanked his coat from its peg, thrusting his good arm into a sleeve. He draped the other side of it over his shoulder.
“You stay here. I’m going after her.”
Chapter Nine
Sarah strode along the Parade, her eyes on the bend in the road where it led out of the village to the outside world.
It was a route that scared and fascinated her in equal measure.
She’d lived here for almost six years, since she was thirteen and the floods had forced her family from its home in Somerset. She had vague memories of a cottage by a stream, of being nestled against a hillside, hidden away from the world.
Here, she was just as hidden. Not only from the world outside the village, but from the village itself. Ted made sure of that.
And she would never leave the family home, never abandon her mother. Dawn had to know that. All her efforts with Sam were an irrelevance.
Tonight, for the first time since arriving five years ago, she walked towards the village entrance. She slid along the Parade, the main artery of their village, imagining people watching her through their windows. The village was quiet and dark; power was rationed here, like everything else, and lights-out had long since passed. And the people who lived here needed their sleep in preparation for the hard physical work they would be doing in the morning. Tending livestock; digging the allotments; baking bread; smoking fish.
Her steps felt heavy, as if she was being pushed back. She glanced from side to side, checking for movement in the darkened windows. An owl hooted somewhere and she nearly jumped out of her skin.
But she had to know how much involvement Martin had in the plan to snatch her. He’d pretended to be something he wasn’t – her rescuer, her knight in shining armour. He’d helped her escape from the farm, and they’d fled together to the beach. But then he’d told her that he’d played a part in taking her. She struggled to reconcile that version of him with the one who had screamed out his love for her and thrown himself on Robert in the farmhouse kitchen, claiming he was defending her.
She had to understand. She had to know what he’d done voluntarily, and what he’d been forced to do. After that, he could leave the village. His presence only led to trouble.
She kept to the shadows and tucked her arms in at her sides, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. When she heard a scraping sound, she ducked into the shadow of a bush.
“Sarah!” a voice hissed.
She looked back. The road was empty.
“Sarah! Up here!”
She pulled out of the shadows and looked up. A head was poking out of a first floor window above her.
“Shush,” she hissed.
“Were you looking for me?”
She frowned; the arrogance. But he was right.
“Yes.”
“Wait a minute.”
The window closed and he disappeared. Moments later, a door opened below it. The tall, willowy shape of the man who’d abducted her, then helped her escape.
Her stomach contracted.
“Quick, come inside,” he whispered.
It was too late to back out now. She approached the door, waiting for him to move out of her way. He obliged, disappearing up a flight of stairs ahead of her. She followed, half intrigued and half terrified.
No one knew she was here.
The flat’s main room was lit by a solitary candle. It flickered off the walls, casting ghoulish shadows that only heightened her sense of dread.
“They put you in here,” she said.
He gestured around the room, as if welcoming her to his luxurious home. “Just for one night. Then they decide if I can stay.”
She nodded but said nothing. There was a small table in one corner and two hard chairs. She took one of them.
Martin took the other one, at right angles to her. She shifted away, the chair legs scraping against the wooden floor. She wondered who lived in the flat below.
“Will you vouch for me?” he asked. “Tell them I helped you get out?”
“I don’t know.”
Sarah had never even been to a village meeting, let alone a council meeting. The thought of standing in front of them, her father among them, filled her with dread.
“It would help, you know. Only if you want me to stay though.”
“I don’t know.”
He nodded. “I understand.”
She sniffed. How long before she could leave? But then she remembered; she’d come here for a reason.
“What happened, the night you took me?” she said.
“Sorry?”
“You heard. I want to know it all.”
“Oh.” He rubbed his nose. “Of course you do.” He placed his hands on the table, fingers laced together. They were long and pale. He huddled over them. She leaned back in her chair.
He spotted her unease and withdrew his hands, placing them on his lap. She made herself relax, wondering if he could hear her heartbeat.
“Where do you want me to start?” he said.
“At the beginning.”
“The distress signal?”
“No. Before that. When you agreed to take part.”
“I didn’t have much choice.”
“Everyone has a choice.”
“Sarah, you have to understand. Robert Cope, he had a hold over me. I owed him.”
“You owed him? What for?”
“He—he helped me, after the floods.” He shifted his weight; she watched him, unforgiving. “You know that. I owed him.”
“I can’t believe you got yourself indebted to that man.”
“I know. But it’s like I told you after we escaped. He saved me. From those kids who beat me up, took my rucksack. If it wasn’t for Robert, I’d probably have died.”
“Did that sort of thing happen to you a lot, on the road?” She felt cold, pricked by her own memories of the floods and their aftermath.
Martin bowed his head. “Nothing like that. I managed to get as far north as Lincoln, before that happened. After that, things were OK. Safety in numbers. And then he told me that if I helped him with this mission, I wouldn’t be in his debt anymore.”
Sea of Lies Page 4
