“Mission? That’s what you called it?”
“That’s what he called it. Not me.”
“It’s the word you just used.”
“Sorry.”
“Go on.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed in the candle light as he swallowed. “He didn’t tell me much. Said there was a village, north of us. A family there, that he knew, from before. He said the man had lied about him to the police. That he’d gone to prison.”
“And you trusted him, despite knowing he’d been in prison?”
“He said it wasn’t his fault. It was this man’s fault. That he should have been the one arrested.”
“And you believed him.”
“I had no reason not to.”
“So what did he tell you to do?”
“We’d found a trawler, washed up to the south. Near Hull. A couple of the men knew their way around boats, they’d got it working.”
She looked towards the door. “Get to the point.”
“Sorry. We were going to go out in it, raise a distress signal. Get ourselves brought to the village.”
“And then?”
“Then one of us had to take Ruth. Just Ruth, that’s all I knew about.”
“Why should I believe that?”
“Its up to you, Sarah. Believe me, or don’t. I won’t lie to you.”
“So why was it you who took her?”
“It was supposed to be Robert. Maybe Bill. But I was closer, in the end.”
“Ruth and Ben took you in, after you fell in the sea.”
Martin rested his hands on the table again. Sarah didn’t move.
“Ruth was kind to me,” he said. “She treated me for my hypothermia, gave me a comfortable bed. Clothes. Food. You have no idea how I—”
“I get it. So why didn’t you stop at Ruth? What about the rest of us?”
He slumped in his chair. “I don’t know. Maybe they planned it, maybe they didn’t. But I knew nothing about it until we were on the boat. I promise you.”
She stood up. “So you think that exonerates you? That it’s fine to do that to Ruth, even if it isn’t to the rest of us?”
“No. I wish I could go back, Sarah. I really do. I wish to God I’d never got involved.”
She shook her head and headed for the door. She’d heard enough. Tomorrow he would be judged, and she wouldn’t be there to vouch for him. Never mind that he’d helped her get away from them. Never mind what he’d told her he felt for her.
“Goodbye, Martin.”
“Sarah, please—”
She ignored him and trudged down the stairs. Her feet felt heavy. She was home now, but she had the memory of all that had happened to deal with. She had her mother’s insistence on Sam to dismiss.
She pulled open the outer door. Outside, a figure was standing in the road, looking up at Martin’s window.
She pulled inside and closed the door. “He’s found us.”
“Who?”
“My dad.”
Martin backed up the stairs. “Shit.”
She clenched her fists. Why had she crept out? Coming here had been pointless. She’d known what he was going to tell her, in her heart. He was bad news, and she’d been mad to ever think otherwise.
“You have to hide,” Martin said. “He can’t find you here.”
The door rattled behind her. She felt her legs turn to lead.
“Sarah! Martin! Are you in there?”
Martin stopped at the top of the stairs. “That isn’t Ted.”
She sighed. “It’s Sam.”
“Who’s Sam?”
“Long story. Be quiet, and he’ll leave us alone.”
She imagined what Sam would be thinking, standing outside, watching the window. The flickering candle, her alone up here with Martin.
It didn’t matter. Sam didn’t matter.
“I’ll get rid of him,” she said. “I’m going.”
She opened the door again. Sam fell through.
“Sam, what are you doing here?”
He righted himself, glancing up at Martin. She sensed Martin shifting from foot to foot above her.
“Your dad’s on the warpath.”
“You’ve been spying on us.”
“No. I was worried about you, when I saw you outside the JP. I went back, I saw him leave your house.”
“How did you find me?”
He blushed. “I heard Jess talking to my brother.”
She pushed him aside. Despite his bulk, he moved easily. “Don’t follow me, Sam. I’m going home.”
If Ted was out looking for her, she could slip into the house without him seeing. She had her key. And she had her lightness, her quietness.
“Sarah!”
She turned to see both young men standing in the doorway. She hissed at them to be quiet.
She ran for home, not caring what they thought.
Chapter Ten
The next morning, Martin sat in his bare flat and waited. Sarah didn’t want him here, so there was no reason to stay. But he felt he owed it to Jess to at least wait for the outcome of the council meeting.
The only food in the cupboard was a half-empty tin of biscuits. He’d worked his way through most of them in the night, struggling to sleep. Now he polished the rest off. Robert had told him that the villagers were self-sufficient, which meant someone had baked these biscuits. Did they know they’d been left here? He suddenly felt guilty for eating them.
He’d lost his watch years ago and there was no clock in this flat, so he couldn’t be sure what time it was or how long he’d been awake. Judging by the low sun hitting the houses opposite, it was about eight o’clock.
He thought of the look on Sarah’s face last night, when she’d thought Ted was outside. He fingered the plaster on his chin, already curling at the edges. Did Ted ever do that to her?
He took one last look out of the window. Two men passed, deep in conversation. One carried a garden fork and the other a wooden crate which looked heavy.
He came to a decision.
He waited for the men to pass, then unlocked the door and slipped downstairs, keeping quiet in case of curious neighbours.
He headed towards the village square. Sarah’s house was that way; he’d watched her run off last night. And if Ted was a member of the village council, then he probably had one of the large houses that looked out to sea, on the same row as Ben and Ruth.
Ben and Ruth. He pushed down a pang of guilt.
He ran as stealthily as he could, passing under an archway next to a pub, his mouth watering at the thought of freshly-pulled ale. He found himself in an open space and remembered watching Robert and Bill walk across it, the morning before they took the women. He’d been standing in the doorway to Ruth and Ben’s house, after they’d taken him in because of his hypothermia.
There was no sign of movement at their house. He scanned all the house fronts, looking for clues. The houses were identical, all having solid front doors and no windows facing the front. They’d be at the back, for the views. This had been a holiday village once and views were everything.
A door opened. He pulled back into the shadows, watching. The air was still, the sea beyond the cliff the only sound.
A woman emerged. She was in her early fifties, wearing a pink cardigan over blue trousers and an old-fashioned floral blouse.
Sarah’s mum. He remembered her from the pharmacy.
He darted forwards.
“Hello.”
Her eyes widened.
“Can you tell me where Sarah is please?”
She looked from side to side. “You can’t be here!”
He approached her, being careful not to get too close. Her face was heavily lined and she had purple marks under her eyes. Tiredness, or bruises?
“We met in the pharmacy. Yesterday.”
She stiffened. “Go. Now, please. Go.”
She looked up at the house behind her.
“I just want to speak to her. Before they tell me t
o leave.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “As well they should.”
She took another look around the square then pulled the door closed behind her. “I shouldn’t be talking to you.”
“Is she in there?”
She squared her shoulders. “If she is, she’s not coming out.” A pause. “My husband’s in there too. He did that to you, didn’t he?”
He touched his chin. “Nothing I didn’t deserve.”
“Sarah’s asleep. I suggest you go.”
“Let me say goodbye to her first.”
“She’s not interested in you. She’s engaged.”
Sarah had said nothing about this. But then, she hadn’t had much chance to speak, after he’d answered her questions.
“Engaged? To who?”
“None of your business.” She pulled the door open just a crack and took a step backwards.
“Tell me who she’s engaged to and I’ll leave you alone.”
Her eyes were hard now, glinting in the low sunlight. “Sam Golder.”
“I met him.”
“When?”
“Last night. When I… nothing. He seems nice.”
“He is. Quiet. Dependable.”
“In that case, I won’t cause any trouble. Tell her I said goodbye.”
She said nothing. He stared at her for a few moments, breathing heavily. He felt like his legs had been ripped from under him.
“Go on then.”
He turned for the clifftop and started walking. He’d rather take the long route than be spotted in the village.
Chapter Eleven
Dawn slid back into the house, hoping no one had heard her talking to Martin. Ted had arrived home two hours after storming out the previous night, Harry with him. Harry, it seemed, had calmed him down.
Sarah had slunk back while he was out and crept up to bed. With Harry’s help, Dawn had persuaded Ted to leave her to sleep, to wait until morning to punish her.
Poor girl. Dawn had no idea what she’d been through at the hands of those men, and her own father wanted to hurt her too.
And now this man, little more than a boy, was turning up on their doorstep, asking for her like he was a gentleman caller picking up his date.
His face had fallen when she’d told him about Sam. Good. Martin was bad for Sarah. Sam was what she needed.
She clicked the door shut. Someone was stirring upstairs; Sarah.
Dawn hurried to the kitchen and started slicing bread, anxious to look busy. As she sawed the bread knife to and fro, she heard Sarah’s light steps cross to the living room behind her. The girl was holding her breath.
She paused in her slicing. The steps paused too. She continued slicing.
She heard the back door open. She spun round. Sarah was sliding it open, her eyes on Dawn. When she spotted her mother watching, she slammed the door open and threw herself outside.
Dawn ran to follow her. She pushed the door aside and reached out to grab her daughter’s wrist.
“Where are you going?”
“I heard you. Talking to Martin.” Sarah pulled away but Dawn’s grip was strong.
“Stay here. Don’t be stupid.” She lowered her voice. “Your dad’s livid as it is.”
Sarah stopped pulling. “I want to know if they’ve decided to let him stay.”
“Council can’t have met yet, can it? Your dad’s still in bed. He wouldn’t miss that.”
“I still need to speak to him.”
Dawn tugged harder, pulling Sarah halfway through the open door. “Not yet. Wait. You need to be here when your dad wakes up.”
Sarah looked towards the staircase. She curled her lip.
“Don’t get on his bad side, love.”
Sarah shook free of her grip. “I’ll stay here, for you.”
“Good.”
Sarah stepped inside. She shivered and clasped her arms around herself. She was wearing a jumper Dawn had knitted for her last winter, and a striped scarf with unraveled ends.
“Come into the kitchen. I’ve got eggs boiling. Warm you up.”
“Thanks.”
Dawn gave her daughter a feeble smile then returned to the kitchen. Those eggs would be hard by now.
She heard Ted’s heavy tread on the stairs and tensed. She carried on with her business, pretending she hadn’t heard him.
“Morning,” he said as he pulled back a chair. He’d lost the sling and was using his injured arm, his hands both on the table. Dawn stared at it: so dirty.
“Morning,” muttered Sarah. She was at the chair opposite him, chewing a slice of bread.
Dawn smiled at her husband, trying to conceal her fear. She looked at Sarah; the girl had her head bowed, her almost-white hair brushing the table.
“Sit up straight, girl,” Ted snapped. “That’s unhygienic.”
Dawn, her back to them as she lifted eggs out of the pan, heard Sarah’s chair scrape on the floor as she shifted her weight. She waited, spoon in mid air.
“I’ve got council this morning,” he muttered. “Getting rid of that bloody boy. I expect you to be here when I get back.”
Silence. Dawn transferred one of the eggs to a plate and buttered some bread. Movement would calm her nerves.
“Speak to me!”
“Yes, Dad.”
“Yes, Dad what?”
“I’ll be here. When you get back.”
“Good. Now, go up to your room. And stay there.”
Dawn listened to Sarah retreat to the stairs and head up to her room. She closed her door just a touch more forcefully than she should have.
Ted grunted. “Where’s those eggs?”
Dawn placed his plate on the table, her head bowed.
Chapter Twelve
Sarah opened the window again, wondering if she dared climb out in daylight. There were no houses behind theirs, nothing but the clifftop and the sea beyond. But Ted might come round this way for some reason, checking on her maybe. Or one of the neighbours might look out of their window.
Maybe she could slip out when Ted had gone, make sure she was back when he returned. Or maybe she should stay where she was. If Ted found her gone, he would only take his anger out on her mother.
She leaned out of the window, taking great gulps of air. Being in this house made her claustrophobic. It was as if the air pressure was two bars higher than outside, and the temperature five degrees hotter.
Dawn wanted her to fly the nest, to be with Sam. She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t leave her mother alone with him.
She pulled back, glad of the scarf, and listened to the birds wheeling above the clifftop. She envied them their freedom. To ride on the wind, only needing to land for food. That would be the life.
She frowned as she heard an unfamiliar sound. A car engine. No, two.
No one in this village had a car. There weren’t the resources. Fuel was scarce and they didn’t have a mechanic. Sam and Zack got a lift on a works truck down to the earthworks every morning.
So whose cars were they?
She leaned further out of the window, trying to see around the house and cursing the fact that her window was at the back.
This house had just one window facing the village; a high one over the stairs.
She eased her door open, listening for her parents’ voices. They were quiet. She crept out, heading for the stairs. She leaned over the top steps, placing her palms on the windowsill.
At this angle, she couldn’t see down to the road. But she could see lights reflecting off the buildings opposite.
Blue lights.
She shrank back, almost falling down the stairs. She leaped back towards her bedroom as her father crossed the bottom of the stairs and opened the front door.
She slid into her room and held the door open. Her heart felt like it might escape from her rib cage.
“Can I help you?” Ted sounded impatient. “I take it you’ve spoke to our steward.”
She heard another voice; a woman. She couldn’t
make out the words. Something about authority?
“You got a warrant?”
More words. There were two voices now; the other a man, older.
“I think we should let them in.” Her mother was behind her father, at the door. She had a tentative hand on his back.
Ted turned to his wife. “Leave it to me.”
The woman took the opportunity to push the door further open. “Your wife’s right, sir. It would be easier if we could come inside.”
Sarah pushed her door further closed, leaving it open just a crack. How long before they summoned her?
And where was Martin?
“Thank you, Sir. Madam. Mr and Mrs Evans, is that correct?”
“Yes.” Her father, his voice sharp.
“Can we all sit down, please?”
Dawn muttered something and there was the sound of feet shuffling into the living room. Sarah wondered how her mother would be feeling about all those shoes on her carpet.
She opened her door a fraction wider. The voices were muted now, further away.
She looked back at the window. If she climbed out, they would see her through the rear windows. She was trapped.
Movement again; the rustling of heavy jackets and footsteps muffled by carpet. Then more voices as the two police officers returned to the hallway.
“We would like to speak to everyone who was at the farm. To get a clear picture of what happened, and who was involved. I assume your injury was sustained there?”
“None of your business,” said Ted.
“Of course,” said Dawn.
“So when your daughter comes home, you’ll be sure to let us know, won’t you?”
“How?” Ted’s voice.
‘I’m sorry?”
“We don’t have no phone. How will we contact you?”
“Oh, we’ll be around the village for a while yet. House to house. You’ll find us.”
Ted grunted.
“Mr Evans?”
“Yes,” said Ted. “We’ll find you.”
Sarah heard the door being opened and closed. She leaned back against the wall, her nerves on fire.
Chapter Thirteen
She waited five minutes – an agonising count to three hundred – then ran down the stairs.
Sea of Lies Page 5
