At Home by the Sea

by Pam Weaver

  *

  Linda and Izzie clapped and cheered along with the crowd as another four barrels rumbled past. Once they’d gone, the people were on the move again as everyone headed for the beach.

  Izzie slipped her arm through her sister’s. ‘Listen, Linda, don’t do this. I know you think I’m being bossy but—’

  ‘Just go away, will you!’ Linda cried and as the crowd started to fold around itself, she suddenly crossed the street. It all happened so quickly. Linda thought she heard Izzie cry out, but she didn’t look back. There was no way she was going to be dragged back to a boring life. This was her moment. She was going to have a bit of excitement before she had to settle down in some stupid lodgings. With her mind on other things, Linda didn’t realise the last of the barrels was right behind her until it was almost too late.

  It was only when a man’s voice right behind her bellowed ‘Get out of the way, girl,’ that she turned to see a blaze of orange coming straight towards her. Linda froze. Her feet didn’t seem to know which way to turn. It was still a small distance away but already the heat was terrific. A woman in the crowd screamed as the man rolling the barrel struggled to make it change course. Linda gaped in horror, rooted to the spot until she felt herself being propelled out of the way by a heavy blow to the back. As she struggled to stay upright, her suitcase hit somebody coming out of a shop doorway with such force that the two of them staggered together.

  ‘Sorry, sorry …’ As she stumbled, Linda caught sight of a pair of three tier wedge brothel creepers.

  ‘Watch where you’re going you silly moo,’ a man’s voice growled.

  Linda fought to steady herself and the man grabbed her roughly by the arm.

  ‘Are you all right love?’ said a woman in the crowd.

  ‘She’s fine,’ said the man in a softer tone of voice. ‘Just pleased to see me, ain’t you babe.’

  Linda’s mouth went dry and her heart pounded as she found herself looking up into Ray’s face before he gave her a crushing kiss.

  *

  Outside the pier pavilion, Bill Baxter scanned the crowds. Mavis was right. He had been a chump not to let Linda go to the celebrations. If he had, he could have followed her and she probably would have led him straight to John Middleton. There was a good chance that the little toe-rag probably still had the rest of the gear.

  Bill had come straight back to the house from the pub, only to find the two girls gone. He had raced back towards the town to find them but it was hopeless in this crowd. Needle in a haystack stuff. His only consolation was that when he’d bumped into Mick Osborne at the end of Chandos Road earlier, he’d told him to be on the lookout as well. Cursing and swearing to himself he was just about to give up when he saw Linda kissing some chap outside the Café Bellissimo. Bill’s temper flared again.

  Pushing his way through the melee he made slow headway. He and the crowd were going in opposite directions. She couldn’t hear him or she didn’t seem to, even though he bellowed her name loud enough.

  Izzie was having great difficulty in crossing the street. As Linda crossed the road to avoid her, Izzie had seen the final barrel coming and yelled out but Linda ignored her. She had never been more terrified. If she hadn’t been so anxious, she might have enjoyed the spectacle. It was a bit like watching the sunrise in the morning. First there was a pink glow, then came the bright yellow light. The first lot of barrels had left a thick pall of black smoke and the acrid smell of burning pitch in their wake. A genuine expertise was needed to keep them on course because the road leading to the beach was fairly flat. Clearly the final Bonfire Boy wasn’t as skilled as his companions.

  When Izzie caught sight of Linda kissing a man in the Café Bellissimo doorway, she’d frowned, puzzled. That wasn’t John Middleton. That was the cocky man who had come with Linda to the café. Ray, wasn’t it? Ray Perryman, the name which had angered her father so much. Somewhere in her head a penny dropped. Of course! That was the same name as the boy who was taken ill at the same time as Gary Sayers had died. Her blood ran cold. What was he doing with Linda?

  Izzie called out again, but to her horror, Raymond Perryman grabbed her sister’s arm and they turned to run. Further up the road, she saw John Middleton and the other lad running ahead of them. What on earth was going on?

  ‘Linda, Linda, wait for me!’ Izzie was filled with blind panic but her desperate cries were swallowed up by the excited roar of the crowd as the final barrel reached Marine Parade and the beach.

  Surprisingly, her sister and the man turned right at the junction where South Street met Marine Parade. She had expected them to turn left towards Splash Point where the huge bonfire had been created. By the time Izzie reached the corner, her sister was turning into Bath Place. Another shout went up and she saw her father only a few yards behind them.

  As Izzie hurled herself around the corner, she saw Raymond Perryman standing by the back of a car, putting Linda’s suitcase into the boot. Linda was climbing into the back seat and John made as if to get in beside her. Izzie saw Raymond slam the boot but she didn’t see what happened next. Her father had caught up with them. He was shouting and there was some sort of an altercation. The rear door swung shut and the car began to reverse at speed towards Montague Street. Somehow or other, John had staggered backwards, hitting his head on a lamp post and her father was on top of him. When the driver reached the junction, he reversed around the corner then headed away from the centre of town. As the car disappeared into the darkness with the horn blaring, she saw someone stick his arm out of the window and give her father two fingers.

  Her father struggled to his feet. ‘Come back here you bastards.’

  Izzie stopped running and stood in the middle of the road with her hands on either side of her head. Her chest hurt and she struggled to get her breath. Her eyes were filled with tears of despair and anger. Izzie bent over with her hands on her knees as her brain tried to make sense of what had just happened. Linda must have planned this whole thing but what on earth was she doing with these three men? She became aware of more shouting. Her father and John Middleton were arguing.

  ‘Where’s my daughter going, you little toe-rag?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Her father took a swing at John but he ducked.

  As Izzie hurried up the street towards them, she heard a whoop of encouragement and became aware of several other people running past her. It looked as if they had spilled out of one of the nearby pubs and were spoiling for a fight. Some of them had beer bottles in their hands and one man had picked up one of the sticks the Bonfire Boys had used to roll one of the barrels. Everything was beginning to look really ugly.

  ‘And where’s my stuff?’ her father was yelling. ‘You tell me now or I’ll knock your bloody block off.’

  John put his hands out in mock surrender.

  ‘Dad,’ she cried. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘You keep out of this, Izzie,’ he shouted.

  As the other men joined them, John stumbled and slid down the wall. Her father’s head snapped backwards as the man with the stick hit him on the back but the attack on John now took on a ferocity the likes of which Izzie had never seen before. Somewhere behind her she heard a policeman’s whistle. John rolled himself into a helpless ball, but he was punched and kicked on the ground before the attackers broke up and ran off. Izzie tried to grab her father’s arm but he’d obviously heard the policemen coming and was keen to get away.

  As the drunks and her father took flight, the policemen, three of them, chased after them. Izzie knelt on the floor and cradled John’s head in her lap. She couldn’t believe the state he was in. There was blood all over his face and she saw him wince as she moved him. By now a crowd had gathered and someone had called a St John Ambulance man from the beach.

  ‘What happened, love?’ somebody asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Izzie. ‘Some men just came out of the pub and attacked him.’

  The St John Ambulance man took over, lay
ing John down and trying to make him more comfortable. Izzie saw an ambulance driving slowly towards them and while everyone’s attention was on John she started to walk away. When the police came back, they would start asking questions and she didn’t want to tell them her father had been involved.

  Filled with a mixture of confusion and concern, Izzie spotted something lying on the road. She frowned and bent to pick it up. It was the toy mascot Mr Semadini kept on the counter – the one he said brought him good luck. Izzie’s blood ran cold. How had it got there? That was when she remembered that Raymond Perryman and her sister had been standing in the doorway of the Café Bellissimo. Had they been inside? She was too confused to work out what was going on but something told her it was bad. She had to get back to the Café Bellissimo and fast.

  Thirty-Seven

  The shop was in darkness but when she touched the door, it swung open.

  ‘Hello.’ Izzie called out and listened. The light switch was close to the door so she pressed it down and flooded the shop with light. The first thing she noticed was the mess. There were cake crumbs all over the floor, some trodden into the carpet. She called out again. ‘Hello, is anybody there?’ but there was no answer.

  Her heart was thudding and she felt her throat tighten. She didn’t want to go further but she felt compelled. If Mr Semadini was at home, he would have called back. Clearly something had happened here – something bad. Cautiously Izzie pushed open the kitchen door and put the light on. Everything appeared undisturbed.

  She turned towards the hallway which led to the flat upstairs. As she put her hand on the newel post she became aware of heavy, distressed breathing. The shock of seeing someone or something on the stairs made her cry out and when she put the light on she almost stopped breathing altogether. Mr Semadini was laying half way down the stairs. His face was the colour of paper and there was a bright red stain on his shirt. For a nano-second Izzie was frozen to the spot but as soon as she saw his eyes moving under his closed eyelids, she dashed to his side. ‘Mr Semadini,’ she said desperately. ‘It’s Isobelle.’ She had inadvertently touched his shirt and now her hand was red and sticky with his blood. ‘Oh, oh Mr Semadini.’

  Izzie had little medical knowledge; nothing more than how to bandage a cut finger or bring relief to an upset tummy but she could tell at once that he had been horribly injured. She jumped to her feet. ‘Wait here,’ she said rather stupidly. ‘I’ll get help.’

  There was a telephone in the office and as she switched on the light, she saw the shattered safe and papers all over the floor. With a trembling hand, and her tears playing havoc with her vision, Izzie dialled 999.

  *

  Bill Baxter sat in the corner of The Buckingham public house next to the roaring fire. He had a glass of whiskey in his hand. He couldn’t stop shaking and his stomach was churning. After a few minutes, Mavis came to join him. The pub had its regulars but tonight it was relatively quiet. Most people were waiting on the seafront for the fireworks to begin.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I found the little toe-rag who took my stuff,’ said Bill, ‘but he got beaten up.’

  ‘Was it you? You look as if you’ve been in a fight.’

  Bill shook his head. ‘Half a dozen drunks decided to act all macho. I legged it when the coppers turned up.’

  ‘But you found the girls?’

  ‘I left Izzie there,’ he said, taking a gulp from his glass and feeling the fiery liquid slip down his throat, ‘but our Linda went off with them.’

  ‘Went off with them?’ Mavis echoed.

  ‘In a car; one driving, the other blighter in the back seat with her.’

  He stared into the fire. His mind was in a whirl. What was he going to do?

  ‘Who did she go off with then?’ said Mavis. ‘I thought you said John was her boyfriend.’

  Bill looked up. ‘I don’t know the one driving,’ he said, ‘but I’m guessing the other one must be that bloody Raymond Perryman.’

  ‘Oh my lord!’ Mavis cried, putting her hand to her mouth. ‘Do you think it was deliberate? Is this about revenge?’

  Bill went white. He hadn’t thought of that.

  Mavis put her hand on his knee. ‘So what happens now?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Bill looking at her helplessly. ‘My God Mav, he’s got Linda. He’s got my little girl.’ He put his face into his hands and wept. ‘I’ve cocked up everything, haven’t I?’

  ‘Now, now, sugar, don’t go blaming yourself,’ she said. ‘No time for all that now. Waste of time. You’ve got to work out how you’re going to get her back.’

  *

  The police and the ambulance service turned up at the café shortly afterwards. As they came through the door, Izzie was still pressing clean linen napkins over the wound in Mr Semadini’s chest to try and stem the flow of blood. She was also fighting her tears.

  Mr Semadini was aware that she was there. He managed a faint smile and whispered something. She put her ear close to his mouth but whatever he was saying it was in Italian and she didn’t understand. His breathing had become more laboured.

  Izzie choked back a sob. ‘Stay with me darling,’ she whispered. ‘Hang in there.’

  ‘All right, Miss,’ a voice behind her said. ‘We’ll take over now.’

  Mr Semadini opened his eyes and mouthed a silent thank you.

  As she stood to get out of the ambulance man’s way, Izzie squeezed his hand. ‘God bless you, my darling,’ she whispered so softly that only he would hear. ‘You’re in safe hands now.’

  But Mr Semadini had closed his eyes again. Izzie turned away, her heart breaking. It was only as the professionals took over that Izzie realised how cold she was. Trembling, she lowered herself onto a chair in the café and sat hunched forward until someone put a blanket over her shoulders. She looked up at the policewoman who had done it and smiled. Izzie’s chin wobbled and she shook her head. The policewoman squeezed her shoulder. ‘You did the best you could. That’s what one of the ambulance men told me.’

  Izzie wiped her eyes using the edge of the blanket. What a confusing mess this was. How would the policewoman react if she knew Izzie’s sister had run off with two men who had quite possibly robbed Mr Semadini?

  Her hands were covered in his dried blood and she had a sudden desire to wash them. ‘Can I go now?’ she whispered.

  The WPC shook her head. ‘Sorry, love,’ she said stiffly. ‘They may need to ask you some questions.’

  ‘But I need to wash my hands.’

  The policewoman came with her into the kitchen.

  ‘Is Mr Semadini going to be all right?’

  The WPC seemed slightly embarrassed by the question.

  ‘It’s just that he’s my employer,’ Izzie said, drying her hands on a towel. ‘He’s a very nice man.’

  The WPC gave Izzie a sympathetic smile. ‘I don’t know, love.’

  They were interrupted by a thick-set man in a raincoat. ‘You can go now, constable,’ he said, pulling up a chair and sitting at the table. He motioned Izzie to sit too and turned his head to address her. ‘My name is Detective Sergeant Thorpe and you are?’

  ‘Izzie,’ said Izzie. ‘Isobelle Baxter.’ She swallowed the lump in her throat as she remembered the way Mr Semadini said her name.

  ‘Now I want you to tell me everything you know,’ said DS Thorpe, getting out his notebook, ‘starting with what you were doing in the café at this time of night. Now that this is most likely a murder enquiry we need to move fast.’

  Izzie blinked. ‘Murder?’

  ‘If you ask me, I’d be surprised if the gent made it into the ambulance, let alone to the hospital,’ said DS Thorpe.

  Izzie swallowed hard. Mr Semadini dead? Oh no, he couldn’t be. She clamped her hand over her mouth to suppress a sob. Was it something she’d done? Maybe she shouldn’t have pressed the wound so hard. Maybe if she’d got here sooner she could have prevented such a catastrophic blood loss …

  DS Thorpe shifted
impatiently. ‘Look, love, I can see you’re upset,’ he said, ‘but if we’re going to catch the bloke what done it, we have to get a move on. Do you mind telling me what your relationship was with the victim?’ He leaned back and glanced towards the stairs. ‘Do you live here?’ he said, adding suggestively, ‘or maybe you just stay with him once in a while, is that it?

  Izzie was horrified. ‘No I do not!’ she cried indignantly. ‘And how dare you besmirch his name. As I already told the WPC, Mr Semadini is my employer.’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ said the DS, putting his hands up in mock surrender. ‘No need to get all aerated. I’m just getting the facts.’

  And even as she began to explain, Izzie knew this was going to be an awfully long night.

  *

  The two lads in the getaway car were elated. Paul was driving very fast, the speedometer indicating fifty-five miles an hour.

  ‘You should have stopped for John,’ Linda said.

  ‘I think you’ll like it more without him,’ said Ray, putting his arm around her shoulder.

  ‘How could I?’ Paul said over his shoulder. ‘Those blokes would have stopped us all, given the chance. Who was that old geezer who was shouting at him anyway?’

  ‘My dad,’ said Linda. ‘He was mad with John for giving me those earrings.’

  Ray sniggered and she wasn’t sure if he was just laughing or laughing at her. ‘He gave you the earrings?’

  ‘Yes,’ Linda challenged. ‘Why shouldn’t he?’

  ‘No wonder your dad was mad,’ Ray sniggered. ‘It was his place we done over.’

  Linda’s face flamed.

  ‘You know, for one awful moment,’ said Paul, changing gear, ‘when that Iti came downstairs, I thought we were done for. How much do you think we got?’

  Ray opened the bag at his feet. ‘Not as much as if we’d robbed a bank,’ he said, holding up a fistful of notes, ‘but we’re pretty rich.’

  Beside him, Linda let out an audible gasp. ‘Where did you get that?’

  Ray pulled down the front of her dress and pushed in a handful of notes. He laughed. ‘Feels good don’t it, darlin’?’