“About me. Right. Then tell me this: why’d you do it, Alex?” I was trying to keep my voice to an angry murmur so we wouldn’t be heard over the soft-spoken female vocalist who’d taken over from Ross on stage, but it was a struggle. “If you’re so sure we’re perfect for each other, why’d you cheat on me in the first place?”
“I told you, I was lonely. All I wanted was to take you in my arms, help you, and you shut me out like I was nothing. God, do you know how much I needed to touch you?”
“So you went and found yourself someone who’d let you, did you?”
He cast ashamed eyes to the ground, but he didn’t loosen his grip on my arm.
“Yes. Someone I could hold and comfort and pretend she was you.”
I shook my head. “Do you even know how fucked up that sounds?”
“I’m not proud of it. I was selfish and immature. But I swear I’m not that man any more, Bobs. Everything I’ve done this last year, fighting the good fight on the council… it’s changed me. I can show you if you’ll let me.”
“Show me, are you insane?” I gasped, trying to fight the rising panic as I twisted to get free from his grasp. “Right now I can hardly bear to look at you. Get the fuck off me, it hurts. I’m not kidding, Alex.”
“God, don’t say that…”
Suddenly a man’s hand reached around Alex and jerked the bruising fingers away.
“Not sure how it worked in whatever cave you crawled out of, mate, but round here when a woman tells you to get the fuck off her there’s no debate: you get the fuck off her.”
It was Ross. Of course it was Ross. Alex spun angrily to face him.
“Who asked you to stick your nose in? This is a private conversation.”
Ross pulled himself up to his full height, towering over Alex like a… lighthouse, for want of a better simile. “Care to come and have a, er, ‘private conversation’ with me, Alex? I’m not doing anything important right at the minute.”
Alex sneered. “Really, you’re asking if I want to take this outside? Aren’t you supposed to throw a glove down first?”
“We’re already outside. I’m asking you to leave my Bobbie alone before I thump you.”
Alex fixed him with a resentful scowl. “She’s not yours. She’ll never be yours.”
“No, she’ll always be her own. Now are you going to fuck off or will I make you?”
At his side, Ross’s hand balled into a fist.
“You wouldn’t, I’d have you on an assault charge. This is real life, not that ’60s Batman show.”
“Maybe I wouldn’t, maybe I would,” Ross growled. “Touch her again when she’s asked you not to and you’ll find out.”
“Just go, Alex.” I shook my head. “You know, I’d really started to believe you’d changed. Everything you’ve done for the lighthouse, I thought you might be feeling some actual fucking remorse.” I pulled up my sleeve and thrust my arm towards him. He recoiled in shock when he saw the angry red welts made by his fingers. “You see that? You know what that reminds me of?”
“Oh God,” he mumbled, casting his eyes down. “Yes.”
“You haven’t changed. You didn’t understand then and you don’t understand now, and I never, never want to see you again.”
Ross stepped forward to put his arm round me and we faced Alex together. “You heard the lady. Get out.”
Alex hesitated, looked down at my sore arm again, then gulped down a sob. “Sorry, Bobs. I’m so sorry. I never… just an accident, that’s all. Accident,” he muttered, before turning and sloping towards the exit.
Chapter 24
“Come on, love,” Ross said gently once he’d evil-eyed Alex past the barrier. “Let’s go up to the lantern room, eh? Trav can mind the bands while we take a break.”
We threaded through the cheering festival crowd to the lighthouse. Inside, we navigated round the throng at the bar to the ladder we used to access the lantern room.
A few of those queueing chucked us a quizzical look, but most were too focused on getting the barmen’s attention to notice us clambering over their heads. At the top Ross unlocked the loft-style door, heaved himself through and lifted me easily up after him.
We were letting acts use the room for storage and there were currently assorted guitars, a saxophone and – randomly – a banjolele propped against the circular window. Ross guided me to the bench in the centre and we sat, each with an arm around the other, looking out to sea.
“You ok, my Bobbie? Need anything?”
“Just you.”
“You can always have that.” He twisted round to kiss the tip of my nose. “How’s your arm?”
“It’ll heal,” I said, rubbing at the sore part. “So you’re very alpha male-y today.”
“Aren’t I always?”
“Only when it’s sexy.” I shuffled over a bit to snuggle against him. “Thanks, Ross.”
“No need to thank me, gorgeous. Happy to be your knight in shining armour.”
“I wasn’t thanking you for me, I was thanking you for Alex. You just saved him from a pretty hefty kick in the balls.”
“Ha! That’s my girl.”
“Did you hear much of that then?”
“Enough.” He put one finger under my chin and tilted my face up so he could look into my eyes. “You want to talk about it?”
I made a choked noise as a sob stuck in my gullet. God, if we did this I’d have to go through it all again, the most painful – but it was him, wasn’t it? Somehow it felt ok with him. Even if I didn’t know his favourite colour.
Except I did, didn’t I? Aquamarine, like the ocean. Our ocean.
“I’ll try. It’s tough, that’s all.”
“I know, sweetheart. Don’t if you’d rather not.”
“No… no, I need to. No secrets.”
“If you’re sure,” he said gently. “Just take your time.”
I gulped, summoning courage from somewhere in my toes.
“It was all great, in the early days,” I said. “We were happy. Not exactly love songs and rose petals but everyday sort of happy, you know? He seemed such a nice guy: thoughtful, principled. It was a bit of a whirlwind, and after three months when he asked me to move in with him, I just thought, yeah, why not? Then…” I paused to swallow another sob. “Then this thing happened.”
“What thing?” Ross’s brow knit into a scowl. “Did that grabby bastard hurt you, Bobbie?”
“Not him. Someone else.”
“Who?” I noticed his hand clench unconsciously at my shoulder and let out a tearful laugh.
“You don’t have to go all punchy this time, this guy already got what he deserved. He’s serving ten to twelve somewhere at her majesty’s pleasure.”
“Jesus Christ! What the fuck did he do to you?”
“Nothing. It’s what he tried to do.”
“What did he try to do?”
I lowered my head, fighting back the flood of tears threatening to overwhelm me.
“Hey,” Ross said softly. “Don’t go on if you don’t want to.”
“No… I’m ok.” I shot him a wobbly smile. “He… this bloke, he… attacked me, down on the pier. Tried to drag me off down one of the ginnels.”
“Oh my God!” Ross wrapped his other arm around me and hugged me tight, as if by holding me he could keep me safe in the past as well as the present. “Poor little Bobbie. You must’ve been terrified.”
“Yeah, it was the scariest thing,” I said, snuggling into the security of his arms. “If one of the doormen at Tuxedo’s hadn’t run over to help, God knows what would’ve happened.” I pinched my eyes closed. “Well, no, I know exactly what would’ve happened. Same as happened to the other five girls who weren’t so lucky.”
“Shit! How did they catch him?”
“Gary, this bouncer, punched the bloke’s lights out and sat on him till the police came. Then he stayed with me till I got home. Really nice guy.”
“Did you have to testify?”
“Yes. God, it was horrible.”
“That was brave,” he said, rubbing a comforting hand down my back. “Proud of you, lass.”
“It was worth it to stop him hurting anyone else. Came out in the trial he was a seasoned sex attacker round the coastal resorts, where he thought he could corner drunk women on their own.” I scowled out at an unfortunate fishing coble that had bobbed into my eyeline. “Hope the bastard rots.”
“Me too,” Ross said darkly. “So Alex couldn’t deal with it?”
“No, I couldn’t. Just, the idea of sex, after that – made me feel ill, for the longest time. Started having panic attacks, nightmares, sleeping in a separate room. Didn’t even want Alex touching me. When I remembered that guy’s fingers digging into my skin, what nearly happened… it haunted me. His smell, his face… eurghh.” I shuddered at the memory. “Every shadow was him.”
“Only natural,” Ross said, stroking my hair. “It takes time to heal after something like that.”
“Alex didn’t think so,” I said with a bleak laugh. “He thought the guy would get put away and that’d be it, tra la la, back to normal, especially since – to quote him – ‘nothing actually happened’. He couldn’t understand why our sex life didn’t just go back to how it had been before. So off he merrily fucked to find himself someone more accommodating.” I shook my head. “Can’t believe I was stupid enough to think he might’ve changed. Guys like him don’t change. My dad taught me that lesson.”
Ross directed an angry scowl of his own at the inoffensive fishing boat as it crested a wave out on the horizon. “God, if I’d known all that I’d have kicked him in the balls myself. What a first-class prick.”
I lifted my head from his shoulder to plant a tear-dampened kiss on his cheek. “Thanks for caring enough to hate him, Ross. And for being everything he isn’t.”
“Well. I knew it was all an act: no one’s that nice.”
I smiled. “Come on. Did you think it was an act or were you just jealous?”
“Ok, so I was jealous. You were being all friendly with him, letting him help on the lighthouse…” He kissed the top of my head. “Forgive me?”
“You know I do,” I said. “Oh, speaking of mad exes, had to put yours in a taxi while you were playing earlier. She was well hammered.”
“Really? Was she ok?”
“Yeah, she just needs to sleep it off. She was being pretty weird: she basically spent ten minutes slagging me off then asked if I wanted to go for a drink.”
“Heh, sounds like drunk Claire,” he said with a fond smile. “You two’d get on great once you got to know each other, she’s good fun.”
I fought back the jealousy I could feel prodding me in the belly. So Ross thought Claire was fun; so what? He thought I was fun. Stop it, Bobs, you’re ridiculous.
“I did feel kind of sorry for her,” I admitted. “She’s lonely, I think. Hard to get to know her when she’s gunning for me though.”
“I know. But be nice to her, Bobbie, for my sake.”
I sighed. “All right, if it’s important to you.”
“Thanks, sweetheart. I know it’s a bit strange, but she won’t be around long.” He planted a lingering kiss on my lips. “You know, you’re something pretty special, lighthouse buddy.”
“Not so bad yourself. Lighthouse buddy.”
“Still a team?”
“Yep. Still a team.”
But I couldn’t quite squash the unsettled feeling in my gut as we made our way back down the ladder.
Chapter 25
It was with a sigh of relief that I heard the last act play the last note of their last song – Ross’s goth friend Chris with his cover of Don’t Fear the Reaper – and the crowd started filtering out, buzzing happily. Quite a few people stopped to tell us what a good time they’d had and wish us luck with the project, and some even offered to help tidy up.
When everyone had gone, we were left with about 20 volunteers armed with bin bags and marigolds.
“Did all right, didn’t we?” Ross said as we spiked litter side by side. “Well done.”
“Well done yourself. Forgot to say after all the drama: good job with your set. Proud of you.”
“Thanks.” He looked sheepishly down at an empty Coke can on the grass. “Did you hear them call for an encore? Must be my new lucky keyring.”
“Yeah, I heard.” I leaned over to kiss his cheek. “People know quality when they hear it.”
I pinkened when I remembered what Claire had said. Dark Sentinel… was it really all subtexty in a way I hadn’t spotted first time round?
“Ross…”
“What?”
I shook my head. “Oh, nothing. Let’s get some of the stuff packed up, shall we? Then I’m thinking we owe these guys a drink. Pub and a cuddle feels like the way forward.”
“You read my mind.” He glanced at the assorted family members, friends and people from the community who made up our team of volunteers, some litter-picking, others taking down the church’s big marquee. “Although not sure about inviting these guys for a cuddle: maybe stick to buying them a pint. Let’s get the sound equipment into the van while they’re doing that, then we can all tackle the stage.”
“Oh, hey,” I said as we started dismantling the equipment. “You fancy coming round Saturday for film night with me, Jess and Gareth? Be nice to do the double date thing rather than watching them snog on my own.”
“Hm?” He was taking apart a microphone stand, looking distracted.
“Film night, Saturday, my place. How about it?”
“Oh.” He looked up at me. “Sorry, something on that night. Another time, eh?”
“Ok. Spose I’ll see you Thursday at the pub then, watch that new band.”
He shot me a guilty look. “Did we arrange that for Thursday? So sorry, Bobbie, totally forgot.”
I tried not to seem disappointed. “You can’t make it?”
“No. Got plans I can’t cancel now.”
“You playing? I can come along.”
“No, something else.”
I frowned. Ok, that sounded pretty evasive. What something else, couldn’t he tell me?
Since we’d become a couple, it had seemed like we’d naturally gravitated towards one another, spending most of our free time in each other’s company. Was he… Had I been monopolising him, not allowing for the fact he’d need his own space? Working together on the lighthouse and dating on top: maybe it was all getting too much.
“Ok, love,” I said, trying to sound bright. “If you need some you time I get it. Let me know when you’re free.”
“Thanks, Bobbie,” he said absently, his gaze flickering back to the mic stand.
I tried to squash a feeling of something not right lurking in the hollow of my belly – the same one I’d had when the lighthouse got trashed. I mean, it was nothing. Everyone needed time to themselves sometimes, right? There were certainly nights I’d rather veg out with a book than be with anyone else.
Still… I hoped everything was ok.
***
Later that evening, our unofficial lighthouse committee was sitting round a table at the Fishgutter’s with a drink of their choice each. Ross and I had splitsied a round for everyone, our treat. It felt like the least we could do after what for many had been a 12-hour day.
Somehow I’d ended up with Ross on my right and bloody Travis on my left. He was the only person at the table not having either wine or a pint, instead opting for a cocktail, some sickly concoction called a Flirtini he’d spent ten minutes describing to poor Gabbie behind the bar. I mean, with an umbrella and everything, he’d insisted.
Deep in conversation with Ross, I gradually became aware of Trav talking to my mum on his other side.
“Yeah, really tasteful, all the nudity’s completely artistically justified in the context of the character relationships as they evolve,” he was saying. “I can give you my card if you’re interested, Ms Hannigan.”
“Right… sorry, Travis, did yo
u say it was some sort of arthouse cinema project?” Mum asked.
“Oh Christ,” I muttered to Ross. “Your turn-of-the-century pervert mate’s trying to get my mum into his erotica.”
Ross snorted. “Never stops, does he? Reckon she’d be up for it?”
I glared at him. “No I don’t, you cheeky bugger. Come on, get him back on his lead.”
He reached over me to tap Travis on the shoulder.
“Oi. Not that one, Trav.”
Travis turned to smirk at him. “Aww, be a sport, Mason. I practically gutted my place to kit out your festival. Haven’t I earned myself a bit of fun?”
“The sound equipment was much appreciated, mate, but not sure it quite buys you the right to recruit my girlfriend’s mum for your mucky films.”
Mum’s eyes widened. “Bloody hell, is that what he was on about?”
I grinned. “Yeah, Mum. But don’t worry, all the shagging’s done to Mendelssohn. This is classy filth.”
She shrugged. “In that case…”
Travis turned to her, brightening. “Really, you interested?”
“No. And watch it, sonny, I’m old enough to be your mother.” She cast an unimpressed glance at his straw boater. “Although if I was, I’d probably try to hush it up.”
Travis waggled his eyebrows. “And I’m not too big for you to put over your knee, right?”
“Oh God,” she groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m too old for this shit.”
Next to her, Travis angled innocent eyes to the ceiling and started whistling Mrs Robinson.
Mum leaned round to talk to me and Ross. “Anyway, never mind him and his porn. Are you two going to give a speech or what?”
I shook my head. “What is it with you? You’re obsessed with making me give speeches. Child abuse is what it is.”
“Come on, one of you needs to. We’ve been working all day and we want some bloody adulation from the organisers, if it’s not too much trouble.”
Meet Me at the Lighthouse Page 19
