The Girl on the Beach

by Morton S. Gray

  Chapter Eighteen

  Despite a number of students making statements about being approached by someone peddling drugs, the local police were unable to find the man. They staked out the area around the school for several days, but either it had been a one-off attempt at sales, or the man had been tipped off that he’d been spotted.

  Regardless of the risks, Harry made a point of walking the school perimeter several times before school and made stern assembly speeches on the subject of drugs and their dangers. At the next mentoring meeting, he made a request that the mentors broach the subject of drugs with the students they were coaching. It was difficult to relax, given the information his contact had shared. He tried to keep an eye on Ellie when it was possible, but it was difficult to do much without worrying she would think he was stalking her.

  Ellie didn’t do birthdays, hers anyway, if she could help it. She hated being in the limelight and having to open presents and cards in front of other people. She believed her almost-phobia dated from when she was five or six and had reacted badly to an elderly aunt buying her a present exactly the same as someone else. Her mother had been mortified by her behaviour and most of that fateful birthday had been spent in her room in disgrace. Far from being a pleasant experience, being given a present made her heart speed up and put her nerves on edge.

  This year her birthday fell on a Saturday. Mandy and Tom arranged lunch for her at the restaurant at the end of the high street. They all ordered seafood and sparkling water. The food was delicious. Ellie would never tire of eating fresh fish almost straight from the sea.

  She braced herself for the inevitable appearance of a birthday cake. It came, complete with one flaming candle. Mandy and Tom sang “Happy Birthday”, joined by most of the other diners in the restaurant. Ellie was bright red by the time the singing had finished.

  Feeling incredibly uncomfortable, Ellie opened the cards they gave her, knowing it would be presents next. Mandy had bought her predictable gifts, perfume, make-up and a sparkly top for one of their evenings out.

  Tom’s present was a large heavy parcel.

  ‘What’s this? It’s an intriguing shape.’

  For once, her curiosity was aroused and she felt an unfamiliar spark of excitement. Inside the wrapping was an intricately formed piece of driftwood, which had been sanded and varnished to make its surface smooth and shiny. It was a natural sculpture.

  ‘Oh, Tom, it’s beautiful. Did you find it, or buy it?’

  ‘Mr Dixon came across it on the beach when we were out running one day and I asked if I could have it for your birthday. He suggested that I sand and varnish it. He spent ages helping me. Do you like it, Mum?’

  ‘I love it.’ She kissed him and then twirled the piece around to find the best angle to display the wood. There was something so unique about artwork provided by nature and it made it even more special that Harry had found it and helped Tom to finish it for her. She ran her hands over the smooth shape and couldn’t help imagining Harry handling the wood, as if his energetic presence had been sealed in by the varnish. She stowed it carefully back into its wrappings and carrier bag, looking forward to displaying it at home. It would almost be like having a piece of Harry in the dining room.

  Mandy clapped quietly. ‘You did do well, Ellie. Please tell me your present opening wasn’t scary this time.’

  ‘Surprisingly, I quite enjoyed it, but thank you for being conscious of my fears.’

  She had promised not to work on her birthday, but wanted to pop into the gallery to check for post. Tom had a date with Louise later that afternoon, but agreed to carry her birthday presents home safely first. Mandy and Ellie had planned a birthday trip to the cinema in Sowden for the evening.

  As she turned into the alleyway, Ellie jumped out of her skin when Nick lurched out of the shadows.

  ‘Nick Crossten you scared me half to death.’

  ‘Sorry, Miss Golden.’ He looked even scruffier than normal, probably because he was wearing home clothes and not school uniform.

  ‘Were you looking at my pictures?’

  ‘Not exactly. Could I come inside?’ He kept looking around him, as if he expected someone else to jump out of the shadows too.

  ‘Of course. You can help me unload the kiln. I put a batch of new pots in to fire three nights ago. The kiln should be cool by now. They’re some of the pots I want to decorate and sell for Christmas and you can be the first to have a look at them.’

  She was puzzled that Nick didn’t show any of his usual enthusiasm. He came through into the gallery after her, pausing to let her pick up the post and shut the door. She stuffed the three envelopes into her bag and went to walk through into the studio room.

  ‘Miss, can you lock the door behind us please?’

  Ellie was surprised and wary, but did as he asked. ‘Are you okay, Nick? Is something wrong? Is someone following you?’

  He seemed happier when they were out of sight of the windows at the front of the shop.

  ‘No, no one is following me, but I came to tell you that I think someone is following you.’

  Ellie felt a cold shiver snake up her spine.

  ‘Following me? Who?’

  ‘A man. I’ve seen him outside the gallery and outside school after art class. He’s been following you.’

  ‘Are you sure, Nick?’

  He nodded his head, with a look more serious than any expression she had ever seen on his thin face.

  Touched by Nick’s concern, rattled by what he had said, but sure there must be some rational explanation, Ellie fought down a sudden vision of the letter about Rushton’s release from prison.

  Surely not.

  To cover her alarm, she led Nick into the back yard and opened the door to the kiln room. Out of habit, she put a hand on the side of the kiln to make sure it had cooled.

  ‘Did you see what I did first?’ She said, with a tone that sounded falsely bright even to her own ears. ‘If you work with a kiln, you must always make sure it’s stone-cold before you open it. If it isn’t, the sudden change of temperature can ruin your work, besides burning you badly if it’s still hot. These babies should be cooked. Oh, I do hope they’re nice. You never truly know until they come out of the kiln safely.’

  Nick was not a young man to be fobbed off. ‘Aren’t you worried about this man following you?’

  ‘I’m determined not to be unnerved. I’m sure there must be a simple explanation. Thank you, by the way, for warning me. It is very good of you to look out for me.’

  ‘You’ve been very kind to me and I wouldn’t want anyone to hurt you.’

  ‘Why do you think anyone would want to hurt me?’

  The boy shrugged.

  Ellie felt shaken by his interpretation of why a man would be following her, but tried not to worry Nick further by any reaction to his words. She refused to act in haste. If this man was following her, she could easily make a mistake and fall into his hands by panicking.

  His hands.

  She’d already given this unknown stalker Rushton’s face.

  She forced herself to continue unloading her work. It was not a process that could be hurried. As she focused on removing the supports and packing, she was alarmed to see her fingers shaking.

  They spent a companionable half an hour gently taking the fired pots out of the cooled kiln and placing them on the table in the studio. It was always exciting to see how pottery turned out. Somehow, it was always a surprise. You could never totally predict the finished result in terms of shape or glaze colour and often Ellie found things were even better than she had imagined, or alternatively a complete disaster.

  Nick admired the pots, turning one carefully in his hands. The green and red of the glaze looked very festive. They would look fantastic as part of the gallery’s Christmas window display and it felt good to get them finished in plenty of time. Christmas displays in the big stores in Sowden seemed to start impossibly early from the end of August.

  ‘We have some lessons at s
chool with pottery clay, but not using a wheel. You are just supposed to roll it into snakes and then coil them up into a pot. Can I have a go on the potter’s wheel sometime, Miss? These look really cool.’

  ‘I tell you what, Nick. We’ll see if anyone else in the after school club would like to have a go and then maybe we could hold one week’s class here. I could bring the pots to school once they’d been fired in the kiln.’

  ‘Sounds great, Miss. Yes, please.’

  Her mind kept being drawn back to the seriousness of their earlier conversation.

  ‘Nick, the man you believe you saw following me, was it anyone you know, anyone you’ve seen before?’

  He shook his head. ‘No one I’ve seen in Borteen before.’

  ‘Can you describe the man?’

  ‘He was tall, sort of looked like one of those rugby players. Had black hair.’

  Ellie didn’t want to hear this description. There was a distinct possibility that Rushton had found her after all.

  When they had finished unloading all of the pots and they were safely stored away, Nick went out of the gallery door first and had a look to see if the man he had seen was around. He came back and reported that there was no sign. Ellie locked up and began to walk home. She walked quickly, uncertainty fuelling her steps, glancing behind her every few yards along the route, despite her escort.

  Nick insisted on accompanying her as far as her front door. She was both pleased and alarmed at his protectiveness. She made him promise not to hang around outside her house to watch for the man, assuring him she would lock all of her doors and windows. She was worried that if it was Rushton, he could take exception to Nick trailing after him and it could be dangerous if the lad challenged him.

  When the front door was firmly closed and she had satisfied herself that no one lurked in any of the rooms or the garden, she finally looked at the gallery post. There was an advertising letter for insurance, a bill and an obvious birthday card. She opened it in trepidation. She had an irrational thought that Rushton might have remembered her birthday.

  To her surprise, the card was from Harry.

  The front of the card was a lovely photograph of the bay at Borteen and inside, he had written: “Happy Birthday, Ellie. Regards Harry”. There was one kiss.

  Even though it was a simple message, the one kiss made Ellie wonder if was trying to tell her that he was beginning to think of her fondly. If she was going to risk her heart a little, she needed a sign from Harry that her feelings would be reciprocated. Could they possibly consider a romance after such a terrible start?

  The doorbell rang. Ellie had been shaken by Nick’s warning, so her heart began to beat faster. Rather than fling the door wide, she put the security chain across before she opened it and peered out through the gap.

  The man standing on her path was a stranger, although she knew that she’d seen him somewhere before.

  ‘Ellie Golden? I’m sorry, I’ve been trying to catch you for a while. I’m Louise’s father.’

  ‘Hang on.’

  Ellie shut the door to remove the security chain and as she did so, she took a huge sigh of relief. This must be the man who Nick had seen hanging around the gallery. He was tall, dark and broad-shouldered. Phew!

  ‘Come in, Mr Stevens. Tom and Louise aren’t here at the moment.’

  ‘Good. No, they’re in town. I was actually hoping for a word with you on your own.’

  Ellie made tea and they sat in her tiny lounge with the view of the street and beyond it the sea. Today, the sea and the horizon merged in greyness. Mr Stevens looked huge in her small chair.

  ‘My wife and I thought it was time we made contact with you, being as Tom and Louise have become a regular boyfriend and girlfriend.’

  ‘Yes, they do seem to be besotted with each other. I can hardly get a word out of either of them when they’re here.’

  ‘It’s the same at our house. We’re a bit concerned that they might get … erm … physically close. They are a little young, so we felt we should talk to you about it.’

  Ellie was aware a blush was starting on her cheeks. It was weird discussing her son’s potential sex life with someone she’d just met. Meanwhile, Mr Stevens had gone white with his own embarrassment.

  She’d thought about the question of underage sex too. She’d tried to speak to Tom about the issue, but he’d brushed her off, saying that he wasn’t a complete idiot.

  ‘I’ve spoken to my son about it and I expect you’ve had discussions with your daughter too, but you’re right, it’s time to have a more in-depth serious chat. Hormones are strange things and it’s easy to get carried away.’

  ‘I’m glad we’re thinking along the same lines. I guess as the parents of a girl, we’re always going to worry about boyfriends.’

  For a moment, Ellie could see a vision of her own parents with disapproving faces.

  He was slurping his tea as fast as he could. He’d delivered his embarrassing message and seemed keen to make his escape.

  ‘I promise to have another discussion with my son.’

  ‘And we’ll be doing exactly the same with Louise.’ He sat on the edge of his seat and looked ready to make a run for the door. ‘Happy birthday, by the way. Louise said that Tom was at your birthday lunch.’

  ‘Thank you. Birthdays seem to come round very quickly these days.’

  ‘Yes, I can agree with that. Right, I’d better be off. Enjoy the rest of your day.’

  He handed her his empty mug and stood up. Ellie was pleased to have solved the mystery of the stalker and couldn’t wait to tell Nick the good news so he could stop worrying about her. Her relief was short-lived, however.

  ‘Mr Stevens, you say you’ve been trying to speak to me for a while. Can I ask if you’ve tried to see me at the gallery?’

  ‘Graham, please. No, just at this address.’

  Her heart sank. She hadn’t solved the mystery after all.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The days flew by. It was hard for Ellie to believe it had been a week since her birthday. She hadn’t seen anyone following her, no matter how often she had looked behind her as she went about her daily life. She’d experienced several confused dreams containing scenes from the past, with Rushton angry and dominant. Also, she couldn’t help an obsession for checking locks on her house and car and scanning the people on the beach and in town. After no further alarms or sightings, she’d almost allowed herself to relax.

  As she walked down the hill on the following Saturday morning, she noticed that the leaves on the trees were beginning to turn to reds and browns. She loved autumn and the inspirational hues in the landscape. She was planning a huge canvas of stylised trees in autumn colours. In her mind, she had painted it already and had to caution herself that the paint rarely worked in the way she imagined in her head.

  Today, she felt joyful. Life had real purpose again, with Tom happy, her business taking off and her involvement in the mentoring scheme making her feel useful and valued. If she could whistle, she would be whistling a tune as she walked.

  With her usual scan of the beach and the sea, she walked down between the buildings and came to an abrupt halt. Her heart began to hammer. The gallery window was shattered, jagged pieces of glass stuck out at all angles and inside on the broad window sill, her carefully arranged display of orchard pots was no more.

  On closer inspection, she could see that pottery and glass shards combined in a chaotic heap of destruction inside the gallery. She stared in disbelief, shock blocking her throat. She let out a silent scream. No!

  The glass door was untouched, its closed sign hanging forlornly on its chain. There was no one around. It was early, so there weren’t even any other shop owners around to talk to about the damage. The wool shop and the gift shop occupying the same alley were closed. Their windows were intact. The gallery alone had been targeted, so Ellie couldn’t believe it was a case of random vandalism. Sickness flooded her body, but then outrage took over.

  She to
ok out her mobile phone and reported the incident. A policeman arrived within ten minutes. Ellie had waited, leaning against the wall of the alleyway shaking, she wasn’t sure whether with shock or anger, until he arrived. He introduced himself as PC Giles.

  Nothing appeared to have been stolen, even though many items had been smashed or damaged, so he gave her an incident number, made a few notes and left her to the clearing up. The missile used to break the window was a half house brick, but had nothing to distinguish it or to identify the culprit. Ellie asked if there had been any more windows smashed nearby, but a call to the police control room confirmed the gallery window was the sole incident report in Borteen that morning.

  Ellie pushed down her feelings of shock and violation and set about the practicalities of clearing up and making the property secure. A window replacement company promised to come and measure the glass in a couple of hours and board up the window until they could replace it. She reasoned with herself that every shopkeeper was bound to get a smashed window every now and then, but the feeling that there was more to this wouldn’t go away.

  Putting on gloves to protect against splinters of glass, she began to sort the bigger pieces of glass and pottery and swept the rest of the mess into a bin bag. Only the evening before, she had arranged twelve of her orchard pots in what she hoped was a pleasing arrangement in the window. She’d added sparkly silk flowers in the top layer of the pots and had been so pleased with the result. “Pride comes before a fall” maybe? That was her mother’s voice talking to her from the past.

  She put the flowers in the bin bag too, not being able to face using them again. Was this a chance thing, or had she been targeted? Who could have taken objection to her work? Who had she upset? A cold worry about Rushton wriggled from the recesses of her mind.

  Concentrating on a gap in the floorboards where several splinters had lodged themselves, prickles on the back of her neck alerted her to someone standing behind her. She looked back under her arm and fell sprawling on the floorboards, flailing to get away.