Snowflakes Over Holly Cove

by Lucy Coleman

  When I return to Nic he’s slumped forward, his head in his hands. He looks up and I don’t try to hide the tears in my eyes.

  ‘I thought he was walking away from any form of commitment with his threat to sell. That he couldn’t handle the memories here, because it only served to remind him that he was never around when we needed him. I blamed him for turning me into a failure.’

  ‘He was only trying to save you, Nic, to do what he thought was best for you. And you were right in what you said earlier on. I set this up tonight with the best of intentions because I care about you and Max. That’s why I came back. But my own family is struggling, too and somehow this seemed like the right thing to do. I’m sorry if I was wrong.’

  Nic stands and walks towards me. Taking a deep breath, he raises his hand to touch my cheek for the briefest of moments.

  ‘I have to go. I’m helping Mike put the orders together for the morning’s collections. The shop opens at seven and closes at noon. It won’t re-open until after New Year, so it will be chaos.’

  There’s nothing left to say and at the door he simply smiles and gives a curt nod as he walks past me.

  Closing the door my body sags back against it. My heart aches for their pain and sorrow; two different versions but one truth and now, at least, they both know what really happened. I’ve done what I can and I can’t heal the rift for them, or make Nic love me in the way I need him to do.

  It’s in your hands now, Nic, because tomorrow I must focus on my own family as this is all about honouring Mum’s memory.

  Things I want to say to my mother start whizzing around inside my head. I can’t be with you making new memories, Mum and it hurts. This Christmas Eve I’d hoped we’d be somewhere amazing, like Paris, staring up at the Eiffel Tower and waiting with bated breath for those snowflakes to fall. Maybe that was only ever destined to be the magic of New York and Paris would have been special in another way. Instead, I’m doing the next best thing and that’s making memories with Will, Sally and Bella. I know you’ll be smiling and that your heart will be overjoyed.

  34

  In the Dark of Night

  Lying in bed, staring out of the window at a beautiful star-lit sky, it dawns on me that I’m not used to looking upwards. In London, everything is about people or buildings, so it’s eye-level, or a little tilt of the head.

  I wander across to open the window a few inches, to fill my lungs with that bracing night air. The sound of the waves pounding on the shore indicate that the tide is in although it’s too dark to tell how far up the beach it has come. I think Max is safe enough and well above the high tide line. But when the sea is in a frenzy, there must be times when he looks out and the swell is violent enough to remind him of how harsh an environment it can be. I can’t even begin to imagine a life spent mostly at sea. I find that thought rather frightening, as the risk of being dragged down into a seemingly bottomless pit would be one of my worst fears.

  As I’m staring out into the darkness, I suddenly see what appears to be a shape moving slowly along the beach from right to left, almost indistinguishable in the pitch-black shadows. Straining my eyes, I’m not even sure it is a shape, or just the blurred vision of tired eyes. But as I adjust to the darkness, suddenly there seem to be two shapes and as I watch they merge into one. I wonder if it’s the smoke from one of the cabin’s flues, forced low on the beach, trapped beneath a current of air. I’m spooked enough to go downstairs and check the doors and windows.

  When I return to bed, Max is on my mind. What if it was someone up to no good? I leap out of bed, feeling around in the darkness for my jeans and sweatshirt. Within minutes I’m letting myself out of the house, locking the door behind me as quietly as I can. The torch in my hand is as much for protection, as it’s quite a hefty one, as it is for light. I stop to pull the drawstring around the hood of my padded jacket as tightly as I can, in order to keep out the icy chill. I manage to stagger down to the beach as the strong winds try to push me back, then decide that it’s probably better to turn the torch off before I’m out in the open.

  The crashing of the waves is enough to mask any noise, but stumbling along in the deep, soft sand is difficult. There’s no warning of large stones, or rocks that have fallen from the cliff. Once or twice my feet almost give out beneath me, when I encounter a sharp object in my path.

  Keeping as close to the cliff wall as I can, using it as a source of support, enables me to move a little faster. I’m probably halfway to the cabins now; it’s obvious I wasn’t imagining it and the two shapes I saw are very real. I stop in my tracks, trying to control my breathing as I seem to be gulping in way too much air. Slow it down, Tia, slow it down; if you panic now you are in big trouble and so is Max. Think about what you are doing.

  There’s little point in going any closer. One aluminium torch isn’t a weapon that will fend off two people.

  I sink down low on the ground, making myself as small as possible. Pulling my mobile out of my pocket I turn around, slipping down the zip on my jacket a little and cradling it inside to hide the light, as I dial Nic’s number. He takes forever to answer, or so it seems, but it’s probably mere seconds. His voice is sleepy and he sounds a little disorientated, no doubt woken abruptly from a very deep sleep.

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Nic, it’s Tia. I’m on the beach. I think two men are trying to steal Max’s boat and I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘Get off the phone, I’m on my way. Don’t do anything.’

  My fingers are so cold I have trouble slipping it back into my pocket. I struggle to pull the zipper back up, as my hands are now trembling. Fear is adding to the effects of my falling body temperature and beginning to restrict my actions. I ease myself back around and even above the sound of the surf I can hear a noise. The intermittent dull thud of metal on metal carries on the wind in little bursts like a musical accompaniment. I’m downwind though and the sound is travelling away from the far cabin where Max sleeps. I can’t see any light at all coming from either cabin. It would have to be very loud indeed to be easily heard above the constant pounding of the waves and stir him from a deep sleep.

  I stay curled up, straining my eyes to monitor the movement. They seem to be struggling with the padlocked steel gate across the front of the workshop. Then one of them turns and starts trudging towards me. My heart nearly stops. I lie prostrate on the sand, as close to the base of the cliff as I can get. Everything I’m wearing is dark, so if I hide my face and hands I might fade into the night.

  I know I can’t make any movement at all and as I can’t risk looking up, I start counting. Fear takes my slight tremble to another level again and my teeth begin to chatter. I wonder how long it will take Nic to find me. Ten minutes by the time he dresses and parks the car, before he’s on the beach? How long has passed since I spoke to him? Two minutes perhaps, or is it longer? A horrible chill settles in the pit of my stomach which has nothing to do with the biting cold of the winter night. Nic has no idea someone will be walking towards him and there’s no way I can warn him without alerting the thieves. If Max awakens now, there’s someone standing only feet away from him with a heavy metal object in his hands.

  My heartbeat is now almost as loud as the waves and I start counting the seconds, my ears straining for any sounds that might warn me someone is approaching. One hundred and twenty-three, one hundred and twenty-four.

  How long does it take to cross the cove? It’s slow going in the dry sand, but the person who passed me walked down the beach a little, probably to where the sand is firmer and walking is quicker and easier.

  When I get to three minutes, I move my head slightly. The person is still on the beach but now heading back up onto the softer sand. Think, Tia, think. It’s going to take Nic probably another seven or eight minutes at least to drive down here from the farm on the top road, so I doubt he’s here yet. He might even have woken Mike to accompany him. There’s nothing unusual I can hear above the roar of the incoming water and the
swoosh as it’s sucked away. Max is safe as long as he stays sleeping, so my focus has to be on warning Nic. I turn around and begin to crawl on all fours. It’s actually easier than walking, as the wind keeps buffeting my body. My hands quickly identify any stony obstacles in the way, but they are sharp. Even with almost totally numb fingers I can still feel the sting from the cuts. My teeth are chattering a little, even though the effort of moving along brings a little warmth back into my limbs. I think it’s more from nerves and adrenalin than the dropping temperature.

  I pick up the pace a little and it probably takes no more than a couple of minutes to retrace my steps. I guesstimate it’s been about six minutes by now since my call for help. As I reach the end of the sand I half-stand, crouching low as I enter the approach to the lane, alongside the cottage. I didn’t leave any lights on when I left, but that wasn’t a conscious decision. I’m not sure, though, if that makes it worse in a way. A glimmer of light might have been a deterrent. Anyway, there’s no one to be seen. It dawns on me that Nic will probably park at the top, adding at least another five minutes to his arrival time. I assume that’s where the other person has gone, back to their vehicle to find something to cut, or prise off the padlock.

  I walk as fast as I can now, conscious that I have to maintain a steady pace and can’t risk getting too out of breath. Any sound at all seems to echo, trapped by the tall trees on either side of the lane. I try to control my breathing so I don’t let out any gasps, which is more difficult to do than it sounds. There’s also a chance that at any moment I might have to start running if the guy reappears in front of me. A cold sweat begins to chill my skin as I increase the pace yet again. I’m pretty sure the top road is just around the next bend, when suddenly I’m grabbed from behind and a cold, hard, hand presses against my mouth. I’m too shocked to struggle but the mouth next to my ear whispers ‘It’s Nic. The police are on their way.’

  I sag against him for a few seconds, then straighten. He has some sort of stick in one hand as it touches against my leg, but he grabs my arm with his other hand. Giving a little tug, he leads me back down the hill. I have to half-run to keep up with him. I can hardly make him out in the darkness and it looks like he’s wearing a ski mask, or balaclava, which obscures his face and hair. Just before we round the corner at the bottom of the lane he leans in close.

  ‘When we reach the first cabin, I want you to make a noise and run down towards the water’s edge. Hopefully that will distract this guy for the few seconds I need to step out of the shadows and get close enough to tackle him to the floor. The other guy has gone up to their van, which is in a lay-by up near the farm. The police will catch him. We need to move as quickly as we can, so I can jump this guy before Max wakes up as he’ll be an easy target, unaware he’s in real danger.’

  I have to brush away the image of Max opening the door and being struck down before he can even assimilate what’s happening. Desperate people do desperate things and I steel myself, realising that Nic will be putting himself in real danger, too. The adrenalin begins to pump around my body and I move forward with determination.

  When we hit the sand, we crawl along the base of the cliff, much in the same way that I had done a few minutes ago. The person outside the workshop seems to be using a crowbar, trying to lever one of the side hinges to the gate on the right.

  We are totally hidden by the first cabin and Nic places his hand firmly on my shoulder, giving me a little shake. Our eyes meet and he nods his head. I start screaming and then I run, as fast as my legs will carry me. Churning up the sand in my wake, I head towards the sound of the waves.

  I have no idea what is going on behind me and with my heart pounding in my ears I can’t hear a thing. When I stop and turn, I see that the door to the second cabin is open and there is a little shaft of light, but it isn’t very bright.

  Someone is lying on the sand and another person is leaning over them. Already I’m running back up the beach, my eyes trying to make sense of what’s happening. A third shape looms up in front of me and I see a flash out of the corner of my eye as I turn to run. I hear the roar of Max’s shout as he appears to leap through the air, launching himself at my attacker. But in that split second something cracks down on the side of my head. As I collapse in a heap on the sand I’m vaguely aware of the struggle going on next to me. Then there is a flicker of lights bobbing around, which seem to be edging closer and closer. The pain is overwhelming me and I can’t fight anymore to keep my eyes open, so I lie here trying to make sense of what’s happening. Where’s Nic? Is Max OK?

  The darkness isn’t just around me, it’s inside of me, too. The pounding in my head and chest increases and I find myself struggling to breathe. This isn’t merely panic, but something else. An overwhelming sense of light-headedness takes hold and I feel myself sinking down and down, before total darkness overwhelms me.

  A sudden warmth seems to envelop my body and I stir, but can’t quite rouse myself. I’m in someone’s arms and I can feel the weight of something being placed over me.

  ‘Tia, stay awake my darling. Please, try to stay with me, it’s important. It’s Nic and you’re safe; the ambulance is coming. Just stay with me, baby, I’ll keep you warm and I won’t leave your side, I promise.’

  Mumbled voices and sounds that don’t mean anything at all seem to wash over me like waves and I wonder if I’m drowning.

  35

  I’m Not Alone

  Out of the black nothingness comes a loud buzzing sound which seems to echo around inside my head. Is it a bee? As it grows louder I start to panic, wondering whether it has crawled inside my ear and is now manically trying to escape. I want to raise my hand and see if I can reach it, but nothing happens and fear takes a hold of me. Buzz, buzz, buzz—

  ‘Shh, shh. Keep still, Tia. I’m here, so you have nothing to fear. I’m holding your hand and I haven’t left your side for a moment.’

  Who is holding my hand? I can’t feel anything and I want to let them know that I need help, but the blackness drags me back into its lair and I seem unable to fight it.

  *

  My eyes lids are so heavy it’s a struggle to open them, even a little. A glint of brightness sears across my left eye and I wince, then give up trying. I can hear the rasp of my laboured breathing and gradually sounds from within the room begin to come at me from all angles. There’s a rustling noise, the low murmur of voices and a bleeping sound. I focus on that and let it guide me back to consciousness. But as it does, stabs of pain seem to attack me from my head to my toes. I can now open both eyes a tiny fraction but the light is too strong and I focus instead on what hurts and where. My head is throbbing, a dull pain that is like a constant drumming making me feel slightly nauseous. My hands are very sore, as are my knees. My left elbow, too, feels bruised and a gnawing ache adds to my overall discomfort.

  ‘Tia, can you hear me?’ A shape looms over me, coming close and I try to concentrate, squinting to bring it into focus, while still shielding my eyes from the glare of light.

  ‘Where am I?’ My throat is so dry, it burns as I force out the words.

  ‘You’re in hospital. You arrived here late last night after an incident on the beach.’

  ‘Beach?’

  ‘Your boyfriend and your brother are here. I’ve asked them to wait outside as Dr Evans is on his way to see you. While we’re waiting, I wonder if you can sip a little water for me? Here, I’ll guide the straw into your mouth.’

  The liquid is cool and very welcome, but after a few sips I can’t seem to swallow anymore and I pull my head away.

  ‘Thank you.’ It comes out as a hoarse whisper.

  ‘I’m going to very gently wipe some moist cotton wool across your eyes and then perhaps you can try to open them fully for me.’

  I nod, the effort of speaking seems to make the pain much worse and all I want to do is rest. But as the soft wetness sweeps across my closed eyelids it feels surprisingly refreshing. It still takes a lot of effort to force them op
en, as a wave of tiredness seems to accompany any movement at all.

  ‘Good evening, Tia. My name is Doctor Robert Evans. Jane, can we raise the head of the bed a little, please?’

  There’s a clicking sound and very slowly I’m brought up into a semi-sitting position. Both of my hands have been bandaged and there’s a drip attached to a needle in the crook of my arm.

  ‘I’ve spoken to your brother and your boyfriend about the results of the CT scan. What is the last thing you can remember?’

  My eyes are so blurry that it’s like having double vision. Any movement anywhere in the room makes me automatically turn towards it. Each time I find myself wincing with the pain radiating out from the side of my head.

  ‘I remember lying on the beach. There was shouting. I heard a loud buzzing sound at some point, but that’s all.’

  ‘How about what happened before that?’

  My brain feels foggy and it hurts to think, so it takes me a few moments to kick it into gear. The men… and Max.

  ‘People, men I think, trying to break into Max’s workshop. Nic arrived, he isn’t hurt, is he? Can I see him? Is Max, here, too?’ Suddenly the words gush out of me like a torrent.

  ‘Take it easy. You lost consciousness for a significant period following a nasty blow to the head. We then had to sedate you in order to carry out a CT scan as you were disorientated and rather distressed. The good news is that your skull isn’t fractured and there’s no sign of swelling or internal bleeding. We’ve stitched up the wound but it will be quite sore for the next few days. You will feel a little drowsy still from the meds, but the effects should completely disappear over the next hour or so. Rest is very important at the moment. Try not to get agitated or expect too much progress too soon. We’re keeping you under close observation at the moment, but it’s all looking good.’

  ‘What day is it? What time is it?’ My mind starts to process what has happened and yet it’s like clutching at fragments and trying to pull them together to form a complete picture.