by Lynda Stacey
Ella’s eyes opened wide. ‘But …’ She wriggled on the spot, half with nerves, half with excitement. ‘I … I don’t know …’
‘I’ll be a perfect gentleman, I promise. Just a lift straight home and I’ll even make sure you get into your house safely, before I go into mine.’
Ella stared at the sea. She had to give Will a chance, had to allow him to prove to her that he was a good person. But still, she felt the nerves that began trembling at her bare toes and didn’t stop until they reached her fingers. She rubbed her hands down her jeans and nodded.
‘Okay, let’s show them.’ She locked eyes with Will and felt happy that Sarah had insisted on the night out. They both sat back down on the blanket and it was nice to sit on the beach as the darkness began to surround them. The evening looked as though it could end up being more fun than she’d initially thought and, if she was honest, she really did feel that she could trust Will to take her home. She watched as he turned to watch a group of people who lingered on the beach before them. They stopped and stared, and then another couple stopped in their tracks, and pointed at Ella.
He patted Ella’s hand. ‘Ignore them.’ His voice was soft and kind and Ella took in a deep breath, wishing she could crawl under a rock and hibernate until Christmas. Or at least until everyone stopped talking about what had happened to her.
She looked up and down the beach, her eyes searching for Sarah. She turned her attention to the mobile.
Sarah, where are you and why have you disappeared on me? xx
She held the phone in her hand until it bleeped a response.
Don’t worry. I won’t leave you. And we only disappeared because you’ve been talking about Will all week and, apparently, he’s been talking about you too. So, Josh and I decided that it was time that you two spoke to each other. Xx
Ella handed the phone to Will and allowed him to read the text as she stared at the crowd. She’d begun to feel nervous again. She barely knew Will; she hadn’t seen him since that night in her garden when they’d eaten his steaks. Since then her life had been busy, but she couldn’t deny that she’d looked over the fence daily, just in case he’d been in his garden.
Ella watched Will. He stared into the fire beacon. Every emotion seemed to travel through his face and for a moment he looked as though his worst nightmare was about to happen. He must have sensed her looking at him because he turned, and for a short time he caught her eye and a smile lit up his face, before he turned back to the beacon and stared back into the flames. Ella looked at the pile of wood and hoped that there would be enough to keep the beacons burning. After all, the beach would soon be very dark without the glow and the cove had been known to be dangerous at night.
She took the opportunity to study Will. He leaned against the cliff wall, where he’d now pulled his blanket up behind them both. It cushioned them from the cliff and provided a little comfort from its coldness. He was well dressed and tall, or he would be if he were standing up. Ella had noticed the night that he’d leapt over her fence without a shirt on that he had a good, solid frame. He was well built but not overweight. Will was a good-looking man; his face was symmetrical, angular and glowed in the firelight. Yet at that moment, he looked terribly sad and just a little more than vulnerable. She just didn’t know why. He rubbed the stubble on his chin with one hand, while his eyebrows moved up and down, in and out of a frown. Tears filled his eyes and Ella could tell that he was deep within his own disturbing thoughts.
Eventually, Will forced himself to turn away from the flames. He closed his eyes momentarily and then opened them to stare out to sea again. He turned to his left and looked towards the town of Filey, where it stood in the distance with its tiny twinkling shore lights.
‘Have you been to the cobbles in Filey?’ Ella asked quickly. She felt the need to lighten the mood, and stood up to stare at where the deep shadows of the Filey houses stood. She looked down at her boots, picked them up and banged them against the rocks, rubbed the sand from her feet and pushed them into the warm sheepskin interiors.
Will stood up to join her. ‘Yes, I went up there to have a look round when I first got here. It’s really pretty.’
Ella walked along the beach and Will followed her. ‘Back in the old days it was full of atmosphere and fishing boats. The boats used to stand on the cobbles, each one painted a different set of colours making them recognisable from the shore. You see, the wives would stand up there.’ She pointed to the cliff tops. ‘They used to see the colours of the boats and know when their husbands were safe and coming home. Each man risked his life day after day to bring the fish in. But without a jetty, their boats would get stuck in the sand. They had to be pulled in and pushed out by a tractor, which stood on the cobbles waiting for them every morning and night.’
‘That’s a beautiful story.’
‘Ha. No, it’s not. It used to be a beautiful story. Most of the boats have gone; only seven remain and they can only fish for six months of the year. So, their true story, the story of a full and active fishing village, has died. The EU restricted their quotas; they couldn’t make a living and most of the men had had enough of getting stuck in the sand, risking their lives and fighting to get both in and out to sea on a daily basis.’
Will stared at where the fishing town stood in the distance. Even though they were probably a mile or two away, he could just make out the lights that still lit up the shape of the harbour wall. The town was large, full of tiny terraced houses and he suspected that fishing had supported many of the local households for years. After all, other than tourism and chip shops, what else did the town have?
‘Life sucks. It must have really changed for the people up there,’ he said as he thought of how much his own life had changed during the past year. Of course, he hadn’t lost his livelihood. But one minute he’d had all the people around him that he loved and, quite literally, the next minute everything changed. He’d lost everything and everyone; they’d all gone.
‘It does,’ Ella muttered. ‘I remember interviewing one of the fishermen on his last day at sea. We did a double page spread about it. He couldn’t carry on fishing as there was no money in it any more, yet he had no idea what else he would or could do. It’s all he’d ever known, you see. Fishing had been his life for as long as he could remember, and his father’s life before him. They’d taken out loans to buy the boat and, as far as I’m aware, the boat’s standing in dry dock and sadly the family are still paying for it, month after month.’
‘But as a reporter, you could have made a difference, brought attention to the industry?’ The words were more of a statement than a question and Will watched as Ella swallowed hard and then took small tentative sips of the lager from her can.
‘Yes, I’m a reporter and I did try, but it was just before … you know, and my injuries changed everything,’ she whispered, before once again turning and staring out to sea. ‘I haven’t worked since the accident. But my job’s being held open for me and I am planning on going back to work soon.’
Will walked over to the beacon, threw a log into the cage and then made his way back to stand by her side. He was beginning to understand why she felt so angry. There were three sides to almost every article. First you got the reporter. He’d look for and find the story. He’d get to the bottom of the facts, he’d write it, and be responsible for putting it into print. Then you got the reader. The person who would buy the paper. They’d read it, and digest it. Some articles would stay with them, but most would be forgotten within the day. And then, finally, there was the victim, there was a person like Ella whose whole world had been turned upside down by a single incident. Their lives would be exposed for the world to read and they’d be the type of person who everyone thought they knew, just because they’d read what the papers had said.
God she looked so vulnerable, so beautiful, yet so very defenceless.
They returned to where Will’s blanket lay on the beach. He placed his barely drunk lager can in the sand, concentr
ating on it as he turned it round and round to ensure it wouldn’t fall over, then he rested his knee against a rock and clasped his hands tightly together. He had an overwhelming urge to hold Ella, to pull her close, to keep her safe and to tell her that everything would be okay. He wanted to prove to her that not all men were cruel, barbaric or evil. But instead he closed his eyes against the sea breeze, forcing himself to stay where he was, knowing that to move towards her, or to hold her was the last thing he should do. She barely knew him and he knew that any sudden action from him would most probably terrify her – as it had the night he’d first met her – and the last thing he wanted was to send her running vertically up the cliff face in fear.
‘… yeah, really wish I could get out of it.’
Will’s thoughts came back to the present, and he realised that Ella had been speaking but he had been so deep in thought that he hadn’t heard anything but the ‘get out of it’ part.
‘Sorry, I missed that …’ He now looked directly into her face as she spoke, searched her eyes and noticed tears forming in their corners.
‘I wish I could get out of the job. I feel I need to do something else. I thought about becoming a photographer; it’s kind of what I do anyhow. I do take the pictures that go with my articles. So it wouldn’t be too much of a change in direction.’ She was focused, adamant and determined. ‘And, if I’m honest, I think I could cope with that. I like taking photos, I love capturing a single moment in time. It’s something to remember the past by.’ She took a tentative sip from the can, then looked away from his face and into the burning embers of the fire beacon. ‘I never really saw how hurtful it all was before, not till I was on the receiving end. So now, now I have two choices: I need to be a better reporter, or I need to do something else.’
Will nodded in agreement. ‘I think being a photographer could be fun. Just think of all the weddings you’d get to attend.’
Ella slapped Will’s arm. ‘I’d most probably take photos in refugee camps, warzones or the Arctic.’ Her hand rested on his arm for a moment too long, but she quickly snapped it back to rest back upon her own knee.
Will rubbed his arm. Not that the slap had hurt; it hadn’t. But he’d enjoyed her touch and wished she’d left her hand there a little longer. He thought about his life since Ella had returned home. He’d seen her pottering in her garden on so many of his days off. She’d been tending, nurturing and sometimes just staring at a plant for what seemed like forever and, only yesterday, he’d watched as she’d sat for hours on the bench with a book on her knee. She hadn’t looked at it once. She’d just stared endlessly into space, deep in thought and, if he was totally honest, there were so many days when he’d happily have sat there with her.
‘I think you’d enjoy being a photographer, but I’m so sorry you want to leave the reporting industry. It should have been kinder to you.’ Will spoke the words and meant them. He was annoyed with every reporter that had ever written anything about her case. For all the articles that had upset her. For the untruths that had hurt her. It was very obvious that she still had no idea what he did for a living. And he wondered how she’d feel when she finally found out that he was the Editor of the Scarborough Star. He looked at his beer can that was partially buried in the sand and shook his head. He knew he should have told her what he did on the first day they’d met. He’d had the chance in the garden while they’d drunk the wine. But he’d been hungry and the thought of pizza had preoccupied his mind. He knew she’d spotted him in the court and, for a while, he thought she’d have mentioned it. She had probably thought him to be a nosy neighbour who’d popped along to listen in. His stomach twisted inside; whether he told her now or not, she’d think the worst. The last thing he wanted was to lose the small amount of friendship they’d now developed, but he had no choice. He had to tell her the truth.
He stood up and walked to a more desolate area of the beach. He bent down, picked up stones and skimmed them towards the sea. He noticed Ella paying attention to his technique before collecting a handful of stones of her own. She took her position beside him and began skimming them much further than he had; a silent but competitive challenge began.
‘Ella, look … I … I need to tell you something …’ he began, just as a huge, radiant smile came over Ella’s face. She dropped her handful of stones and ran past him to hug Sarah, who stood before them.
‘You have some explaining to do,’ Ella growled. She then looked at Josh, who’d crept up behind where Sarah stood. ‘And you too.’
‘Come on, Ella. Don’t get grumpy with me. It’s not like I left you, is it? I’m a copper, I was sitting up there, watching and protecting you. I could see everything you were doing,’ Sarah murmured as she once again pulled Ella into her arms and began whispering in her ear. ‘I must admit though, I did think about going. You did look kind of cosy there with your gorgeous neighbour friend, hun.’
Ella sighed with relief, then looked up and caught the mischievous look in Will’s eyes. The earlier comments of playing Sarah and Josh back at their own game came back and she remembered how Will had offered to take her home. Could she really trust him? Could she really get in a car with him, alone?
‘Honey, why don’t you just do that?’ Ella suggested. ‘Josh looks like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world than here, babysitting me. Will here has offered to take me home. He does live next door, so it kind of makes sense, doesn’t it?’
Sarah looked from Ella to Will. ‘Oh, right, okay. Are you sure?’ Sarah cheekily ran her tongue across her teeth and leaned in close. ‘Honey, don’t do this if you’re not ready.’
‘Sarah, Will’s my friend. I’ll be fine.’ She linked arms with Will, pulled herself into his side and glanced up to catch his eye.
Sarah stood, open-mouthed. ‘But …’
‘Sarah, honestly, she’ll be fine,’ Will chipped in. ‘It’s not like you don’t know who I am. You know where I live, you know where I work and I’m sure that within half an hour of our leaving, you’ll be on the phone to Ella asking for the low-down.’ He picked up the can of lager that was still wedged in the sand. ‘And I’ve only drunk around half an inch out of this can, so I’m perfectly safe to drive.’
‘Ella, are you sure?’
Ella felt Sarah’s glare as she held her shoulders and searched her eyes for any indication that she wasn’t happy. But Ella nodded. ‘Honestly, you two get off. Go and enjoy yourselves.’
Sarah shuffled on the spot. ‘Well, we do kind of have some unfinished business that we’d really like to take care of … if you know what I mean … So …’ She continued to hug Ella and a laugh came from somewhere deep within her. It started soft, but turned dirty, making Ella know exactly what the unfinished business was.
Chapter Ten
Will dropped his keys into his desk drawer, slammed it shut, switched on his laptop and stared into the screen which illuminated his office. It was dark outside and over an hour since he’d dropped Ella off at her house.
The journey back from the beach had been quite tense. Even though Ella had chatted quite openly, he’d glanced over to where she’d sat and had felt his heart reach out to her as she’d practically clung to the car door during the whole journey home. Her nails had dug into the vinyl and he’d noticed how, at one point, she’d opened the window, just a fraction to allow the breeze to waft her in the face. He knew she’d been nervous of getting in a car with a man she barely knew and rightly so, especially after what she’d been through. He’d watched the fear as it tore through her face, just as it had that night in her garden and once again he had wanted to reach across, pull her into his arms, erase all the bad memories and take away every inch of her pain. But just as he’d realised on the beach, he knew that he couldn’t. It would have been the worst thing he could have done. What’s more, it was obvious that she didn’t want to be touched, comforted or looked after. To do any of these things could have had her leaping from the vehicle whilst still in motion.
The only thing
that made him feel just a little better was the fact that she’d have probably acted exactly the same way if she were alone in a taxi.
He looked up at the clock. It was now well past midnight. The office was closed and the only journalists still working would be typing up reports from home, not sitting behind a desk in a dark and empty office block.
But he’d been unable to sleep. After dropping Ella off, he’d gone into his house and paced in and out of the newly-fitted kitchen, before taking himself to bed, where he’d tossed and turned, his head full of Ella. The things that she’d told him had gone around and around in his mind. She’d told him about what she’d gone through first-hand. She’d repeated her dislike of reporters and once again he’d tried to tell her about his job. But Ella had begun to sneeze repeatedly, and once again the moment had been lost. He knew that he had to tell her, he just didn’t know how.
Somehow, he had to prove to her that he was different. She’d told him that there had been just one reporter she’d trusted, just one that she’d allowed to help her, which meant that there was hope of getting her to trust him too. He just didn’t know how without her considering that he might just be one of the vultures that had hurt her so badly before.
He knew she’d seen him in court. He’d sat there for the duration of the trial, hiding at the back of the gallery, listening to the evidence, yet at the time even he hadn’t understood why he’d gone. He’d had another reporter covering the case, writing a story that he knew he’d eventually edit. So, there was no real purpose for him being there. Except for the fact that he cared. He’d wanted to make sure that Ella was okay. He’d wanted to see the man accused of attacking her, but most of all he’d wanted to see her get justice.
But her case had fallen apart and her ‘so called’ attacker had been set free, and he’d moved mountains to ensure that his paper had stayed impartial. The last thing he’d wanted was for Ella to look bad, but he knew that by writing the truth, Rick Greaves would have got the sympathy vote. After all, he’d been a man who it appeared had been falsely detained for six months, only to be set free at the end of the court case. The defence barrister had blown the whole case apart and Will had seen the torment that Ella had gone through. In his eyes she’d been through enough already and the last thing she needed was for him to plaster her face all over the front page of the Scarborough Star, so he’d carefully positioned the well-edited story on page six with a short headline that he hoped would gain no attention.
