The Glass Tower

by Gregg Dunnett

  "Yes, we probably should start moving people out now. We don't want to get cut off." Carla ran away to do her bidding, and Marion continued.

  "It’s a shame that the lighthouse itself isn’t open yet. You know they’re turning it into a lodge? A kind of artists’ retreat I hear. I expect your book will do wonders for it. They should let you stay there for free!” Marion laughed happily at the thought.

  "Yes," Julia replied, forcing herself to smile. She tried not to think about her own long drive home.

  But it wasn’t a truly bitter smile. Julia had always known this would happen at the end of the night. What was important was the future. The glorious future she had achieved for herself. Her glorious future.

  Outside in the car park four minibuses were waiting with their engines running. They looked warm, quite cosy, and Julia felt a further pang of regret that she couldn't climb aboard with these wonderful people and let the magic of the evening continue. Furthermore, she was given a new problem. She couldn't simply get in her car and begin her drive home, since everyone would wonder why she was leaving the island. So instead she was forced to wave her goodbyes, say her thank-yous and then walk away, pretending to go on foot to whichever of the nearby cottages they believed was hers. The subterfuge sat uneasy on her, not least because it seemed impossible that one day these people wouldn't discover she didn't live on the island at all, but nearly forty miles away. But as she walked towards the row of coastguard cottages she had decided to adopt, she thought up the excuse she would use. She would claim that, though she didn't actually live on the island, she had a friend who did, and who had agreed to put her up for the night. They would never ask who – that would be prying. And so she left the minibuses behind and walked away into the darkness. She soon realised there was no need to cover the half mile or so to the nearest cottage; she could simply lurk in the darkness, off the road until the minibuses pulled away. So that’s what she did, watching as their lights picked through the village and down onto the causeway. They were out of sight there, but she could imagine them, a procession of rear lights bumping through the puddles, with the tide creeping in unseen on either side. There was an anxious moment as she checked her watch. But there was time enough for her to cross too, if she was quick. She relaxed and walked back to the car park.

  It was unfortunate, that was all, she told herself as she dug in her purse for her keys. Just one of those misunderstandings that couldn't be helped. And she had done exactly the right thing – had she come clean it would just have embarrassed everyone. It wasn't such a hardship to drive home. It would give her time to think. Perhaps she might even have an idea about what she would write next – a subject that was already beginning to concern her. Or perhaps it wouldn't do to worry about that now. Perhaps she could indulge herself instead by sinking into her latest fantasy, her daydream about moving house, to London. Somewhere close to where all her new friends actually lived. Maybe then she could have evenings like this all the time. She admonished herself – once again – for such grandiose thinking. The idea was preposterous, there was no way she could afford to live in London. Indeed, she only lived where she did now because it was cheap. But the thought was overtaken by her growing acceptance of reality. The simple truth was, for the first time in her life, she could afford it. She could afford just about anything.

  The very idea of it made her stand tall. It put a spring in her step.

  And thus as she approached her car, she gave little regard to the old camper van that she had parked behind, or to the fact that its bonnet was now standing open. It was only when she reached her car door that she realised a figure was standing by the wall in front of her.

  "Hello again," a voice said in the darkness. Julia jumped.

  "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you!" It was a girl's voice, gentle and kind, and after a moment Julia recognised it. It belonged to the girl who had taken her wine bottle, the waitress who had helped her. There was someone else there too, leaning into the dark recess of the van's engine bay.

  "It's the battery I think," Julia heard from the darkness. This was a masculine voice, sounding angry, or frustrated.

  "We've got a bit of car trouble," the girl explained apologetically. "Well, van trouble. It's Rob's camper, it's always doing this."

  Julia realised the man standing at the front of the van was the waiter who had served the drinks all evening. He'd been hard not to notice, tall and good-looking. Dimly, she understood he was probably the boyfriend of the girl. A flicker of irrational jealously shot through her.

  She hesitated. Had she actually made it into her car by now, she might have been tempted to just drive away, but to do so with the girl standing right by her seemed impossibly rude. So instead, and knowing precisely nothing about cars or engines, she stepped forward.

  "What exactly is the trouble?" she asked.

  The boy didn't answer – maybe he hadn't heard. Julia saw now he was examining a part of the engine with the light from his mobile phone screen. The girl replied.

  "It's the battery. Well, it is this time. It's always something though, with this van." She cast a look to Julia's car hopefully. "I don't suppose..." She hesitated, as if it really pained her to ask. "I don't suppose you've got any jump leads, have you?"

  "Jump leads?" An image of a skipping rope formed in Julia's mind. She had no idea how it might help.

  "They won't help us," the boy interrupted. He pulled his head out of the bonnet and joined the girl, wiping his hands on his jeans. "It would just drain the battery in a little car like that. We could try to bump start it, but there's a hill to get out of the car park first. I don't think we could even move it."

  For a moment the three of them stood in silence. Julia hadn't fully understood what the boy had said, but the implication was clear enough. More than anything she wanted to get in her own car, fire up her (remarkably reliable) engine and get going on her drive home. But to do so would leave this young couple with a vehicle that wouldn't start, stranded in the darkness. And that seemed such an unpleasant idea, that she couldn't do it.

  "Do you have far to go?" she asked, as if a broken-down van would somehow be more useful on shorter journeys than on longer ones.

  "Southampton," the girl answered. "We're at uni there," she added, as if the three of them were making polite conversation. But there was hope in her voice too.

  Julia felt a shaft of relief. Southampton was about thirty miles in the opposite direction from where she was going. They couldn't expect her to give them a lift that far. She exhaled theatrically, attempting to at least appear troubled by their predicament. Then an idea occurred to her.

  "Are you members of the AA? Could you call them?"

  At first neither of them answered. But then the girl did, though reticently, as if afraid she might upset Julia.

  "I don't think so. It's quite expensive..." She sounded embarrassed. "But there's no mobile reception anyway. So I don't know how we'd call them if we were."

  "Oh." Julia considered pulling out her own phone, so that perhaps they could use it and somehow get on their way. But when she'd looked earlier, she'd had no reception either.

  There was an awkward moment of silence.

  "Whereabouts are you headed?" the girl asked. She spoke in the same cheery voice as before. There was no suggestion that maybe she was angling for a lift. She still seemed to be just making conversation. And it worked, too. Julia replied quite enthusiastically.

  "Oh, right out into the sticks. I live in a little village about ten miles past Dorchester. I'm afraid it's in quite the opposite direction to where you’re headed." Julia felt herself smile in the darkness, and her hand went back to the door handle of her car.

  "Dorchester?" the boy said sharply, and apparently to the girl. "That's where your folks live. If we could get there your dad could give me a lift back in his Volvo. That would get this started."

  Julia's hand pulled away from her car as if she had received an electric shock. She was glad the darkness ha
d hidden the action. Why had she said the name of a town? She could have just said she was driving out into the sticks. They wouldn't have probed as to exactly where, it would have been rude.

  "Are you actually passing Dorchester?" the girl asked. This time the hope was clear in her voice.

  Julia considered what to say. In twenty-two years of driving she had never once picked up a hitchhiker or – as far as she could remember – a stranger in any capacity. Indeed, she considered it a real risk to do so. A memory surfaced. A film she had once watched, about a woman who had hitch-hiked from a service station, and ended up buried alive. Julia didn't make a point of watching such films, but it had been a foreign language film and highly critically acclaimed. She still remembered the car – a yellow Volvo. She frowned, wondering why this had sprung to mind.

  But that wasn't the same situation as this, not by a long way. This was a pleasant young couple who would be very stuck if she didn't offer to help.

  Nonetheless, a variety of excuses formed in her mind. She normally used the bypass around Dorchester. She was low on fuel. She was late for – for what? It was eleven o'clock at night. She couldn't be late for anything. Furthermore, she realised that if she didn't give these people a lift their options were virtually nil. There was no operational phone box on the island (there was a box, but the phone had long since been removed, replaced by tubs of pretty flowers). There would certainly be no taxis passing right out here, and probably no traffic at all, apart from her. And if she didn't hurry, she too would be stuck here. She thought of the tide creeping in even now. Silently cutting off her escape. Perhaps the couple could sleep in their van? The girl had called it a camper van after all. Hope flared in Julia's mind at the thought – but then it died. It was cold. And no battery meant no lights. Their only light was the dim glow from the boy's mobile phone.

  And then – beyond the scope of the couple's immediate predicament – what was she even thinking? She was on the verge of becoming one of the most famous, most successful, richest authors in the country. Was it really such a hardship to share her car for fifteen minutes to help these poor people out? Of course not! So instead of continuing to think up elaborate excuses to escape, a thought began to settle within her. A good, kind thought.

  "Well, usually, yes. I go right through Dorchester. Why don't you come with me and I’ll drop you off?"

  There was just a second when she thought of being buried alive, but that was nonsense.

  "Oh, would you?" Though she tried to disguise it, the flood of relief in the girl’s voice was obvious. "Would you really? I was getting worried we were going to spend the night here."

  "It would be a bit dark and scary!" Julia joked, and the girl laughed in agreement. She had a lovely laugh. It shone like a golden light in the darkness.

  "Rob? What do you think? Is that a good idea?" the girl went on, and Julia found herself holding her breath while he decided their fate. Now she actually wanted to give the couple a lift. To spend a little more time in the company of that beautiful sound.

  "That's very kind of you," he said, a little stiffly. "We hate to put you out. But that would be great."

  Julia decided she liked him as well. He was polite. Perhaps a bit grumpy, but then his van had broken at a most inconvenient time, so that was only to be expected.

  "Excellent," she said, getting into the spirit now. "And it's no bother at all. That's if my little car actually starts," she joked. "It's not the most reliable!"

  Happily, she pulled open the door, and while the boy – Rob – put the bonnet down on the van, Julia leaned across and opened the passenger side. She helped the girl rock the front seat forward, to give her access to the back.

  "I'm Becky, by the way," she said as she climbed in.

  "Nice to meet you Becky," Julia replied. "My name is..."

  "I know what your name is– " Becky interrupted her quickly. There was a sudden silence.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean... It's just, I know who you are."

  Julia was momentarily baffled. She remembered, of course, that they'd met earlier, but she hadn't told the girl her name.

  "You're the author. You're Julia Ottley!"

  Julia turned around in surprise.

  "I can't wait to read your book. I’ve seen all the reviews. It sounds fantastic. I'm so excited," Becky said.

  "Really?" Julia replied.

  "Of course! I had to try so hard to stay cool when I met you earlier. But I didn't think you'd want some silly fan hassling you just when you're making your big entrance! I was okay, wasn't I?" she asked. Suddenly she sounded worried.

  "Hassling me..?"

  But Julia was interrupted by Rob getting into the car. He was so tall that he had to fold himself in, and his weight made the little car sag down on the passenger side. Becky leaned forward between the two seats. It gave Julia time to recover her composure.

  "I'm just a bit surprised that two young things like you would be interested."

  "Oh yeah! I'm studying English Literature, you see. And creative writing. So tonight was a dream come true for me. Not just one famous writer but lots of them!"

  "Oh." Julia began pulling her seatbelt across her. "That's wonderful..." She was beginning to feel invincible again. As if nothing could puncture her good spirits.

  "And how about you, Rob? What are you studying?"

  "Engineering."

  "Oh," said Julia as she clicked the buckle home. She couldn't think of a reply to that.

  But the moment of awkwardness didn't last. Julia turned the key and the engine roared into life. The headlights clicked on and lit up the darkness with a warm glow. Julia checked over her shoulder before releasing the handbrake, and saw Becky smiling at her.

  "Rob doesn't read much, but I read absolutely everything I can get my hands on. So I couldn't believe it when the agency said there was this job coming up. I begged them to let me do it."

  Becky was sitting forward on her seat, so that she was close enough to keep talking, but for a moment Julia ignored her. She backed carefully out of the parking space, the tyres crunching on the gravel. It then took Julia a moment or two to locate first gear and the gearbox ground in protest. But eventually it slotted in, and Julia rolled out of the car park.

  "I'm actually really surprised you've heard of me," Julia said, now that she was able to concentrate on the conversation.

  "Why?" Becky's sing-song voice sounded incredulous. "You're super-famous!"

  "Am I?" Julia replied. She heard herself beginning to simper and pulled herself together. But with all these compliments she was almost beginning to believe it.

  "Well, perhaps," she said. "But only within the very narrow world of literature."

  "I'm not sure about that," said Becky. "And anyway, what's more important than literature?"

  This line of reasoning delighted Julia and for a few moments she drove in silence just enjoying the strange turn that this evening had now taken. She steered the little car down off the island and out onto the causeway. The tide had risen more than she had bargained for, and already it was joining the puddles together in the middle. Another ten minutes and they would have been too late, but Julia simply splashed through as if they were no more threatening than puddles in a supermarket car park.

  "What was it like to write your book?" Becky asked suddenly. The question surprised Julia. Despite all the questions she had answered throughout the night, no one had asked this.

  "I don't know. Hard, I suppose."

  "Oh, yes. Obviously. But what I mean was, was it also thrilling? Did you know how brilliant it was?"

  It was an excellent question and Julia considered for a long time before answering.

  "I don't know,” she said at last. “I certainly wasn't expecting it to make so much..." Julia stopped herself. Talking about the money was so vulgar, and clearly the girl was asking about something deeper.

  "I just know I felt... compelled. Compelled to finish it. That it was something important, you know?" She glanced
again at the girl who was smiling at her from the backseat, her big eyes wide.

  "I just knew that however hard it was, I had to finish it. Whatever happened." Julia smiled back at the girl, but Becky stayed silent, as if considering what Julia had said.

  "Does your mother actually live in Dorchester?" Julia asked as they moved onto a properly surfaced road and began to climb up the hill. "It's such a lovely town."

  Becky seemed content to move the conversation on, too. "We've got one of those houses near the station. You know, the big ones."

  "Oh, really?" Julia said, genuinely interested. "I've always wondered what those houses are like."

  "Oh, they're great," Becky said. "You should come in! Have a look around."

  Julia smiled but didn’t reply in case it quashed the girl’s delightful over-enthusiasm. It was nearing midnight. It certainly wouldn’t be appropriate to accept the offer.

  Yet for the next five miles the conversation continued on a similarly easy thread. It felt to Julia as if she had become firm friends with Becky, almost from the moment they began talking. Rob didn't contribute much to the conversation. In fact, later on, Julia wouldn’t be able to recall a single word he’d spoken in the car beyond "engineering" – at least until the accident. But such was the wonderful flow of her and Becky's conversation that it hardly mattered.

  And there were a few minutes yet before Julia’s world would shatter.

  Four

  The roads between Hunsey Island and Dorchester were totally empty. They weren't the type of roads that got much traffic even when they were busy, but at this time of night they were simply deserted. Julia was able to drive with her full beam headlights, although with her cautious nature she rested her hand on the steering wheel so that it was ready to flick the lights down at any moment. Becky continued to chat the whole way, and she seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of compliments and stories about how she and her friends were looking forward to Julia's book – and all the future books that Julia would, no doubt, write. In some ways it was a continuation of how well the evening had gone at the party – but in other ways it was even more gratifying. Since Becky wasn't an invited guest, with an interest in supporting Julia and the book, she was something even more wonderful – an actual fan!