Ottercombe Bay, Part 1

by Bella Osborne

  Chapter Eight

  In the few days since the village fête Daisy had become restless. The wanderlust was kicking in, as it always did, and she felt the need to get away. So much so she even offered to take the dog for a walk before she went to bed.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Aunt Coral, grimacing as she lowered her sprained ankle onto a floral cushion. It wasn’t improving at the speed Daisy would have liked. She wanted to leave Ottercombe Bay as soon as possible, but she couldn’t leave Aunt Coral when she was still hobbling about.

  ‘No problem,’ called Daisy, clipping the dog’s lead onto Bugsy’s collar. ‘Have a rest while I’m gone. Bye,’ added Daisy and she made steps to leave. Bugsy had other intentions. Daisy realised he wasn’t planning on going with her when she found she was dragging the reluctant dog up the hall.

  ‘Come on, Bugsy, let’s go walkies,’ she trilled. Bugsy stared unblinking at her, his giant dark eyes fixed on hers. Daisy gave a gentle pull on the lead but Bugsy stayed put. Daisy bent down to the small dog and put out her fingers so he could take in her scent. She guessed he was still missing Reg and having this stranger in the house was probably confusing for him. He sniffed Daisy’s proffered hand of goodwill and sneezed his response all over it.

  ‘Oh, come on,’ hissed Daisy, losing her patience and wiping her hand down her jeans. She was met by the same stare of defiance. Daisy stared back. She tugged on the lead and the stocky little dog slid along the polished floor on his bum but as he met the rough surface of the doormat he found his feet and trotted outside.

  ‘Huh,’ said Daisy with great satisfaction mentally marking up a point each on the imaginary scoreboard. She hoped that would be the end of it, that Bugsy would now see who was boss. It was the least he could do, if it wasn’t for her he wouldn’t be going for a walk at all – he could show a little gratitude.

  It was a warm July evening, with a clear starry sky. The first few minutes of their stroll were uneventful until Bugsy bobbed down on a small patch of grass, gave Daisy a superior look before turning his back and straining hard.

  ‘No!’ yelled Daisy frantically checking her pockets for the poo bags she knew weren’t there. Daisy searched about her. It was getting dark; perhaps she could just walk away and leave Bugsy’s little deposit? But at that moment someone came around the corner a few feet away. Bugsy spotted them too and made a big show of scuffing up the grass and inadvertently his own deposit. There was little Daisy could do but watch as the piece of poo flew through the darkness and disappeared.

  ‘Hello, Daisy,’ said the over-friendly policeman.

  ‘Hi Jason.’

  She had never felt quite so guilty as she did right now. The orange sign on the lamppost, stating the maximum penalty for dog fouling was £1000, was at head height with Jason and was not helping one little bit.

  ‘You okay?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ said Daisy, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. She tried to keep one eye on him whilst attempting to locate the errant piece of poo. An excruciating silence followed where Jason bobbed his head encouragingly as if expecting Daisy to say something – or was he expecting a full confession? He couldn’t prove the poo was Bugsy’s, she’d deny everything. ‘You, um, on the late shift tonight?’ she said, sounding a lot like Aunt Coral and wondering how long it would be before she was shopping at Marks and Spencer.

  ‘I should have finished half an hour ago but someone thought they saw Nesbit on the church spire. It was just a very large seagull. Would you like me to walk with you?’ He pointed towards the beach.

  ‘No, it’s okay. We’re on our way home now, thanks. We’ve been out ages,’ she lied, shooting a look at Bugsy just in case he had a canine way of contradicting her.

  ‘Oh, okay,’ said Jason, looking thoroughly disappointed.

  ‘Another time,’ said Daisy and instantly regretted it.

  Jason’s glum face lit up. ‘I’d love to. That would be … well … lovely,’ he said, his grin so broad she was surprised he could form words. ‘Thursday perhaps?’

  ‘No, sorry I’m busy.’ She crossed her fingers behind her back. She didn’t like lying but Jason wasn’t her type, in fact, nobody was right now – she didn’t need the complications that came with dating.

  ‘How about tomorrow? I need to drop the railway memorabilia back to you.’

  ‘Okay, great. Thanks,’ she said. She couldn’t wriggle out if he was helping her.

  Daisy saw her chance to escape. She kept to the roadside edge of the pavement as she skirted around Jason, keen to avoid the missing lump of poo. ‘Bye,’ she said, giving a tug on Bugsy’s lead and he begrudgingly followed her. She heard Jason let out a yelp and turning back she could see him standing on one leg trying to inspect his other shoe. It appeared Jason may have found Bugsy’s lost deposit. Daisy put her head down and hurried back to Aunt Coral.

  They reached the porch and Daisy decided she needed to have a word with the dog about calling a truce. Daisy crouched down and Bugsy stood his ground.

  ‘Now listen, Bug.’ She felt the shortened name suited him better. ‘You and me need to get along for Aunt Coral’s sake.’ Bug tilted his head to one side so he at least looked like he was listening. ‘It’s what Reg would have wanted.’ At the mention of Reg’s name Bug barked. It was a short sharp yap that in this close proximity made Daisy jump and she promptly toppled backwards and landed on her bum. She was not happy. Bug on the other hand looked very pleased with himself. He sniffed the air, turned around and scuffed up the ground just as he had done to cover up his own poo. It felt to Daisy like a clear statement of how he felt.

  Daisy got up and brushed the bits off her backside. ‘Right, fine. Have it your way. But I’m warning you …’ she said as she took him inside. Bug marched through the door without a backward glance and the battle lines were drawn.

  ‘Hi, love, everything okay?’ called Aunt Coral.

  ‘Yeah, we’re good,’ said Daisy unclipping the lead and wagging a finger at Bug, which he studiously ignored.

  ‘You weren’t gone long.’

  Daisy openly sighed. ‘No, Bug … Bugsy wanted to head back.’ At the mention of his name Bug turned and glowered at Daisy like he knew what she was doing. She mimed that she was watching him. He turned away and trotted in to see Aunt Coral who greeted him warmly. Daisy went to put the kettle on and a few minutes later came in carrying two cups of tea. Bug yapped his disapproval at Daisy and she nearly spilled the drinks.

  ‘Oh, now Bugsy,’ said Aunt Coral with a chuckle. ‘He’s asking where his tea is.’

  ‘What, now?’ said Daisy, as pleasantly as she could manage.

  ‘Bugsy sometimes likes a cup of tea. Well, a bowl of tea. Would you mind?’

  Yes, she minded very much. She didn’t want to be Bug’s slave. This dog was playing mind games and he was super effective at it. ‘I don’t think tea’s good for dogs,’ said Daisy, giving Bug a smug stare.

  ‘It’s decaff and he only has a little bit with milk.’ Aunt Coral’s eyes were almost pleading.

  ‘Okay,’ said Daisy, her lips pinched. It was absurd.

  Daisy returned and put the tea on the floor near Bug. He sniffed it, sneezed in it and trotted out of the room. Another point pinged up against his name on the imaginary scoreboard.

  ‘Daisy, I’ve been having a look at Reg’s accounts.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Daisy distractedly – she was contemplating how to restore the balance of power between her and the dog.

  ‘He had rather more money than I realised,’ said Aunt Coral, passing Daisy a bank statement.

  Daisy scanned it and came to the high five-figure balance. ‘Bloody hell.’ Aunt Coral looked amused. ‘Sorry,’ added Daisy automatically.

  ‘I know. The solicitor has been in touch about distribution. They are transferring mine in the next couple of days. Yours will be held by them for the year but if you needed me to lend you some money in the meantime I’d be happy to.’

  ‘Thank you, that’s really k
ind.’ Daisy handed back the statement. She did desperately need some cash.

  ‘The Lifeboat will be thrilled when they get their share.’

  ‘Yeah, I bet they will,’ agreed Daisy. Her mind whirred with possibilities. She could do a lot with her share of the money. Flights to South America would no longer be out of the question. It would be a chance to properly explore far-flung countries without working all hours. The world was once again her oyster but to get that money she had to stay in Ottercombe Bay for a whole year and she wasn’t sure if she could. Being in one place went against all she was used to, moving on was her norm. Ottercombe Bay filled her with sadness as there was no escaping her mother’s death. Everywhere she went, all the people she saw were a constant reminder.

  The next morning Daisy was woken by piercing yaps outside her door and she had to quell the desire to shout at the dog to shut up. She checked the clock, it was six thirty. Bug’s demands to be let out in the garden were getting earlier and earlier. He definitely had the upper hand, or paw, because the thought of clearing up his wee was worse than dragging herself out of bed. She eased herself from under the covers and stepped over yesterday’s clothes.

  She quickly gathered herself up, flung open her bedroom door and marched into the hallway where she met Aunt Coral.

  ‘Good morning, love. Did you sleep well?’ Aunt Coral’s kindly question caught Daisy unawares.

  ‘No, Bug keeps barking.’ She was tired and grumpy – not a good combination.

  ‘Oh, he doesn’t usually. I hope he’s all right,’ said Aunt Coral, inching her way towards the kitchen.

  Why can nobody else see his villainous plan? thought Daisy. He is an evil dictator. Perhaps he’s the reincarnation of Mussolini, she thought, or an even better fit might be Vlad the Impaler. Perhaps Min could get a message from him she wondered.

  ‘You go back to bed. I’ll put the kettle on,’ said Aunt Coral, her expression jolly. Daisy’s shoulders sloped forward, she’d never get back to sleep now. Thanks to Bug her brain was well and truly awake.

  ‘No, it’s okay. You rest your ankle I’ll get us some breakfast.’

  ‘Perhaps before that you could give Bugsy a walk? I think he didn’t go far enough last night. That’s probably the problem.’

  Daisy gritted her teeth and headed for the kitchen muttering about Vlad the Impaler.

  A couple of hours later Daisy was chewing her toast in silence while she and Bug had a staring competition, which annoyingly he won paws down. A rap of knuckles on the front door had both Daisy and Bug heading in that direction.

  When she entered the porch she could see it was Jason and Max. What did they want?

  ‘Is this a bad time?’ asked Jason. He held the old railway box aloft. ‘I have some good news about the memorabilia.’ He gave a toothy smile.

  Daisy tried to look welcoming. ‘Thanks, Jason, you’d better come in.’ Max averted his gaze and followed Jason in. You buy one, you get one free, she thought.

  Aunt Coral met them in the hallway. ‘Good morning, boys.’

  ‘Good morning, Coral. Lovely to see you up and about. How’s the ankle?’ asked Jason. Everyone followed him into the living room. Max stepped back to let Daisy go in front and she acknowledged his gesture. She was still mad at him for their altercation in the pub and the snide comments at the fête.

  Jason put the box on the table and unpacked the items. ‘The documentation isn’t worth anything but a serious GWR collector might give you a few pounds for it.’

  ‘GWR?’ asked Daisy.

  ‘Great Western Railways. They ran the branch line that ran from Exeter to here. Some people specialise in certain railway companies,’ said Jason. He continued unpacking. ‘The brush isn’t in great condition but should still fetch a few pounds. These pamphlets are quite interesting.’ He held up three yellowing booklets. ‘These are probably worth about ten pounds each.’

  ‘Ooh, that’s fabulous, Jason.’ Aunt Coral was leaning forward with interest, whereas Daisy was already quite bored. The effort of selling them was outweighing the return. Max looked similarly uninterested.

  ‘These photographs were in an envelope and they’re well preserved. Probably local interest only but worth five to ten pounds each. The real star of the show, however, is this.’ He held up the cast iron ‘Beware of the trains’ sign and everyone waited. He was building up his part and even Daisy was a little intrigued. ‘We could be looking at as much as eighty to a hundred pounds for this.’

  ‘Great,’ said Daisy with a yawn and she went to get the rest of her toast. She paused in the hallway as she heard the conversation start up in the living room after she’d left.

  ‘Is Daisy okay? Only Tamsyn said she saw her crying at the fête,’ said Jason.

  ‘Oh, poor love. She tries to put a brave face on it but it must be hard,’ said Aunt Coral.

  ‘Are we talking about her mother topping herself?’ asked Max.

  ‘Cause of death was drowning,’ said Jason.

  ‘She could have drowned herself,’ said Max.

  ‘It was unclear if abrasions on Sandy’s forehead were caused before or after she died.’ Jason had a look of Hercule Poirot about him.

  ‘Nobody knows exactly what happened. They just found her washed up on the beach one morning,’ said Aunt Coral with a shudder.

  ‘Sorry, that was just what I heard,’ said Max, his tone conciliatory.

  ‘Poor Daisy,’ said Jason. ‘It must be hard being back here with all the memories. It is a proper mystery, perhaps …’ Daisy strolled into the room and Jason stopped speaking. He cleared his throat. ‘Sorry, Daisy.’

  ‘Is this what it’s going to be like? A year of everyone whispering behind my back. All the speculation dredged up again. Because there are no answers, you know?’ She clutched her locket as she spoke.

  ‘We just care about you, that’s all,’ said Aunt Coral.

  Daisy shook her head. ‘I don’t need you to—’

  Max stood up. ‘People around here try and look after each other, you’ll have to get used to it if you’re sticking around.’

  ‘I don’t know if I’m staying but either way I can look after myself.’ Daisy was trying hard not to shout.

  ‘You are so selfish and if you don’t appreciate that people will want to help, maybe you should leave.’ Max’s voice rose to match hers.

  ‘If staying means everyone meddling in my life, then perhaps I should.’

  ‘If you consider it meddling then, yeah, go!’ shouted Max.

  ‘Fine!’ Daisy stormed out of the room.

  ‘Now, Max. That was uncalled for,’ said Aunt Coral, swinging her legs off the cushion and standing up.

  Max pushed his hair off his face. ‘I’m sorry, Coral. I didn’t mean to upset you—’

  ‘But evidently you did mean to upset Daisy,’ she scolded, hobbling out of the room.

  Jason carefully put the plaque back in the box and looked at Max. ‘I guess none of us handled that well.’

  Max patted him on the back. ‘It’s okay mate. Come on, let’s get going if you’re still giving me a lift to work.’

  ‘Daisy, please don’t overreact,’ came Coral’s voice. Max and Jason were in the hall when the thundering footsteps on the stairs announced Daisy’s arrival. She was clutching an orange wash bag and wrestling with an overstuffed backpack.

  ‘I’m sorry Aunt Coral, but Max is right. I don’t belong in Ottercombe Bay and no amount of money is worth staying for.’ She shot a glare at Max whilst she continued to struggle with the rucksack.

  Daisy finally got the bag done up and pushed past the men, gaining some satisfaction from shunting Max to one side. She gave the front door a shove and strode outside.

  ‘You know I really think we should intervene,’ said Jason, watching Daisy over his shoulder as she put on her motorcycle helmet. Jason and Max walked to the police car.

  ‘She was never going to stay,’ said Max. He shook his head and got in the passenger seat. Aunt Coral was stan
ding in the doorway with a yapping Bugsy under her arm. Both vehicles started at the same time but Daisy got away first. She blew a kiss to Aunt Coral and rode off in front of Jason.

  Daisy’s heart was thumping. She was cross and quickly overheating thanks to the combination of leathers, backpack and temper. Max had pressed all her buttons. She had to put herself first, that was how it had always been. If she didn’t look out for herself, who would? It was a self-preservation thing and it had served her well. She indicated and followed the coast road, she may as well have one last look at the sea. She saw the headland and felt a twinge of sadness at seeing her mother’s favourite place. But she felt the locket against her skin and was reassured. Turning her head briefly to catch a glimpse of the coastline something caught her eye. A figure in long flowing clothes was standing on the cliffs. Mum? For a moment Daisy lost concentration and the bike wobbled. She gripped the handlebars and maintained control but a loud noise behind startled her. It was the sound of a police siren. She checked her mirror – it was Jason.

  Jason or not, it was still the police so she pulled over and the patrol car stopped behind her, its blue lights flashing wildly. She removed her helmet and took a deep breath. Max glared at her from the passenger seat and Daisy sneered back; she was tempted to stick her tongue out but decided against it.

  Jason strode over. ‘Daisy, please don’t go like this.’

  ‘Jason, you are lovely, but it’s honestly best for everyone if I go.’ She looked over to the headland. The figure in flowing clothes was now walking towards them and she was reassured to see it was Tamsyn. For a moment she’d wondered if she was hallucinating, although that hadn’t happened since the mushroom soup in Goa.

  ‘You know I could arrest you? If that’s what it takes to make you stay,’ said Jason, the corner of his mouth lifting. ‘There were a couple of traffic violations back there.’

  Daisy gave a half laugh. She was touched by Jason’s attempts to keep her there.