‘There were lights on the cliff last night.’
Arthur looked interested. ‘Did you draw them?’
I pulled out my sketchbook and showed him. He looked carefully at my drawings, asking questions. ‘Have you seen these lights before?’
I nodded. ‘When I was a little girl.’ I licked my lips, trying to stop my voice from drying out. ‘The light was red this time. It was yellow light before, like from a candle.’
‘It was a full moon last night,’ Arthur said.
I nodded. ‘But cloudy. It was really dark,’ I told him. I waved my hand in front of my face, showing him how black the night had been.
Arthur nodded, understanding what I meant. He looked down at the picture again, pointing to the glow I’d captured. ‘What’s this?’ he asked.
‘A glow,’ I said. ‘Not the red light.’ I thought for a moment. ‘Other-worldly.’
‘Other-worldly?’ Arthur raised an eyebrow.
I tugged his sleeve and pointed to the stained-glass window that showed the Angel Gabriel appearing to Mary. ‘Like an angel.’
‘Do you think it was a spirit?’ Arthur’s eyes were wide.
I chuckled, knowing it sounded ridiculous, and shrugged. That was what it had looked like, but there had to be a more realistic explanation.
Arthur straightened the pile of hymnbooks. ‘We should go,’ he said. ‘See what’s up there.’
‘To the clifftop?’
‘Yes.’
I felt a shiver of fear. The cliffs were unstable and the sea below was rough. I shook my head.
‘We won’t go near the edge, Em.’
‘It’s not a spirit.’
‘Then what is it?’ Arthur’s eyes gleamed with curiosity.
‘Morgan,’ I said.
Arthur sighed. ‘Really? How could these lights have anything to do with him?’
I thought for a moment. ‘Because,’ I said, slowly. ‘The lights were there when Da died.’
‘Right …’
‘And now. Again.’ It seemed more than a coincidence to me, but Arthur didn’t seem to be persuaded.
‘You said it was a spirit from another world.’
I shook my head. I’d said it looked like a spirit, not that it was something unearthly.
Arthur grinned. ‘So let’s go up on the cliffs,’ he said.
I nodded, as the banging of the church door made us both jump.
‘Why would you want to go up on the cliffs?’ a voice said.
Arthur made a face at me and then put on his best vicar’s son smile. ‘Hello there, Mr Trewin,’ he said.
‘Hello, young Arthur,’ Mr Trewin said. He was a rotund man with a large moustache and ruddy cheeks. He looked healthy and well-fed, unlike me with my hollow cheeks and bony arms. I looked at Mr Trewin’s round belly and remembered the shame my mother and I had felt when she’d asked for his help and he’d not given it. I didn’t trust him one tiny bit, and I disliked him even more. ‘I was looking for your father but I heard you talking.’
He looked at me through narrowed eyes. ‘Cat got your tongue, Emily Moon?’
I dropped my gaze, feeling my throat clench. I couldn’t speak to him now even if I wanted to.
Mr Trewin raised his bushy eyebrows and then turned his attention back to Arthur. ‘Why would you be going up on the cliffs? They’re not safe, you know.’
Arthur shrugged. ‘Emily likes to draw. We wanted to look at the view. We’re not going to go close to the edge.’
‘That’s what they all say,’ Mr Trewin said. ‘Before they fall.’
I felt a shiver down my spine. What did he mean? It sounded like a threat. But surely not?
Beside me, Arthur stood up straighter. ‘It’s nice of you to be concerned but we’ve grown up here. We know this area well and we won’t take any risks.’
Mr Trewin nodded. ‘Of course you do,’ he said. Then he grinned. ‘Do you know the stories?’
Arthur and I exchanged a look. ‘Stories?’ Arthur said.
‘About the spirits that walk along the clifftop on dark nights?’
Again we looked at each other, but this time I saw a flash of fear in Arthur’s eyes. He swallowed. ‘There are no such thing as spirits,’ he said. His voice had a quiver in it and I saw his glance dart to my sketchbook. ‘That’s a tall tale.’
Mr Trewin sat down in a pew. ‘Ah but it’s a good one. Want to hear it?’
I nodded enthusiastically, sitting down in the pew in front of him and turning round on the smooth wooden bench so I could look at him. Arthur followed me, more reluctantly.
‘Years ago when my father was a boy, there was a beautiful young woman who lived in Kirrinporth,’ Mr Trewin began. ‘She was like you, Emily Moon, with blonde hair and pale eyes.’
I smiled, despite myself. I knew this story was silly but I liked hearing it.
‘What was her name?’ Arthur said.
‘Her name was Theodora,’ Mr Trewin said. ‘And she had a sweetheart, did Theodora. A young man called Diggory.’
‘Diggory and Theodora?’ Arthur said, sounding sceptical. ‘All right. So what happened to them?’
‘They loved each other very much, but Theodora’s father was strict and had promised her to another,’ said Mr Trewin. ‘The young lovers were forced to meet in secret, on the clifftop where Emily’s inn now stands.’
He lowered his voice, forcing Arthur and I to lean in towards him so we could hear his story.
‘One dark night, when the clouds covered the moon, Theodora and Diggory arranged to meet on the top of the cliff. But it was so dark, they couldn’t find each other and they had no lamps.’
He paused and impatiently I tugged his sleeve to make him carry on.
‘As they looked for each other on the dark, dark clifftop, first Theodora and then Diggory plummeted into the sea and died.’
I breathed out slowly. What a sad story. But Mr Trewin wasn’t finished.
‘Now, on dark nights, it’s said the young lovers walk the clifftops, carrying ghostly lanterns to entice others up. But if anyone ventures on to the path, they’re pushed to their deaths so they can suffer like Diggory and Theodora did. Sometimes you can even see the couple walking along the edge of cliff, their unworldly figures glowing in the night, and their spirits doomed to roam the earth forever.’
He raised his voice as he said ‘forever’ and the word bounced around the echoey church.
Wide-eyed with fear, I looked at Arthur. Had it been Theodora and Diggory’s spirits I’d seen on the clifftop last night?
Arthur shivered dramatically. ‘Poor Diggory,’ he said. ‘What a sad tale, Mr Trewin.’
Mr Trewin nodded. ‘I’d stay away from the cliffs if I were you.’
‘We will, sir,’ Arthur said. ‘Thank you.’
Mr Trewin edged his solid frame out of the pew. ‘Where might I find your father?’
‘He went home, I believe,’ said Arthur politely. ‘I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you. Come, Emily, let’s finish these hymn books.’
We both slid along the pew and went back to the books we’d already stacked once. I wasn’t sure what Arthur was doing but I followed his lead as Mr Trewin said goodbye to us and left the church, letting the heavy door bang shut behind him.
As soon as he’d gone, I took a moment to gather myself, waiting for my throat to unclench. ‘Arthur,’ I said carefully. ‘We can’t go on the cliff. What about Theodora and Diggory?’
Arthur shook his head and frustrated I sighed. ‘You heard the story Mr Trewin told.’
‘He made it up,’ said Arthur. ‘He must have heard us talking about the lights and made it up.’
‘Why would he do that?’
‘I don’t know. He clearly doesn’t want us to go up on the cliffs for some reason. Maybe he’s just protective, or maybe there’s something else going on. But either way, he made it up.’
‘How do you know?’ I said. ‘He sounded very convincing.’
Arthur took my hand and, enjoyin
g the feeling of his fingers in mine, I let him lead me to the side of the church, close to where we’d been sitting.
‘Look,’ he said, pointing to a memorial stone in the wall. ‘He was facing this as he was talking.’
I looked at the stone he was showing me. Along the top on the memorial it said DIGGORY and beneath were listed the names of the Diggory family who’d died several years before. The first name was the family’s baby daughter, Theodora.
Astonished, I gasped.
‘He read the names from the stone,’ Arthur said. ‘Diggory and Theodora are figments of his imagination.’
I nodded and squeezed Arthur’s hand, which I was still holding. ‘Let’s go,’ I said.
‘Go where?’
‘To the cliffs.’
Chapter 12
Phoebe
2019
Liv and I went into Kirrinporth on the morning of the pub opening. Like everything else so far, it was totally different to what I’d expected. Disappointing, in fact. I’d pictured a sweet seaside village winding up the hill from the sea, with quirky little shops, perhaps some cobbled streets. Maybe even some bunting. What I got was a small town that could have been anywhere in England – right down to the Co-op on the corner and the weather-beaten Costa on the seafront. If it hadn’t been for the deserted beach, with one miserable-looking family perched under an umbrella while their kids dug in the sand, we could have been in any corner of South-East London.
‘There’s a fish and chip shop,’ I said, trying to find something positive to say.
Liv had nodded. ‘I went in there yesterday actually. Because I can’t afford to do food at The Moon Girl right now, I thought we might be able to do a deal where I take orders from customers and they deliver fish and chips.’
‘That’s a great idea. What did they say?’
‘They said no.’ Liv shrugged. ‘So I’m just going to buy a load of crisps from the Co-op and put them on the tables for tonight and worry about the food later.’
‘We could do sandwiches, perhaps?’ I suggested. ‘Even I can manage to put together a ham sarnie.’
We’d wandered round the town for a while, bought the crisps and peanuts, and window-shopped our way along the road, though there wasn’t much to see. There was a big church at one end of the main street, and a few shops selling tourist tat. We walked past a hardware store with brushes and buckets stacked outside and Liv stopped.
‘Just going to get a new mop for the floor,’ she said. ‘Do you want to wait here?’ She gave me all the bags of snacks and went inside.
I leaned against a lamp-post and contentedly watched the people going by, sizing them up, thinking about what they might be doing.
And then I saw her.
She was a little girl, maybe about four or five years old. She had a shock of messy hair that fell over her forehead and rainbow wellies. She was coming towards me, on the other side of the road, hopping from one puddle to another and, as far as I could see, she was completely on her own. I stood up straight, watching her, senses on alert. There was no one near her. No one who looked as though they were with her.
Splash! She landed in another puddle. Splash! And another. Then she stopped jumping and stared across the road at one of the shops near where I stood. It had a slushie machine outside and one of those cars that you put 50p in and they moved around and played an annoying tune. A small boy was riding in the car, waving a balloon and laughing madly and he’d obviously caught the little girl’s eye. She took a step towards the edge of the pavement and, worried she was about to step out into the road, I dropped the shopping bags and ran across to where she stood.
In one quick movement, I grabbed her and picked her up, taking her away from the danger. The little girl stared at me, open-mouthed with surprise, and then she threw her head back and screamed so loudly I thought the windows on all the shops nearby would shatter.
‘It’s okay,’ I said, putting her down on her rainbow wellies. ‘It’s fine. You just got a fright, that’s all.’
‘Get off her.’ I turned to see a woman, red-faced and angry, coming towards me. ‘Get off my daughter, you perv.’
‘Oh no,’ I said quickly. ‘She was on her own and I thought she was going to step out …’
‘I was right there,’ the mother said. ‘I was right there. I had my eye on her the whole time. You’ve got no right touching my daughter like that.’
Before I’d been worried and apologetic, but suddenly I was absolutely furious. ‘You weren’t right there, were you? I watched her for ages and she was on her own. You weren’t looking after her and she almost walked out into the road.’ I took a breath. ‘She could have been killed and it would have been all your fault.’ I felt very close to tears. ‘She’s only little,’ I said. ‘You need to take care of her.’
The girl was still sobbing, looking at me in confusion. The mother gathered her into her arms and glared at me.
‘Who are you to tell me what to do?’ she said. ‘You’re the one grabbing a child that doesn’t belong to you. Perv.’
‘Phoebe, what’s going on?’ Liv appeared next to me, looking worried. ‘What’s happening?’
‘She tried to take my daughter,’ the woman said.
‘I’ve called the police,’ a man said, emerging from the shop next to us with a phone in his hand. ‘Let them deal with her.’
‘I am the …’ I began and then stopped as a large PC with a shiny bald head waddled up behind the mother and the sobbing child.
I looked from the police officer to the mother, to the man with the phone, and to Liv. They were all staring at me with expressions that ranged from confusion to anger.
‘This woman left her child all alone,’ I said.
‘This woman tried to take my daughter.’
‘I tried to stop her walking into the road and being run over.’
The PC walked in between us. ‘Ladies,’ he said. ‘Seems to be a difference of opinion. Let’s not get hysterical.’
‘I was right behind her,’ the mother said. ‘I was watching her jumping from puddle to puddle.’
I blinked at her. Had she really been there? I shifted awkwardly on my feet. ‘You were there?’
‘I was just a few steps behind the whole time.’
I started to cry and Liv put her arm around me. ‘It’s fine, Phoebe,’ she said. ‘It’s fine. You thought you were doing the right thing.’
The mother looked awkward. ‘No harm done eh?’ she said. ‘We’ll get off.’
The police officer nodded and the woman hurried away with the little girl, clearly desperate to be gone. Liv let go of me and went over to the policeman, drawing him a bit away from me.
‘Listen,’ she said to him in a low voice, obviously not wanting me to hear. ‘She’s had a few issues recently. Some personal stuff. She just misinterpreted the situation.’
The PC glanced over at me and I wiped away a tear, feeling foolish.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘But make sure she doesn’t do anything like that again.’
I was quiet all the way back to the pub. I felt silly and also unsettled. How could I have been so wrong about what had happened? I hadn’t listened to my gut on Ciara James and she’d died. But when I did, I made a huge mistake, like I’d done today. Clearly, I couldn’t trust my instincts. I couldn’t even trust my own eyes. What was wrong with me?
‘Are you stewing about it?’ Liv said, as she pulled the car up at the pub. ‘Because you shouldn’t.’
I bit my lip.
‘Listen.’ Liv sounded uncharacteristically stern. ‘You are a very good police officer. You had a feeling about Ciara James’s stepfather but you waited until you had all the evidence before you acted. That was the right thing to do.’
‘I waited too long,’ I muttered.
‘You did the right thing,’ she said firmly. ‘And today was just a knee-jerk reaction. Imagine if that little girl had stepped out into the road?’ Liv said. ‘And you’d just stood there watching? You’d be fee
ling a lot worse than you are now.’
I nodded. ‘Just be careful,’ she said. She reached out over the gear stick and squeezed my hand. ‘Not everyone is awful, like Ciara’s father.’
‘Stepfather.’
‘Whatever.’ She sighed. ‘Don’t jump in, all guns blazing is all I’m saying.’
‘I know,’ I said quietly. ‘It’s exhausting being suspicious of everyone all the time.’
‘What does your counsellor say? That thing about taking a moment?’
I breathed in. ‘She says that when I’m feeling like things are out of control, I need to anchor myself in the moment.’
Liv made a face. ‘I’m not totally sure what that means but it sounds to me like she’s saying just think before you speak. Or act. Or do anything.’
‘I’ve been doing much better,’ I said. ‘At least I thought I had been. But maybe being here has unsettled me.’
‘Completely understandable,’ Liv said. She gave me a sudden, broad grin. ‘It’s weird as fuck here.’
I started to laugh, despite myself. ‘It really is.’
‘But just because it’s weird, doesn’t mean everyone’s a baddie.’
I unfastened my seatbelt. ‘I know.’
Chapter 13
I forced myself to keep busy, helping Liv get ready for opening night. I pushed my own worries aside because I felt really sorry for Liv. I understood her money concerns and though there was nothing I could do to make them better I wanted to help in any way I could.
As the pub began to fill up with drinkers, I felt a bit better. It wasn’t busy, but there were enough customers that it didn’t seem ridiculous to be open. Hopefully this was just the beginning. And if the pub got more popular, then I wouldn’t have time to think about my own shortcomings.
‘Can you collect some glasses?’ Liv said to me as I loitered by the bar, feeling slightly like a spare part. ‘I can serve everyone by myself but I could do with you clearing empties.’
‘Course.’
Liv handed me a plastic basket to stack the glasses in and I got busy, picking up the empty pints, then stacking them in the glasswasher behind the bar.
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