by Amy Cross
“I understand,” Mrs. Chalfont said, “but why don't you think about it for a few days? I shall give you a call on the telephone on Tuesday and you can let me know if you wish to come back. I have your parents' number.”
“Thank you, but -”
“Don't make a decision yet,” Mrs. Chalfont added. “Give yourself time.”
Susan thought about the offer, but deep down she knew that she'd already made her mind up.
“Thank you,” she said finally, “but really, I'd only end up letting you down. This wasn't for me. Thank you again for the opportunity, but you'll need to find someone else.”
***
“Ow!” she gasped a short while later, as she made her way along the pebbly path that ran from the clubhouse and out across the course, toward few late-night lights of Crowford in the distance.
She took another step.
“Ow!”
Having already made the decision to walk barefoot, since her feet hurt far too much for her to put her own shoes on, Susan was finding that the little pebbles were no comfort to her sore soles. She was fairly certain that she was going to have blisters and aches the next morning, and after a moment she stepped off the path and onto the cool, soft grass of the rough area that bordered the green. That, at least, felt a lot better, even though she knew that technically she wasn't supposed to walk on the grass at all.
Not that she was really walking, anyway.
She was limping.
Looking out across the fairways, she saw vast, flat expanses laid out between rough rolling peaks and troughs. Crowford Golf Club occupied a prime position on the edge of the town, running parallel to the shoreline, and in the midnight moonlight the place took on a somewhat surreal quality. Whereas during the day the entire scene was one of different shades of green, at night the various patches took on a bluish glow that seemed almost to hint at a different world. Further off, the sea could just about be seen glittering under the stars, and Susan could hear the gentle rush of waves hitting the beach.
And another sound, too.
Stopping for a moment, she looked around as she realized she could hear a voice.
“Oh Charlie,” Angie was moaning in the darkness, in one or other of the shelters. “Oh... oh...”
Although she wasn't exactly surprised that Angie had allowed Charlie to spirit her away for a spot of naughtiness somewhere on the course, Susan still let out a sigh. Her first thought was that Angie was being very irresponsible, that one little moment of passion could easily lead to a very unfortunate situation, but after a moment she realized that perhaps she was entirely wrong. After all, how many people had told her over the previous few years that she should get with the times and embrace the modern way of doing things? She was only twenty-one years old, but Susan sometimes felt as if she was being left behind, and that she should try to be a little more like her free and easy friends.
“Susan, you can be such a mood-killer sometimes,” she remembered Angie telling her once, a few months back, when they'd ventured out to a party. “It's like you think you're going to die if you have a little fun. Sometimes I think you want to be some kind of old maid for your whole life.”
“Of course I don't,” she'd replied, feeling somewhat disgruntled. “I just think we have to be careful, that's all. There's no need to go diving into everything without checking it out first. Getting drunk all the time just doesn't appeal to me very much.”
“I'm not a mood-killer,” she whispered now, standing all alone and barefoot on the golf course in the middle of the night, listening to the sound of Angie having fun. “I'm just... sensible.”
“Oh Charlie,” Angie continued, her voice impossible to pin down, “that's right, right there... Oh Charlie, don't stop...”
Susan briefly considered waiting around to make sure that Angie was alright, but she knew there was no real reason to worry. The last thing she wanted was to cast herself in the role of the prudish friend, so she told herself that she'd simply have to let Angie get on with things. Besides, Angie had a long track record of looking after herself. Susan still lingered for a few more seconds, before forcing herself to turn and set off again across the golf course, keeping to the rough areas and leaving Angie's passionate groans far behind.
Ahead, Crowford was mostly dark, save for a few isolated lights.
Chapter Three
By the time she reached the dark, empty streets of Crowford itself, Susan at least wasn't limping anymore. Her feet had become fairly numb, and – although she knew she was still in for a world of pain in the morning – she was at least relieved that the walk home was perhaps not going to be too bad after all.
She made her way slowly through the streets of the town's north end. Occasionally she spotted a light in an upstairs window, but for the most part everyone seemed to be tucked up safely in bed. Now that she was surrounded by houses, she found that the sound of the sea was very different, as if the crashing waves were bouncing off every wall and filling the streets. Once or twice she heard a bell ringing in the distance, most likely from a buoy out at sea, but otherwise the town seemed very calm and peaceful.
Until, that is, she reached the top of Edgemont Square and realized she could hear drunken voices in the distance. She stopped for a moment, before peering around the corner and seeing a couple of dark shapes at the other end of the square, stumbling around outside one of the local pubs. She could hear one of the voices singing, and a moment later a window opened high up on one of the nearby houses.
“Get out of here!” a woman yelled. “You're waking everybody up!”
“Come down for a sing-song!” one of the drunk men shouted. “It might do you some good!”
“I shall telephone the police if you don't leave at once!” the woman continued. “Do you hear me? I shall have them come here and cart you off to the cells for the night!”
“Alright, alright,” the other drunk man said, “you don't need to get your knickers in a twist. We'll go and take our party elsewhere.”
Startled, Susan saw that they were starting to make their way toward her. She tried not to panic, but the last thing she wanted was to bump into a couple of drunks, so she turned and scurried away, heading along a dark, narrow street that eventually let up to the road that ran along past the beach. Stopping, she looked over her shoulder and saw that the men were following. She was fairly sure that they hadn't actually seen her, but she wasn't keen on taking a risk so she hurried across the road and then ran to hide in one of the beach shelters.
After a few seconds, she heard the men singing again as she began to make their way across the road.
Forcing herself to be brave, Susan peered around the corner of the shelter and watched as the men slumped down on a bench. They were about twenty feet away and they seemed to be happy rather than violent drunks, but Susan still didn't want to risk a confrontation. She always tried to avoid people who'd been drinking, and she hated the idea of being chased around the late-night streets of Crowford by two men who might be unwilling to simply leave her alone. As she continued to watch them, she thought of all the awful things that they might to do her, and she realized that she'd probably have to spend the entire night hiding in the shelter.
And then, somewhat miraculously, the two men hauled themselves off the bench and began to walk away. They were singing again, and staggering so wildly that one of them almost fell onto the pebbles, but they slowly made their way off into the distance until finally Susan allowed herself to breathe a huge sigh of relief.
She waited a couple more minutes, just to be absolutely safe, and then she turned and headed the other way, preferring to stick to the beach road rather than risk bumping into any more drunks in the center of the town.
***
Ten minutes later, having made her way past the pier entrance and the line of closed pubs near the roundabout, Susan was starting to feel more relaxed. Sure, she was taking a route that would add at least half an hour to her walk home, but that didn't seem to matter so
much now that her feet were giving her a break. Besides, she enjoyed watching the moonlight sparkle against the sea, and a late-night breeze felt somewhat refreshing against her face.
Suddenly, in the distance, she heard a loud banging sound. Whatever it was, it was brief, but it was enough to make her stop and look around.
Sure enough, over on the other side of the road, some lights were on in one of the buildings. Squinting, she realized that it was the Crowford Empire, the grand old cinema that had somehow managed to survive despite the arrival of a couple of newer, more modern cinemas in the area. She'd always preferred the Empire, not only because it was the cinema she'd gone to with her parents with she was younger, but because the design of the place – which had once been a music hall – was somewhat old-fashioned.
Feeling a little braver, she began to walk again, and she quickly saw that a door had been left open on the side of the cinema.
“Sam!” a voice shouted, startling her a little. “Where are you, boy? Have you found those pallets or not?”
She heard another voice replying, although this time she couldn't quite make out the words.
As she edged closer to the cinema, she found herself strangely fascinated by the sound of what seemed to be two men arguing inside the building. She was struggling to hear everything that they said, so after a moment she made her way across the road so that she might have a better chance. Once she was on the corner opposite the cinema, she realized she could hear a series of bumping noises coming from inside the building, and she stopped for a moment as one of the voices called out again.
“These aren't the ones I meant,” the older man was saying. “Don't you ever listen to a word I tell you, lad? You're going to have to put these ones back, and then bring the right ones out. This'll never do.”
“Do you know what?” the younger voice replied. “I've had enough of this. I can get a better job, Harry. I quit!”
“You can't quit!”
“Watch me!”
A figure stepped out of the doorway, and Susan instantly pulled back out of sight, terrified that she might be spotted.
“Get back in here and move these pallets!”
“I told you I quit, Harry!” the younger man called back inside. “I'm not working here anymore, it's degrading. It's humiliating! And to be honest, it's downright unsettling at times. You can find yourself another poor sod to order around. I won't be back, not this time!”
Hearing footsteps approaching, Susan pulled back into the shadows, just as a figure stalked right past her and headed across the road. Whoever he was, he was lighting a cigarette as he walked, and Susan watched for a moment as he hurried off into the night.
Finally, once she was sure he'd gone, she turned and looked round the corner again, just in time to see an old man shuffling out of the cinema's side door and taking a seat on the step. She watched as he put his head in his hands, and she realized after a moment that he seemed to be muttering to himself. Her first thought was that she should simply let the man have some privacy, but after a few more seconds she began to worry that something might be wrong. Although she desperately wanted to get home, she finally stepped around the corner and began to make her way over to the man. He seemed not to notice as she approached.
“Hello,” she said cautiously as she reached him, “I'm sorry, I just...”
Her voice trailed off, just as he looked up at her.
“I just wanted to check that you're okay,” she continued. “I was walking past and...”
Again, she wasn't quite sure what to say. The last thing she wanted to do was admit that she'd been eavesdropping.
“I'm sorry,” the man said, struggling to get back up, “I didn't mean to cause a commotion.”
“No, it's totally fine,” she replied as she reached out and held his arm, helping to steady him a little. “Like I told you, I was walking past and I heard voices, and then I saw you sitting there and...”
“You heard me arguing with that good-for-nothing nephew of mine, did you?” he replied, with a hint of bitterness in his voice. “That lad wouldn't know hard work if it bit him in the behind. All he was supposed to do was move some pallets for me and -”
He hesitated, and then – sighing – he turned to go back inside.
“I'm sorry,” he continued, “you don't need me boring you with the details. Thank you for your concern, young lady, but I'm quite alright and I'm afraid I have to get back to work.”
She watched as he limped into the corridor.
“Do you need any help?” she asked.
“That's what my nephew was supposed to be for!”
“Okay, but if he's gone, then...”
She waited, as the old man slowly turned to her.
“I can help,” she continued, even though she wasn't quite sure what she was getting herself into. “I mean... if you want...”
Chapter Four
“You see those empty pallets?” Harry asked as he stopped at the next doorway and looking down into the storage area. “They need taking through to the foyer so that...”
He hesitated, and then he turned to Susan.
“You know what?” he continued. “Forget it. I can't ask a nice young lady such as yourself to do this. It's just not right.”
“It's okay, really,” she told him, even though she was tired and wanted to get to bed. “I can't leave you to carry those things around, they look heavy.”
“Of course they're heavy,” he said, before pausing again. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-one,” she said cautiously.
“And you think you could carry those pallets?”
“I think I could try,” she told him. She didn't want to point out that she'd probably have a better chance than him, although that was how she felt. “It's no trouble. Really.”
“Still doesn't feel right, having a woman do it,” he admitted.
“I'll be fine.”
She waited a moment, and then she slipped past him and made her way down the half dozen wooden steps that led into the storage room. Heading straight to the pallets, she picked one up and found that it was surprisingly quite light.
“See?” she said, turning to Harry. “No problem.”
“I'll show you where they need to go,” he replied, turning and shuffling back along the corridor. “You're really too kind to be helping me out like this. I don't know how I'll repay you, but I can offer you some free -”
Stopping suddenly, he looked toward the end of the corridor and waited.
Behind him, still lugging the pallet, Susan quickly caught up, and then she realized that for some reason he seemed frozen in place. She looked along the corridor but saw nothing, so finally she stepped past him.
“I can go first, if you like,” she said. “Just tell me where -”
“No!” he blurted out, grabbing her arm to hold her back.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, turning to him and seeing genuine fear in his expression. “Mr. Gough?”
“Just wait a moment,” he replied, lowering his voice a little.
“What is it?”
She looked toward the end of the corridor again, but she still had no idea what was causing the old man to act so strangely. She listened, hearing absolutely nothing, and then she turned to him again.
“Is someone else here?” she asked, having previously assumed that Harry had been left alone following the departure of his nephew. She waited, once more giving him a chance to reply, and now she was starting to feel more than a little concerned.
“No,” he said suddenly, as if waking from some kind of daze. He turned to her and smiled, and then he shuffled past her, continuing his way along the corridor. “I'm sorry, I just couldn't remember something for a moment, that's all. At my age, these little lapses become more and more common. Come along now, I must show you where to stack the pallets. You're so kind to help me, so very kind indeed...”
Susan hesitated for a moment, still a little disturbed by Harry's moment of confusion,
and then she set off after him.
***
“That's the last one,” she said, setting the fifteenth and final pallet on the pile in the foyer and then taking a step back. Her arms were aching, but she was pleased with herself for getting the job done.
For a moment, she could only look around in wonder at the grand, high-ceilinged foyer of the Crowford Empire. While the place was certainly a relic of the past, she was amazed by the old photos on the walls, and by the beautiful ticket booth that looked as if it belonged in another age. She knew that much of the decoration was a holdover from the days when the building had been a music hall. Part of the hall had been destroyed in a fire, but most of the foyer had survived. As a child, Susan had loved visiting the cinema, but now she was better able to appreciate the intricacies of the designs on the walls. Stepping over to one side of the room, she reached and touched the beautiful golden edging that ran along the middle of the red wall.
“Mummy, can we sit at the front?” she remembered asking excitedly once, many years earlier, on a rare trip to see a film.
“Not right at the front,” her mother had told her.
Thinking back to those days, she couldn't help but smile.
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Harry was nowhere to be seen, although after a moment she heard him shuffling about in what seemed to be a small office behind the ticket booth. She hesitated, and then she made her way around the booth and stopped in the open doorway.
“I finished moving the pallets,” she told him, as she saw that Harry was looking through some folders filled with old documents.
“I'm sorry?” He looked up at her. “Oh, right, of course. How wonderful. My, you do work quickly, don't you? I don't think even my lazy nephew would have done the job any faster.”
“It was fine,” she told him.
