by T L Blake
The train pulled off, the guard making swift work of shutting the open doors as the crowd diminished and Robyn could once again see the platform.
She found herself alone, entirely alone. Kat had not gotten off of the train.
Her car skidded into the makeshift parking space at the front of the cottage and Robyn leapt out. She’d broken every speed limit in her haste to get back, but she was running on scared.
It was dark. Robyn had waited for train after train, believing that Kat could easily have missed a connection somewhere in her whimsy, but Kat had not shown.
That left only three conclusions. One, Kat was still mad at her and had chosen to stay away longer. Robyn didn’t want to believe that. Two, Kat had befallen some mishap: accident, illness, or worse. Robyn really didn’t want to believe that. Three, Kat had met a man. She hated to accept it, but Robyn could believe that. There had been several occasions where they had both gone out, but Robyn had returned home alone. What Robyn couldn’t accept however, was that Kat hadn’t contacted her to let her know.
Robyn ran straight up the stairs. She’d tried calling, texting, even emailing, but she’d heard nothing. Kat’s phone was going straight to voicemail. As she stormed into Kat’s room, adrenaline pumping furiously through her system making comprehensive thought impossible, Robyn frantically began searching. She needed to find contact details, any contact details, for Kat’s friends, especially this Danny that she was supposedly staying with.
Robyn flicked through what little remained on Kat’s desk. There was nothing. Her fear amped but she continued. She opened the dresser drawers and pawed through clothes. She pulled open the wardrobes and rifled through the boxes on the top shelf.
“For Christ sake!” she yelled into the empty room as fear began to morph onto anger.
There was nothing there. The clothes hangers were all but bare, the drawers mostly empty and what little remained in the storage boxes just appeared to be receipts and catalogues.
Robyn slumped onto the bed. The room was empty.
She snapped her head up and looked at the desk.
The room was indeed empty. Kat’s laptop was gone. Why the hell had she taken that? It wasn’t like Kat to think about doing work, unless she’d planned on being away all week.
Robyn strode to the desk. The cable to charge the laptop was also gone, but tucked behind the desk and coiled onto the floor was Kat’s mobile phone charger. Well that at least explained why she hadn’t made contact.
Feeling deflated, Robyn began to tidy the mess she had made and stopped when she closed the wardrobe doors. In anger, she had wrenched them open to get to the contents, but now she realised that there was something else missing. One of the doors held a full length mirror, and tucked into that mirror there should have been lots and lots of photographs. Kat always recorded their time together and placed a picture in the frame after a night out. There should have been loads of photos crammed into the frame, showing the two of them smiling, having fun, but there were no photographs at all on the mirror.
Feeling heavy hearted, Robyn walked to the bin by the desk. She found the photos under other rubbish. Kat had ripped every single one in half, deleting Robyn from her life, and had then thrown them all away.
Robyn walked up the high street where every face seemed to glare at her, every smile hid menace and every hood covered a monster. She knew that her emotional state was affecting reality and tried to ignore what she thought she was seeing, but it didn’t stop her worries.
Kat still hadn’t called. Kat didn’t want to come home. Their fight was still tainting the air between them and Robyn didn’t know how to fix it.
Robyn had woken that morning from one of the worst dreams she’d ever had. Tired and sorrowful she’d fallen asleep in Kat’s bed wondering why her friend couldn’t forgive her. When sleep had eventually come it had only come to taunt her.
Robyn watched Kat staggering into an alley. Unaware of her pursuer, Kat was having a loud conversation on her phone and walking forever further into the dark. Clumsy on her heels, she had no chance when the attacker struck. Robyn screamed at her but Kat couldn’t hear. He was only after the phone. The bright jewels were highlighted so well, even in the dark, and he shoved Kat aside as he grabbed the device and ran away down the alley.
From the violent shove, Kat stumbled into the wall, her head slammed into the solid brick, the crunch audible and deadly. Robyn watched in horror as Kat slid down the brickwork to fall in a crumpled heap on the hard ground, deep red liquid sliding down her face, soaking her dress and starting to pool around her. Crimson against black and white. So much crimson.
The dream had troubled her, but Robyn knew that it wasn’t real. Her subconscious was simply conjuring reasons for Kat’s lack of communication. Eventually she had to admit that she preferred the fact that Kat was simply still mad at her.
Shuddering from the memory of the disturbing dream, Robyn found that, for once in her lifetime, she was grateful that she could no longer see colour, for all that red had disturbed her deeply.
She walked into Ellie’s in a bit of a daze.
“Hello Robyn. Alone today?”
The word ‘alone’ pierced like a sword. It must have shown on her face because Ellie swept around the counter and was at Robyn’s side in a moment, pushing her towards a seat.
“What’s wrong?” she murmured as she reached up to the sign on the door and switched it to ‘Closed’. There were no other customers at this early hour.
“Kat didn’t come home.” It was the first time Robyn had voiced the words and her desperation filled them.
Ellie sat down. “Do you have any reason to be worried about her?” Her kindly face offered a comforting smile.
“She said she’d be on the train and she wasn’t, isn’t that reason enough?” Robyn immediately regretted her sudden vehemence, “I’m sorry, it’s not your fault. I had a bad night.”
Ellie reached across the table to lay a comforting hand over Robyn’s. “Robyn, I only meant that, well; Kat has never seemed too reliable. She’s what some would call ‘flighty’. Is there any reason that she would prolong her stay?”
Robyn shrugged, there was reason alright.
“You see. You worry too much.” Ellie patted her hand before pulling hers back.
“I just wish I could call her to make sure. Her phone’s off and I don’t even know who she’s staying with.” Robyn had tried again this morning but the phone was still ringing directly to voicemail and her texts were being ignored.
Ellie smiled. “You sound like her parent, not her friend. Give her some space. You two have been inseparable since you came to town. It’ll do you both good to have some time apart. Now, will you stay for a cup of tea, or do you have anything else to do?”
Actually, Robyn did want to do something, while the rain was absent. With a thankful nod she made her way home.
CHAPTER EIGHT
It had been three days since Robyn had last stood in the church yard, but many things had changed. Aside from her worry over Kat, the rain had made the ground increasingly wet, making navigating the tall grass more like traversing a marsh, but she wanted to get a better look at the headstones, and had come prepared this time with camera, cleaning equipment, crayons and paper. Besides, staying at the cottage gave her too much time to dwell. She needed to stay busy.
Following the direction she had taken on her previous visit, Robyn snapped pictures of each stone, paying careful attention to those that had piqued her interest before. She made rudimentary notes of where each stone stood in relation to the other features of the churchyard and drew a basic map. Looking for the graves she had been unable to read last time, she found a stone that had writing on it, but was so covered in lichen and moss that she couldn’t make out the lettering. The headstone was still darkened by yesterday’s rain, but that wouldn’t stop her. Brushing gently across the stone with the soap mixture she had brought with her, Robyn began to clean off the moss. The lichen was more re
silient. Careful not to cause any damage to the ancient monument, she brushed with a little more force, until eventually she could make out that this was the grave of someone named ‘Wilce’.
Continuing around the church she stopped at a particularly ornate stone, larger than the others in the area. This one was also covered in lichen. Robyn could feel the indentation of carvings yet couldn’t read them. This was where her visual impairment caused her the most difficulty. Determined not to be thwarted in her quest, she used the crayons and paper to take a rubbing of the inscription. Words soon formed. They read
Elizabeth Truscott
1747-1818
Robyn immediately recognised the name from the school. Several of the stones in the yard bore the same surname and a lot were large and ornately carved. The Truscotts must have been an important local family. Taking time to recheck the Truscott family history on display, Robyn couldn’t help but notice that the beautifully sculpted monuments for the older Truscotts were not mirrored by the markers for their offspring. As years passed, the gravestones became simpler and therefore less expensive before a sudden surge in flamboyant headstones towards the last period that the graveyard was in use. Robyn postulated that the family had to have fallen on lean times during the nineteenth century before building their wealth back up again. It was interesting, but not why she had been drawn to come there.
Robyn was looking only for gravestones with more than one name. They were a puzzle to be solved and although the mystery would not usually interest Robyn, it was at least something that would occupy her mind. She continued around the graveyard either scrubbing off moss and lichen or using the brass rubbing technique to see what she couldn’t with the naked eye.
Engrossed in her work, Robyn had lost all track of time when she found herself crouched in front of a large, upright slab which had been completely covered in spongy moss. She had already unearthed three names listed on the stone as she carefully washed off the plant material. The most recent name had been that of a child, a girl, aged eight years old when she had died with two adult relatives. Robyn stared at the grey stone wondering how you coped with a loss so great, when the sun came out from behind a cloud and shone brilliantly. The pure, radiant light lit up the grey stone before her but thin, comparatively black lacerations ripped across the vision. As if clawed there, the slashes gouged through the light and across the newly revealed family like a scar. Robyn’s skin prickled as her hairs arose even though she knew the reason for the shadowed scene. A sparse limbed tree, left to grow out of control near the wall, was playing shadows across the stone. Despite her knowledge, insistent butterflies in her stomach would not cease their fluttering and somewhere, in the back of her mind, she became convinced that there was a message within the vision.
Balancing on the balls of her feet, afraid to touch the stone itself, Robyn stared, awaiting enlightenment, when the slashes were suddenly replaced by the distinct shape of a person.
“Can’t stay away can you?” Deep, sharp and disapproving, the voice was cacophonous against the silence of the churchyard and very close behind her.
Startled, Robyn lost her balance and, in the grip of paralysing fear, collapsed to the ground.
She cried out as icy water from the sodden grass seeped into her jeans.
God, was she here to torment him? Who had put her up to this? For years this place had been all but private, a place to come and contemplate, to hide. He’d often come here as a child, and on those rare occasions he’d always felt the solace welcoming, but now, twice in one week, this woman had shattered his calm.
She snapped her head up, even as she called out. It was involuntary, he realised immediately, as fear showed plainly in her eyes. Wide and terrified, her hazel glare captured him as none other ever had. She was dangerous.
Robyn let out a sigh filled with both relief and growing frustration before trying to get up from the ground.
Andrew stepped back to give her room and was more than amused when she slipped back into the mud. In his mind, it was only recompense for her destroying his pleasant afternoon.
“Are you going to help me up or just stand there?” It was a challenge. The vehemence in her voice could not be misinterpreted.
Andrew reluctantly held out a hand, chivalry outweighing his growing need to get away from her.
She reached out and grabbed him, and Andrew watched in fascination as her eyes glazed over and her mouth parted, just a little. He hadn’t wanted to consider her mouth, had purposefully avoided looking at the plump softness of her bottom lip. Now it was all he could do to avoid pulling her to him and devastating her with his own mouth over that precious pink one.
Pulling her to standing quickly, Andrew pulled his hand away, leaving Robyn to stumble forwards before she righted herself.
He had all but thrown her into a standing position, Robyn thought as she stumbled two steps forwards from the abrupt yank that Andrew had given her. She was still recovering from his touch, from a heat that smashed through any and all barriers to take complete possession. In contrast to his cold persona, Andrew’s touch was wild with life. It warmed her to the core as it washed into her skin, crawled into her bones and radiated inside her as it moved through sinew and tissue. Now that it was gone, she found herself bereft without it, bereft and cold.
Finally stable, Robyn turned around, aware that her anger was barely contained, but before she could let out the bitter stream of words that were forming in her furious mind, the wind whipped up the cove and licked across her soaking legs. Shivers pulsed through her and made her gasp in a breath.
“You’re cold.”
Yes, she was cold. He had no idea how cold after such overwhelming warmth, but she wasn’t going to admit it. Breathing deeply, she found her voice. “I must get going. It’s a long walk back.”
She was incredible and indescribably stupid. Her stance would have been a solid wall of stubborn if it hadn’t been for the shudders that vibrated her entire body. The walk back to Holbrook would take a good half an hour under the best of circumstances, but after yesterday’s rain, he could bet it would take double. The old path had never been much and today it would be a muddy quagmire. She would freeze well before she got near the old cottage. That, he couldn’t allow.
As Robyn bent down to grab her bag, Andrew stepped forwards and grabbed her upper arm. “You’re not walking back like that.” He knew it was a command, but this woman would listen to no less. “You’re coming with me, at least until you’re dry.”
“You can’t order me around. I’m not one of your pupils.” She threw off his hold and he watched as her fists bunched at her sides.
Exasperating woman, did she not know what it would do to him to have her in his home? Yet he could no more allow her to foolishly walk home in her condition than he could pass an injured child without attempting to help. “If you were one of my pupils, you’d know better than to argue.”
Turning his head to face the beach, Andrew whistled for Max. He knew the canine would be frolicking in the waves. It was his favourite pastime after all, but he needed to get control of this situation and do it quickly. Robyn, and Max, were both going back to get warm and dry.
Max bounded up with his wet tennis ball in his mouth and ran immediately to Robyn. Wagging his tail and panting, he had a look of delight in his great big eyes as he dropped the ball at her feet. Without thought, she bent and patted him on the head before rubbing behind his ears. Andrew felt rage bubble, firstly at the disloyalty from the mutt and secondly at the warmth Robyn gave to the hound, when all she gave him was anger.
“I would suggest that you start walking and ignore the damn dog.” Andrew spat. He would not be swayed.
He saw it in her eyes, before she made the move, defiance. She bent to pick up her pack, but he was quicker, grabbing it and swinging it over his shoulder and out of her reach. A grin of satisfaction pulled at his lips.
“Are you this rude to everybody?” Her body was stiff with frustration. She was indeed
a stubborn headed mule, but on this occasion, Robyn Darrow had met more than her match.
“You will find, should you wish to enquire, that my manners are impeccable and have never been questioned.”
“I find that difficult to believe.” The wind whipped in the cove again and had her slam her mouth shut before her teeth could chatter. It took immense control not to laugh.
“If I appear rude, it is because you make me so, Miss Darrow. Now stop arguing and get moving.”
“Of all the . . .”
“Even I would perceive it rude to leave you to freeze to death whilst foolishly attempting to walk home in wet clothing. As I wouldn’t want my manners to be further put under scrutiny, I insist you take my offer and accompany me.” Knowing that she stared with piercing rage because he had cut her off, Andrew turned, Robyn’s backpack swinging over his shoulder, and walked away with Max at his side.
He didn’t take three strides before he heard her fall into step.
Andrew walked, with the dog, down to the shingle and started toward the headland on the far side of the cove. Robyn trotted to keep up with his long stride. As shingle turned to rock, she noticed that the cliff face to her right drew up higher and higher the further around the headland they walked, it revealed a cave. Ragged crags surrounded its entrance but the cave floor was made of the same smooth round pebbles that lined the beach. The opening narrow and the interior black, it looked like an open mouth as they walked past. There was a warning sign bolted to the rock above the entrance and Max sniffed at the opening but didn’t enter the dark interior.
A few more steps around the cliff and Robyn caught her first view of Andrew’s house.
