Butterflies fluttered in her stomach and Pauline had to clasp her hands tightly to hide the shaking of her fingers. She couldn’t think of anything to say to this wrinkly old man as he stood before her with his head tipped to one side, puzzlement on his weather beaten face.

“Do you want me to call the officer?”

“The officer?”

“Aye ‘im from the village. Police officer. Mind what he can do I can’t think. All he can do is look and that won’t ‘elp.”

“No, no I suppose not. What do you think I, erm, we should do?”

“I reckon all’s we can do is to lock up them doors and close yer curtains.” As he spoke he reached out a grubby hand and laid it on her arm. “Don’t you fret my dear. I’m just a shout away.”

She could tell from this unlikely behaviour that her distress was showing on her face and she turned away so that Jim wouldn’t see the swim of tears in her eyes. He was coming at this from a very different place than she. It wasn’t a mystery to him but little more than a minor case of trespass to be sighed over and forgotten. For Pauline though the fear went deep. It couldn’t be possible could it that George had tracked her down? Surely he hadn’t stalked her and stood in the garden watching? Yet if it was George, if he had come, then what would he do? She gulped back the panic.

“Thanks Jim. I guess I’ll just have to be careful with the locks and so on.”

“Aye, p’raps I should think about burglar alarms for yon windows and doors. All more trouble though, all more fuss.”

“You going off down the sands now?”

“I was going to walk on the cliff path.”

“Aye, well you enjoy that. I reckon there’s a storm comin’ so you make the most of it while you can.”

“Bye Jim. Thanks again.”

He turned without another word and raised a hand in a sketchy wave as he stomped back the way that he had come into his farmyard.

Pauline went back into the cottage and collected her bag and coat. She checked the windows and pulled the bolt across the back door. She could do no more and so would put it out of her mind.

George couldn’t have found her and she wouldn’t let him take her pleasure. He had taken so much already and she was moving on. The tears were close as she strode away and out onto the well worn footpath. Clouds across the sun echoed the sadness that she couldn’t deny despite her resolve.

Chapter 14

Rain crept in during the day so Pauline cut short her walk. For a while she stood at the cottage window staring out at the dripping foliage, feeling alone and sad for the first time since she had made her break. If she and George had children there would be someone to talk to now, someone she would have brought with her. Truthfully though, she had to acknowledge if they had had children then it would mean that more people would be hurt by what had happened. If they had children she would have been tied even more tightly to George. The thoughts whirled and scuttered in her mind, aimless meandering considerations that didn’t cheer her but lowered her mood even more.

She gave her head a shake. She mustn’t let herself get down, not now when it had all gone so well. Perhaps it was time to leave this lovely little place and get started on the French adventure. There was only slightly less than a week to go though and she did love the cottage and the beach and it was impossible to know how long it would be before she had the chance for another holiday.

And then she knew what she had to do. Pulling on her oldest trainers and a waterproof jacket she went out into the rain. She lifted her face to the gentle wash and immediately her spirits soared. She would go down to the beach and get soaking wet, she would paddle at the edge of the ocean and let the wind and the weather soothe her as it had always done. Many days hiking with bruises on both her body and her soul had proved that fresh air and exercise could do just as much and more than pain killers and sitting around wishing and regretting.

The sandy path was running with water. Before she had reached the dunes her trousers were soaked and her shoes covered in mud. She felt like a child, a naughty child out in the rain without permission. By now she was laughing with the joy of it and as the rain trickled down from her dripping hair she licked it away. She felt ridiculous and foolish and free.

The beach was deserted. Grey clouds rested on the pewter ocean and screaming gulls rode the wind, their white wings flashing against the lowering sky. This world was so different from the one of yesterday and yet in its own way just as wonderful. As she walked the problems and sadness lifted and blew away and her confidence returned. She would take it one step at a time, it had worked so far and surely the worst was over anyway.

She wondered what George had done. No doubt by now the house would be in disarray, her spotless kitchen unrecognisable. He would probably have someone in to clean and manage her old home and she was pleased to find that she didn’t care at all. The place had been so very full of pain. She couldn’t find it in herself to care what happened to the bricks and mortar or the goods and chattels that had been so much subterfuge and window dressing. All lies, valueless and dead.

She was opposite the cliff now. It would be too wet in the usual place but perhaps she could find some shelter and sit for a while and watch the rolling water and breathe great lungfuls of the rain washed air. She clambered over the boulders sliding and slipping now and again but making her way into the formation. There was a part overhung by rocks and she was able to push into the small space and tuck herself into a crevice. It wasn’t exactly comfortable but she could sit for just a little while and be at one with the weather and the wildness.

Visibility wasn’t good but it was possible to see as far as the place where the path emerged from between the dunes. She sat with her back against the damp rock and let her eyes roam unfocused across the beach and the waves.

A movement drew her gaze and she raised her head and screwed up her eyes the better to make out the dark figure across the beach. It wasn’t Dolly or Jim; it was far too tall for either of them. As she watched the man walked a little way forward and turned back and forth as if searching. Dark clothes whipped and slapped around him as he raised a hand to shield his eyes from the wet.

He didn’t go down to the water’s edge or turn and stride out along the sand. He had no dog that she could see. He was alone.

The rain was heavier now and she knew that she would have to move soon as she was soaked through. Although that had been part of the intention it would be irresponsible to stay too long in wet clothes with the cold rain trickling down her back. She could feel the chill and was already looking forward to a warm shower.

For the moment though something kept her in her tiny enclave. Some sixth sense hid her from the figure on the beach and as she watched he turned and climbed back up the dunes. He didn’t use the path but struggled through the tall grass. He bent now and again on the steeper dunes using his hands to help him struggle upwards. He reached the old stone wall and with a final turn to the beach and a quick scan around him he threw one leg over, hoisted himself onto the top and dropped into her garden.

Her heart pounded. What on earth should she do? Did anyone have the right to walk into that land? But even if they did then why approach from the beach? Why not use the gate? She pulled out her phone to call Dolly. Her fingers fluttered on the keys but at the last moment she clicked the off button and replaced the tiny handset in her pocket.

It wasn’t George. She would have recognized him surely, but had he sent someone? Had he found her? Yet how was it possible? She had been so very careful. Tears mingled with the rain running down across her face; tears of fear, shock and frustration. What on earth was she going to do now?