She acknowledged a long time ago that it was pathetic for her life to be governed by these unknown sisters but there had been no alternative.

Today though, what would he think? What would he do? What conclusion would he draw from the empty silence? Perhaps he would storm from room to room calling her name? No doubt he would go back outside and double check the car port to see if her car was still there. She imagined him slamming into the kitchen where there would be no aroma of a carefully prepared meal and no wine open to breathe on the work top.

She pushed aside the duvet and wriggled up on the pillows.

Would he worry? Phone calls to friends would embarrass him. They were all his friends anyway. She had lost touch with hers when the bruises became too regular and the explanations for them weaker, the ugly truth increasingly obvious. Neighbours, golf couples would all tell him no, Pauline wasn’t with them. No, they hadn’t seen her, not for a few days now that they considered it.

How long would it be before he realised that the autofeeder for the cat had been set and would, by now, be empty. For a moment her eyes filled when she thought of Samson; how she loved him. She knew though that George was as sentimental as she when it came to the old tom. Whatever else he did he would take care of the cat. Probably one of the first things that he would do would be to empty the litter tray and open a tin of tuna. By that time surely he would know that something had happened.

Then what? Would he call hospitals, the police? Or would he make a sandwich and pour himself a drink and sit and fume and plan his revenge for when she did come home?

She slid her feet out from under the covers. Today was going to be difficult. She expected to feel on edge and nervy but… it must be lived. Lived and consigned to her history...

The cottage garden was bright and welcoming when she made her way downstairs. Trees swayed in the sea breeze and, as she drank her coffee, sparrows niggled and fought over the bread crumbs she scattered on the grass. Twinkling in the near distance the ocean called to her, tempted her, but her soul was uneasy.

Watching young couples playing in the waves and the families enjoying the weekend treat of a trip to the coast held no appeal today. Though she was proud and pleased to have made the break, her heart was still sad that her marriage had failed. All her young dreams had been crushed by cruelty and meanness. The bright young couple had become part of a sad statistic.

“Hello, are you in the garden?”

“Oh Dolly, hello. I’ve just made a pot of coffee; do you want one?”

“Yes please. I’m not disturbing you am I?”

“No, it’s lovely to see you. I’m having trouble getting going today. I haven’t made my mind up what I’m going to do yet.”

“Well I’m just on my way now down to the village. It’s the craft fair on the green today and I didn’t know whether or not you’d seen the notices. It’s a nice day out. Gates open at twelve, you can get something to eat – well if you like hog roast, hot dogs that sort of thing and there’s a beer tent and a cake and coffee corner. If you’ve nothing to do why don’t you pop down? For once we’ve got a lovely day for it and there’s nice bits and pieces of craft for sale and all the proceeds go into the village fund for the school and the village hall and so on. Don’t feel obliged – I just thought I’d let you know.”

“Oh right, well I might pop down later.”

“Are you alright? You seem a bit down?”

“Oh, I guess I have a lot on my mind today and it’s making me a bit unsettled. A village fete sounds just the sort of thing to take me out of myself.”

“Well, it’s not the fete, that’s in September but it’s a lovely day in any case.”

“Excellent. Thanks so much Dolly.”

“Pauline…”

“Yes?”

“Did you go to the beach the other night? You know you said that you were thinking of going down in the dark, did you?”

“No, I didn’t as a matter of fact.”

“Ah, I just wondered if that was why you were feeling unsettled. Maybe you had gone down and perhaps – well not enjoyed it.”

“No, I will go though. Does it worry you, the idea of me down there?”

“Oh, don’t take any notice of me. It’s silly old stories and when you grow up with them they are just part of life I suppose.”

“But, what are they, these stories?”

“Well… now I don’t want to put you off doing something you want to, but… well… there is a story about a ghost roaming the cliffs and beaches at night. I know it’s probably rubbish but some people reckon that if they’ve stayed until it’s got dark that they’ve seen a figure on the headland and it’s spooked them. There’s nothing to it really I’m sure… but not many people like to go down there. Do you believe in that sort of thing? Spirits, ghosts and such like?”

“I’m not sure to be honest. Anyway I’m sure no ghost will be interested in me will they? I’m only a visitor after all!”

“Yes, I’m sure you’re right. Oh, there’s the car. Jim is taking me down. I have some cakes to take with me. I’ll watch out for you later. Thanks for the coffee.”

“Yes, I’ll see you later. Bye Dolly.”

The company had cheered her and now that the day had a shape and substance to it her mood lifted. George would surely sneak into her thoughts now and again but when she considered him it was with a flush of pride at her actions and not a little buzz of – well what? – yes, that was it; a feeling of revenge…

It was old fashioned and easy and charming. She roamed around the field, drank warm wine in a tent that smelled of damp canvas and remembered her distant past. She allowed her mind to bask in the remembered happiness of childhood and as the day wound down felt grateful for whatever instinct had led her here, where childhood memories were pleasant and the joy was simple.

All would be well.

She leaned back in a plastic chair and closed her eyes. Noise buzzed and flowed around her, blending into a pleasant hum. Sun warmed her face. She relaxed.

Then suddenly from nowhere a sliver of unease trickled down her back and she shivered. She opened her eyes and rubbed at the goose bumps on her arms. A movement at the corner of the beer tent then caught her eye. A dark shape was moving quickly away. She was fully awake now. The tension of the day was getting to her and it was time to go back to the cottage. She pushed up from the chair and made away across the field, the smell of crushed grass and warm wood filled her senses as she regained her equilibrium.

The road was quiet in the gathering evening with just the distant cry of the gulls and the regular beat of her feet on the tarmac. She heard an approaching car and moved closer to the hedge. It slowed as it drew nearer. She felt the rumble as it rolled alongside and glanced back it was close very close. She clambered up onto the steep verge and grabbed at a branch to steady herself. The bulk of it was level with her now. The windows were tinted and all she had managed had been a glimpse of a dark shape at the wheel. Her heart thumped as the vehicle came almost to a standstill. Her stomach tightened with nerves and then, with a roar it sped away and on into the distance. She shook her head, some people were so thoughtless, and now she had prickled her hands on brambles and her trouser hems were stained from mud in the gutter. She should have taken the licence number. As the thought crossed her mind she acknowledged that it would have been meaningless. Nothing had happened, not really.

It was late afternoon and the day was almost over. She hopped back to the firmness of the road and strode on towards the cottage. A huge landmark had been reached. Now that he must know for sure that she had gone the freedom seemed more real, more final. It was good, it felt really good.