Chapter 10

Sunday was gone, and in the event it had been easier than Pauline had anticipated. The spectre of unfinished business had nibbled at her subconscious and now she could put it behind her.

It was Monday. By now George would know for sure that something real, something final had taken place. Whether or not the police were involved didn’t matter anymore. Down here beside the ocean in this quiet spot she felt sure that she was well hidden. Though the events of the week had replayed in her mind repeatedly she could see no way that anyone could trace her.

From today the rest of life was before her. The morning felt warm and bright and the cliff walk tempted her out into the sunshine.

She was free and untrammelled and rather surprised that she simply didn’t care what happened to him from here on. His brutality and selfishness had killed any affection she had for him. He could wallow now in confusion and disarray as he tried to find his way around the kitchen, the washing machine, the cooker. It was unlikely that any of his female playmates would be interested in his dirty laundry or his empty belly and perhaps he would miss her. But she didn’t want to be missed because his shirts were crumpled in the bottom of the laundry hamper or because lettuce wilted and stank in the fridge. She knew he wouldn’t miss her for her arms or her smile or her loving because they had been gone from his life for such a long time. He had wasted them and cast them aside and so whether he pined or forgot she no longer wanted to know.

Long grass swayed in waves beside her, an echo of the rolling blue beyond the cliffs. Gulls screeched and dived against the brilliant sky and her spirits soared with them.

It was time to plan and organise. She gave a little skip and then feeling foolish glanced behind to make sure no-one had seen.

Two hours of walking left her well exercised and her limbs warmed and loose. She took a sandwich out into the garden with a glass of orange juice and set up her Macbook. She would contact the agent about the house. It was time for him to have her new email address. In preparation for her flight she had set up the new contact details and felt confident that nothing unexpected had happened. Buying a house in France did seem so much less stressful than in England with the date agreed well in advance and no chance of a last minute change of heart or nasty alteration in price.

She sent off the message and brought up the pictures of the place she was buying. It was old but had already been modernised. She knew her limitations and though gardening and decorating were well within her capabilities building work was not. For the first few months the four extra bedrooms could be let and the agent had been very helpful with information about how to obtain all the necessary permits and so on. And then there was the barn. Excitement fluttered in her stomach and anticipation widened her grin as she looked at the images. She had already had a surveyor take a look and pronounce it sound and suitable for conversion. It would make four holiday flats. There was already a pool and a big garden with mature trees and she had plans to make a tiny but beautiful holiday location. It would take time but she had it didn’t she. Thanks to Granddad she had the money and she had her freedom. She wrapped her arms around her waist and rocked slightly, holding herself in a hug. She felt so very blessed right then, so very lucky.

Her eyes swept the gorgeous vista in front of her. She would miss England of course but it wasn’t that far away. She could fly in a little over an hour from several different airports and so if she ever felt the need to come back it was simple. For now though she would enjoy the next couple of weeks, treat herself to some real relaxation and then be more than ready for the challenges, would welcome them.

Tomorrow she would go back into Newquay, have a lavish lunch and a walk around the shops but today she would spend in the garden with her book and then tonight, maybe tonight she would go down to the beach in the moonlight.

Chapter 11

The weather turned wet and stormy so Pauline’s adventure in the darkness didn’t happen. She filled her time with walks and reading and chats with Dolly who now came most mornings for a cup of coffee either in the garden or the bright little kitchen. Though she was frustrated she put the beach walk on hold until conditions were perfect.

Thursday was bright and warm. As the sun dipped in a blaze of crimson against a turquoise sky she left the house to make her way down to the deserted beach. She took off her sandals and her feet sank into the warm powder below the dunes. Slipping and slithering between the hillocks and then down across the flatness she reached where the wet sand gleamed in the darkness. Her toes wiggled in the rolling wavelets. The sensation of cold wetness underfoot and warm swirling water tickling her ankles felt odd and she savoured the strangeness.

She spun to face the way that she had come. The lights in the cottage shone in the darkness and beyond that the farm was lit by the lamp at the entrance and the muted glow from rooms behind closed curtains.

Pauline threw back her head. The moon was a little more than a thumbnail and the dark velvet of the night sky was scattered with countless silver pinpricks. It was mystical and she felt small and insignificant but at the same time so much a part of the universe that it started tears to her eyes and a warmth deep in her heart.

Out on the dark water the lights of trawlers bobbed and danced in the swell and the sound of an engine throbbed at the very edge of her hearing. It was beautiful, peaceful and other worldly. Moving along the hard sand the ocean washed her feet and the tiny breathing holes of the beach dwellers popped and bubbled in the dimness.

She walked as far as the rocks and trudged up through the soft sand and found the rocky seat that was a favourite during the day. The boulders still held the heat of the sun and she shuffled backwards to rest against the warm hardness. It was slack tide and the waves were little more than silver frills on the edges of the great billow. She felt safe and calm and so very lucky to be here in this moment.

She closed her eyes. The darkness had never held any fear for her. She knew only too well that danger and trouble came in the full light of day and not from hidden mysteries but from the hands of those best known and closest. The murmur of waves lulled her mind and the dull rolling of the sea amongst the rocks sounded like the heartbeat of the very earth itself. If she were to sink down now and become one with the beach and the water and the wondrous sky she would have no regrets.

After a while a chill breeze rippled across the dunes and drew the tiny hairs on her arms to attention. She dragged on the warm sweatshirt that she had brought and with a sigh pushed herself up and began the walk back to the cottage and a cup of tea and the cosiness of the bright little lounge.

Should she come again tomorrow, or would familiarity spoil the magic? Well, the weather, her mood and instinct would inform her decision, but not the stories of ghosts in the sand dunes and hauntings on the cliffs. She had felt no threat and no fear and had loved the whole experience.

As she trekked the last few yards to the little gate in the back garden there was the rumble of an engine. No light showed on the road and no swish of tyres gave witness to a passing vehicle. She paused beside the wall. A few hundred yards down the road a gleam in the hedgerow drew her attention. The moonlight glinted on a hard reflective surface – didn’t it? Was a car parked in the gateway to the cow meadow? She couldn’t be sure...