“Where is the body, the one from the cliffs?”
“It’s gone. It’s in the ocean.” Pauline’s hand flew to her mouth. “That is something else that we have to deal with. You could just walk away from it Pauline. I know you did what you did because you were in danger. You could just take back your life and carry on.”
She shook her head. “How can I do that? How can I live with that? Is it right that I should?”
“Well, what are your other options? The police in Cornwall searched, they didn’t find a body.”
“But we ran away. Won’t they think that was odd?”
“I’ve been in touch. I had to make sure they kept an eye on your friends at the farm. I told them you were helping us and they were only too happy to wash their hands of it all. Right now the file there is closed, marked for no further action. You can just walk away from it.
“The trouble is the people who came to the house are aware of you. They think that you have the memory stick. So until I sort that out I can’t promise you that you are safe. Will you trust me for just a while longer? Will you come with me and let me try to make it all right.”
“Yes.”
Chapter 44
By the time they pulled off the motorway onto minor roads the day was fading. Yellow lights from the windows of roadside houses pooled on pavements and verges and commuter vehicles mustered on overcrowded drives. The world settled into evening.
Pauline didn’t recognise the area. They drove though a small town. A carbon copy of so many others. The main road carving the centre into north to south was lined with ubiquitous retail outlets and fast food restaurants: it was Everywhere and Nowhere.
Out at the other side of the built up areas gentle hills rose away on either side. The illumination from an occasional grand home or farmhouse shone out, oases in the deepening darkness. It was peaceful and calm in the warm car with Pete beside her and Pauline felt that if they drove on forever in this half dream state she would have been happy to accept the endless journey as her fate.
After another hour, when they were far out in the country, he turned off the road and bumbled down a rutted track. Trees lined either side of the narrow lane with the occasional gateway the only evidence of intermittent human activity. He pulled into one of the openings, turned off the lights. The engine was the only sound gently thrumming into the stillness of a late summer night.
“Is this where we’re staying?”
“No, no of course not. I just want to make sure we’re on our own.” The flash of his grin in the dark interior soothed her nerves. This was what he did; he was calm, in charge and everything was under control. Pauline settled back into the seat and closed her eyes. She felt safe.
When Pete was happy that no-one had followed they drew back out and travelled the last mile down the country road. He climbed from the car and pushed open a wooden gate.
“Pass me that torch will you.” Pauline passed him the heavy flashlight from the parcel shelf and he left her in the darkness. As he made his way down the short drive the cone of light swung back and forth through the tiny garden towards the darker shadow of a building hunkered down amongst the trees.
She could see him in the distance as he walked down a side passage. Then for a while she was in almost total darkness as he checked around the back emerging at the other side and at last joining her back in the car.
“Okay. It looks good. Welcome to my place.” He smiled at her across the narrow space and her heart flipped and she acknowledged at last what she already knew deep inside. She was attracted to him, this man about whom she knew nothing and who she had met in the most horrible of circumstances. She was drawn to him and his nearness in the darkness excited her.
The thought of going into a strange house with him now, alone, caused a thrill that had been, until now, a memory of other days.
He took the car around the back of the building and parked it hidden among overgrown bushes. The path to the little door was gravel winding between what was probably a rough lawn. Here and there a shrub hunched, darker grey than the ambient dimness, but the scent was of wildness rather than roses. It was wonderful.
The great key he pulled from his pocket slid smoothly into the lock and in moments they stepped onto the flagged floor of a large space. Pauline waited quietly in the doorway as Pete moved with the ease of long familiarity into the house. The click of a lighter and flicker of a tiny flame grew into a golden glow as he lit the wick of an old hurricane lamp which sat on a heavy wooden table.
“Don’t panic,” he muttered. “We have electric, but I have to turn it all on and anyway I kinda like this in the kitchen. Come in, sit down.”
She walked across the hard stone. “I like the lantern as well. But I don’t need to sit down Pete. It’s nice to stretch my legs.” She took another step towards him. He held his ground. She lifted a hand and placed it gently, questioningly on his upper arm. His head bent towards her, just a little. She lifted her face to his and as their lips met she felt as though she had reached her safe haven. His arms wrapped around her, firm and strong and comforting and as their bodies touched chest and hips the warmth grew.
It felt right and good and honest and she knew she would be his, if he wanted it.
Chapter 45
“I can’t. We shouldn’t. Pauline, I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“I know.” She smiled at him and his lips lifted as he pulled back his head and looked down at her.
“It’s wrong in so many ways.”
“I know.” She lifted a hand to his face and laid it across his cheek. Her head tipped to one side and her eyes searched his, seeking the truth of what he wanted.
For a while they stood arms around each other in the slightly damp kitchen. Outside an owl called and in the quiet house the little lantern hissed and fizzed.
“Pauline…” His voice was hoarse and doubt flashed across his face and still she didn’t move but simply stood in the shelter of his arm, waiting. “Are you sure?” He read her stillness for what it was. She nodded.
“I haven’t been here for a while. The beds might need airing.” The everyday tone of the comment drew a giggle from her.
“Right.” She smiled and took his hand.
He lifted the lantern and they walked into the gloom of the hallway. Stepping in front he drew her after him, down the narrow space and up the stairs.
The landing was a small square. In the flickering light she saw a bathroom, the door ajar and the porcelain gleaming whitely in the gloom. There were three other rooms, he pushed the door of the nearest.
He turned to her again. “Okay?”
She slipped in front of him and stepped inside the space. The bed was made up. The curtains were open and the glow of moonlight glinted on a mirror and shone on polished wood. It was chilly, with the feel of a room just wakening from the torpor of neglect and emptiness.
She walked to the bed and threw back the covers running a hand over the sheet. “It’s fine. Cold, but not damp.”
He was close behind her now and his arms snaked around her waist drawing her back against him. “Are you sure about this?”
His concern threw her. She had never experienced such consideration before. For a moment she wondered if he was trying to draw away kindly, back off without hurting her. She twisted around until she could look him in the eye. There was nothing there but kindness.