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Authors: Josephine Cox

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BOOK: The Beachcomber
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Tom explained how he had come to love his life here, though there were certain things he must do before he could really settle down. He delighted her by confessing how much he had enjoyed the day and being with her, and asked a question that put a smile on her face. “Maybe we could do it again?” he wondered aloud.

“Why not?” she said, happily.

Sitting there together, with the sun on their faces and the sound of holidaymakers having fun, they talked about many things, but neither Kathy nor Tom revealed the reasons they had come to West Bay. And while they sat beside each other, looking at the sea and sky and the children playing, they thought how wonderful it all was.

Suddenly, Tom slid his hand over Kathy’s and held it ever so gently. Taken by surprise, Kathy looked up to find Tom looking down on her, his quiet eyes smiling into hers. Neither of them spoke, but that moment was cherished in both their hearts.

The old man had seen it too, and couldn’t help but smile to himself. Today, he hoped, had seen the beginnings of love, and his old heart was full.

All too soon, they were on board the bus, heading home. As before, Kathy sat next to Tom and, intermittently nodding off, the old man sat behind. A silence fell between Kathy and Tom, and for the first time she felt rather awkward with him, uncomfortably aware of his powerful frame next to hers. The quietness between them was overwhelming. She wanted to ask Tom many questions, and yet she sensed he wasn’t ready for that kind of intimacy. He seemed distant, as though there were things preying on his mind, private things that needed all his attention. Kathy understood that, for she also had things on her mind, which only she could deal with.

When they got off the bus at West Bay, the old man begged an early night. “I’ve come over all tired,” he said, yawning. “I reckon I’ll get an early night.” He yawned again before addressing Tom. “I’ll see yer at the harbor-master’s office in the morning. You’ll need to register for a berth, an’ there’s all kinda forms and rigmarole to go through. Best mek it early, ’cause he’s a wily old bugger … won’t tend to nothing after ten o’clock. Once he’s locked that office door and gone fishing, you’ll not find him in a month o’ Sundays!”

Tom agreed to meet the old chap outside the harbor-master’s office at eight o’clock sharp. “See you then, Jasper, and thanks for today.”

“You’ve got a beauty of a boat there, son,” Jasper answered. “I reckon you’ve got years o’ fun for your money.”

He kissed Kathy goodnight. “Yer did us proud, lass,” he told her with a grin. “I ain’t never seen a woman drink a pint afore, apart from that bearded woman at the circus … knocked it back in seconds, so she did,
and
asked for more!”

He walked away, leaving Kathy and Tom laughing. “He’s a one-off,” Tom remarked. “The finest friend a man could ever have.”

Kathy agreed. “No wonder everybody loves him,” she said, “
I
don’t know what I would have done without him.”

At the front door, she asked if he would like to come in for a while. “Best not,” he answered softly, “not tonight.” The truth was, he needed to put a distance between them. He needed time to think through what had happened today. “It was very special having you along. Are you glad you came?”

Kathy’s heart was racing. Standing here, so close to him, with the evening drawing in and the house behind them in shadow, it was too nerve-racking. “Yes, I am … very glad.” She wanted to sound confident and strong, but her voice emerged as small and feeble.

Suddenly he took hold of her. “You’re lovely.” His dark eyes enveloped her. “You’re so … different … from anyone I’ve ever met.” He thought of her running out after that taxi; then in the chip shop, talking to him like she’d known him forever. And today, drinking a man’s pint. She was so alive! Ready to take on the world.

She gave a shy, nervous laugh. “I’m just a bit crazy, that’s all. You’d do well to steer clear of me.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, for the longest moment of her life, he gazed down on her. Looking up at him, she felt herself losing control. When, with great tenderness, he now tilted her face to his, touching his lips to hers, she never wanted it to end. The sensation of his warm lips against hers raced through her senses, and turned her heart upside down.

The kiss was fleeting. For a while longer, he held her close, his arms enfolding her, his face gentle against the softness of her skin. Then, holding her at arm’s length, he looked down on her, the softest of smiles twinkling in those dark eyes. She was so sure he was about to say something intense that when he let her go with the words, “I’d best be off. Goodnight, Kathy,” she was stunned.

She watched him stride down the path. At the gate she wondered if he might turn, but he didn’t. Instead he went away at a quickening pace, like a man driven by demons.

“Goodnight,” she murmured. A moment later, disillusioned by his sudden action, she went into the house and got herself ready for bed, where she lay, thinking of him, wondering what it was that made him so afraid to love.

CHAPTER 8

I
RENE PACED THE
floor, a cigarette in one hand and a port and lemon in the other. “Where the devil
is
she?” Pausing, she took a puff of her cigarette and squashed it into the ashtray. She finished off her drink, replacing the glass on the table beside the smart black telephone, before grabbing the receiver. For the umpteenth time she asked for Samantha’s number.

Yet again, there was no answer. She slammed the receiver down and began pacing again. “Wretched girl! Why is she never here when I need her?”

The sudden, invasive sound of the doorbell startled her. Rushing to the window, she peered out to see her daughter Samantha at the door, impatiently ringing the bell. Now, seeing her mother, she threw out her arms in frustration. “Let me in, for Chrissake!”

As soon as Irene opened the door, she fled past her into the living room. Irene followed. “Wherever have you been? These past few days I’ve tried time and again to contact you, but you’re never home!” Irene was not best pleased. She was used to people being at her beck and call.

“I took a few days off. Is that so terrible?” Looking slightly disheveled and seeming somehow disturbed, Samantha rounded on her. “Anyway, I’ve told you before, I
won’t
come running every time you call. Just because you had a new telephone installed for me doesn’t mean you’ve a right to call me every hour of the day or night! Why don’t you leave me alone?” she asked.

“Leave you alone? Just look at the state of you!” Taking a minute to observe her, Irene noted the untidy hair and the rumpled clothes. “What’s the matter with you?” She was visibly shocked. It wasn’t often her daughter spoke to her in that way. A closer look showed how her daughter’s face was unusually flushed, and there was something unnerving about her that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. “Where’ve you been?” she persisted.

Samantha seemed not to have heard. Instead she ranted on. “All the time … calling me up! Expecting me to run around here like a dog for a treat.” Swinging round, she glared at her mother with a look of hatred. “I’ve told you before, Mother. I
have
got a life of my own, you know!”

Walking toward her, Irene grabbed her by the shoulders. “Don’t you speak to me like that … after all I’ve done for you.” Summoning all her formidable authority, she gave Samantha a vicious shake. “What have you been doing? Why couldn’t I get hold of you?”

Suddenly, Samantha was crying. “It’s all
your
fault. You got me used to having expensive things, and then, whenever you feel like it, you cut me off. Oh, it’s all right when you want me around … leaning on me, making demands … do this, Samantha … do that! And if I don’t dance to your tune, I’m cast aside like some kind of rubbish.” The tears flowed and the rage subsided. In its place came the pitiful obedience that Irene had come to expect.

“I’ve been good to you, Samantha. I gave you a house, and jewelry worth a small fortune … which you couldn’t wait to sell, damn you! I’ve warned you time and again about being so extravagant, but you take no notice. If you’re not going off to these wild parties, you’re entertaining undesirables at home. You spend money like it falls out of the sky, and I’m left to pick up the pieces.”

Lowering her voice, she warned, “I can’t go on rescuing you. I haven’t got endless funds. Richard isn’t a stupid man. I have to be careful.”

“Don’t give me that, Mother. You can twist him around your little finger. Besides, it won’t be long now before you get the lot!”

Choosing to ignore this remark, Irene told her in a quiet, authoritative voice, “I’ll ask you once more.” Looking her daughter in the eye, she demanded to know, “
Where have you been?

“I’ve been away.” Thrusting her mother off, Samantha strode across the room, where she leaned on the fireplace, staring defiantly. “Why? Am I not allowed to go away like normal people?” It was at times like these that the nastiness of the mother was evident in the daughter. “Am I supposed to ask you for permission, or what?”

Lighting another cigarette, Irene gave her a cool, patient look. “You still haven’t answered me.”

“That’s because it’s none of your damned business!” Looking uncomfortable, Samantha took a moment to gaze absent-mindedly out the window. When she next spoke, it was not to answer her mother’s question directly, but to put a question of her own. “You know I got a job as receptionist, in that new hotel on the outskirts of town?”

“A job of which I never approved. I’ve told you before, there’s no need for you to work if you don’t want to. You know I’ll always look after you. I’ve said so often enough. But I can’t have you wasting money, left right and center.”

Taking a long drag of her cigarette, she blew out the smoke in long, swirling tails that settled between them like a veiled curtain. “So, what have you been up to?”

“What the hell d’you mean?”

“Don’t play the innocent with me. Come on, out with it. You always come running to me when you’ve done something wrong. What is it now?”

“I haven’t done
anything
wrong! Why do you always assume everything is
my
fault?”

“Because it usually is!” Scowling, she stared hard at this young woman who had turned out to be such a disappointment. “They sacked you, didn’t they?” She laughed, a hard, cynical laugh that showed her delight.

Samantha was defiant. “It wasn’t my fault!” she claimed. “The idiots sacked me for arguing with the head receptionist – a silly, spiteful old bitch who took a dislike to me straight away. She goaded me until I thought she should have a piece of my mind. It got a bit out of hand, and she went behind my back to the manager. I was finished on the spot. They wouldn’t even
listen
to my side of the story!”

Irene shook her head. “You never learn, do you?” she commented dryly. “But I can’t say I’m sorry they finished with you. I never wanted you working there in the first place.”

“Please, Mother, I haven’t come here to be lectured.”

“All right. I can see you’re worried.” Squashing the second cigarette into the ashtray, she came to where Samantha had sulkily flung herself into the red leather settee. “I’ll help you over this one, but you’re going to have to curb your spending. I can’t keep up with you. I
won’t!
” She gave her daughter a prod. “You sold all my jewelry, damn you! But you should still have money left from what I gave you before … haven’t you?”

“No.” Now as Samantha glanced up, her face seemed haunted. “It’s all gone.”

Irene knew her daughter too well. “There’s something else, isn’t there?” she prompted. “Something you’re afraid to tell me.”

There was a moment when Samantha looked away, before she answered in a sorry little voice, “It’s the house.”

“What about the house?”

“I took out a loan against it, and now they want all the back payments or they’ll take the house.”

Taking a step backward, Irene was visibly shocked. Her icy composure vanished. “You
what
?” Taking a step forward, she slapped Samantha hard across the face. “You stupid little bitch! I told you never to do that. I warned you, it was the one thing you should never risk. And now you tell me they’re about to repossess it. Well, let them! If they throw you out on the street, don’t come running to me, because I’ve had enough! Get out of here. Go on … I don’t want to see you anymore.”

“Please, Mother!” Samantha revealed her crafty plan. “Father should never have left that house to Kathy. By rights it’s half mine. I can take her to court and make her sell it.”

BOOK: The Beachcomber
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