The Wave at Hanging Rock: A Psychological Mystery and Suspense Thriller (21 page)

“What do we do now?”

“Well I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. How about some lunch?”
 

The pub was called the
Crown and Anchor
. It sat on the corner of the harbour so that one side flanked the river and a small beer garden ran along the quay. There were tables to take in the view but they were all empty except one with two plates, the remains of a fish and chip lunch that two huge seagulls were now fighting over. Inside it was dark, but at least it was warmer. A fire smouldered in the grate, but the few drinkers inside didn’t seem interested. It didn’t look like they were there for the company either. They mostly sat alone, sipping pints in silence.
 

Dave went to use the toilet and Natalie sat down at one of the tables which overlooked the river. Here the weak daylight cut through the gloom and for a moment she watched the river deep and slow below her, boils and eddies gliding past, taking their own path to the sea. Then she reached into her bag and brought the photograph of Jim she’d chosen. It was taken a few months before he had gone missing and it showed him smiling, leaning on a wall that cut across the Bristol Downs. In it he looked happy, there was no hint in his face of anything troubling him, certainly nothing that might have caused him to take his own life. Or disappear to start a new one.

 
But just holding the photograph in this pub in this village unsettled her. She felt as if she were being watched, and she looked around anxiously. No one was paying any attention, but even so she held the photograph so that only she could see it. Eventually she turned it over and laid it face down on the table. She wrapped her arms around herself, wishing someone would stoke up the fire. Then Dave came back and placed an orange juice in front of her.
 

“Crab sandwich, fish and chips, or steak and ale pie” he said.

"I’m not really hungry.”

“Have the sandwich. You should eat something.”

She gave him a little twisted smile, a thank you for the concern.
 

“You know you look beautiful,” he said.
 

The smile dropped away.

“Let’s not bring all that up again shall we?”
 

He kept his eyes on her for a moment.

“I’m not. But it is true. You really do.”

She looked away from him.

“I’m sorry. I’ll shut up. Crab sandwich then?”

She thought for a moment, then nodded. When he came back again he squeezed into the chair opposite her.
 

“Apparently the chef’s busy so there’s a bit of a wait,” he said, rolling his eyes. He noticed the photo in her hands. “You want to get started right away?”

But Natalie shook her head. The words spilled from her mouth before she thought about them.
 

“Dave. I think this might be a mistake, coming here.”

“Why?”
 

“I don’t know. I mean we’re not going to find anything are we?”

He answered slowly. “Well we don’t know that yet.”

“I think we do. I think we both do.” Natalie shook her head. “It’s all too long ago. No one’s going to remember a face of someone who might have stayed here eight years ago.”

“Maybe not, but maybe someone will. We won’t know unless we try.”

“No they won’t. We’re wasting our time. I’m wasting your time. There’s nothing here we can find.”

“You’re not wasting my time. He was my friend too.”

They sat in silence for a long while.
 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. It’s just…” Natalie pushed the photograph away from her, like she wanted nothing more to do with it. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

“OK, what?”

“I’m not sure I even know. I mean you watch this sort of thing on TV every night, and you think it’s going to be easy, but to actually do this… Maybe I’m just scared of what we might find if we start to show that around. We don’t know when that bag was put there. We don’t know who put it there. What happens if someone does recognise him? Maybe we’re better just leaving this all alone.”

Dave didn’t answer but he watched her until she wished he would look away.
 

“I mean,” she went on. “Why are you here? Really? What do you think is going to happen?”

 
Dave reached out for the photograph, pushing by its edge to slide it carefully to his side of the table, from where he picked it up.
 

 
“I don’t know. But I do know this. I don’t think you have any choice. We can go home now if you want, but one day we’ll have to come back here. You can’t just forget this. You’ll always wonder if someone here knows something. It’ll eat away at you. You need to be sure the answer isn’t waiting here.”
 

She didn’t look at him for a long time.
 

“Alright,” she said. She looked down at the river again, at how the murky brown water swirled and tiny whirlpools opened up and closed again. Then she turned back to Dave. “Alright. Let’s get it over with.”

This time they went up to the bar together. She saw that Dave was about to speak but she put her arm on his and pushed gently past him. She slipped the photograph out of his hand.

“Excuse me,” she asked of the woman serving, a young woman with tattoos showing on her shoulder. “This is going to sound strange but would you mind looking at this photograph and telling me if you recognise the man?” She spoke quietly so that no one else in the bar would hear, but no one seemed interested in them. “We think maybe was here some years back. Maybe something happened to make people remember him?”

The woman’s eyes widened a little, the only sign which showed she might be surprised, but she stopped what she was doing and held her hand out over the bar for the photograph. Natalie felt her unsettled feeling again as she let the photograph out of her grasp.
 

The woman studied the image closely, as if it made a welcome change from taking orders and wiping down tables. She took the opportunity to examine Natalie as well, then shook her head.
 

“No sorry, I don’t know him. But then I’ve only worked here a few months. You might want to ask her. She’s the landlady.” She pointed to the other end of the bar where an older woman was pulling a pint of dark beer for a man who sat alone on a bar stool. He looked to be a fixture.
 

Natalie felt a shiver of irritation, but nodded her thanks and she and Dave walked down the bar, and waited just far enough off the shoulder of the local that he wouldn’t turn around to them. The landlady noticed them right away and flashed a smile to show she’d be right with them. Natalie felt her heart beating fast in her chest.
 

“Excuse me,” she began again. “Are you the landlady here?”
 

“That’s right.” The woman cocked her head to one side then gave them a smile. She had a weathered face, blond hair turned straw like from cigarette smoke. “What can I get you?”

Already it was easier the second time around. “I wonder if you might have a look at this photograph? It’s my husband, he went missing some time ago. We think something might have happened to him here in Llanwindus,” Natalie paused. “Or maybe he might even still be here.”

An eyebrow shot up on the woman and she took the photograph without a word. Natalie felt the strange feeling again as she let it slip from her hands.
 

“Handsome looking guy.”
 

“Do you recognise him?” Natalie answered quickly.

“No.” She said at once, still looking at the image. Then she looked up. “When did he go missing?” The landlady made no sign that she was going to return the photograph.

“Eight years ago. November third. We know it’s a long time ago,” Dave stepped in to say this, as if he wanted to justify his presence there. The landlady looked across at him curiously, as if she was appraising the age gap between the two of them, working out where he might fit into the equation.

“We’ve been here twelve years. Before that in the city. Moved for a quieter life.” She looked back at Natalie and gave her an encouraging smile. “Some people have got a memory for faces, it doesn’t hurt to ask.”

“And you definitely don’t recognise him from the photograph? His name’s Jim Harrison.”

She shook her head. “I couldn’t swear I’ve never seen him before. But nothing comes to mind. Why do you think something happened here?”

 
Natalie felt a slight flush of relief. If she didn’t know him, at least he wasn’t a regular, the crazy man with no memory who came in every day. Or the family man who came in here with his wife and kids.

“Well, it’s a bit complicated,” she said. “He was a surfer, he went missing in the water, originally we thought down in Cornwall. That’s where his car was parked, but we found out that maybe he was actually here. We think someone here might know something about what happened.” She tailed off and added limply, “but with his car so far away… It’s a mystery.”

The landlady frowned in a way that suggested sympathy, but mixed with confusion.
 

“I don’t suppose you’d have any records from that long ago? Like if he’d taken a room or something? Could you check for that name?”

“Eight years?” The landlady shook her head. “We don’t keep any records that long.”

“I didn’t… We just thought it might be worth asking.”
 

The landlady offered the photograph back to Natalie.

“I’m sorry I can’t be more help, but ask around, we’re quite a small village. You might be surprised at how long people’s memories are in a place where not much happens.”

Natalie smiled her thanks and was turning away when Dave spoke.

“One other thing, I don’t suppose you know about the team building the coastal path? It’s just that they found something. Something related to Jim, we’d like to ask them exactly where it was.”

She thought for a minute but shook her head again. “Sorry. I don’t know anything about it.”

Natalie was about to thank her again when she went on.
 

“A surfer you say? The man you’re looking for?”

“Yes.”

The landlady indicated the local who’d been sitting next to them for the whole conversation. “You should show that photo to young Darren here. He’s a local surfer. Has been for years.”

twenty-eight

ON HEARING HIS name the man froze, his pint of beer halfway between the bar top and his mouth, like he’d been listening but thought no one had noticed. He slowly placed his glass back down, a wobble in his hand sending waves of liquid up the sides of the glass. When he spoke he sounded unsure, defensive.
 

“I don’t know anything ‘bout that.”

The landlady’s eyebrows rose a little in familiar exasperation. There was a motherliness to her tone.

“No one’s saying you do Darren, but you could have a look. See if you recognise him. You might have seen him in the water? The lady said he’s a surfer. Like you.”

The man said nothing but his hand reached out for his drink again, still shaking. His hands were dirty too, black grime around bitten fingernails.
 

“Go on love, show him the photograph, you never know.”

It crossed Natalie’s mind that the man might be a bit slow, but she handed him the photograph anyway. His eyes flicked on and off the image before settling. Then he stared for a long time.
 

 
“So? Ring any bells?” The landlady said, but the man didn’t answer at first. Instead he stole a glance at Natalie, then at Dave, as if trying to place them as well.

“So, do you recognise him?” The landlady said again.

“I don’t think so,” he said.

“You don’t
think
so? So you might?” The landlady said, she sounded encouraged.

“I mean no. I don’t know him.” he said.

“Are you sure? You haven’t seen him maybe surfing somewhere?”

“Surfing? Here at Town Beach?”

“Well maybe.” Her patience seemed to be wearing thin.

“No, I definitely haven’t seen him surfing here. And I’d remember too, cos I got a good memory for faces,” he said, shaking his head. He glanced over at Natalie again as he said this, a little darting look.
 

“Well, it didn’t hurt to look did it?” The landlady tutted a little, then gave a sympathetic glance at Natalie.
 

“I thought it might be worth asking as the surfers tend to stick together,” the landlady started saying. “The locals I mean…” But she was interrupted as the man moved suddenly. He slipped off his chair mumbling something about needing to get to work and was halfway to the door before Dave shouted after him.

“Hey, the photograph.”

The man stopped, then slowly turned around, and waited while Dave strode the couple of steps up to him and took the photograph from his hand.

“Sorry mate, I forgot I had it.” The man avoided looking at any of them, and when he saw they weren’t going to stop him, he started walking again, he was stiff legged at first, like he’d been sitting on that stool long enough to drink too much, or perhaps just to get stiff legs. When he got to the door he glanced back one more time before disappearing. There was a moment of surprised quiet.

“Well that seemed a little bit odd,” Dave said, then turned to the landlady. “Is he always like that?”

But she didn’t seem to share his suspicions. She reached over and picked up the man’s glass, still nearly half full of beer.

“To be honest, he’s a bit of a funny one is young Darren. In hindsight, not the best person to be asking about your missing fella. He’s…” She stopped and pulled a face, as if that was enough to explain what the man’s issue was. Then she smiled at Natalie. “But don’t worry, not everyone around here is like him.” She reached over and wiped the bar where the man had been sitting. Plenty of nice people around here.”
 

“You ask around dear. You never know, you might get lucky.” The landlady’s eyes slid across to Dave for a moment. “Listen honey, I just hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for.”