1951 - But a Short Time to Live (28 page)

A narrow path led from the cave to the cliff head. When they had come down it, it had been a fairly easy climb as there had been no wind, but now as he went to the mouth of the cave, the wind made him stagger, and sudden rising spray spattered him with sea-water.

Bending his head against the wind, he moved out on to the path. As soon as he was away from the shelter of the cave the wind pounced on him and threatened to blow him off the path into the raging sea below. He clung on to a scrubby bush growing by the path and waited, crouched down, while the wind buffeted him and spray from the heaving waves soaked him.

A few yards ahead of him was another bush, and he made a dash for it, throwing himself flat, gripping at its roots, as the wind once again threatened to have him over. He worked his way to the top of the cliff in this way. Twice he thought he was going to be blown over. Once his foot slipped, and if he hadn't been holding on he would have fallen to the sea-covered rocks below. He was trembling and breathless by the time he reached the head of the cliffs and lay flat, struggling to recover his breath, dismayed at the thought that it would be impossible to return the same way until the wind had died down.

After a while he got to his feet and moved across the scrub and grass land to the road. Once on the road he was sheltered from the wind, and he broke into a run.

It was moonlight, and the road showed up like a white ribbon. He walked on the grass verge so as to deaden his footfalls and kept his ears pricked for any alarming sound. He remembered seeing an A.A. box as they had come up the road to the cliff. There would be a telephone inside if he could break in.

After what seemed to him to be an endless distance, but which was only a mile or so, he caught sight of the A.A. box. It was locked, and he looked around for something with which he could smash in the door. A big flint stone in the ditch caught his eye and he picked it up, balancing it in his hand.

"I shouldn't do that, Ricks," a voice said out of the shadows, and a big, familiar figure stepped from behind the A.A. box.

With a startled gasp Harry dropped the stone and turned to run, but facing him were two policemen, and one of them caught hold of his arm.

"All right," Detective-Inspector Parkins said. "He's not going to make trouble, are you, Ricks?"

"No," Harry said.

"That's fine. Where is she? Where have you left her?"

"We've parted," Harry said, trying to keep his voice under control. He spoke in a husky whisper. "I don't know where she is now."

One of the policemen flashed an electric torch into the darkness, and almost immediately the headlights of a hidden car were turned on, flood-lighting the road.

"Spread out and keep your eyes open," Parkins called into the darkness. "She may be right near you."

There was a movement and swishing of grass as a number of men hidden by the high hedge moved about in the field. The car came up slowly and stopped by Harry.

"In you get," Parkins said. "Don't let's have any nonsense."

"It's all right," Harry said, in a low voice. He was thinking of Clair, alone in the cave. Would it be better to tell them? She couldn't get out without help. He had had to support her on the way down. The way up was much more difficult. He couldn't leave her there to starve. Suppose she had her baby?

He allowed himself to be pushed into the car and Parkins sat beside him.

"Have a cigarette?" Parkins said amiably.

"No, thank you."

"Well, you've had a run for your money, haven't you?" A match flared up as Parkins lit his cigarette. He tossed the match out of the car window. It made a tiny spark as it twisted through the air and fell into the grass. The flame flared up and went out.

Harry thought of Clair. He couldn't let her die alone. She had said she would kill herself if she was cornered. It would be better for them to go together.

"Have you been in Hastings all the time?" Parkins asked.

"Yes."

"You might have got away with it if she hadn't started her old tricks. I thought she might. Every police station in the country has been waiting for her to start. Where is she, Ricks? Come on, she's not in a fit condition to be left on her own. She's having a baby soon, isn't she?"

"Yes."

"You don't want to leave her to look after herself, do you? Where is she?"

"What will happen to her?" Harry asked anxiously.

“How should I know? She'll stand her trial. She killed him, didn't she?"

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do. You needn't worry, Ricks. We know you hadn't anything to do with it. I'm not saying you won't be charged with being an accessory; you probably will. But you're clear of the murder. Funny thing: Brady cleared you."

"Brady?"

"Yes. We arrested him a couple of nights ago. We caught one of his girls and she squeaked. He'll get about five years with any luck. He seemed anxious to clear you and involve Clair. He said he had been following you as he was expecting you to skip. He said you and Mooney met at a pub about the time Whelan died. I've seen Mooney and he supports this. When you got back to the flat I suppose you found she had killed him?"

Harry didn't say anything.

"Where is she?" Parkins went on. "Don't make things difficult for us."

"I tell you I don't know. We parted . . ."

"We thought you might be in one of those caves up there. The local chap tells me the sea comes up at high tide. Is that where she is?"

"No," Harry said.

“High tide's in about half an hour. If she's there, you'd better say so."

Harry didn't believe him, but what was the use of lying? She couldn't be left alone. He suddenly felt very tired. She said there was no way out of this mess. There wasn't. He couldn't leave her in the cave.

"She's there," he said in a flat voice. "I'll take you to her."

"Now you're being sensible," Parkins said. He leaned out of the car and shouted into the darkness.

"Bring your men, Jackson. We're going up to the caves. She's up there."

The car began to move slowly up the road. After a while, Harry said: "It's near here I think."

The car stopped.

With two policemen each side of him, Harry walked across the grass to the cliff head.

"Down there," Harry said, pointing into the darkness. "I don't know if you can get down."

One of the policemen leaned forward and sent the beam of his flashlight along the wet, slippery path leading to the cave.

"We'll need a rope, sir," he said, looking over his shoulder. "That chalk won't give us a foothold. You couldn't get down there without a rope."

Parkins swore softly. The wind buffeted him and he felt cold.

"Where can you get one?"

"There's a coastguard station not far from here," the policeman said.

“Well, take the car and get it, and look sharp about it," Parkins snapped.

Two policemen ran off into the darkness.

Parkins went to the cliff head and flashed his torch along the path. Peering forward at his side, Harry caught sight of Clair standing in the mouth of the cave, looking up at them.

"All right," Parkins shouted. "We're getting a rope. We'll get you out of that in a moment."

"Is Harry there?" Clair asked, her voice thin and faint against the roar of the sea.

"I'm here," Harry cried. "It's no good, Clair. Just wait until they bring a rope. Are you all right?"

He could see how white and tense her face was in the brilliant beam of the torch.

"I'm going to jump, Harry," she screamed. "Oh, darling, I'm so sorry. It's been all my fault."

"Don't be a fool!" Parkins bawled. "Stay where you are!"

"Clair!" Harry cried, then darted forward and was on the path before Parkins could grab him. "I'm coming, Clair. Wait for me! We'll go together!"

"Come back!" Parkins raved. "Here, give him a light," he thrust the torch into a police officer's hand.

Harry went sliding down the path, clutching at the wet bushes to check his progress.

"Go back!" Clair screamed at him. "You'll fall!"

Harry had anchored himself to the roots of a small tree, growing out of the cliff face. The path began to crumble under his weight.

"Help him!" Clair cried, leaning forward to peer up at the light shining down on her. "He'll fall!"

"Don't move," Parkins shouted to Harry. "Hang on until we get the rope."

A shower of stones and chalk came down on Clair as Harry's feet suddenly slipped from under him.

He swung out slowly away from the cliff face, his legs hanging in space, his hands supporting his weight, gripping the shrub, which began to bend.

Clair left the cave and began to climb towards him.

"I'll hang on for you, Clair," he shouted. "Come on, darling, well go together."

"I'm coming," she said, then stopped with a scream as the wind nearly sent her over. She looked down at the raging sea below and fell on her knees, her hands digging into the thick tufts of grass.

"Clair!" Harry shouted. "I can't hang on much longer."

But she didn't look up or answer him.

Harry felt the shrub coming away from the cliff face. He tried to swing his legs back on to the crumbling path, but the extra strain was too much for the tree roots. He had a brief glimpse of Clair crouching on the path with the sea spray lashing her. He wondered about his unborn child. A second before the roots came away he prayed she would jump.

But she didn't. She didn't even see his fall. Blind with terror she was still crouching on the path when the rope arrived and Parkins went down to her.

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