The Beachcomber (55 page)

K
ATHY WAS ADAMANT.
“You go and do what you came to do,” she told Tom. “I need some time alone in the church.”

“Are you sure?” Tom didn’t like to leave her there in the big London church alone. He knew how, within the hour, her mother would arrive. Soon after that, her sister would receive the blessings before being laid to rest. “I can always tend to my business afterward.”

“No.” Reaching up, she kissed him firmly on the mouth, “I’ll be fine. I just need to be alone for a while. Come back as soon as you can, and don’t worry about me.”

“I don’t like to leave you …”

“Go!” She gave him a friendly shove. “Like I said, I’ll be all right.”

Before hurrying away, he told her he would be back in no time. “So don’t think you’re getting rid of me that easily!”

Inspector Lawson had agreed to meet him nearby at his request. “I’ve done everything you said,” he told Tom when they were seated in the pub. “I’ve been in touch with the case-officers in Dorset … they can’t tell me anything I didn’t already now. I’ve sifted through all your brother’s belongings, and I’ve scoured his diary. But there is no mention anywhere of either Kathy or her sister, Samantha.”

Tom’s heart rose with hope. “So, Kathy’s sister’s death was an accident?” It would have been so hard for him to tell Kathy that his own brother was Samantha’s killer.

The inspector shook his head. “No, Tom! That’s
not
what I’m saying. What I am saying is that we have no evidence to show he even knew Kathy or her sister. The last entry in his diary was made two days
before
she died. So, we can’t say it was him, and we can’t say it wasn’t.”

Tom thought about all of that before asking the question, “What do
you
think?” Leaning forward, he looked the other man in the eye. “Was Samantha’s death a straightforward accident?”

The inspector thrust out his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “Who knows? The post-mortem was inconclusive. They couldn’t find hard evidence of foul play, apparently. But, whatever the truth, and for what it’s worth, I don’t think it was your brother who did it.”

Somewhat relieved, Tom thanked the inspector. “I’d like to think it wasn’t Dougie,” he murmured. “When he gets where he’s going, he’ll have more than enough to explain to the Almighty.”

“Considering everything … it was good of you to see he got a decent burial, even if you weren’t there to see it.”

Tom’s features darkened with loathing. “I didn’t do it for him,” he said gratingly. “I did it because there was no one else. I can never forgive him for what he did. But I’ve done my duty, and, as far as I’m concerned, that’s an end to it.”

“I wish you well, Tom. You must put it all behind you now.”

“I know.”

“If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”

They shook hands and Tom left.

Outside, he hailed a cab, and went to meet Kathy at the church.

When he arrived, she was kneeling in a pew at the back of the church, head bent and eyes closed. She didn’t hear him until he was right beside her. “Are you all right, darling?”

She nodded, but didn’t reply.

Tom gave her a comforting hug, before going to the altar where the candle Kathy had lit was already burning. Quiet as a mouse, he lit four candles beside it: one for each of his children, one for his wife, and one for Kathy’s sister.

He then lit a fifth candle which he distanced from the others. As he put the light to it, he muttered harshly, “This one is for those poor, tortured souls who’ve lost their way.” At the back of his mind was his own brother, Dougie.

In moments of flashbacks he could see them as children, playing and laughing; as he thought of it all, the tears rimmed his eyes.

Angry, he wiped them away and returned to Kathy, who had seen it all, and was made to wonder.

A moment later, they came, one after the other, side by side, her mother and Richard, friends, colleagues; all come to pray for Samantha’s soul.

They went to the front of the church and didn’t see the two at the back.

With Tom beside her, Kathy watched them come in. She saw the four somber-suited bearers bring Samantha to the altar; a long white, beautiful coffin atop a golden trestle; it was Samantha’s style, she thought. It made her smile … made her sad. This was her sister, her beautiful, headstrong sister. And she was no more. No more!

Holding Tom’s hand, she heard the service, and then they left.

Outside, she held onto Tom, and he kept her safe, until she broke away at a run, fleeing down the path and into the road, where the taxi was still waiting.

Tom followed her.

As they moved away they saw them come out, heads bowed, eyes moist, filing behind Samantha, as they did in life.

It was as it should be.

Later that evening, when the patients of the mental home gathered for their evening meal, Lilian sat sullen and unresponsive at the far end of the table.

The nurse came to speak with her. “Aren’t you hungry, my dear?” Soft-spoken and portly, she was a pleasant lady of middle years.

Lilian pushed her hotpot away.

The nurse pushed it gently back. “Just eat as much as you can,” she urged. “You ate nothing at all yesterday. You can’t go on like that. Remember, you’ve a baby growing inside you. It needs its nourishment.”

Lashing out, Lilian sent the hot stew all over her. When the nurse reeled backward, her arm scalded and calling out for help, Lilian came after her. There was murder in her eyes. “I don’t want your food!” she screeched. “I don’t want this baby!”

Terrifying everyone there, she grabbed a knife from the table. “SEE!” Slicing the blade across her stomach, she began tearing her clothes. “I’ll kill it,” she cried. “You can’t stop me! You can’t make me have it!”

At the nurse’s shouts, the helpers came from nowhere, holding Lilian down, trying to calm her.

One minute she was like a crazy thing – kicking out, spitting and snarling; in the next she was like a child – cowering and whimpering. “It was
me
. I did it!” Snatching off her shoe, she held it high in the air, laughing through her tears as she brought it down again and again on the floor, the sound echoing through the room with a sickening thud. “I pushed her … shoved her in the water.” Her eyes grew wide with wonder before she began laughing … mad, abandoned laughter. “I pushed her … she fell in … it was funny.”

Her laughter was insane. “I can do it to this baby as well … you can’t stop me!” She punched her stomach so hard with the shoe that she actually cried out in pain.

When they tried to stand her up, she fought like a wild thing.

After a while, when she was quietly crying, they took her to the restroom, where she would be shut in for a time, until she had reflected on her behavior.

When they locked the door on her, she could be heard shouting, “The water killed her. It wasn’t me!”

One nurse looked to the other. “Mad as a hatter!” she said.

“Talking gibberish!” said the other.

But Lilian knew what she had done.

She could see it all in her head … the darkness, the rain, and
Kathy
all alone, walking in the dark. “That woman had no right to him!” she yelled. “He’s mine! He’ll
always
be mine! I don’t want this baby!” Her screams could be heard well into the night.

Until at last she fell asleep.

Even in her vivid dreams, she knew what she had done.

But she was not sorry. Given the chance she would do it again.

A
FTER ALL THAT
had happened, Kathy didn’t want a big wedding. “As long as I’ve got you, that will be enough,” she told Tom.

On this morning, two weeks before Christmas, they had taken the boat along the coast. It was one of those wintry days, when the chill in the air was muted by the sun’s watery rays. The breeze was sharp enough to make their ears burn and their noses slightly pink, but it didn’t matter. Well wrapped up, out there with only the sea and sky for company, they were never happier.

Later, as they gentled their way back to harbor, Tom took her in his arms. “I love you,” he murmured, kissing her face and hugging her tight.

“I love you too,” she told him, laughing out loud when a freak wind rocked their bows to send him staggering away. “If you don’t watch where we’re going, we’ll end up on the rocks.”

Coming into harbor, they saw Jasper merrily waving at them from the quayside. “I expect he’s after us going for a drink with him.” Tom steered the boat in through the narrow tunnel. “I think the world of him,” he said, “but I’m glad we could get away on our own just now, aren’t you?” He looked at her then, at her small face with its pink nose and the ends of her hair playing out from beneath her woolly cap, and he thought himself the luckiest man on earth.

She came to him then, her arms around his waist, her face nuzzling into his back. “I want us always to be as happy as we are today,” she whispered.

Tom turned to kiss her. “And why shouldn’t we be?” he demanded with a twinkle in his eye.

“No reason,” she answered thoughtfully.

They both knew how life could turn on you like a wild beast when it took a mind.

But they had weathered the storm, and now, God willing, they were home and safe.

A week later, the snow came. Covering the landscape with a layer of squashy white, it hung from the boughs of trees and rolled up in the hedges, but it wasn’t cold. Instead, on the day Tom and Kathy were married, it was a warm and beautiful winter’s afternoon.

It was only four days before Christmas. The snows were beginning to melt. Through every window the Christmas lights twinkled and sparkled, and children laughed and played in the snow. Soon it would be gone and a New Year started.

“By! Yer look a treat, lass.” Jasper was at the house when Kathy came downstairs wearing the cream-colored suit she had chosen for her wedding. With the blue blouse, pretty shoes, and the darker-blue hat with its tiny veil, she looked dazzling.

Having helped her to dress, Rosie came down the stairs behind her. “Ah, but yer don’t know what she’s wearing under her skirt,” she teased the old man.

Jasper laughed. “Go on, then … I’m sure you’re itching to tell me.”

“It’s a
garter!
” Winking at Kathy, she said, “Sure, ye might think this gal is all prim and proper, but there’s a little devil lurking under there, I can tell ye!” Rushing across the room, she gave Kathy a nudge. “Go on then! Show the man!”

Winking naughtily at him, Kathy lifted the hem of her skirt and there, nestling just above the knee, was the prettiest, pinkest, frilliest garter you ever did see.

Jasper laughed out loud. “Well, yer little hussy, you!” he chuckled.

Kathy’s smile deepened. “I’ll give you two guesses as to who bought it.”

“Ah, sure, it’s only right!” Rosie was in her element. “A fella wants to see a little wickedness in his woman. Isn’t that so, Jasper?” Linking her arm with his, she gave him a loud smacker on the side of his face.

“Hey!” Jasper gave her a playful nudge. “You’d better watch it, lass. I’ve been known to sweep a woman off her feet for less than that.”

“Well, then … sweep me off my feet, why don’t ye?”

“What!” He blushed to the roots of his beard. “D’yer want me to crawl in that church on me hands and knees, do yer?”

When she pretended to come after him, he headed for the door. “Come on then, Kathy, lass. We’d best be off … the car’s waiting outside.”

Frantic now, Rosie looked at herself in the mirror. “Ah, look at that! This dress makes me look fat, so it does!”

“You don’t look fat at all,” Kathy chided. “You look lovely.” She had never seen Rosie so dressed up before, and it was a real eye-opener. With her fiery red hair tamed into a bun on the top of her head, the wayward curls dressed with the slimmest of bands, she looked so different. The dress was light blue, to match Kathy’s blouse; the style was slim and fitted with a long-sleeved bolero to match, and, in spite of Rosie moaning and complaining, Kathy knew she was quietly pleased with herself.

Jasper grew impatient. “Come on! Hurry up, you two!”

A moment later they were out the door, being waved on and wished all the best by a few of the locals. “You look lovely!” one woman told Kathy. “God bless you!”