They walked west along the dunes, away from the harbour. Jenny glanced at the houses set back from the beach, some with lights on, many without. She thought about making a run for it, thumping on a door for help, but Craig gripped her arm tight as he pushed her forward. Maybe she could swing an elbow and catch him, but if she didn’t connect properly the next thing was a bullet in the head. It was dark but not completely, even if she managed to get away he still had an easy shot.
He shoved her down a path between grass-covered dunes onto the beach, and she felt sand slip into her shoes. She struggled in the deep patches, staggered once and felt him pull her straight. Maybe he would stumble and she would get a chance. But his stride was steady as they headed towards the firm sand. The water was fifty yards away, she could hear the soft ripple of waves. She saw the outline of a small row of beach huts to her right. Craig pushed her in that direction, gun barrel hard against her back. They reached the huts and walked past, and she spotted more shapes against the dunes. They got closer and she realised they were small, upturned boats. They passed the first two and reached the third one.
‘Here,’ Craig said, and released her arm.
She rubbed it as she faced him. She tried to read something in his eyes but the gloom was deepening, lights from the harbour in the distance giving him a faint halo.
He waved at the boat with his gun. ‘Turn it over.’
‘You don’t have to do this.’
‘Do as you’re told.’
Jenny rubbed at her arm then her back. ‘If you meant what you said at the house, then you can’t do this.’
‘Shut up.’
‘You want to live your life, be a family man again, a dad for Sophia? You think you can do that if you kill me? I’ll fucking haunt you till the day you die.’
‘My conscience is clear.’
She thought about what he’d said in the garden.
‘Look, I believe you,’ she said. ‘You’ve made mistakes but you’ve changed. You want to live a quiet life, be a good dad, I get that. You were right, everyone deserves a second chance. But that can’t happen if you do this.’
Craig hesitated, scratched his temple with the gun. Jenny imagined it going off, brains flying through the air and splatting in the sand, washed away by the next tide.
Craig laughed and stepped closer to her. ‘Nice try. You think I don’t know what you’re doing? I see you, Jenny. I said you were the love of my life and I wasn’t kidding, I know everything about you, even after years apart. I know how you think. You’re bullshitting me, the biggest pile of shit I’ve ever heard. You would never just let me get on with my life. That’s why you’re here, because you can’t leave me alone, you can’t give me peace.’
He whipped the gun into her face. She tried to raise her arms but the pain was already shooting through her ear. She felt more blood on her face. The gun butt came again and she buckled, hands to her face.
‘Turn the boat over,’ Craig said.
She raised her head, shook it. A punch in the stomach winded her, doubling her up.
‘Just fucking do it.’
Jenny had tears in her eyes, nose running.
‘Don’t do this,’ she said between sobs.
‘It’s too late.’
He shoved her onto her knees by the boat. She lifted the hull, felt sand run over her hands, the roughness of the wood. She put her weight into it and flipped the boat upright. On the sand beneath where it had been was a small plastic tarp.
‘Open it.’
She pulled at the string with shaking fingers. Inside were a small outboard motor and a can of petrol. Craig shoved her onto her arse, threw the motor and fuel into the boat.
‘Get up,’ he said, yanking her arm. He pointed at the rope tied to the prow. ‘Pull it to the water.’
Jenny shook her head. ‘Don’t.’
He reached towards her and she flinched. He pressed the barrel against her cheek. ‘Do it.’
She swallowed, pulled the rope, felt resistance from the sand to begin with, then it moved. She trudged from soft sand to hard, the boat making grooves behind her, petrol can rattling in the hull. She glanced back and Craig was there, gun raised.
It didn’t take long to get to the water. The briny smell filled her nostrils. She saw those lighthouses in the Forth, still blinking, lonely observers of all this, sending their messages into the world.
‘Stop.’
She dropped the rope. The prow was lapped by waves. Seawater filled her shoes, sending a cold shock up her legs. She felt the wet sand sucking at her, trying to draw her down, become part of the ocean.
Craig crouched on his haunches at the stern, kept the gun on her as he lifted the motor and fitted it into a notch and bracket on the transom. He struggled doing it with one hand, but finally finished and stood.
‘I’m sorry, Jenny, I really am.’
‘You’re not fucking sorry at all, you’ve wanted this for years. Maybe forever. Even when we met, you wanted control.’
‘We were partners.’
‘You’re delusional.’
He lifted the fuel canister out of the hull. ‘Get in the boat.’
‘No.’
He walked round to her, pointed the gun. ‘Get the fuck in.’
She stared into the darkness of his face as she put one foot then the other into the boat, felt it rock with her weight.
He unscrewed the cap from the petrol can, emptied it over her. She spat as petrol went in her mouth, felt it sting her eyes, the smell overpowering. The fuel soaked into her clothes, ran into the grooves under her feet. She heard the thud of the half-empty can on the sand, managed to open her eyes.
He was holding a lighter she recognised, an engraved Zippo she’d got him early in their relationship when they still smoked a lot of weed, some corny drugs reference written on it. They’d both thought it was cheesy therefore great, he was right, they had felt above it all, mocking ordinary life like they saw through the charade. And now look, they were right down to the nitty-gritty, the lowest of the low, ordinary people hating each other to death.
‘Bye, Jenny.’
He flicked the lighter on. The flame was solid, no wind. She launched herself out of the boat, bent her knees and thrust forward like a rugby player. She felt the boat rock away from her as her shoulder pummelled into Craig’s waist, making him stagger then fall into the wet sand, the lighter flickering out as it flew into the darkness. She got a mouthful of sand and seawater as she landed, felt Craig’s pelvis against her collarbone. She got to her knees, felt the gun butt against her shoulder. She scrabbled in the sand behind her, found the petrol can, lifted it and swung it at his face, missing his head but knocking the gun from his hand into the wash. The boat was bobbing in the water, she’d kicked it clear of the sand when she jumped.
She swung the fuel can again, smacked Craig’s face, petrol spilling over both of them, Craig spluttering and spitting. He threw himself at her, gripped her throat, pushed her towards the boat. She lost her footing and fell into it, Craig’s weight on top of her, the petrol can still in her hand. She emptied what was left over his head and thrashed at his arms so that he lost his grip. The boat rocked as she slid to the side and got on top of him, throwing punches. He wiped petrol from his eyes as she landed fists on him, all the energy she had, lashing out at everything he’d done.
He knocked her hands away and pushed her off. The boat swayed and she fell into the water, about two feet deep. She righted herself and saw him slowly getting to his knees in the boat. She waded to the beach, water thrashing at her legs, then she saw the glimmer of something on the sand, thought for a moment it was the gun then realised.
She ran to the lighter, smothered her hands in sand first then picked it up. Flicked it, nothing. Tried again, nothing, third time it took, a long flickering flame. She turned and saw Craig standing in the boat, a few feet further out now. He coughed and wiped his eyes, then looked out. She couldn’t see his face in the darkness.
She threw the lighter, watched it arc through the blackness, petrified it would flicker out or miss, then she saw it hit his chest with a whump as the petrol ignited over the top half of his body, flames licking his face, hair catching light, his arms thrashing like he was drowning in fire, then the inside of the boat lit up, flames around him as he sank to his knees, the boat swaying. He grabbed the side of the boat and she thought he’d climb out, but he slumped and his head dropped as flames engulfed the boat, drifting out into the darkness of the firth.
She watched for a long time as his body disappeared in flames. She kept expecting his body to rise up, flop over the side, swim towards her, emerge from the water like a sea monster.
But all she saw was the engulfed boat, flames licking into the sky, a ribbon of black smoke as if his spirit was leaving, off to join the energy of the universe.
She stared for a very long time until the fire ebbed, a throbbing glow on the horizon, getting smaller as it drifted into the expanse of the Forth.
She stayed until she couldn’t see it anymore, just the shush of waves in her ears, the smell of the sea, stars in the vastness above. Then she turned and walked up the beach.