I woke from a fitful sleep. Something had disturbed me. A gentle alarm on Vic’s phone, waking us for our trip to Perran Cove.
He stuck his arm out and switched it off, falling straight back to sleep with a grunt.
Of course, he wouldn’t want to go now.
Daylight had crept into the room. I slid out of bed, scooped up my clothes and slipped out of the bedroom.
Downstairs, I dressed quickly in my crumpled shorts and a T-shirt and checked my phone. My stomach lurched. There’d been a missed call, from an unknown number.
There was a message too. Katya’s back. The police were waiting when she got off the train at your end. She wanted me to tell you to be careful. She seems to think you’re in danger. Marianne.
Something loosened inside me. I hadn’t realised just how worried I’d been about Katya. If you speak to her again, tell her I’m OK and I’ll talk to her when I get back.
Marianne didn’t reply, but it was early, and the message had come through hours ago. Remembering my theory, I wondered if it was even true that Katya had been coming to see me, or a way for Marianne to get the address of where I was staying. It wasn’t as if I’d checked. Could she be on her way to Perran Cove? I recalled Carl’s shiny black car behind me as I drove to Fernley House the day after my birthday; how I’d been convinced the driver was following me, trying to scare me, but it was only Marianne. Marianne, with her love of true crime, her brilliant imagination that inspired creativity in her writing classes. She could probably dream up myriad ways to kill someone and get away with it. It seemed so unlikely she’d wish anyone harm, but it was always the last person you expected. At least, in films. But this wasn’t a film, it was my life.
I poured myself a glass of cold milk and drank it quickly then looked around. The newspaper was still on the table, Vic’s shoes tucked underneath, my cardigan thrown across the sofa, next to the phone handset. There was no evidence of anyone having a good time here. I knew we couldn’t stay, not after I’d shown Vic that I didn’t trust him. The damage was done. We’d go home, and then what? He’d move back to his place, I supposed, surprised that I was thinking like that, and not about trying to salvage what was left of our relationship.
I opened the curtains to see the end of a glorious sunrise, the sky marbled peach and rose pink, the sea like rippling silk. It would be a shame to go home without visiting Perran Cove. It had been the whole purpose of the visit. Then again, talking to Angie had been more valuable, and done more for my soul, than going back to the sea would. Even so … it would be good to know that I’d tried. And the water was calm today.
I quickly checked the forecast on my phone. Storm clouds tomorrow, but no rain today, just plenty of sunshine and a light sea breeze.
I picked up the laminate the cottage owner had left and studied the timetable of tides once again. Vic had been right; it was a very low tide right now. Maybe I could take some photos on my phone, run down and dip my toes in the sea, if I was feeling brave; be back before Vic woke up.
I briefly considered waking him, asking him to come with me. Getting me down there had been his aim after all, but I had a feeling he’d want to set off back to Oxford right away, that indulging me now would be a step too far after yesterday. As it was, the journey home was going to feel uncomfortably long. Just the thought of it threatened to bring back my headache.
I ripped a sheet of paper from my notepad and wrote Back soon, gone for a walk xx so Vic wouldn’t worry if he came down to find me gone.
I slipped my phone and keys into my pocket, pulled on my cardigan and grabbed an apple from the kitchen. My sneakers were by the door and I slid my feet in then paused for a moment, listening to the silence.
It was surely too early for anyone to be out there, waiting for me to emerge, so they could … what? I thought of the headlights I was sure I’d seen last night, but Katya was safe now.
She seems to think you’re in danger.
Did Katya really know something? I thought about calling Dee to check Katya really was home, reassure her I was fine, but it might do more harm than good, and what if Marianne had lied? On impulse, I called the number PC Fellowes had given me instead.
‘Good morning, Devon and Cornwall Police.’ It was a different voice, female, slightly bored.
‘Oh. Hi. It’s Beth Turner,’ I said. ‘I’m staying at Wayfarer’s Cottage.’
‘How can I help?’
‘I’ve a message for PC Fellowes.’
‘PC Fellowes isn’t due in until seven.’
‘Oh. Right. Well … I wanted to him know, I’m going down to Perran Cove,’ I said, as if it was perfectly normal to call the police station at five in the morning and relay this information. ‘Now, I mean.’
‘Right.’ Her voice was neutral.
‘He’ll understand what it’s about, if you could please let him know.’
‘Can you be more specific?’
I moved away from the door as if Vic might be listening behind it. ‘I’ll call back in half an hour,’ I said. That should give me enough time to get back up here. ‘If I don’t, I’m in trouble and you should send help.’
‘Trouble?’ The signal cut out as she started to say something else.
Heading away from the cottage, munching the apple, feeling the spring of heather beneath my feet, I tried not to give in to an urge to look behind me.
A woman in running gear with a swinging ponytail was jogging down the path, a glossy black Labrador lolloping at her side. She gave me a cheerful smile as she passed and raised a hand. ‘Morning!’
I waved back and, reassured by the sight of normal life, carried on in the opposite direction, heading to where the path dipped, turning into steps that were roughly hewn into the rock face above the cove.
I paused and looked down, heart racing with sudden fear, and dropped my half-eaten apple. This was supposed to have happened with Vic at my side, but here I was alone, staring at the place of my nightmares.
The view shimmered and settled, not as I remembered at all. In my dreams, it was a place of crashing waves, a whirlpool of froth and ice sucking me down, flinging me about like debris, filling me up until I couldn’t breathe. Only on waking could I superimpose the pale crescent of sand, the changing blues and greens of the water as it had looked when I went into it that day on my Lilo, while Mum and Dad lolled on towels, and Jamie ran out of the cave he’d been exploring and scrambled up the steps to buy ice-creams.
The urge to turn back and never look at this view again was strong, but I knew if I did, it would haunt me forever. Heart jumping, stomach sliding, I started down the shallow steps, gripping the iron rail that ran down the side – an addition that hadn’t been there back when Jamie and I raced down, with no sense of fear, ignoring shouts of caution from Mum and Dad, excited to explore the rock pools, to look for treasure, and to get into the sea. We hadn’t needed anyone else then, happy in each other’s company.
‘Race you,’ Jamie had yelled from the bottom, eyes scrunched against the sun, skinny-limbed in his blue swimming shorts, already nut-brown from four days in the sun. I heard the echo of his voice as I reached the sand, feeling out of breath as I clung to a rock at the bottom, reluctant to let go.
The cove felt more secluded than it looked from above. Someone would have to peer right over to spot me there, and the water was closer than I’d thought, more than halfway up the small curve of beach. Maybe it was an illusion because I was physically closer. I knew from the timetable that the water wouldn’t reach the steps for several hours.
‘Come on, you can do this,’ I urged, imagining I was one of my clients at Fernley House. ‘One step at a time, and remember to breathe.’ I took off my shoes and put them on the cluster of rocks behind me. Digging my toes into the cool, damp sand, I concentrated on moving my diaphragm up and down while keeping my eyes on the view.
It really was breathtaking; the sky a bowl of denim blue and blush pink reflected in the water. No wind disturbed the surface, which was a wrinkled expanse of silk, the sound no more than a gentle murmur as it lapped the champagne sand. It was too calm for surfing, though I knew round the rocky outcrop it could be a different story, white-capped waves blowing up onto Porthen Beach.
As I looked at the tranquil scene, a seal lifted its sleek head from the water and looked right at me, before bobbing under again. I laughed out loud with surprised delight, picturing Hayley’s face when I told her. I imagined Matt beside me, scooping one arm around my shoulder, easing me forward. A swell of emotion moved through me.
I dug my phone out and snapped a picture. Here I am, I typed. There was barely any signal, but I sent it anyway, then worried it looked as if I was gloating. Look at me! I did it without you, ha ha.
I frowned at the screen. There was a message from Jamie, sent about ten minutes ago.
Where R U?
Jamie. I thought about him as I looked around me, inserting him into the scene; splashing through the water to push me around on my Lilo, both of us giggling as he tried to tip me into the shallows. Hold your nose, Beth, it’s easy. Put your head under. You can see the starfishes!
I switched my phone to video and swept it round, noting the light on the water and sand, how black the rocks behind me looked, the cave he’d explored back then like a gaping mouth – seeing it all as I’d paint it once I was home.
I sent the video to Jamie, with a message. Look familiar?
It was an olive branch of sorts, but he’d probably think I was taunting him.
I remembered the screwed-up paper in his office, the footprint in my studio; how he’d always mocked my painting, my choice of career. How much he seemed to hate me, and what my counsellor had told me years ago, about him disguising his guilt – a guilt he’d denied ever feeling. My lungs grew tight and heavy. The memory of headlights the night before flew into my mind. Maybe I shouldn’t have let Jamie know my exact location. What if he was here?
The video hadn’t sent and, for once, I was grateful for the dodgy signal. I’d be back at the cottage soon. If Vic wasn’t up, I’d wake him, and maybe we’d have breakfast together before leaving. I suddenly couldn’t wait to get away.
My feet were wet. Surprised, I looked down and saw that the water had reached where I was standing. I took a stumbling step back. I’d checked the times of the tides, twice, and knew Vic hadn’t got it wrong. How had the water moved so quickly?
It was OK. I could easily retreat. The steps were right behind me, no need to panic. I forced myself to stand still, to try to enjoy the satin caress of water around my toes. It was like being in the baby pool with Hayley – except it was the sea. The vast, unfathomable sea.
My pulse was racing. Breathe, just breathe.
There was no danger, I was safe. The sea was benign, as if showing me I needn’t be scared. I took another photo, hands trembling slightly, this time of my feet. Further proof that I’d done it. I’d stood in the sea in Perran Cove and nothing terrible had happened.
Turning, I took a selfie with the sea and sky behind me, shocked by the wildness of the image looking back at me. I was pale, my hair a tangled mess, violet crescents beneath my eyes, which were wide and wary. I looked haunted.
I glanced around once more, committing the scene to memory, imaging it on canvas – a final painting for my exhibition in a few months’ time.
Putting my phone in the pocket of my shorts, I reached for my shoes. One slipped into the water and I had to scrabble for it. As I straightened, holding out the sodden sneaker, I felt a familiar prickle at the back of my neck and whipped around. There was nothing now but the sea, lapping towards the cave on my right, just a metre of sand still visible at the mouth.
Glancing up, I searched for signs of life – dog-walkers, joggers on the path above – but saw only seagulls wheeling high, their mournful cries sending a shiver down my spine.
I reached for the iron rail, pulled one foot from the water and stopped.
A sound had reached me from somewhere: a child’s cry. Every hair on my body lifted. Hayley? I knew it wasn’t – couldn’t be. A seagull dipped low, so close I felt a draught from its wings. I pressed a palm to my chest, feeling the rapid drum of my heart. It had been a seabird’s cry, the sound amplified by the rocks rearing around me.
I began to climb, hand slipping on the rail, when the noise came again, faint but indisputable. Definitely a child. A cry for help.
Mummy!
My blood turned to ice.
It sounded to be coming from the cave, but how could that be? There’d been no one here when I arrived, no way of getting in that cave without being seen. A child couldn’t have survived the night in there, not once the tide flooded in. Unless they’d clung to a rock … The thought made me breathless.
A wail, thin and eerie, sent adrenaline pumping through me. Dropping my shoes, I jumped, landing in ankle-deep water. I fished my phone out to call Vic, or the police. No signal. Should I go back to the cliff path and call for help? But there might not be any phone reception there either.
The water was still rising, but I could surely make it to the cave and back, just check there was no one inside.
I ran through the water, which splashed up the backs of my legs, and I was relieved when I reached the remaining sandy stretch in front of the cave.
I entered tentatively. ‘Hello?’ The acoustics bounced my voice back. Hello, hello, hello. ‘Is there anyone in here?’ Here, here, here.
I remembered following Jamie in during our treasure hunt, pretending to be pirates. It had the same smell as then, slightly sulphurous from the seaweed that had washed in. Shelves of black rock jutted from the walls and there was a boulder further down, covered in lichen, litter scattered around it. Dad would hate that. Why can’t people take their rubbish with them?
Now I was there, staring into the blackness, it seemed unlikely the cave was inhabited. Whatever had made that noise, it wasn’t a child.
About to back out, I heard another sound. Scrabbling, like tiny claws on the slippery surfaces. Rats? I turned on my torch app and angled the beam around the damp walls of the cave. A movement, just out sight, made me drop my phone on the sand, which felt like damp concrete beneath my feet. Behind me, the water crept closer.
Frightened, I bent to retrieve my phone and heard the scraping sound again.
‘Who’s there?’ I took a few steps back, trod on something sharp and gasped with pain. It was the jagged edge of a seashell, embedded in the sand. I lifted my foot to inspect it and a thin trickle of blood dripped from my sole. I needed to get out of here, now.
I turned, limping towards daylight and heard the voice again.
Mummy!
It sounded ethereal, whispering around the cave like a voice from beyond the grave, but I didn’t believe in ghosts.
Spinning round I called, ‘Are you hurt?’ My voice was louder, reverberating back. The wail started again and every hair on my body stood to attention. ‘Hang on, I’m coming!’
I limped back the way I’d come, aiming my phone in front of me to light the way. I remembered the cave was long and winding, and how it had echoed with the roar of surf the last time I was here. It hadn’t seemed scary back then, with voices and laughter trailing us from the beach; families like ours having fun. It had been an adventure.
Now, the walls felt as if they were closing in and fear sluiced in my stomach. My instincts screamed at me to get out, but I couldn’t go without knowing who was in there. ‘Are you hurt?’ I called again. The sound of my own voice was my only reply.
I stopped as I came to a turning, knowing beyond that I’d be cut off from the light at the entrance behind me, where I knew the sea was waiting, inching closer. The torch beam was already fading as the phone charge drained. ‘Please, tell me where you are.’
Are, are, are.
Something wasn’t right. A sweep of goose bumps alerted me to another presence. I was worried I might faint, my legs giving way. I shouldn’t be here.
As I turned to run, the remaining torchlight caught something in the blackness. Glittering eyes, watching me.
I screamed.
‘You took your time.’ A figure stepped forward. ‘I thought you might not come in, but I guess no mother can resist a child’s cry for help.’
A bulb of terror stuck in my throat, rendering me speechless.
‘Thank God for my little recording, though it wasn’t exactly convincing.’ A laugh, devoid of humour, turned my insides to liquid. ‘You’re even more gullible than I thought.’
Horror circled my mind as the figure lunged, striking the side of my head with something hard. I felt a crack, my skull exploding with pain, and had only one thought before everything went black.
It really was the last person I’d expected.