Josephine Cox Mother’s Day 3-Book Collection: Live the Dream, Lovers and Liars, The Beachcomber. Josephine Cox
reason he had found it difficult to sleep. ‘Must have been the beer,’ he groaned, rubbing his stomach with the flat of his hand.
As he couldn’t sleep, he got washed and dressed and made his way downstairs, where he searched the cupboards, greatly relieved to find that Jasper had allowed for all occasions. The bicarbonate of soda in a glass of water was just what the doctor ordered.
While the kettle was boiling he threw open the back door and stood watching the sun come up. ‘Looks like it’ll be a glorious day,’ he murmured. Already the air was warm and the skies blue, with no hint of a cloud anywhere. ‘Makes a man feel good!’ He had not even spent forty-eight hours in West Bay, and already he was beginning to relax.
He drank his tea, and a few minutes later he had put on his jacket and was making his way to the clifftops. High above the world, striding through the fields and on towards the sea, he felt like a man out of his time. It was a weird and wonderful feeling.
Down below in the hamlet, Amy was sorting the newspapers, with the help of Jasper, who every morning insisted on lifting the heavy bundles as they came in. ‘Look!’ Amy had caught sight of the man at the top of the cliff. ‘It’s odd for someone to be walking the cliffs at this early hour, don’t you think?’
Curious, Jasper looked up. ‘It’s that Tom chap.’ He recognised him straight away: the long, lean figure and that mop of hair, made unruly by the wild air-currents that swirled up from the beach below. ‘Poor devil. Looks like he couldn’t sleep.’
Amy suspected that Tom was a man with troubles but, like Jasper, she asked no questions. Now, though, she was curious. ‘Whatever’s he doing up there, at ten to six of a morning?’ A terrible thought crossed her mind. ‘He’s not going to throw himself over, is he?’
‘Good God no!’ Jasper chided. ‘What little I know of him, I wouldn’t say he were the sort to throw himself over a cliff!’ Though it would not be the first time a man had leaped from the clifftops to end it all.
Jasper studied Tom for a moment longer, quietly satisfied that he would come to no harm up there. All the same, he could tell that Tom was deeply troubled; from the way he sat hunched on the boulder, so still, his head bent low to the ocean, as though deep in thought.
‘What’s he doing?’ Like Jasper, Amy was concerned.
‘He’s searching, lass.’
‘Searching … for what?’
Jasper shrugged. ‘Who knows?’ He shook his head. He wondered what might be going on in Tom’s mind at that minute. He remembered the way it had been with him, and his heart went out to that young man. ‘He’s looking for what we all want,’ he murmured. ‘Contentment … peace of mind, call it what yer will.’
Something in his voice made Amy reach out to touch him. ‘Let’s hope he finds it then,’ she said softly. ‘You too, Jasper.’
The old man squeezed her hand. ‘Yer a lovely lady,’ he said.
She laughed at that. ‘Flatterer!’
Drawing away, she wagged a finger at him. ‘We’d best get on with these papers, or they’ll not be delivered by this time next week!’
As they worked, Jasper occasionally glanced up to where Tom was, high above the world, away from all things painful. ‘After a time it won’t hurt so much,’ he murmured. ‘It’ll get easier, son, you’ll see.’ He gave a long, shivering sigh. ‘Whatever it is that haunts yer, it’ll get easier, I promise.’
He hoped there would come a day when Tom might confide in him. After all, everybody needs a friend, he thought. As for himself, he had been fortunate in finding one in little Amy.
Up on the clifftop, Tom was oblivious to the interest he had caused. He thought about his wife and children, and he smiled. ‘I wish I’d brought you here to this lovely place, when I had the chance,’ he whispered, ‘but you’re here in my thoughts and in my heart.’ Before, when he thought of them, he had found it hard to breathe for the pain, but now, when he thought of them, it was with a strange sense of joy. ‘I’ve been a lucky man.’
He looked straight ahead, as though speaking to a physical presence. ‘I’ve had the love of three wonderful people, and I’ve shared their lives. That’s something that can never be taken away.’
There was something else, too, and the hatred was like a bad taste in his mouth. ‘You might be hard to trace, you murderous bastard!’ Instinctively clutching his fist until the knuckles bled white, he spoke in a whisper. ‘But I’ll find you and, when I do, you’ll rue the day you took my family from me.’
Time and again he had searched his mind for a reason, and each time he was forced to surmise that the person who ran him over that cliff-edge must have been out of his mind. But it made no difference. ‘Madman or fool, you took three lives that day … and ruined another.’
A terrible sense of rage overwhelmed him. ‘You’ll pay for it. When the time is right, I’ll take up your trail and make you pay for what you did!’
He stood up and strode away, his face set hard as stone as he walked towards the cottage and a measure of sanctuary. For now he must give himself the time he so badly needed. But the day would come when he would heal. His mind would clear and he would be able to think straight.
On that day, he would set out to find the killer.
And he would not rest until he found him!
‘FOR GOD’S SAKE, Kathy!’ Trying unsucessfully for the umpteenth time to fasten the portmanteau, Maggie sat back on her knees and groaned. ‘What the hell have you got in here … the kitchen sink?’ Suddenly free of her weight, the portmanteau heaved a sigh and up popped the lid. ‘Oh no … not again!’ Throwing herself flat on the floor, arms outstretched and eyes closed, she told Kathy, ‘That’s it, gal. I give up!’
Up to her neck in scattered clothes and half-filled boxes, Kathy threw down the saucepan she was carrying and walked across the room. Leaning over the prostrate figure of her friend, she suggested invitingly, ‘What say we stop for a cup of tea?’
Looking up through one weary, open eye, Maggie wanted to know, ‘Is there any o’ that fruit cake left?’
Kathy rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, I dare say I can find us a piece … but only if you can stop swearing and moaning long enough to eat it!’
Maggie scrambled up. ‘Go on then, gal. Go to it.’
While Kathy busied herself at that, Maggie made another attempt to close the portmanteau lid, whooping and hollering when it finally clicked into place. ‘But you can carry it down the stairs!’ she warned Kathy as they sat at the table with their tea and cake. ‘I’ve got a date on Thursday.’ She chuckled naughtily. ‘I’d rather not turn up ruptured … if you know what I mean?’
Kathy gave her a warning in return. ‘As long as you don’t end up pregnant instead!’
Maggie was indignant. ‘No chance. I’m not that stupid!’
‘All the same, be careful. You know as well as I do … blokes are only ever out for one thing.’
‘Not this one.’
Replacing her empty cup on the table, Kathy was curious, ‘Who is he, then?’
‘Just a bloke.’ Shrugging her shoulders, Maggie bent her head to the tea in front of her.
Realising, Kathy groaned. ‘Oh, Maggie! It’s not that cunning devil who kept bothering you the last time we were at the Palais, is it? The one who kept combing his hair and winking every time you turned round?’
Maggie went on the defensive. ‘It might be.’