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FULL FATHOM FIVE - CHAPTER 19

By Sarah Hapgood


Oh hark at me, talking so damn tough all of a sudden! Needless to say things didn’t quite work out that way. In the cold light of day I re-examined all the windows, but baulked at calling out a locksmith to replace the locks, mainly because the thought of the expense involved made me shudder.

Misty was subdued, but I didn’t think that was terribly surprising, all things considered. After lunch we drove out onto the long marsh road which runs past PVT’s guest-house. I was surprised to see 2 police cars sitting in the driveway. Surprised because I had ruled out calling the police. It would be unwelcome attention. They would want to know why he had gone to all the trouble of breaking into my house, and I was completely at a loss on that one.

We drove on past the house and pulled into a lay-by to decide what to do next.

“You’re scaring me”, said Misty, suddenly “You’re acting so aggressive and I don’t like it“.

“The last thing I want to do is scare YOU”, I said.

“Well you are”, he replied “Where’s all this gonna end?”

“But it’s HIM who’s goading us”, I said “Left to me I’d quite happily forget he existed”.

“I’m frightened you’ll do something stupid”, he said “Attack him or something like that, and then where would we be?”

“I’m not going to attack him”, I said “I just want to know what he’s up to, that’s all. C’mon, I’ll drive you out to Darklight Cove. That always helps to put everything in perspective”.

It was cold and windy out at Darklight Cove, but then it usually is. I took him into the old lighthouse, which is open to the public, mainly to get out of the wind. We had an amiable chat with one of the staff (who told us it was haunted), and then Misty said he wanted to climb all the way up to the light. The lighthouse steps are steep and narrow, with only a waist-high banister, and could give anyone vertigo, but I was determined to make him happy. At the top we stood silently for some while, looking out at the sea, the reactor, the old coastguards’ cottages, and the long concrete roads where Rufus Franklin used to stalk along in his black coat.

We were shaken out of our reverie by the arrival of a party of small schoolchildren, who were all negotiating the terrifying stairs with the fearless agility of a herd of mountain goats. We went back down and outside. I took Misty for a warm-up coffee and a hot sausage roll at the cheap-and-cheerful café nearby.

“I won’t deny I won’t be on the lookout for him if he comes round our way again”, I whispered, although there was hardly anybody else around, only the woman on the till and she was busy singing along to an old Patsy Kline number on the radio “But I promise you I won’t do anything hasty and stupid”.

“Then why did you want to drive out to his house today?” Misty demanded to know.

“Simply to ask him what the hell all that was about last night”, I said “Not unreasonable I’m sure you’ll agree, AND that if he does it again, or comes anywhere near our house, I’ll definitely call the police this time”.

“From what we saw earlier it looks like somebody else has beaten us to it”, he said, gruffly.

“He’s probably up to his neck in all sorts of shit”, I said “I was dubious about him before I’d even me him, just going by the way Mr Beresford talked about him”.

“Well you don’t actually have to call on him to warn him”, said Misty “Ring him up or e-mail him”.

I had to do that anyway, as the police cars were still there when we drove back past.

I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to get hold of him on the phone. For 2 hours his phone was engaged solid (the guest-house landline phone that is. I didn’t have his mobile number). When I did finally get someone to answer he proved every bit as elusive as ever. An Eastern European receptionist at first said he wouldn’t be available until “3 o’clock in the morning”.

“That’s ridiculous”, I said, not caring by this time whether I was being unreasonable or not.

“I mean, 3 o’clock tomorrow afternoon”, came the nervous reply.

“Could you please tell him that if he doesn’t come to the phone right this minute”, I said, having a rare brainwave “I’ll pop along and see him in person, whether the police are still there or not”.

That did the trick. He came to the phone pretty smart-ish, oozing charm all over the place, as though there was nothing amiss at all.

“Cut the crap”, I said (that was fun, always wanted to do that) “I’ve only got one thing to say to you. If you come anywhere near my house again I’ll not hesitate to take appropriate action”.

“Gray, is there any reason to be like that?” he said, still trying to be charming.

“Yes!” I exclaimed “You broke into my fucking house last night!”

This sodding conversation was getting more surreal by the moment. If I hadn’t felt so angry I would have taken a step back and laughed at the whole thing.

“Ask him why he did it”, Misty hissed.

“You invited me over”, said PVT.

“No I fucking didn’t!” I shouted (why the hell would I do that???) “Even if I had why would you climb in and out through the side window?! If you attempt to do that again I’ll see to it personally that you get a nasty surprise”.

“Are you threatening me by any chance?” he said “That sounds like dodgy talk you’re coming out with now”.

“You’re the one who is in the wrong”, I said “There are laws against stalking. Anymore of this and you could find yourself slapped with a court injunction“.

I then found myself talking to him as if I was a headmaster ticking off a naughty pupil.

“I want your sworn promise you won’t try anything like that again”, I said.

To my astonishment he yielded.

“I promise”, he said, sulkily “But you have been giving me the red light you know. All that smiling at me you did round my place back in the Summer, and then driving past my house in the evenings …”

I put the phone down on him.


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