Death Wish (The Ceruleans: Book 1) (4 page)

I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very
near, just around the corner. All is well… Nothing is lost.

It was the stuff of nightmares. The beast was enormous,
easily my own weight, with paws that could fell me with a tap and huge eyes
that betrayed more than a hint of the crazies. As I stood, frozen and
slack-jawed, it began to lope towards me with determined intent, panting and
drooling. Then, suddenly, the gigantic creature halted its advance, barked
joyously and threw itself, belly-up, at my feet, offering its vast stomach for
scratching.

Laughing, I obliged, and the dog wriggled delightedly.

‘I told you, old softie’s a total teddy bear,’ said the
beast’s master. ‘And he sure likes a pretty young lady.’

I rolled my eyes at the shameless flattery, but grinned my
acknowledgement that I too was enamoured with this mighty canine.

Determined to keep up momentum with my plan, I’d wasted no
time this morning in calling the number on the dog-walking job advert. The man
who answered the phone identified himself as Bert, and at once put me at ease
with his charming old-rogue patter. After a few minutes’ chat (during which I’d
assured him I was indeed a ‘stout lassie’, had heaps of experience caring for
dogs and was an energetic, outdoors type), Bert had invited me over at once for
tea and biscuits and a meet-and-greet with his dog, which he described as ‘just
a wee scrap of a thing’. An hour later I’d turned up, expecting to find a
lively old soul and his Chihuahua or Westie or Terrier. Instead, I’d been
met by a shrunken, ravaged-looking old man for whom answering the door had clearly
been a mighty effort and his really-not-small-at-all Old English Sheepdog,
Chester.

Bert settled himself into his armchair and, with a couple of
intermingled chortles and coughs, made the introductions. He was delighted by
his ‘joke’ in misleading me into thinking his dog was a titch.

‘Should’ve seen your face, girl! Priceless. Still, you’re
not quite what I was expecting either…’

He crooked an eyebrow, and I gave a sheepish smile. Clearly,
there was no need to ’fess up. With one look Bert had deduced that the dog and
I weren’t far off each other in weight, that I’d never walked a dog in my life,
and that the only outdoors activity I was accustomed to was sitting under a
leafy tree reading a novel.

‘Why dog walking then, love?’ he quizzed me. ‘Perhaps a nice
job in a shop would suit you better, eh?’

It was a get-out-of-jail-free card served up on a plate;
subtext:
if the dog’s too much of a handful, here’s where you graciously
exit.
But I had no intention of admitting defeat. I wanted the job, which
would give me the perfect excuse to explore the village and meet the villagers.
Plus the pay for the number of hours was generous, Bert was a hoot and Chester
– well, the laugh he’d elicited from me was my first, I realised, for a long
while.

‘I really love dogs,’ I attempted feebly. ‘And fresh air.
And walks. And Chester seems, well, lovely…’

‘He’s a good dog,’ nodded Bert. ‘Does as you tell him.
You’ll have no trouble with him, long as you show authority.’

I raised an eyebrow at Chester. He grinned back at me, revealing
a set of enormous pointed teeth.

‘Four hours I said in the ad. You don’t have to walk him
hard for that time, but I want him to get out. Stuck in here all day with me’s
no fun. Don’t mind how you run it – all together for a big jaunt, or a series
of walks through the day. Sad to be missing out, truth be told, but my old
heart isn’t what it used to be, and little Chester here needs more than I can
give.’

The old man’s eyes glittered, and I found myself glancing at
the oxygen tank beside his chair and wondering just how ill he was.

‘Well, any questions?’

I shook my head.

‘So what d’you think? You and Chester gonna be partners in
crime this summer?’

‘Yes! Er, yes please. If you’re happy to have me.’

‘Not up to me, love. Up to Chester. And that wee mite has
spoken.’ He gestured to the dog, who was now sitting in front of me, gazing up
with an expression of pure devotion.

‘All right then,’ I said, smiling at Bert. ‘I’m in.’

‘Excellent!’ Bert’s grin cracked his face into lines. ‘When
can you start?’

‘How’s now?’

‘That’s the spirit! Chester, fetch your lead, boy. Walkies,
walkies!’

Deliriously excited, Chester streaked across the room and
disappeared into the adjoining kitchen. There was an almighty crash – at which
I winced but Bert simply shook his head ruefully – then the mutt re-emerged
with a lead in his mouth and raced over to me.

I patted him on the head, feeling good about the day ahead.
Summer job in the bag. Piece of cake.

*

‘Chester! CHESTER – NO!’

Red-faced, breathless and sprinting (as quickly as a person
can on seaweed), I waved my arms desperately, though I knew doing so would have
little effect on my ‘partner in crime’, who was running full pelt, fur flying
in the breeze, tongue lolling, straight for a figure sitting on the beach.

‘CHESTER! HEEL!’ I shrieked one final time, but it was too
late – in a powerful leap the mutt launched himself at the girl and she went
down in a frenzy of fur and tail wagging.

Panting and holding the stitch in my side, I raced the final
distance, already shouting ‘Sorry! I’m so sorry!’ as I grabbed the back of
Chester’s collar and attempted to haul him off. Chester found this to be
fabulous fun and launched into a game of tug of war, heedless of the fact he
was choking himself on his collar in the process.

‘STUPID dog,’ I hurled at him as I dug my feet in and, with
a back-jarring tug, succeeded in separating beast and girl. In seconds I had
the lead clipped back onto Chester’s collar and was holding him firmly by my
side. ‘Bad, bad boy!’ I told him. He rolled his eyes, grinned and flopped onto
his belly on the sand.

I turned my attention now to the girl, who had pushed
herself up to a sitting position and was smoothing her long dress down over her
legs.

‘Are you okay?’ I asked.

She looked up at me with a scowl that filled me with dread,
but in an instant it dissolved into a warm smile that lit up her round, ruddy
face. ‘I’m kidding – it’s all right. Chester here was just saying hello,
weren’t you, boy?’ She reached over and rubbed the tufts of white fur sticking
out between his eyes and Chester near-fainted with joy.

‘Oh, you know him?’ I said with relief. At least the demon
hound hadn’t attacked a total stranger.

‘Oh yes. I’ve known him since he was a puppy – and goodness,
you think he’s a handful now; he was out of control with energy back then. Bert
used to supply fish to my parents; I grew up eating his catches.’

A local then. I looked at the girl with new interest. She
was quite beautiful in an earthy, robust kind of way – not slight by any means,
but not curvaceous either, with a rosy complexion offset by blue eyes and dark,
wavy, shoulder-length hair. Her high leather boots and vintage-look dress
screamed effortlessly stylish. Self-consciously, I smoothed down my t-shirt,
damp and sticking to me from the race across the entire width of the beach.

‘Are you sure you’re okay? Chester gave you quite a flying
hug.’

She flicked a hand dismissively. ‘Yeah, ’course. Takes more
than a dog to take me out. Could use a coffee, though. You?’

I blinked. Was that an invitation?

‘Um…’

‘You’ll be needing a caffeine hit after that run. C’mon, I
know just the place. Give us a hand.’

Decision made, apparently, the girl stretched out her hand
and I grabbed it. It took her some time and effort to reach a standing
position.

‘I’m Cara, by the way,’ she said.

‘Scarlett.’

‘What a great name,’ she said dreamily. ‘I always wanted to
be called Rose, you know. We’d have been a good pair, Rose and Scarlett. Now,
keep hold of Chester, eh – I don’t fancy running to catch him.’

And, slotting her arm through mine, she began leading me up
the beach to the promenade. Within a few steps it was clear that should Chester
escape, Cara would be doing no running at all, and I understood the need to
hold on. Because something wasn’t right with Cara’s legs, and walking across
the uneven surface of the beach was an agonisingly slow, hobbling, jerky
affair.

She looked at me then, right in the eyes – daring me, I
thought, to react. I said nothing, merely smiled and tried to explain how what
had started as a controlled walk had descended into a full-on Chester chase. It
was a long and complicated tale that spanned the entire walk from the beach to
the cafe.

‘… and then I chased him back
up
the cliff path, and
then I chased him back
down
the cliff path, and then I chased him across
the beach again and then… well, then we met you.’

‘Bad boy,’ scolded Cara, pointing at Chester, who hung his
head and whined plaintively.

We reached the cafe next to Dan’s Dive Shop and Cara let go
of my arm to shove open the door. I clipped Chester’s lead to a wooden bench on
the pavement and patted him on the head. ‘Back in a minute, boy,’ I told him.

‘So why didn’t you employ the buttons?’ Cara asked as we
waited our turn at the counter.

‘Buttons?’

Outside, Chester barked.

Cara eyeballed me, and then sighed. ‘Bert. Tell me Bert told
you Chester’s one weakness, the one thing he’ll do anything for, even behave?’

I shook my head.

‘Ah. Must’ve been testing you. Milky choccie buttons, that’s
the trick. Chester loves them. One button, instant obedience.’

‘Really? Wow, thanks!’ Suddenly a summer of walking Chester
seemed manageable once more.

While Cara took charge of ordering coffees – ‘The usual,
please! With extra froth; it’s an extra froth kind of day’ – I looked around.
That didn’t take long. The place was more cupboard than cafe, with just two
tiny tables and chairs squeezed into what space wasn’t taken up by the kitchen
area.

‘Outside or inside?’ asked Cara as she poured an obscene
amount of sugar into her mocha-caramel latte. I grabbed mine as she waved the
sugar dispenser towards it.

‘Out,’ I voted. Had better keep an eye on Chester, I
figured.

We sat on the bench and Chester settled himself across my
feet. From here, the view of Twycombe cove was amazing: to the east, green
banks erupting above jagged grey rocks rose steeply away; to the west, my
grandparents’ cottage was just visible. But it was the water that drew the eye
– the tide was in and the vast expanse of sea visible was so blue under the
cloudless sky that it was impossible to tell where heaven met earth. It was an
idyllic spot.

‘So, your sister’s dead and my legs are mangled.’

My first sip of coffee sprayed over my jeans, and Cara
laughed as I grabbed a napkin and started blotting up the mess.

‘Sorry, people often say I’m a bit blunt. Too honest. I
don’t believe in ignoring the elephant in the room, you see. Awkward. People
notice my legs and get all hot and bothered and try to be all polite, and it’s
never mentioned. I bet it’s the same for you with your sister, the minute people
clock who you are.’

Now the initial shock had passed, I realised I really liked
this outspoken girl and her direct manner. ‘You knew who I was from the start?
I mean, does everyone here know who I am?’

‘Well, it’s a small village. Mostly old people. So
newcomers, especially young ones, stick out. And, well, people talk. What
happened to Sienna, it shook us all. There was a service at St Mary’s, you
know. We all went.’

‘Did you know her?’ I asked, attempting a casual tone.

‘No, not really.’ She swirled the foam on her coffee with a
finger. ‘I knew of her, more like. Saw her at the odd party, but we never
spoke. She seemed… nice.’

I smiled sadly. ‘I thought you were all about honesty?’

‘Okay. Well, she came across as a bit wild, you know. Bit of
an attention seeker. And a flirt – man, she had those guys on the hop. But
still, she was harmless enough. Just having fun.’

‘Were you there, at the last party? The night she…’

Cara shook her head. ‘No. Back then I was seeing this guy –
majorly hot, but turned out to be a total tool. We were meant to meet at the
party, but it all went pear-shaped that afternoon and we broke up. So I spent
the evening in a classic
Buffy
DVD marathon; you know, as you do.’

She looked at me and then added softly, ‘I heard about it
later. When she went into the water, someone ran back to the house for help.
They all went down to the beach and scoured the waters, but there was no sign.
I’m so sorry, Scarlett.’

I stared into my coffee, not sure what to say. What I wanted
to say was,
You’re sorry, everyone’s sorry – but sorry doesn’t explain why
she died.

‘So,’ said Cara when neither of us had spoken for too long,
‘my turn now. Legs are a mess. Just call me hopalong.’

‘What’s wrong with… I mean, how…?’

‘Car accident. My legs got pinned. I was lucky not to lose
them.’ She saw the look on my face. ‘Yes, lucky. Could have been much worse.
And they don’t hurt so much these days. Just look ghastly, with all the
scarring, and seriously interfere with my sexy strut.’

‘It must have been terrible for you,’ I said carefully. ‘But
you got through it. I mean, you survived.’

‘Yeah.
I
survived. My parents, though…’

‘Oh! I’m so sorry.’

I squeezed my eyes shut, furious at myself for letting out
such a meaningless platitude,
that
meaningless platitude.

A poke in the arm startled me. ‘Look at yourself,’ said
Cara. ‘You know there’s nothing to say, nothing you can do. Loss sucks. End
of.’ She raised her coffee cup in a toast. ‘To end of!’

What could I do but bump my cup on hers?

‘So, we get each other, you and me,’ said Cara. ‘And I was
thinking, we girls should stick together. Lot of lush surfer types around
Twycombe – I’m dating one right now, actually; Lovely Kyle – but a massive
shortage of females under the age of sixty. Unless you count the surfer girls
and trashy hangers-on. And no one with an ounce of imagination; I mean, try
finding someone to see the latest paranormal romance movie with. I ended up
seeing
The Bewitching Hour
with my brother –
my brother!
’ She
narrowed her eyes. ‘You do like paranormal stuff, don’t you?’