Читать книгу Coming Home to Ottercombe Bay: The laugh out loud romantic comedy of the year - Bella Osborne, Bella Osborne - Страница 8

In a few short minutes her breathing had steadied and despite a small niggle she knew she was doing the right thing. She didn’t like not saying goodbye to Aunt Coral but she would only have tried to make her stay. She turned into the high street and pulled up at the traffic lights. Tamsyn jumped in front of her waving her arms.

Oh cock, thought Daisy.

‘Hello. I knew it was you; your bike sounds ropey. Wasn’t it a lovely service? Proper good send off, lots of people, which is really lovely, especially for an old person because sometimes there’s not many people there because all their friends have died, but everyone loved Reg. Why have you got your rucksack with you?’

‘Umm,’ mumbled Daisy.

Tamsyn came to the side of the bike. ‘Are you leaving?’ Tamsyn’s face fell, she looked instantly despondent.

Daisy wished she was a better liar as she lifted her visor. ‘Sorry, Tamsyn, I need to go. You take care now.’

‘No. You’ve only just come back, you can’t leave now …’ Her eyes filled with tears and Daisy felt like she was torturing a toddler.

The traffic lights changed. ‘I’m sorry,’ said Daisy, she meant it. She flipped down her visor. Someone behind hooted and Daisy revved the engine and started to pull away.

‘Sandy wants you to stay!’ shouted Tamsyn with desperation in her voice.

Of all the things she could have shouted after her this was the one thing that would have the desired effect. The words were still ringing in Daisy’s ears as she pulled her bike into the kerb and switched off the engine. Tamsyn walked over looking anxious.

Daisy felt numb. She pulled off her helmet and stared at Tamsyn.

‘What do you mean “Sandy wants me to stay”?’ snapped Daisy. Daisy’s mother was called Sandy, was this who she meant?

Tamsyn nibbled her bottom lip. ‘You remember my mum, Min?’ she said, sounding like she was saying a tongue twister.

If this was going to be another long drawn out story Daisy was likely to scream. ‘Yes, why?’

‘She kind of gets these feelings. It’s a bit like a spiritual medium but not really the same. They’re like a sixth sense message from those who’ve left us. And she said to tell you but I wasn’t sure if you’d think she was mad or not and I didn’t want to upset you and—’

‘Tamsyn, please spit it out.’

Tamsyn took a deep breath. ‘She felt your mum’s presence. She said she could tell Sandy was pleased you were home and she wanted you to stay.’

Daisy didn’t know what to think. She had seen no evidence herself of life after death so she had no reason to believe in it. But the thought of some sort of contact from her mum had such a powerful draw it wrestled hard with her logical mind. Daisy swallowed. Another car honked at her and overtook, nearly clipping her bike.

‘We can’t stay here. Get on,’ instructed Daisy.

Tamsyn shook her head. ‘It’s too dangerous without a helmet.’

‘I’ll go at like five miles an hour – it’ll be fine. Or better still, you can have mine.’

Tamsyn shook her head. ‘It’s illegal. Hang on, I have an idea.’ She ran off towards the barbers. Moments later she came out wearing a black crash helmet featuring a bloodied skull design, which looked interesting when teamed with her long flowing summer dress.

‘Barber has a motorbike,’ she said and she climbed on the back. Daisy didn’t question her, she restarted the bike and pulled out safely into the traffic. She could have ridden anywhere but one particular place sprang to mind. She headed out of the town centre and turned onto the coast road. A short way along she turned off onto the gravel area that was both a small car park and viewing spot.

Daisy left the bike and walked off along the coastal path with Tamsyn following dutifully, a lot like it had been when they were children. Up ahead Daisy caught a glimpse of the sea – the dark blue smudge expanding as she neared the headland. The perfect crescent of Ottercombe Bay came into view on Daisy’s left side. From her high vantage point she had a good view of the divide that had existed in the bay for almost a hundred years; on one side of the beach were rows and rows of fishing boats of varying shapes and sizes and on the other a multitude of deckchairs, picnic rugs and tourists. The occasional shout of a child drifted up to her before ebbing away but otherwise it was peaceful high up on the cliff top.

As the sea breeze caressed Daisy’s senses she started to feel calmer and some of the frustration at having her escape plans interrupted diminished. She could smell the sea, the fresh scent quite like no other which reminded her of the summers she had returned to the bay with her father, year after year until he could bear it no more. For Daisy returning to the bay meant being reunited with her sadness but when they left there had also been the ache of being ripped away from everything familiar.

They walked to the far end of the headland; the tip of the crescent on one side of the bay. Daisy took off her leather jacket, laid it on the ground and she and Tamsyn flopped down on it.

‘I love this view,’ said Tamsyn at last. Daisy was amazed she’d managed to keep quiet this long.

‘Me too.’ She had forgotten how much she loved it. Pictures of the picnics she had had there as a child swam in her mind’s eye. Her mother and father dancing while she giggled and snuck an extra biscuit. The sun shining down on them whilst the sea beat a steady rhythm below – they were happy times. Her parents had loved this spot too it seemed, as it was somewhere they had come regularly. Daisy ran her fingers through the grass and wondered if her mother had sat on that spot and done the same thing; it felt likely. A familiar sense of loss pulled at her gut. Daisy was reminded of why she was here. ‘Is your mum some sort of psychic?’ she asked.

Tamsyn dragged her eyes away from the sea. ‘Not officially, but she’s always had these sensations and thoughts that weren’t her own. My dad calls it a load of witpot but I think there’s something in it.’

‘What makes you think there is?’ Daisy turned to gauge her reaction.

Tamsyn tipped back her head and stared into the cloudless sky. ‘Because she never lies. I mean like never – she can’t even tell a white lie. If I ask her “Do you like my hair up?” she’ll just go “No, it looks better down.” She never lies. So when she says things about people who have passed then I have to believe that too, don’t I?’

Daisy wasn’t convinced. ‘Who else has she had messages from?’

‘They’re not strictly messages,’ said Tamsyn, bringing her gaze back to earth. ‘She was in the paper shop a couple of months ago and Mrs Robinson was blathering on about gardening, like she does, and my mum had this thought about Mrs Robinson’s dad being unwell. Now she doesn’t know him but she says “How’s your dad?” and Mrs Robinson says “He’s fine”.’

Daisy pulled a strained face. ‘If he was fine then—’

‘Ah, that’s the thing. Mrs Robinson called round on the way home and her Dad was dead in the armchair.’ Tamsyn lay back on the jacket.

Daisy gave a pout and let out a slow breath. This wasn’t exactly the cold hard proof she was hoping for. ‘What exactly was the message or whatever it was she had about my mum again?’

‘She was in our garden and she rushed inside saying she felt cold and to be honest of late she’s only been overheating. Dad says she’s about the right age for the change. She told me she had a sense of Sandy being with her. She couldn’t see her or anything. Do you think she’s bonkers too?’ Tamsyn sat up abruptly and eyeballed Daisy.

‘No, she was always lovely your mum, she used to make me laugh. I don’t think she’s bonkers.’ Daisy remembered a kind woman with a wicked sense of humour. But whilst she had seemed nice that didn’t add any weight to her credibility as a conduit to the afterlife.

‘Why are mad people called bonkers and not people who bonk?’ Tamsyn, asked, looking at Daisy as if she was expecting her to provide a sensible answer.

‘Erm, I don’t know, Tams. Our language is weird.’

‘It is. Phrases confuse me too. Why do people say, “You can’t have your cake and eat it”? What else are you going to do with cake?’

Daisy laughed. ‘Very good point.’ Tamsyn had a way of putting you at ease and taking your brain off on an unexpected tangent so you forgot about all the serious stuff.

‘Why were you leaving?’ asked Tamsyn, plucking a daisy and tucking it behind her ear.

Daisy thought for a moment. ‘Because Great Uncle Reg is trying to make me stay.’

Tamsyn looked excited. ‘Did you get a message from beyond the grave?’

Daisy sighed. ‘Sort of. He left me some old railway station in his will and said I had to stay here for a whole year to get it.’

Tamsyn sat up poker straight. ‘He left you a railway station? What like Exeter or Marylebone?’

Daisy laughed. ‘No, the derelict one for Ottercombe Bay.’

Tamsyn startled Daisy by starting to clap her hands together in front of her as if she was doing a sea lion impression. ‘Wow, this is amazing. That is the cutest building ever.’ Daisy raised a doubtful eyebrow. ‘Seriously, it’s beautiful. I mean it’s all boarded up and has been for years but … this is so exciting!’ She let out a tiny squeal and Daisy couldn’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm. ‘And he wants you to stay here for one whole year?’ Daisy nodded forlornly. ‘I love that man.’ She threw her arms around Daisy and hugged her tight. She pulled away and her grin faded. ‘Please say you’re staying.’

Daisy gave a tiny shake of the head. ‘I don’t think so, Tams. I’ve not stayed in the same place for a whole year since …’ She had to think about the answer. ‘University I guess and then I was only there in term time.’

‘One year will go quickly and at the end of it you’ll own your own railway station. Which is totally amazing.’ Tamsyn made a noise like a train and Daisy chuckled. ‘You have to stay. You really do.’ Tamsyn clutched Daisy’s hand tightly and looked hopefully into her eyes. ‘It’s like you’ve been set a quest and you can’t say no to a quest.’

‘A quest?’ Daisy blinked hard. ‘This isn’t medieval times.’

Tamsyn bent forward. ‘No, but I love reading fantasy novels and usually there’s a quest for the main character and it’s dangerous but they always succeed in the end and live happily ever after. This is your quest and your happily ever after could be at the end of it.’

Daisy laughed until she noticed Tamsyn was deadly serious. She didn’t believe in happy-ever-afters but she wasn’t one to shy away from a challenge.

Daisy hugged her knees, stared out across Ottercombe Bay and thought. ‘We’d best take a look at the place before I make any rash decisions,’ she said, but before she’d finished the sentence Tamsyn was dragging her unceremoniously to her feet.

In front of her was an odd sight. It was a single-storey ornate building sat on its own with a railway platform and portion of train track in front of it. Daisy stood with her hands on her hips and took it all in as Tamsyn ran backwards and forwards along the platform like a toddler in a toyshop. Daisy was standing in what apparently had once been the station car park and was now a waist-high weed jungle with a series of increasingly bigger potholes where there had once been concrete. The railway track was also overgrown and in its entirety only measured about a hundred metres; on it was a dilapidated old railway carriage. The station building itself was in better condition, it looked grubby but its golden Victorian brickwork was easily visible. Daisy felt like she was in a Poirot movie and despite the lack of more track a steam train was going to puff into view any minute.

Tamsyn stopped running up and down the platform and held her arms out wide. ‘What do you think?’

‘Probably make a nice museum.’ Daisy squinted in the sunlight.

‘But it’s soooo pretty. Isn’t it?’ said Tamsyn, jumping down from the platform and landing on the railway line. Daisy could see why her grandfather, Arthur, had wanted to build on the land, it was in a prime location about a mile inland where the ground got flatter, close to the town but convenient for the main roads and just a stroll to the beach. It was prime holiday rental territory but if the council weren’t going to let them build on it she couldn’t see much use for it – even if it was a pretty little building. Tamsyn came to stand next to her.

‘I love the three chimney pots,’ said Tamsyn, studying the tall stacks spread across the roof.

‘Hmm,’ said Daisy. ‘I’m guessing inside it’s split into three rooms.’

‘Dunno. Shall we open it up?’

Daisy looked at the boarded-up windows and door and the missing roof tile. ‘We’d need tools. I don’t think there’s a lot of point to be honest, Tams.’ She glanced at Tamsyn who was gazing at the building the same way children look at Cinderella’s castle at Disney World – it was a look of complete awe. Daisy had another look herself, perhaps she was just more of a realist than Tamsyn.

‘Come on, I thought you were the adventurer – you’re not telling me you don’t want to explore inside?’ said Tamsyn, giving Daisy a small dig in the ribs.

Daisy had to admit she was curious. She liked old buildings. Daisy shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t mind a snoop about but—’

‘Right come on then. My dad has tools,’ said Tamsyn, striding back to the bike. Daisy took a deep breath, she knew it would be easier to simply go along with her. She checked her watch. She wasn’t going to get far tonight, she may as well stay, have a good home-cooked meal with Aunt Coral and head off tomorrow. She didn’t feel good about sneaking out earlier. Aunt Coral deserved an explanation before she moved on, it was the least she could do. She hoped she hadn’t already found the note she’d left.

Back at the cottage Tamsyn went to hers to get the tools and Daisy slunk inside quietly in the hope Bugsy wouldn’t go off like a house alarm. A quick peek through the kitchen and she could see Aunt Coral was in the garden. Daisy let out the breath she was holding in and scurried through to her bedroom. She dropped the rucksack and went to retrieve the note from the pillow but it wasn’t there. She hunted about the bed and floor but there was no sign of it. Her heart sank. What must Aunt Coral think of her? For a moment she considered making a run for it anyway but something twanged at her heartstrings and she decided she’d simply have to face up to things. She went through to the kitchen and was about to go out the back door when a flash of black and white caught her eye as it scooted under the table. She crouched down. There was Bugsy with the envelope she had written the note on.

‘Good boy, Bugsy, give me the envelope,’ she asked politely stretching out a hand but he reversed away emitting a low growl, his teeth clamped tightly to his treasure. ‘Drop it,’ she hissed. ‘Leave, give. Hand it over.’ But nothing was working. Bugsy backed away. He looked from his treats cupboard to Daisy. ‘Are you blackmailing me?’ This creature was smarter than he looked – but she supposed that wasn’t hard.

As Aunt Coral turned the handle of the back door Daisy lurched underneath the table and made a grab for the envelope. She had a grip on it but so did Bugsy. They both pulled and the envelope ripped in half making Daisy topple backwards and bang her head on the underside of the table. ‘Cock!’ said Daisy loudly as Aunt Coral came in.

‘Oh dear,’ said Coral. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Yeah, sorry about the language.’ Daisy shuffled from under the table rubbing her head where she’d bumped it. ‘I was just leaving you a note to say I’m going to take a look at the railway station and Bugsy stole it. But now I don’t need to leave a note,’ she said quickly screwing up her half of the envelope and shoving it into her pocket. She eyed the dog who was now defiantly tearing his half to shreds, which was perfect and she felt a sense of superiority at outwitting the canine blackmailer.

Tamsyn’s dad gave them and the toolbox a lift to the old railway station and Daisy hauled the large box of tools out of the boot. ‘Right, where shall we start?’ Daisy asked Tamsyn who still had one foot in her father’s car and was checking her phone.

‘Oh, SOS. The café want me to come in to work. Tell me tonight if you find any treasure. Good luck,’ she called before getting fully back in the car and being driven away.

‘Great,’ said Daisy. She tucked her locket inside her t-shirt and walked onto the platform, where she stopped by the boarded-up door and opened the toolbox. She found a useful-looking small crowbar and set to work trying to prise off the boards. It was hard work and she tired quickly. Her arms started to throb, but she continued all the same. It took her some time but eventually she felt the lower board give a little and it spurred her on. Another heave and the nails gave way and pulled free.

Daisy felt a sense of accomplishment as she dropped the crowbar and stuck her head through the gap. Her nostrils twitched. ‘It whiffs in here,’ she said, which was something coming from someone who had experienced the toilets in the remote corners of Goa. This was an altogether different, more musty smell. She peered inside but with everything boarded up and only an odd tile missing from the roof it was dark. There was little point going in.

Daisy went to put the crowbar back in the toolbox but found herself having a quick rummage instead. She soon came upon exactly what she needed – a head torch. She pulled it on, adjusted the strap and crawled inside the old building. She stood up, dusted herself down and looked about her. She was in a perfectly square room. There were two boarded-up windows – one next to the door and one on the far wall – and a cursory swipe over with the torch showed them to be intact. On her right was a find that made her face light up almost as much as the torchlight: it was an old-fashioned ticket window. She was in the ticket office.

She went through a doorway to the right to find another square room with a large cupboard. She peered inside. Its many shelves were well worn and she suspected this may have been some sort of luggage storage. She crouched down to find a dusty sign on the bottom shelf. When she went to pick it up she was struck by how heavy it was for something half the size of an A4 sheet of paper. Most likely cast iron, she thought. It had a red background and gold letters that read ‘Beware of the trains’, which she thought was a bit obvious at a train station but you never could account for the stupidity of some folk.

A further grope around uncovered a brush with GWR painted on it but not many bristles and a box of papers that generally looked quite dull apart from the beautiful script of the writing; sadly she doubted they were worth anything. She popped the heavy plaque and old brush into the box and carried them out through the ticket office and into the last room, the door to which still had a sign on it saying ‘Waiting rooms’. The door was heavy and ornate and the hinges groaned when she opened it. Inside it was like stepping back in time. This had two more rooms off it labelled ‘Women’s waiting room’ and ‘Men’s waiting room’ but it turned out they were simply single toilets.

The ceiling was lower here and had a loft hatch. She’d need a ladder to get a look inside there. The room itself had a large fireplace that had long since lost its surround but a long wooden bench remained as well as a large wooden station sign saying ‘Ottercombe Bay’. Daisy was grinning as she plonked the box on the bench and created a cloud of dust that caught in her throat. She started to cough violently.

‘Who’s in there?’ A fierce male voice came from outside. ‘Come out now.’ Daisy couldn’t answer but she continued to cough. ‘Don’t make me drag you out!’ the voice shouted. Daisy didn’t like the tone and as she managed to get the coughing under control she grabbed up the small cast iron ‘Beware of the trains’ sign. It would be dark outside by now and she didn’t know if she may need it to defend herself.

As Daisy pushed on the door into the main ticket office someone pulled on it and she lurched forward brandishing the sign.

‘Argh!’ the other person shouted and brought up their forearm quickly making Daisy react by giving them a swift whack with the sign.

‘You’re trespassing,’ she shouted lifting the sign ready to strike again if necessary.

‘Bloody hell. Daisy?’

Daisy took a step back and tried to assess who she was blinding with the head torch. ‘Max? What the hell are you doing?’

‘Investigating who’s breaking into the railway building. And all I get for my trouble is a broken arm,’ he said, nursing his injury whilst muttering swear words.

‘I was defending myself because you lifted your arm to hit me.’

‘I lifted it to shield my eyes from your bloody light.’ He pointed with his good arm.

‘Oh, right,’ said Daisy, a little more conciliatory. She pulled off the head torch and it shone at a more comfortable level. ‘Let’s look at your arm.’ She didn’t wait for him to offer it she just took hold making him wince. She ran her fingers over his taut forearm carefully, noting the muscle definition. ‘It’s not broken.’

‘Are you sure?’ Max gave his arm a thorough inspection.

‘Fairly sure.’

‘You a doctor or nurse?’

‘Nope, but I worked in a specialist hospital once …’

‘Specialist?’

‘Actually, I cleaned out the cages at a vets near Nice.’

‘Bloody hell,’ said Max again but this time there was laughter in his voice and Daisy started to lighten up too. ‘If the police see you in here you’ll be the crime of the century. You’d best make a run for it.’

Daisy gave him a quizzical look. ‘You think I’m stealing?’

‘Er, yeah. Why else would you break in here with a crow-bar?’

‘Good point,’ said Daisy, she would most likely have come to the same conclusion. ‘I was just having a look at my inheritance. Turns out there wasn’t much.’

‘Inheritance?’

‘Yep. This is all mine,’ she said her voice dripping with sarcasm. She retrieved the box and Max looked inside.

‘Did Reg own this place then?’

‘Apparently my grandfather bought it and then left it to his brother, Reg, and now he’s left it to me. Proper family white elephant. They’ve tried four times to get planning permission to build on the land and every time it’s been refused.’

They heard the distant sound of a police siren and Max became uncomfortable. ‘Come on, we’d better get out of here. I don’t want to have to explain all this to the local constabulary,’ he said already heading for the door.

Once outside Daisy put down the box and picked up the board that had covered part of the door.

‘Here, let me,’ said Max taking it from her. She passed him the biggest hammer from the toolbox and with a few swift knocks the board was back in place whilst she tried to ignore the sight of his muscular forearm.

‘Arm’s all right now then?’ asked Daisy with a smirk, noting how easily he hammered it back in place.

‘It was the other arm,’ said Max, returning the sneer.

‘Thanks for helping …’ Daisy paused. Max seemed to have grown up to be an okay sort of person despite her previous impression. ‘Let me buy you a pint.’

‘So I don’t put in a claim via a personal injury lawyer?’ said Max, looking serious.

Daisy’s eyebrows knitted together. ‘You’d better be joking.’

‘I am. Come on, I’m dying for a pint.’ Max bent down, put the box with the railway items under his arm, picked up the toolbox and headed off across the platform. Daisy wasn’t keen on being dictated to but she was intrigued by Max and right now he was walking off with her stuff so she pulled herself together and followed.