Page 18 of Deep Waters

They were both startled by a loud voice from behind them.

“Someone has decided to clean up this shitty town. That’s what happened. And it’s a fucking good thing, too.” There was gloating delight in the words.

Harry looked around and groaned. Dean Bewick and his sister Linda sat side by side at a table in the middle of the room. They had their elbows on the table and their arms folded, self-satisfied smirks plastered across their bovine faces. The table was littered with the debris of their lunches, with more sauce and salt scattered across the surface than on their plates. Harry had been in the same year all through school as Dean. The Bewicks had never been the best looking of siblings, but time, alcohol, cigarettes, drugs and toxic anger had made them even uglier…inside and out.

Harry ignored the remark and turned back to Antoni. Dean and Linda never said anything worth listening to. Today would be no exception.

“Take no notice of those idiots,” he said to Antoni, who had clearly been wounded by the comment.

Dean was not discouraged. “It’s about time someone did something about all the shit around here. The place is overrun with vermin. Bloody foreigners. Well, there’s two less of the fuckers to worry about this morning.” He chuckled.

“Yeah,” Linda contributed. “’Bout time we got rid of the scummy bastards.”

“Somebody has definitely got the right idea,” Dean continued. “I wonder which waste of space he’ll fillet next.”

Harry leapt to his feet and turned on them. He saw from the instant look of delight on the Bewicks’ faces that they were pleased with his reaction.

“The only scum I know is right in front of me,” he pressed on, regardless. “A pair of wasters who’ve never done a stroke of honest work in their lives.”

“You would say that, wouldn’t you?” Dean grinned, revealing his small, yellowed teeth. There was dried egg yolk around his mouth. “Sitting there with your Pol friend.”

“Boyfriends,” Linda sneered. “He’s as fucking dirty as they are. Worse, even. He shags them.”

They both cackled, drawing disgusted stares from the other customers.

“The way I see it, someone is doing Nyemouth a favour. Once they’ve exterminated the Pols and the Blacks, they can start on some of the queers. Far too many of them around here for my liking.”

“I always thought you were an idiot at school,” Harry said. “I didn’t realise your brain was in its prime back then. Nowadays, you’re as stupid as you are ugly—the pair of you.”

Several of the other customers laughed and cheered his comments.

Linda’s face flushed with indignation. “Well, you’re… You’re a fucking puff.”

Jake Wrangler, the co-owner of the café with his stepsister Lizzie, came out of the kitchen right then. Jack had been on the lifeboat the day before and, together with Harry, had fought to save Niko’s life on his boat. His face was a mask of fury. “Your lunch won’t be long,” he said to Harry, raising a smile for him.

Jake then turned to Dean and Linda. He leaned over the table and lowered his voice, so only those close by could hear. “You two have had enough warnings. Take your prejudices and nasty opinions and get the fuck out. You’re not welcome here anymore.”

The Bewicks were no longer smiling. “But…but…you can’t.”

Lizzie appeared at Jake’s side. “Oh, we can do a lot more than that. Do as my brother says and get the fuck out that door now or I’ll make sure you’re barred from every café, bar and shop in the marina.”

The Bewicks, realising they were defeated, got begrudgingly to their feet and shuffled around the table to the door. Then Dean turned back. Too stupid to control himself, he directed a tirade of racist and homophobic abuse at Harry, Antoni, Jake and Lizzie.

Harry crossed his arms and glowered at Dean with all the contempt he deserved.

No matter how beautiful this town was, there would always be a current of badness running through it. Yesterday’s tragedy should have brought the community together, but the Bewicks were a living example of how fractured it was.

Chapter Seven

Christian smiled softly as he read Harry’s message. He’d hoped to hear from him and had made a promise to himself that he would get in touch if there had been no word by mid-afternoon. The tingle of excitement that rippled all through his body was proof the attraction between them was real and his exhausted mind hadn’t imagined it at the end of a difficult day.

He keyed in a quick reply.

I’m fine. I hope everything is okay with you, too. Five p.m. sounds good. Let me know a place.

Does it sound too casual?he wondered. The alternative was to send a message that could go too far and come across as gushing and overly dramatic or desperate.No. Casual is just right. For now.

He hit Send and put the phone away. There was work to be done.

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