Page 26 of The Winter of Second Chances
‘Can you book me in before Saturday?’ asked Annie.
‘Course I can, my love,’ said Treena. ‘What needs doing?’
‘Everything,’ said Annie. ‘Tash to toes, please.’
‘Date, is it?’
‘Not exactly,’ said Annie. ‘But I’d like to be prepared.’
‘I’d better block out the whole afternoon,’ said Treena.
Annie spent the next few days familiarising herself with her new environment. She began by heading right from Saltwater Nook, away from the direction of the hill. Here the promenade swept round for about a quarter of a mile until it ended abruptly in a set of iron railings. Beyond them were jagged rocks that led up to the grassy cliffs above. A little before the railings there were steps down to the beach and from the beach you could carry on round – tide permitting – to where the headland jutted out in a peninsular to form the bay. Mari had said that the tunnel, which supposedly led to the cellar at Saltwater Nook, began in a cave at the furthermost point, before the cliff turned the corner and fell out of view. Even at low tide Annie guessed you could expect to get your feet wet trying to reach it. On the other side of the peninsular there was no beach to speak of for a mile or so; only rocks and towering cliffs like ancient sentries.
Curious, Annie headed down the beach towards the edge of the headland, wearing a pair of wellies and carrying a torch she had found hung on the back of the bedroom door. The pebbles crunched satisfyingly beneath her boots; empty mussel shells and lank brown seaweed littered the beach. The sky that morning was the colour of lead and the water was a molten mirror image, darkly rippling and swollen with a promise of menace.
The tide was about as out as it was going to go but she was still splashing through puddles. Deeper pools shimmered in hollows between the rocks and here the seaweed was alive and waving beneath the surface of the water, its fronds brushing against the plump anemones – like raspberry wine gums – which suctioned themselves to the pool-sides.
The cave mouth was tucked away, completely invisible from the shoreline and just big enough for a small row boat or dinghy to sail into unnoticed at high tide. The mouth was angled as such that someone watching from the promenade would assume the boat had simply passed around to the other side of the peninsula.Perfect for smugglers, thought Annie.
Annie looked back once and turned into the dark cave. There was surface water here and it ran down in rivulets, joining and pooling together like quicksilver, pulled by the call of the sea. The sharp echo of drips and constant tinkle of running water was loud in the small space, as though she was miles below ground, instead of toe-deep in a cave mouth.
She flicked on the torch. One side of the cave was chest-high in rough warty limpets, before it smoothed out into chalky undulations. The other side was formed of natural ledges, which ate into the cave – plenty high enough for a smuggler to hole up in, till low tide, without fear of being swept away. She shone the torch around as she made her way further in. She couldn’t make out where the tunnel was meant to begin. Even with her torch, the way forward just seemed black. She looked back. The glimmer of daylight seemed small and far away; she must have walked in a curve. Her nerve was beginning to wane. If she should slip or get stuck in here, no one would know she was missing and she didn’t know exactly how long low tide lasted or how quickly the sea would rush back in to claim the cave.
Reluctantly she turned back the way she had come. She would venture here again when she had a better understanding of the tides. The torchlight fell on something on one of the higher ledges. Annie moved towards it, keeping her light on the spot. It looked like a battered old rucksack, dirty with time but with snatches of fluorescent orange and blue still visible beneath the grime. Her heart kicked up a notch. Had she discovered a bag of jewels or a shipment of heroin? Was she likely to get shot if it was the latter? Maybe this tunnel was used by modern-day smugglers too! Unable to quell her inquisitiveness, she picked her way across the mossy rocks and began to scramble up the slippery ledges to the bag. She reached up, standing on tiptoes, and her fingertips brushed one of the fabric straps which dangled over the edge when a voice snapped, ‘Leave it!’
Annie stopped dead. When her heart began to beat again, she gingerly brought her arm down.
‘Okay,’ she said in a voice that she hoped sounded calm, compliant and non-confrontational. ‘I’m going to go now. Please don’t kill me. I am not at all interested in whatever it is you’re doing here.’
She began to climb carefully back down the rocky ledges, her hands and knees shaking. ‘I’m leaving now,’ she soothed. ‘I haven’t seen anything.’
She plopped back down onto the pebbles and crunched her way as quickly as she could towards the hole of light ahead. Her heart pounded in her ears; she could feel her pulse thrumming in her forehead as though it too was trying to escape. She wanted to look back to make sure whoever it was wasn’t following but she dared not; if he was coming up behind her, it was better that she didn’t know about it.Shit, shit, shit, shit, she thought. Her hand shook and the torchlight trembled accordingly.
She rounded a curve and the cave mouth beckoned with an ethereal light which poured in from outside. Annie let out an involuntary gasp of gratitude. In another moment she was stumbling back out into the sultry morning, breathing hard and hoping to God there would be somebody else on the beach. Her feet slipped and slid as she scrambled up the mounds of pebbles, which collapsed beneath her wellingtons and pulled her backwards as though she were perpetually trying to run the wrong way up an escalator.
A wet Border Collie bounded along the beach with two women in tow. Annie was flooded with relief. She quickened her pace to put space between her and her would-be attacker and close the gap to the women.
‘Hello there!’ shouted the older of the two. She was a broad woman and looked as though she’d been born to wear her blue Barbour jacket and beige corduroys. ‘Everything all right? You look like you’re trying to escape the devil himself!’
Annie stopped scrambling long enough for the dog to leap up at her and send her sprawling onto the pebbles. The Collie, thinking it was a game, bounced expectantly beside her prone figure.
‘Podrick!’ the woman shouted. The younger woman laughed.
‘Sorry!’ she called. ‘He’s a bit overenthusiastic. He’s still in training.’
‘For what?’ said Annie, pulling herself up to a sitting position. ‘Law enforcement?’
The women reached Annie and the older woman held out her hand. Annie took it and was pulled to her feet with a force that took her by surprise.
‘Sheep dog,’ said the woman. ‘I’m training him up for my daughters.’
Annie brushed herself down.
‘You looked as though you were running from something,’ said the younger woman. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘There’s a man,’ said Annie, still slightly breathless. ‘In the cave.’
The daylight was diminishing the threat she had felt in the cave, and the presence of other humans squashed it further. With hindsight she wondered if her fears may have been a tad hysterical, heightened by Mari’s talk of ‘blaggards’.
