First Light (2 page)

The rain had begun as a light drizzle and, as I walked, the sky thundered around me. I was wearing my cherry-red plastic raincoat, a present from my dad, who had no taste in clothing but a strong sense of practicality. ‘
That big hood will keep you from getting wet. And it’s a nice bright colour so drivers can see you if you’re out at night, Ronnie.
’

I pulled it tightly around me, tugging the hood down to cover my face. But the rain was so severe I was getting soaked anyway, tipping my head down just to keep water out of my eyes.

I hadn’t expected anyone to be out walking, so when someone barged into me I almost apologised. But I received another blow – only this time far more powerful – to the side of my face. I fell, landing on the low wall that stopped the sea coming in too far at high tide. My back cracked against the stone. I cried out, but a gloved hand shoved across my mouth muffled the sound.

I thrashed out against the huge figure holding me, but I couldn’t break free. His hand blocked my nose and mouth so I couldn’t breathe. My hands scratched at his, my feet slipped against the wet ground. We both fell over the sea wall onto the beach below. He pinned me to the damp sand and ripped at my wet clothes.

The police said my attacker had raped and murdered four teenage girls from neighbouring counties. That night, however, I was lucky – luckier than the girls before me, anyhow. I told the counsellor and my father that my daydreams weren’t my way of coping with depression or trauma. I was never depressed! I was just incredibly frustrated, because on that night someone saved my life and, to this day, I don’t know who it was.

The police issued a statement to the press saying my attacker had drowned, having fallen from the pier when he was disturbed by a passer-by. But I’d told them until I was blue in the face that someone had not just
passed by.
He’d intervened.

I was filled with fear at the time, but I know what I saw: someone hauled my attacker off me, someone moving quickly in the shadows. I scrambled to my feet, peering through the torrential rain, to see the monster and the stranger fighting. The tussle didn’t last long and I’ll never forget the image of my attacker’s huge body dropping lifelessly into the ocean and how, shrouded in darkness, my saviour looked back briefly in my direction before sprinting off into the night.

He was the reason I was still alive. But no one believed my story, because according to the police there was no evidence to support my statement. Apparently trauma does that – makes you a liar. Or, according to my counselor: “
Alters your perception of reality.”

I didn’t see her for long. Dad insisted at first, but I hated every minute of it. So I kept myself more alert while I was around him, dreaming only when I was alone and never talking about the phantom hero. After a while – abracadabra – I was cured. Ever since that night, however, I’ve secretly prayed that one day I’d meet the one who saved me, that my knight in shining armour might come to my rescue again.

Gazing out of our living room window, holding a plate of leftover sausage rolls covered in congealed tomato sauce, I felt that now was as good a time as any.

3 – Stranger

I paced the kitchen.
Dad’s hand-carved wooden furniture, the pile of his dirty clothes I’d yet to wash and the coffee in the kitchen that only he drank. All of it was too painful to look at. I needed to get out.

I took the quickest shower in history and pulled on my usual jeans and long-sleeved top. My sister still hadn’t emerged from her room so I grabbed my hat, scarf and jacket and almost hurled myself out of the house and went into town.

Clanots Ocean High Street is basically a string of dated amusement arcades and a small circuit of shops touched white by the salt from the sea. I headed for Tom’s Diner, which is actually more of a coffee shop than a diner, but has an open fire and an awesome view of the ocean. It’s a good place to kill time. Ordering a slice of homemade cherry pie and a hot chocolate, I found myself a vacant seat by the window. I managed to while away what I hoped was at least an hour before my cup was empty, lingering over the milky foam dissolving. Christmas shoppers filled the streets. Colourful shopping bags and smiling faces held my interest for a while, but I knew I couldn’t avoid home for ever and there was a queue of people lined up outside waiting for a table. Reluctantly, I took the bill that had been left on the table and dug into my bag for my purse.

To my horror, it wasn’t there.

I continued to search, but I knew I wouldn’t find it - I could picture it sitting on the kitchen counter at home. Mortified, I rose from my seat and tried to quietly explain my situation to the waitress.

‘What do you mean?’ she asked with a high-pitched nasal sigh. ‘You can’t pay?’

My cheeks filled with blood as the eyes of every customer flicked in my direction. Curling into myself, I replied as quietly as possible. ‘I come here all the time. I’ve left my wallet at home, but I’ll go there now and get it.’

Her face scrunched up and she popped her gum as she mulled over my words. ‘I don’t think I can do that. You say you come here all the time? I’ve never seen ya.’

Though I kept to myself, I found it hard to believe someone wouldn’t know who I was – who anyone was for that matter – if they lived in our tiny town. I knew her; she’d been two years above me in school! I glanced around the café and, to make matters worse, the boy from the funeral sat in the far corner, looking over at us intently from beneath a pair of dark eyebrows. My whole body grew hot as my humiliation intensified. I didn’t think it could get any more embarrassing, but then someone yelled over:

‘Hey Lynn, lay off of her, her dad just died.’

I couldn’t take any more. Positive I was about to cry, I turned to run from the café, but at the same time as I spun away from Lynn, she was grabbing my arm to stop me.

Just when I thought I would fall in a heap on the ground and let myself rot there, a hand appeared from behind me, handing a twenty-pound note to the waitress.

‘Keep the change,’ said a low, smooth voice, ‘and buy yourself some tact while you’re at it.’

I had just enough time to see Lynn Horton’s face twist in shock before I looked over my shoulder to see who’d helped me. The boy from the funeral stood looking down at me. His dark eyes locked onto mine for a fraction of a second, but he looked almost as embarrassed as I felt, and glanced away quickly. I tried to thank him, but before I could form the words he’d already turned to leave, the line of customers parting as he walked past them.

All around me, people sat in shocked silence. I should have felt humiliated, but I noticed everybody’s interest had shifted from my having no way of paying, to the stranger who’d helped me.

I fought back a smile and, with what I hoped was my most disapproving look, I said, ‘I’ll let Gail know what a big help you were today, Lynn.’

Holding my head high, I marched out. The owner, Gail, had known my dad well. If she’d been working the new waitress wouldn’t have got off so lightly. I walked out feeling shamefaced, but the lump in my throat had dissolved. It could have been a lot worse.

I wandered aimlessly through town after that, thinking about what had happened. I’d only seen the mysterious group of boys a couple of times in the three months they’d been in Clanots. The first time, they were running along the beach early one morning. There was nothing remarkable about that – a lot of people ran in the mornings – though I did notice they appeared to be quite regimented; how I imagined army cadets might be. The second time I’d been taking a detour along a back street behind the old abandoned supermarket in town when, as if out of the sky, a boy dropped down in front of me. I leaped backwards. Oranges scattered as my shopping bags fell from my grasp, and a boy around my age rose from the crouch position he’d landed in and stared straight at me. He was athletic, with a cap turned backwards, covering most of his shoulder-length blonde hair. He didn’t smile, but he didn’t look threatening either, so I let my gaze shift from his blank face to see where he came from. There on the roof above, another boy stood looking down at us. Before I could wonder what he was doing, he descended as if walking off the edge of a cliff. I flinched again, amazed as he caught the guttering on his way down to steady his fall, dropping the rest of the way and landing as gracefully as a cat. The one I had now seen twice in two days stood up straight and looked at me, his dark eyes animated, as if he were hiding a smile.

After picking up and handing me some of my fallen fruit, the pair had turned and darted along the alleyway towards the street ahead, one of them somersaulting over a dustbin in his way. I’d collected the rest of my things and continued home and that had been that. I never bumped into any of them again, so seeing one of them at the funeral, as if paying his respects had really got me curious. I decided to look for him and give him back the money. That would give me a chance to find out if and how he knew my dad.

Inside my duffel coat, my phone vibrated. I fished it out of the silk-lined pocket.

‘Hello?’

‘Ron, it’s me.’

‘Hey, Rach, what’s up?’

I heard her tut on the other end of the line. ‘Where are you? I go to sleep for thirty minutes and you’ve run off. I need you to babysit, you know I have Yoga on Saturdays.’

‘I didn’t think you’d go to yoga this week, after everything that’s happened–’

‘Don’t try to make this all about you, Ronnie,’ she snapped. ‘I’m just as upset as you are, but we have to try to get on as normal. For my daughter’s sake more than anything. She was looking forward to seeing her aunt and you’ve let her down.’

I muttered an apology. I really couldn’t be bothered arguing. ‘I’ve just left town, can you pick me up? I’ll have her for the whole afternoon.’

Rachel hung up with a grunt, but I knew that was a yes and I only had to walk about half a mile before her silver BMW shot round the corner.

‘Really, Ronnie, because of you Jared’s late for an important meeting,’ she complained, as soon as I slid into the car. Rachel had the heat on full, so I began shedding layers of clothing, as I considered what office supply manager would have a meeting on a Saturday afternoon. As always, I kept my thoughts to myself.

‘Hey, do you remember Lynn Horton?’

Rachel’s glossy pink lips pulled to one side, the way they always did when she was thinking. My sister and I could not look more different. Rachel was the sort of girl who turned heads wherever she went. With alabaster skin, pale blonde hair and crystal blue eyes, she looked just like our mother. My own dark brown eyes and auburn hair that I inherited from our dad were dull in comparison. The only thing we had in common were those lips she was chewing, yet somehow, what looked sultry and sensual on Rachel Rose still managed to look nothing more than clumsy on me.

‘Yeah, I remember. Cat Horton’s little sister,’ she said eventually. ‘I went to school with Cat. She was a moron. What about her?’

I lifted my shoulders and stared straight ahead. ‘Lynn works at Tom’s now. I forgot my wallet today and she made a big scene about it.’

Rachel looked at me then, her mouth dropping open. One thing Rachel could be counted upon was to be angry if someone she didn’t like had something to say to one of her family. She was loyal that way, like a terrier.

‘Oh, did she now? Both sisters will no doubt be waitressing all their lives. Useless witches! Next time I see her I’ll give her a piece of my mind.’

‘No, don’t,’ I insisted, but only half-heartedly. I’d never really have told Gail what happened, but I didn’t think it would hurt Lynn to get a mouthful from Rachel.

‘What about those boys who arrived here a few months ago?’ I was going for casual, but Rachel wasn’t buying it. Her eyebrows lifted as she cut me a sideways glance.

‘Why? They don’t work there too, do they?’

‘No,’ I said, ignoring her sarcasm, ‘it’s just, one of them kind of helped me out. He paid.’ I was beginning to wish I hadn’t said anything. Her pretty features fell in a mix of disgust and alarm.

‘Ronnie, stay away from them, I’ve heard terrible things. Oh and now you owe one of them money! Is this what it’s going to be like now? You attracting trouble wherever we go?’

I let my head fall back against the seat, wondering what trouble I had attracted – ever. I decided not to mention I’d seen him at Dad’s funeral.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll give him the money back tomorrow,’ I said.

‘Well, make sure you do. And don’t talk to him. I mean it, Ronnie, just give whichever one it was the money and leave well alone. Yes?’