Night Fires (2 page)

Well, I’m going to be busy so I’ll leave you to rest for now.

Kiss everyone for me and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.

Love you, kid.

Placing the small blue book on the table I’d discovered under another sheet, I got to work.

Over the next few weeks I restored the house to its original condition. The beauty that greeted me when I stripped her back and lovingly brought her back to life repaid my efforts tenfold. As if sensing my loneliness, Kingfisher House became not only my convalescent home, but also gave me something to love again. And as one we comforted each other in the long solitary nights, our abandoned souls finding solace in each other. We had both been alone, but for the first time since my family’s death, the isolation was welcomed. I now accepted the ache inside me, welcomed it even, because it was the thing that drove me to keep going. It was the only thing my heart could feel, the pain and the grief the very things that made it beat.

That was until the hottest night of the summer. The night I first opened my bedroom window. The night I first saw him.

T
HE HEATWAVE CAME
with a vengeance that year, the day’s heat suffocating and the night temperature unbearable and exhausting. I was one of the lucky ones, the breeze from the sea supplying me with a constant stream of air throughout the house during the day, but at night, when everything settled down and the wind dropped, the house exposed an ability to maintain heat like nowhere I’d ever known.

The first night of August saw the worst yet. I was growing frustrated as I turned over in bed once again, desperate to find a cool spot on the already damp cotton sheet I had bought especially when I saw the ‘Keep cool’ label it boasted.

Giving in, I climbed out of bed and pushed open the window, sighing appreciatively when the faintest of drafts provided a welcome relief. I closed my eyes and smiled as I crawled back into bed and spread my naked body into a starfish position as the breeze filtered through and finally delivered a more bearable climate. The cooler air stuck to the perspiration covering my body, the sensation causing me to moan indulgently as I lay back and valued the sea’s ability to soothe me once again.

My body sank peacefully into the mattress as it gave in to the much needed sleep.

I sniffed. Then I sniffed again. And once more just to check.

Shooting up, my gaze flicked from one corner of the room to another as my heart threatened to go into arrest. I flicked on the light and stared around the room. The smell of smoke was strong, my room filled with a faint smokescreen.

“Shit!” I cried as tears surfaced and my body started to tremble, my skin prickling with terror. I bounded out of bed and pulled on my robe, my eyes hunting for any signs of fire in the bedroom. Tearing onto the landing, I frowned when the smell died down, cleaner air hitting my sense of smell and sight the farther I ran down the stairs.

Hyperventilating, and thoroughly checking every cupboard and corner three times, I shrugged and ventured back upstairs when I found absolutely nothing. As soon as I walked back in my bedroom the smell and the smoke hit me again.

“What the hell?”

Looking around, I noticed a thin trail of smoke spilling in through the window, the faint thread clinging to my throat and starting to choke me. Knowing there was just my private little cove below, I frowned harder and peered out through the open window.

A small fire sat right on the edge of the tide, about a foot or so back, its vivid orange flames roaring high and bright. Its flicker mesmerised me for a brief moment, the dance of the flame mocking and laughing. A movement caused my gaze to shift and I peered closer. Someone sat, knees drawn up, their face towards the sea as they gazed out into the darkness.

“Hey!” I shouted.

From what I could make out, the broad shoulders and closely cropped hair suggested it was a man.

“HEY!”

He remained still, looking out to sea. I’d shouted loud enough for him to hear but he appeared ignorant as he completely disregarded me.

Growling under my breath, I pulled on my jeans and a tee and raced down the stairs. Pulling on my shoes, I grabbed the bucket I kept by the front door and burst out of the house.

“Bloody things!” I hissed when the brambles along the path to the house caught my legs, and as if they were fingers, they grabbed at me and hindered my hasty need to put out the fire.

Fighting my way through, I stumbled down the rickety steps only lit by the moonlight and stepped onto the sand. I was lucky to have such a pretty little beach to myself, the tide only ever venturing halfway up and providing me with my own little barbecue area for night times.

“Hey!” I shouted again as I scooped the bucket into the soft sand and collected a hefty load then tramped closer.

I got close before my heart started to go crazy, my fingers sweating and the bucket slipping from my grasp. The flames tormented me, their height and roar making it difficult to breathe. For the longest moment I couldn’t move, my legs heavy and my brain freezing as I stared and shook my head.

“Please,” I whispered, my pleas unheard as the guy sat still and stared out at the ocean as if I wasn’t there.

The sound of the sea lapping was tranquil, the silence of the night peaceful, but neither did anything to calm the storm in my chest and my head. Snapping out of my living nightmare, I pulled in a breath and picked the bucket back up. Edging closer, I threw the contents over the fire, the breeze catching the sand and blowing it back across the beach.

“What the…?” The guy spluttered when a film of sand coated him.

The fire still danced to some silent song as I tried again, and this time scooped water into my bucket. I threw it from a safe distance and it covered the fire, making it smoke heavily. It also sprayed the trespasser.

He stood up and I gawped when he seemed to uncurl himself into a giant. He was huge, his height almost doubling my 5ft 3. His head shook from side to side as he spluttered and wiped at his face with his hands. “What the hell are you doing?” he bellowed when he finally looked at me.

The lack of fire now provided little light and I could barely make out his features. I was just mesmerised by his height. Blinking when my mind snapped back to the situation, I narrowed my eyes. “This is my beach.”

He was silent for a moment and I squinted to try and get a better look at him when he turned his head and looked up at the house. “You bought Kingfisher House?”

“Yes, I did,” I replied sternly. “And I don’t appreciate you using my beach as a personal space to light fires. I’d like you to leave before I call the police.”

He was silent as he looked back to sea.

I frowned and turned to see what had his attention, however nothing but blackness greeted me. Turning back to him, I straightened my shoulders and attempted to be firm and resolute. “I’m asking you politely. Please leave.”

If his fists didn’t clench and unclench I’d have thought he was dead, but without another word, he turned, ran up the steps, and disappeared.

I watched him go in bewilderment. “Weirdo,” I said to myself as I took another lump of sand and threw it on the fire just to make sure it was out.

Then I went back to bed.

“M
RS
D
AY.”
J
OSIE
who ran the local ‘shop of all trades’ gritted her teeth and blew out a breath. “It is the sugar free variety.”

Mrs Day, the eldest resident in Mousehole, in fact probably in the whole of Cornwall, shook her head and prodded the tin of beans in her hand. “I can’t have sugar, Josie. Gives me terrible wind.”

Josie pursed her lips, trying to hang on to her amusement as she glanced at me standing in the queue waiting to be served. “I think it might actually be the beans that do that, not the sugar.”

Mrs Day huffed before slamming a pound on the counter and turning around. Spotting me, she glared. “I was hoping now you’d moved in that the fires would stop, but you obviously don’t have enough backbone to make him stop either!” I frowned. “Blows right through my house, it does. And on the beach of all places!”

I swallowed when I realised what she was talking about. “I’m sorry.”

Why I took the blame for
him
was beyond me but something deep inside told me I would be able to handle Mrs Day’s wrath more than he would.

She huffed at me then hobbled past, her cane catching my ankle as she ambled away.

“Ignore her.” Josie rolled her eyes. “Bark’s worse than her bite.”

I smiled, rubbing at my bruised ankle. I liked Josie. She and her husband Carlos (a twenty-something hunk she’d found on a website) had made me welcome in the small, close-knit community.

“Are you sure?” I winked as I handed her money for my groceries. “I’m pretty confident she has her victims’ livers stapled to her fireplace.”

She barked out a laugh and nodded, handing me my mail from under the counter. “By the way, Betty’s Kitchen is looking for waiting staff.”

“Oh brilliant!” I smiled again.

“I put in a word for you.” She smiled back.

“I’ll go see Betty. Now just the gardener to find.”

Josie grimaced. “I asked around but nothing as yet. Carlos is willing to help though.”

“Really? Oh, that would be wonderful. It’s just a few brambles and stuff. The house I can deal with, but I’m afraid I’ve never had green fingers in my life.”

She nodded and smiled at someone over my shoulder before looking back at me. “He’s visiting family at the moment but he’ll give you a knock at the weekend.”

“Thank you so much.” I smiled as she handed me my change.

“No problem. You have a good day, Alice.”

“And you…”

I turned and bumped into a wall. A solid wall of muscle hidden behind a stretch of grey cotton. My eyes widened as they drifted upwards and upwards. Although I didn’t recognise him, his height told me exactly who he was.

My heart seemed to stop beating as I gawped at him. He stared down at me, his brows pulled together as if I were a rare object he’d never seen before.

“You,” I choked out, my mouth drying with the ferocity of his glare.

Blinking, he lifted his hand and took a lock of my hair between his fingers. I couldn’t move, my legs wobbling as the sheer power he exuded seemed to drown me.

“You’re red,” he whispered.

I frowned, his words breaking me from my daze. “Umm.”

“You didn’t look red.”

He didn’t look so good last night either
. I cleared my throat and moved back from his touch. “It was dark. It tends to be at night.”

He blinked at my sassy tone but continued to study me before he growled and slapped a couple of pounds on the counter, holding up his can of ‘Breakfast in a tin’ to Josie.

“Thank you, Carter.” She smiled at him. “Have a good…” Her voice trailed off when he about turned and stormed from the store.

I stared after him, his weirdness becoming weirder every time I met him.

“Lost his wife just over a year ago,” Josie whispered, making me turn.

“What?”

“His wife, Elizabeth. She drowned one night. He’s never got over it.”

“Oh.”

She nodded sadly. “She was six months pregnant at the time. I’m not one to gossip, but rumour is she was having an affair at the time.”

“Oh God.” I glanced back to the door, my heart aching for a man I’d already made my mind up about. “That’s terrible.”

“Mmm.” She nodded. “No one goes near him now. He went off the rails and made quite a few enemies round here. But he’s never given me bother, so…”

I nodded. “He was on my beach last night.”

“With a fire?” I nodded, answering her question. “He’s been there every night since she died.”

“What?” My voice was louder as I found it more difficult not to cry. “I only noticed him last night. But it was the first time I opened my window so I suppose I never saw him before.”

Saying goodbye, I slowly strolled from the shop, my stomach in knots and my heart aching. I felt awful for being a bitch to him the night before. I knew how much grief could take over and rule you, how hard it was to move past what you had lost. I knew I would never move on, and strangely enough, I didn’t want to. The more it hurt, the more I could hold on to them.