BENEATH THE WATERY MOON a psychological thriller with a stunning twist Page 3

  I tossed and turned in bed for an hour or so trying to lose myself in the heady sleep I had been enjoying. It was no use. I could hear the faint hum of a vacuum cleaner in the bar beneath me, and pale light filtered through the curtains onto the cream walls of the room, hinting at the promise of a nice day ahead.

  I switched on the television and watched an early morning news program aimed at the less discerning viewer. It was about the right level for me at that time in the morning, and I propped myself up against a number of pillows and slumped back. Just as I thought I might finally be able to drift off to sleep again, the dog stretched his legs and decided it was time to get up. It was nine o’clock, so I gave in.

  The room, which had been immaculate when I had arrived the day before, now looked chaotic. Clothes were strewn over the chair, a dirty teacup sat on the table along with my book, computer, wash bag, and a number of other bits I’d brought along for the trip. The bedspread was crumpled up on the floor along with two cushions that had been on the armchair.

  After a cursory tidy, I threw open the curtains to see what the day ahead might have to offer. It was nice to see a clear sky. The rain that seemed like it might never stop had ceased, and left behind a clean looking world. The calm reminded me that I needed to take my tablets. I threw back a handful of pills and went into the bathroom to wash them down with water from the tap. I jumped in the shower, then dressed, before heading downstairs to let the dog out for a pee in the car park. As I headed back into the bar area I was greeted by the friendly landlady once again.

  ‘Hello, love, come to have a bit of breakfast, have you?’ She bent down to ruffle Wookie’s hair and I smelled her sickly vanilla perfume.

  ‘I have.’

  ‘Lovely, well, take a seat and I’ll come bring it over.’

  I was shown to a small table near the fireplace.

  ‘Right, so, tea or coffee?’ she asked.

  ‘Urm, tea would be great.’ I fidgeted in my seat, feeling self-conscious that we were the only two people in the bar.

  ‘Ok, that’s fine. I’ll bring over some orange juice and toast while I get your full English ready, alright?’

  ‘Fab, thanks,’ I said enthusiastically, realizing that I was rather hungry.

  The stout woman stopped to turn the radio on behind the bar before disappearing through the kitchen doors. I sat alone, waiting for my breakfast, grateful for the comforting hum of a familiar tune that floated out of the retro stereo. It seemed to take forever before my hostess reappeared, looking somewhat flustered and carrying a tray laden with food and drinks.

  The landlady put down the coffee, having forgotten I’d ordered tea. Next came a glass of orange juice, a basket of cold toast, and a hot plate of beans, sausages, and bacon. The fried egg was a wobbly mass of leaky yolk and something that unfortunately resembled frog’s spawn. Proud of her culinary achievement she smiled and poured me a cup of coffee before asking if the dog needed something to eat. I said he’d be thrilled with any leftovers she had in the kitchen and she happily scuttled off to look. Quickly I scooped the egg off my plate, along with one of the sausages, which was so burnt that it looked like a petrified dog turd, and fed them to Wookie, who gobbled them up leaving no trace of their existence.

  After Wookie and I had filled our stomachs, I left the breakfast table and wandered over to a display of tourist leaflets which sat in pride of place on the windowsill.

  I was examining a guide to Suffolk coastal walks, when a pair of scruffy looking locals came in.

  ‘Hello Sal,’ said one, ‘a pint of my usual and whatever Jude ‘ere wants.’

  He pulled up a stool at the bar and manoeuvred his bulky frame onto it. His companion, who was much younger and slimmer, watched me with keen interest. I could feel his eyes burning into me as I tried to focus on the glossy map. Panic hit me out of nowhere and tiny beads of sweat formed on my brow. My hands started to quiver and I felt my cheeks flush. An insatiable urge to escape this man’s scrutiny ran through every cell in my body, and without looking up to get a better view of the stranger, I dashed out of the bar, without so much as a thank you to the landlady whose name I’d now discovered was Sal.

  When I reached the car park, I bent myself over the low wall, gasping for breath, shaking like a leaf. I felt cold and hot all at the same time and breakfast churned in my stomach. A panic attack had hold of me and it took a good quarter of an hour before I was able to regain my composure. Once the worst of it had passed I sat on the wall trying to steady my nerves and regulate my breathing. Wookie came and sat by my side and began pawing at my thigh. Anyone who has ever lived with dogs knows that they have a sixth sense when it comes to the welfare of their owners. I suspect they can smell panic and fear.

  My eyes felt dry as I stumbled back in a dizzy haze. The sky seemed bluer than ever before and the clouds were luminous with 3D brilliance. I felt euphoria coursing through my veins, and the world took on a surreal glow. I sat staring at the gravel on the floor of the car park and began to notice tiny splinters of light coming up through the cracks. The blood coursed around my body, and every beat of my heart seemed to echo through my skull. I felt like I was living in a Vermeer painting, with the colour turned right up, and I barely noticed as a couple of teenagers wandered past me on the street, giggling to themselves at what must have seemed a very strange sight. But as hard as I tried I couldn’t tear myself away from that wall. I got onto my hands and knees and began parting the gravel, searching for the pool of white light that I was sure lurked below.

  It didn’t occur to me that grovelling about on the ground was abnormal behaviour until I was interrupted by a hand on my shoulder. It was the man who had been looking at me in the bar. He was tall and broad shouldered and wore a dark green wax jacket and large round-toed boots. They were grubby and well-worn.

  ‘Are you OK?’ he asked. His eyes were the darkest, richest brown I had ever seen. I switched out of my daze and got up to answer, brushing the gravel marks from my knees.

  ‘Oh yes, I’m fine,’ I said gaily. ‘I was just looking for my bracelet that I dropped here yesterday. I still haven’t managed to find the fucking thing.’ I surprised myself with the ease with which I made up the lie. He nodded and smiled, his lips almost disappearing into a thin line.

  ‘Do you need help looking?’ He searched my face with his eyes.

  ‘No, no, it’s fine,’ I said, tripping over my own lie. ‘It didn’t mean that much to me, it’s just annoying, you know.’

  ‘Sure, ok. Well in case I happen to come across it, what does it look like?’

  I began to panic. He knows I’m lying, I thought. I was convinced he was trying to catch me out. Again my cheeks flushed.

  ‘Oh, oh, um, silver, a silver chain . . . link bracelet. Silver with um . . . a star on it,’ I told him, avoiding eye contact.

  ‘Right, well, I hope you find it.’ He inspected the ground for the fictitious object. ‘I’m Jude, by the way,’ he added, extending a hand. ‘See you around,’ and with that he disappeared off down the street.

  I stood glued to the spot for a moment, flummoxed by my own behaviour. I decided it wasn’t a good day to go for a walk on the beach alone. Given what had just happened I couldn’t trust myself, so instead I went to a convenience store to stock up on supplies to keep me going in my room for the day.

  Moments later I was in the aisles of a Costcutter, basket in hand. The world was a blur. People barged past me grabbing their daily groceries, while I pottered like a snail in search of lettuce. Insanity gripped me as I struggled to focus on identifying the items I wanted. Gradually, my basket filled. This mediocre task felt like living in a computer game level. As I queued to pay I came across the mandatory obstacles, one of which was a very small elderly lady, who smelled of urine and dusty books. She had thin grey hair and a lavender coat made from scratchy wool. She kept dropping her change on the floor and muttering to herself. When I finally reached the checkout, a fat middle-aged Asian woman, sweaty and scowling,
greeted me.

  I returned to my room at the Swan, drew the curtains, got into bed, and turned away from the world. I lay enveloped in the duvet for what seemed like hours. There I felt safe and protected from my mind and the dangers I was exposed to when I stepped into real life. Lying there wrapped up and protected, I found I couldn’t think about anything other than the man from the car park. I thought about his face, obsessing over each detail. The memory of his eyes and his smile intoxicated me. He was tall and handsome. He had clear pale skin and pink lips that seemed to curl themselves around each word he spoke. Beneath a granddad cap, curls of fiery ginger hair protruded, glinting like copper when the sun hit them.

  It had been a long time since I’d felt someone had really noticed me. His apparent interest, however brief, made me feel human again. I couldn’t get the vision of him out of my mind. There was something special about him, something mysterious, and I wanted to see him again. Finally I felt my limbs starting to relax and I fell asleep.

  At about half past eight I woke up to hear music coming from downstairs. I spent the remainder of the day in my room sleeping, eating, and watching mind numbing daytime television programmes. My head felt a little more lucid and I decided it was safe to leave my room for a while. I got out of bed and applied some make up before ordering Wookie to stay. I pulled the door closed, locking it behind me, and I heard the dog whine only once before he settled down to wait for my return.

  Downstairs, the bar was busier than before. There was a guy with a guitar singing a country song. Three of the tables were occupied with people watching the guitarist. The bar was crowded with people nursing half-drunk pints. I found a quiet corner and sat down. I remembered it was Friday night and this explained the influx of people. It was the first time I’d seen more than a few people at a time since I’d come to Southwold, and I supposed the macabre events surrounding the seaside town kept the locals mostly indoors.

  After enjoying a rendition of Mustang Sally, and watching the barmaid, whose name was also Sally, sing along with tuneless enthusiasm, I approached the bar and ordered a double gin and tonic and a whiskey chaser. Two middle aged men paid close attention as I knocked my shot back. One of them gave me a cheer and a wink to which I responded with a blank stare. His pal laughed and prodded him in the ribs. My rejection had been noted. I was only in the mood for one thing and that was getting drunk.

  I returned to my table and sipped the cool drink. It was a bad idea to mix alcohol with the hefty number of pills I was on, but the turn I’d taken earlier that day left me with a need to escape myself, if only for a few blurred hours. The headache would be worth it.

  After a few more rounds, I began to feel the effects. I started to enjoy the singer and before long was rocking to and fro in my seat as he belted out Walking in Memphis. The song finished to my rapturous applause, and I got up and teetered over to order a bottle of bubbly. My mood had lifted and I didn’t mind that I was alone. My own company was treating me very well.

  I turned to find Jude standing there smiling. I gave a drunken nod of acknowledgement and returned to my corner with the bottle and one lonely glass. He stayed at the bar for a while chatting to some of the folk, then approached my table and asked if he could join me. I told him it was fine and suggested he helped himself to the champagne. He sat back in his chair and removed his cap, politely declining my offer.

  ‘Did you find your bracelet?’ he asked leaning forward to engage me.

  Self-conscious in his presence, I silently shook my head, wriggling a little in my seat. I filled my glass again and I drank it all down in one go.

  ‘Thirsty?’ he said.

  I still couldn’t speak, so I shrugged, looking into the bottom of my empty glass.

  ‘I’ll be back in a mo.’ Jude stood up and pushed his chair away, which screeched on the wooden floor, and left the table. He returned a moment later with a pint glass of water.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind but I thought you could do with this.’

  He pushed the glass across the table to me, a kind sadness in his expression.

  ‘Jesus, am I that bad?’ I asked. I took a sip of water. He seemed satisfied by this and sat back to watch the musician who was by now half cut himself. We sat together, not speaking, for a few songs.

  ‘Why are you here?’ he asked.

  Taken aback by the question, I felt compelled to be honest. I opened up to this stranger, about my life and the spell I’d spent in the psychiatric hospital. It poured out of me with frightening ease. I unburdened everything that had been swimming around my troubled head since my release. The words fell out of me and with each confession the weight on my shoulders felt lighter. He listened, his eyes fixed on mine, nodding with understanding, and not interrupting.

  Instead of feeling judged, I felt like a Catholic in the confessional. The more I spoke, the less I cared about whether he understood or not. The release was what I needed. I’d been so lonely and so trapped within my own head that it was a blast of freedom and enlightenment to talk to someone else.

  After my monologue, I felt like a new person. I looked around the bar, to find it was nearly empty and the man with the guitar had given up and gone home. Sally was behind the bar, polishing glasses and chatting merrily to a gentleman who was clearly trying to get away.

  Jude looked down at his hands, and I could see him deciding what he wanted to say.

  ‘You needn’t say anything,’ I told him. ‘I’m not after pity or advice. I just wanted to get it all out. Don’t worry, I’m not dangerous or anything.’ The statement sounded eccentric.

  ‘I was a lost soul once,’ he said, pulling his chair closer, ‘but I’ve since found happiness. It’s late now but I’d like to talk to you about it sometime, if you’d let me.’ His words slid over me like butter.

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Tomorrow,’ said Jude, getting up. ‘Meet me tomorrow at eleven in the bar and I’ll tell you all about my journey.;

  ‘Ok,’ I agreed, standing up as well, and feeling more sober than I deserved to. ‘My name is Annabel, by the way. Guess I’ll see you then.’

  With that the mysterious Jude left the bar and walked out into the black night. I stood, stunned, wondering what on earth had just happened. Then Sally broke my reverie.

  ‘Seems you have an admirer, my love. Word of advice though, he aint exactly normal.’

  ‘Neither am I,’ I said, smiling.

  Chapter 4

  I noticed his cowboy boots first. Their faded tan leather looked so out of place with the midnight-blue velvet jacket he wore. He was chewing a long piece of grass, thoughtfully rolling it about in his mouth from left to right. He stood in the doorway waiting for me. For some reason I felt tongue-tied.

  Wookie ran up to him, wagging his long tail. I didn’t know what any of us were doing there or what I expected to come from our meeting. Without a word, he pointed his head in the direction of the door and we walked together in silence. The dark clouds that hung above us had silver-yellow edges as they moved with slow intent out to sea. We stood on the shore watching the waves curl their white frothy hands into the cold sand and pull it back into the ocean. Many minutes passed before the silence was broken.

  ‘There is a beautiful walk if we head south along the coastline,’ he said.

  I looked up at the sky. ‘Fuckballs, I think it’s going to rain.’

  With unnatural certainty he said it would not. He led me along the beach. His unwillingness to engage made me feel uncomfortable. I didn’t want to walk along for hours in silence. He had promised me something and I found myself doubting his intentions.

  ‘What are we doing here?’ I said.

  But he just stopped and turned to look at me blankly.

  ‘We are going for a walk.’

  ‘No offence, but I don’t want to go for a bloody walk. I hardly know you.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ he said, dragging the words out. ‘It’s perfectly safe you know. I won’t hurt you.’

  At that
I laughed.

  ‘I’m not frightened of you. I just don’t understand what’s going on here. Yesterday, like a madwoman, I poured my heart out to a stranger and now we are standing on this sodding cold beach and you want us to go for a walk . . .’ the words trailed away from me. I felt I’d made a show of myself once again.

  ‘That’s strange. Most people are afraid of me. I’m glad you’re not. Come for this walk and I will explain everything.’ He held out his hand for me to take. ‘I promise, I mean you no harm.’

  In my ordinary life I would have run a mile away from him, but for some odd reason I believed him and took his hand. I didn’t have the foggiest idea why, but I was going to follow wherever he led.

  ‘You have taken the first step,’ was all he said as we began to make our way along the coastal path.

  After walking for a mile or so, we came to a high wall, which looked like the boundary of an estate. There was a large, dark, oak door in it, with a cast iron lock. Jude removed a large, rusty, old key from his coat pocket and opened the gate. As we stepped through he said, ‘Welcome to my world.’

  He pulled the door shut behind us with a loud thud, re-locking it from the inside. I looked around the large walled garden. We were standing on a paved path with weeds growing in between the flagstones. On one side of the path long grasses and small, native, wild flowers grew. Insects hovered in among the long stems that blew in the breeze. On the other side was a huge, well-ordered vegetable plot. Beyond this, I could see tomato plants growing in a large greenhouse.

  Jude led me along the path, pointing out various varieties that were growing there. I had never seen anything like it.

  ‘I bet you never need to go to the supermarket.’