declined with thanks. ‘I really fancy fish and chips.’ With mushy peas and a few bits of pork crackling, she thought, licking her lips in anticipation.
As she rounded the corner, she saw a telephone box. ‘I wonder if Maggie’s back from the Palais?’ That was where she planned to spend this evening, Kathy recalled.
One by one, she dropped the coins into the box. The operator took the number, but eventually told her there was no answer. ‘She’s probably still on the town with her new fella,’ Kathy mused, disappointed, as she pressed button ‘B’ to get her coins back.
The further she got down the street, the more Kathy could smell the fish and chips. ‘That’ll do for me,’ she muttered, quickening her steps. At that minute, for many reasons, she wished with all her heart that Maggie was here.
There was a queue in the shop. ‘It’s a ten-minute wait if you want cod,’ the woman told her as she came in the door. ‘Dabs and fish-cakes are quicker.’
Kathy assured her she was willing to wait. ‘I’m in no rush.’
From some way behind in the queue, Tom studied her for a minute. With her face turned slightly away it was difficult to see her features clearly, but he suspected she was very pretty, with that handsome profile and thick, shoulder-length hair. In the short time he’d been in West Bay, Jasper had managed to introduce him to quite a number of people, despite his efforts to keep himself to himself, but he could not recall this particular young woman. His suspicion that she was a new arrival was confirmed when the woman in front of her asked, ‘You’re visiting West Bay, are you?’ Only, I saw you getting out of the taxi earlier.’
Kathy told her that, yes, she was a stranger in West Bay. ‘But I hope I’ll be staying for a while.’ In fact, once she was settled, it was Kathy’s intention to seek work. It was the only way she would be able to pay for the many repairs the house obviously needed.
The queue moved swiftly on. Kathy got her fish and chips and walked away. Dipping into the bag, she wolfed down a chip, which was so hot it nearly burned her mouth out. ‘Be careful,’ Tom warned her with a disarming smile. ‘The chips are always straight out of the fat and scalding hot.’
Kathy laughed, a wonderful free laugh that made others turn round. ‘Serves me right,’ she answered. ‘It’ll teach me not to be so greedy.’ When his dark eyes smiled down on her, she felt a rush of embarrassment. Lord, he’s handsome, she thought. Maggie would be chatting him up if she was here.
As she walked on by, Tom was shocked to his roots. ‘My God!’ Swinging round to watch her leave, he realised he had seen her twice before. This was the same woman who had risked life and limb when she ran out in the street to hail a taxi. The second time he had seen her had been in the churchyard. He could hardly believe it. ‘It can’t be!’ It was inconceivable. And yet here she was again, passing so close to him he could have touched her.
It was unnerving, to say the least.
Deciding to take a walk along the harbour, Kathy was unaware that she had caused such chaos in Tom’s mind, though she was inevitably curious about him. Once or twice she glanced back, smiling. ‘What’s wrong with you, Kathy Wilson?’ she chided herself. ‘Anyone would think you’d never seen a good-looking bloke before.’
Munching on her chips, she sauntered over the bridge and on towards the house, where she sat on the garden wall, legs dangling, her quiet eyes taking note of everything: the peeling window-sills, the beautiful solid wood door with its deep-etched panels, and the garden in the foreground with its cavalcade of weeds and giant thistles. ‘So much work!’ she groaned. ‘So much money!’
She must decide how to tackle it, what was urgent, and what could wait until she could afford to get it done.
For a long time she sat there, thinking and calculating and trying desperately to draw a picture in her mind of her father and the woman, Liz. ‘A shy little thing,’ the taxi-driver said, ‘… waved him goodbye from the door.’
Kathy was glad her father had found love and contentment, even if it was only from time to time. ‘I don’t blame you, Dad, for wanting to get away from Mother,’ she whispered. ‘I’m glad you found someone who treated you right … somebody who loved you the way you deserved to be loved.’
A sense of peace took hold of her and for a long minute she was quiet, contemplating her own future. ‘I know why you gave me this house,’ she murmured. ‘You wanted me to be happy here … and maybe, just maybe, to find love.’ She smiled. ‘Already, London seems a long way off. That day, when I took flowers to the churchyard, I had no idea what was in store. I knew nothing about what you’d done … this house, and the fact that you had left it to me in your will.’
She chuckled. ‘You should have seen Mother’s face when she handed the deeds over … I think she’d rather have been handing me a poisoned chalice. And Samantha! What a terrible fuss she made. In the end she got what she wanted – they both have. Mother’s getting wed, secretly hoping he’ll pop his clogs and leave her a rich widow, and Samantha’s been promised the house, and all Mother’s jewellery. What do you think to that, eh?’
A quietness came over her, a kind of resignation. ‘I might be divorced and nearly broke, and you’ve left me a house that needs money spent on it, but I’m richer than either of those two will ever be.’ Kathy truly believed that. ‘Thank you for this lovely house, Daddy,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll look after it, I promise. I’ll get it done up and make it my home.’ With a sense of abandonment, she threw out her arms. ‘I’ll probably stay here for the rest of my life.’
Overwhelmed, she gave vent to her emotions, the tears rolling down her face. ‘I feel close to you here, but, oh, I do miss you so. I don’t suppose you’ll ever know how much.’
From a distance, Tom heard the tail end of her words. Listening to her emotional, one-way conversation he recognised a kindred spirit. ‘She’s just a lost soul … much like yourself,’ he muttered.
Quietly, not wishing to be seen, he went away, back to his cottage and his own company.
That was the way he preferred it.
Not yet ready to return to the caravan, Kathy took a leisurely stroll round the harbour. Leaning on the railings, she finished off her fish and chips and watched the boats in the water. There was something incredibly soothing about watching the water, and here it was like she had never seen before. Where the harbour outlet tapered down to a narrow funnel, the trapped water thrashed against the high walls, moaning and fighting as if trying to escape.
Just now, one of the late fishermen started his boat’s engine and headed it towards this turbulent funnel of water. As it travelled the short distance before it came out into open sea at the other end, the little boat was swayed and pushed dangerously close to the high walls. In the end, though, the fisherman skilfully negotiated the waters, and a few minutes later he was headed for the fishing sites, his lights low and his engine running softly.
Having a fear of deep water, Kathy was filled with admiration.
When the boat was out of sight she screwed up her fish-and-chip paper and tossed it into the nearest bin. After a long, lingering glance at the house, she returned, slightly reluctantly, to the caravan.
Less than an hour later, after a quick wash, she was undressed and in her newly made bed. Moments later, she was fast asleep, wearied by the long journey, and the emotional turmoil of seeing the house, in what she believed was a private moment. If she had realised someone had overheard, albeit innocently, she would have been mortified.
Not far away, in his cottage on the hilltop, Tom was pacing the floor. He couldn’t sleep. His mind was too full of thoughts, too active. Kathy had somehow brought back memories of his wife, and now he could not rid himself of everything else that went with it: the guilt, the belief that he should have tried harder to save them, the agony of knowing he would never see them again. Yet even while he tortured himself, he knew he had done everything humanly possible on that day. Thinking about it now