Digging Deeper (34 page)

When Flick looked up and saw him, her organs rearranged themselves and left no room for her stomach, forcing it to rise to the back of her throat. She started to get up and Kirsten slapped a hand on her knee. Willow sat next to Josh and Giles sidled up to Willow, so Beck had no choice but to sit next to Flick, though there was room for a couple of sheep between them. Alerted to the possibility of sandwiches by the sound of rustling paper, several sheep already eyed the vacant spots.

The conversation was lively, interesting and awkward all at the same time because neither Beck nor Flick said a word, apart from “please” and “thank you”. Willow talked about the wedding and some of the strange presents they’d received. She and Giles were convinced the wedding list company, wrapitupforus.com, had confused them with another couple because neither remembered asking for the recently delivered “Happy Garden Buddha” or the fifteen bags of horse manure.

“Nor that set of four DVDs featuring sex for beginners.
Places, Positions, Pointers and Perversions
,” Willow added.

Four of them laughed. Flick and Beck didn’t.

Flick caught Giles’ eye and he looked away.

Four of them ate. Flick and Beck didn’t. Flick sat with a sandwich in her hand. Moments ago she’d been starving and now she couldn’t have taken a single bite. One of the sheep edged closer to her and another neared Beck who sat with an unopened packet of crisps in his hand.

Kirsten tried to start up the conversation. “We had an unscheduled stop on the way here. Flick had to check out a bin bag.”

Flick shot her a murderous glance but Kirsten ignored her.

“Every time she sees a black plastic bag at the side of the road she has to stop and make sure there isn’t a body in it.”

“Really?” Willow asked.

“Yep,” Josh confirmed. “It used to take her hours to get home on collection day, until the council changed to wheelie bins.”

“Flick, you’re crazy.” Giles laughed. “Ever found anything interesting?”

“No.” Not true. She’d once found a shark’s head in a black plastic bag out in the middle of nowhere. The whole thing—flesh, teeth and everything. She’d wondered for ages where it had come from. Aliens had been top of the list. Along with a mob hit on a lone shark. Flick sighed. She couldn’t even laugh at her own jokes.

Finally Kirsten could stand it no longer. “For Pete’s sake, go away and talk to each other or we’ll be here all night.”

Flick glared at Kirsten and Josh. Beck glared at Willow and Giles. Then they got to their feet and stamped off, alarming the two sheep about to join the picnic. The animals’ panicked departure sent a ripple of fear through the rest of the flock and all at once creamy mounds bounced through the bracken in every direction.

“At least Beck and Flick have gone the same way,” Flick heard Giles comment. “Let’s open the other bottle of wine.”

Her mind buzzed. All she wanted to do was kiss Beck and she couldn’t because if he pushed her away, and he would push her away, she’d crumble. It was over. He couldn’t even bring himself to speak to her. She could say she was sorry, again, but why would it sound any different now? Maybe she should kiss him anyway. One last kiss. But he’d just stand there and not kiss her back and she’d feel worse. But then he was standing there because he wanted to say something, wasn’t he? She could help by saying something herself.
You are the most handsome man I’ve ever stood next to.
That’s good.
You are the most infuriating, bigoted jerk I’ve ever wanted to kiss.
Not so good.

Flick stopped walking and Beck stepped up beside her. He wanted to tell her how he felt, that he didn’t like her working at the club, that she was too special to let herself be used in that way, that he’d like her to stop. He also wanted her to know it had been the lap dancing for Giles that had really messed him up, only now he knew she hadn’t. How was he supposed to say all that in the right way, so she didn’t hate him and think he was a hypocrite?

Beck realized talking about the club was a bad idea. Forget the club. What could he say instead?

“The letter was open. I read it.”

Flick’s face paled. “It was private. You had no right.”

Oh God, why did that come out of my mouth?
He could have said almost anything better than that. “I’m sorry but it was addressed to me. I thought it was for me. I didn’t want to lie to you.”

“Why did you seal it up? Were you going to pretend you hadn’t read it?”

Yes.
“Does that matter?”

“It’s dishonest.” Flick chewed her lip.

“And breaking into someone’s house isn’t?” Beck’s voice rose. “Look, think about it. You put my name on the envelope. You wrote it for me. You just changed your mind about sending it. What you did then was stupid. You could have got yourself killed over a silly letter.”

“Not silly,” Flick snapped. “Writing a letter is what I do when someone hurts me enough to make me cry. I don’t have anybody to tell so I write it down and that ends it and I don’t have to think about it anymore. I have a whole collection of letters, to all sorts of people. You came into my life and now you’ve gone again. I don’t have to think about you anymore.”

Beck’s throat had gone dry. He’d made her cry?

“Well, that’s what you want too, isn’t it?” Flick stared at him. “Not to think of me anymore? I’m an embarrassment, someone who takes her clothes off and dances for money. A small step then, to sleeping with men for money. Maybe Henry was paying me for that? Did you wonder if Giles had paid me too? Is that what you want to ask me? If I’m a hooker? Men think they want girlfriends who are strippers until they go out with one who is and then that’s the last thing they want. Well, don’t worry. A couple more weeks and you’ll be out of here. I’ll just be one of your alphabet shags.”

Beck recoiled as if she’d kicked him in the stomach.

“Guess my dad didn’t think calling me Xanthe would be so fascinating to some people. Drunk men have big mouths,” she whispered, then turned and fled.

She ran down the hill, almost falling on the slope in her haste to get away. Beck came to his senses and went after her.

“Flick! Stop.”

She ran faster and he slipped on the grass and slithered to a halt in the bracken. By the time Beck reached the car park she was already in her car. He stood panting as he watched her shoot out on to the road and turn left down the steep hill toward Ilkley.

“Well, it’s good he’s gone after her,” Kirsten said.

“Not if he wants to kill her,” Giles pointed out.

“You’d never get so cross with me that you’d want to murder me, would you, smudgy lips?” Willow asked.

“Only if you eat your ice cream from the wrong end of the cornet, slushy chops,” Giles said.

“Flick does that.” Josh grinned.

“So does Beck,” Giles said.

“So they do have something in common,” added Willow.

“They’re crazy about one another,” Josh said. “It’s just that they’ve dug themselves into holes and instead of climbing out, they’re digging deeper. Maybe they’re too far down to get out.”

Kirsten’s fingers slid over to his and she squeezed his hand. “I want to help her.”

“I don’t know what else we can do,” Josh said.

It wasn’t until they’d finished the second bottle of wine that they realized neither Beck nor Flick was coming back.

“Maybe they’re in the car park,” Willow said.

But when they reached the edge of the rocks and looked down, they could see neither of them. Flick’s car was gone. When they got to where Beck had left Isobel’s car, they found it had transformed into a new Subaru.

“We’ll call Beck. You try Flick,” Giles said.

“Flick doesn’t have her mobile. I saw it in the kitchen,” Josh said.

“There’s no reception.” Giles rushed to put his phone away.

“How can there be no reception? We’re on top of a hill.” Willow snagged the phone from his pocket, pressed a button and then glared.

Giles winced. “I forgot to charge it.”

“I didn’t bring mine,” said Kirsten and everyone looked at Josh.

“Nor did I.”

Everyone turned to Willow.

“You’re not going to put this on me. Giles had his. That should have been enough,” she snapped.

“So what do we do now?” Kirsten asked.

“Hitch a lift from a passing sheep?” Josh suggested.

The two sheep that had followed them down the hill turned and bolted.

———

Beck wondered what Flick was doing when she suddenly braked. When she accelerated he increased his speed, only to find her braking again. Thank God there was no one behind him. When Flick pulled into the next parking area, Beck drew up several car lengths behind. Flick got out, slammed the door and strode to his vehicle. As she approached at warp speed, Beck jumped out.

“Why are you following me?” Flick demanded.

“I wanted to be sure you didn’t do anything stupid.”

“I’m supposed to believe you give a damn? Don’t worry. I’m not the suicidal type.”

“You were going the wrong way.”

“I wasn’t going back to Timble.” Flick glared. “I was going…to talk to my parents.”

“And do they approve of what you do for a living?”
God, rip the tongue out of my mouth now.
Why the hell had he asked her that?

Flick didn’t answer. She stormed back to her car.

Beck thought about following but wasn’t sure he could face meeting her parents. He’d go back. Then he realized he’d forgotten about Giles and Willow. Flick must have left Kirsten and Josh stranded too. He rang Giles, but the call went though to voicemail.

Beck drove back to the Cow and Calf and then back to the town looking for them, and in the end returned to the gatehouse to find the four slumped in the lounge.

“Sorry,” Beck said.

“Tell us you’re speaking nicely to each other and we’ll forgive you,” Willow said.

“We’re sort of speaking.”

“So is she outside in the car waiting to take us home?” Josh asked.

“She’s gone to see her parents.” There followed a longer pause than Beck liked. “What? Do they live in Scotland?”

“Beck, her parents are dead. They died a few years ago in a car crash,” Kirsten said.

“Oh. Then I guess she wanted to be alone.”

Beck felt terrible. He was continuing to hurt her. What was the matter with him? Oh God, had she been thinking of suicide? He had to find her.

“I’ll drive you back to Timble,” he said.

He needed to know Flick was safe and hoped her car would be outside the house.

It wasn’t.

Kirsten invited him in but Beck declined. He wasn’t sure Flick would want to see him, so he drove a little way, then sat and waited.

———

The light was failing as Flick walked back to the point where the accident happened. Not even a bend in the road. Such a waste and she still felt angry with them and with herself.

“I’m scared,” she whispered. “I want Beck so much. The more he despises me, the more I seem to want him. Every time I think of him, I shiver. If I see him, my head spins. If I touch him, it’s like I’ve had an electric shock. He’s the one and I’ve lost him. I don’t know what to do.”

She sat on the wall and waited for them to tell her, but she was on her own. And that was the truth, Flick thought. She had to dig her way out of this mess herself. No one else could help her.

Flick turned off the A59 onto the road to Otley and changed into first gear to climb the short, steep hill. As she reached the top, the car coughed and a frisson of alarm skittered down her spine. Any noise other than the bangs and clanks she recognized, screamed money and she had no spare cash for repairs. She needed to sell the car while it still worked. After a mile or so the car coughed again and as it began its death rattle, Flick coaxed it off the road onto the grass verge. The mystery of what was wrong became obvious. The fuel gauge read empty.

“Bugger, shit and fuck.”

With no petrol station for miles, only a very long walk would get her home and it was dark. The county council, inconsiderate bastards, hadn’t thought to put street lights along the cross-country roads in case people ran out of petrol, so it wasn’t merely dark, it was black. No way would she attempt to walk over the moor at night even with the lure of sleeping in her bed rather than the car. Flick locked the doors, climbed onto the backseat and lay down.

The tapping woke Beck. He opened his eyes and flinched when he saw Bob Hulme, the farmer whose drystone wall they’d repaired, staring at him through the car window.

“I need you to move. I want to open the gate.”

Beck sat up and groaned as his muscles expressed their extreme annoyance that he’d spent the night in a car. He brought his seat upright and drove down the road past Flick’s house. Her car wasn’t there. It was 5:30 in the morning. Where the hell was she? His throat tightened when he thought about the Marcus guy. Could they have hooked up again? After Beck had upset her last night, why wouldn’t she leap back into the other guy’s arms?

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel until his knuckles looked like snowy peaks. He couldn’t think that way. He had to start giving her the benefit of the doubt and trusting that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Beck had learned the hard way how unfounded suspicions could damage a relationship. Fighting off the impulse to wake Josh and Kirsten, he turned and drove out toward the A59. She’d said she wasn’t suicidal, but she’d made that comment about talking to her parents. Beck’s heart pounded. If anything had happened to her, he’d never forgive himself.

When he saw her car on the side of the road his throat seized up. He couldn’t see her inside. As he drove past to pull in behind her, he looked for a pipe on the exhaust. Nothing. It made no difference to his heart rate. Beck ran back to find her asleep on the back seat, curled up with her head on her hands. She’d not gone back to the house because she’d seen his car and didn’t want to speak to him. What other reason could there be? She didn’t want to see him again. Beck swallowed hard and drove on to Ilkley.

———

Only when Kirsten and Josh were about to set off for work did they realize Flick’s car wasn’t parked outside. Kirsten shot back into the house, dashed up to Flick’s room and then ran back to Josh.