The Wave at Hanging Rock: A Psychological Mystery and Suspense Thriller (22 page)

As they thanked the landlady a waitress walked out from the kitchen carrying their food. She went to their table and looked around, confused to see it empty, until she saw Dave signalling to her they were coming back. And the distraction of eating was enough for Natalie’s slight doubts about the way the young man had responded to settle. Whatever his problems she was glad he had no idea who Jim was. She realised she was hungry, and when she’d finished eating it was what they’d come here to do that she concentrated on. She wanted to get on with it, if only so that she could then leave, and get back to her real life.
 

They left the pub and worked their way up the small high street, walking together and asking everyone they came across if they would look at the photograph. They went into each business, each time asking the same questions, and as they did so Natalie’s unsettled feeling began to fade away. It wasn’t just the repetition that helped, it was because no one showed any spark of recognition. She looked into eyes that were filled with interest at being shown the photograph, but registered nothing on seeing Jim’s face. He was a stranger here. She began to feel that there was nothing here to find. No terrible secret to uncover.

They worked their way up one side of the high street, then back down the other. It was less than two hours later they were back at the car, still parked outside the
Crown and Anchor
. There had been nothing, no half-remembered sighting, no other leads anyone had suggested they follow.
 

“So now what?” She said, leaning on the car.

Dave looked pensive, more disappointed that her.

“That little newsagent had a photocopier. We could make copies of the photograph and put it up on noticeboards. Maybe in some shop windows.”

Something about this idea didn’t appeal to Natalie, but she agreed anyway.

It took another half an hour but they produced four small posters with Jim’s image and the words “Have you seen this man?” written in biro underneath. They gave Dave’s telephone number to call for information. The village was so small that with just the four posters it felt like they had most of the the village covered.
 

With that done Natalie was keen to leave.
 

“I don’t think there’s anything more we can do,” she said when they were back at the car once more. “And no one knows anything anyway. It’s like I said, it’s too long ago. At least we tried.” She smiled, relieved to be leaving, there was still something about the town she didn’t like.
 

But Dave seemed reluctant still.
 

“Have you got any other ideas, while we’re here?”

“No. I’ve got work tomorrow. Even if we leave now it’s going to be late before we get back.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything. He pressed the button to unlock the car door and Natalie climbed in, but before Dave could open the driver’s side his mobile rang, and she watched through the windscreen as he answered it, and then walked over to the river while he talked. The tide had dropped now and the water was much lower, uncovering thick greasy seaweed in greens and browns around the steep high walls of the harbour basin. It didn’t improve the view. Her mind toyed with how hard it would be to get out, if you happened to fall in there. When Dave finished the call he looked thoughtful, and then walked over to her side of the car.
 

“That was Damien,” he said, then noting Natalie’s questioning expression added, “He’s one of our pilots. He’s doing a drop off not far away from here. I asked him if he’d mind taking the car back, so we can take the chopper. It’s only a forty minute flight.”

Natalie didn’t understand what he was saying at first.
 

“You’re going to fly us back?”

“Yeah. Saves sitting in the car for three hours.”

It made sense, Natalie realised, but the idea brought back her unsettled feeling. She wanted Dave to climb into the car and shut the door and for them to put something physical between themselves and this place. She was on the verge of suggesting they drive away anyway, to get closer to wherever the helicopter was doing its drop off perhaps, when Dave spoke again, and it was like he felt the same thing.

“You know. I think I’ve seen enough of the village,” he said. “How about we take a walk on the beach, until Damien get’s here? I told him that’s the best place to put down anyway.”

She realised he’d arranged it all, so she nodded. Perhaps if they drove away they might not find a site to land, and they’d end up having to drive all the way home. Better to do what Dave said, and they were getting out of the village anyway. She reached for the seatbelt.
 

“Sure. OK.”

It was only about a mile down to the beach, but it felt much more open down there. The car park was empty but for three other cars, parked at the front, near where a wooden boardwalk climbed up and over a pebble embankment. It was so high they couldn’t see the sea, just the sky, slate grey and looking like rain wasn’t far away. They swung the car doors shut and climbed up to look, Natalie was surprised at how steep it was. At the top there was a strong breeze flowing in from the sea, making it choppy and rough. Down by the water’s edge a figure walked away from them, a dog sprinting through the water ahead of it.
 

 
They walked down and onto the beach. The boardwalk stopped a few feet short of the sand, and they had to hop from stone to stone, the largest the size of a pillow, the smallest a bowling ball, like giant grey-black eggs sculpted by the wind and the waves. Then they stepped out onto the firm wet sand. Natalie turned and walked backwards and watched as her footprints disappeared a few moments after she’d left them, water appearing from the sand itself to erase them.
 

“Look,” she said to Dave, pointing at them. “This place doesn’t give up its secrets easily.”

They walked down to the water’s edge, a long way with the tide so low, then turned left, away from the village. Occasionally they had to sidestep quickly to avoid the surges of water where the bigger waves that had broken far out to sea finally reached the land. It was fun, and with each step further away from the village Natalie felt more relief to be nearly done with the place.
 

“It’s a long time since I’ve been down to the sea,” she said to break the silence that had overcome them.

“Because of what happened to Jim?”

“Maybe. I guess so. When I was a girl we used to go on holiday down to Worthing. The beach there is all pebbles that you can’t walk on with bare feet. And then the tide goes out and you have to walk out over a mile of mud. Then if you get there the sea is freezing. I never did see the point of it.”

“No one knows the point of Worthing.”

She laughed. “You know what I mean. It was different with Jim. He had this strange connection with the ocean. Sometimes he just needed to see it. At times I felt it was more important to him than I was. I guess I came to resent that a little.”

Dave said nothing but she felt him watching her. She swung her hair to keep it under control in the breeze. It felt nice to be there, walking on the beach, with Dave. A crazy image formed in her mind, the two of them walking barefoot on different sand. Turquoise water, palm trees, a different beach, a different world. She shook her head again, to clear the thought.
 

“For a while after Jim died I hated the sea.” Natalie continued. “I hated it for what it had done to me. I wanted to try and live my life without ever seeing it again. Without ever hearing about it ever again. But do you know how hard that is?”

He shook his head.

“It’s impossible. There’s always something on the news, or it appears in films when you least expect it. Someone takes a journey, or becomes a fisherman or something silly like that.” She laughed.

“What do you feel now? Do you still hate it?”

Natalie stopped walking and turned to face the waves. She took a deep breath of the wet, salty air.
 

“Maybe I don’t hate it anymore, but I resent it. I want to know what happened to Jim. I want to know why my life had to change like this, and the answer is out there, hidden by the sea. And it won’t ever tell us now. It won’t give us back his body now. The sea just took him, somewhere, somehow. I guess I resent that. But I don’t hate it anymore. I don’t hate being here.”
 

As she spoke the first few spots of rain splattered onto their jackets.
 

“See, why would you come to the beach? It’s always cold or raining or horrible! Let’s go back.”

 
They both turned and looked up the beach looking for the nearest shelter. They’d walked a far way and they were past the end of the pebble embankment by now. Up above them inland was a low grass ridge, studded with bushes, and at one point a large sign, its orientation blocking the worst of the rain. It was the only shelter in sight.

“It looks like it’s just a shower,” Dave said, scanning the sky. “We’re best off waiting behind there and heading back when it’s passed.” They broke into a run.

Natalie reached it first and stood with her back towards it. The wind had picked up with the rain, blowing it more sideways than downwards so that the sign made a pocket of protection. When Dave got there too she moved over to give him room. He was puffing from the effort of the run and began to wipe the rain from his head. The water had plastered his hair down, it highlighted how he was thinning, and for some reason it made her think of his wife. So she turned away, examined the sign instead. It showed a large map of the area with a red dotted line indicating the line of the new footpath being opened up along the entire coastline of Wales. Grainy pictures of men in suits shaking hands accompanied a short text explaining how the funding had been won for an unbroken route around the coastline. There was information on the wildlife that visitors could see, puffins, guillemots, dolphins and porpoises, and wild flowers. She read it absently before making the connection.

“This is it. This is the footpath.”

Dave looked lost then understood her meaning and read the sign with her.
 

“It’s two hundred and fifty miles long,” Dave read. “That’s going to make it pretty difficult to find the guys building it.”

“Maybe. But we could always just phone them?”

“What?”

“Look there. Where it says ‘for information ring this number’.”

Dave looked at her with a small smile of satisfaction then reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Ok then,” he said as he keyed the number in. Natalie leaned in when she heard the ringing tone.

“Ceredigion County Council?” The woman who answered had a thick accent. Behind it they could hear the telltale sounds of a call centre. Dave explained how they were trying to trace the team building or repairing the coastal footpath around Llanwindus. At first she had no idea what they were talking about, but after more explaining she understood.

“So why do you need to speak to them?” She asked. It was clear that not many people had taken up the opportunity on the sign to call.
 

“One of the workers making the path found a bag that was lost, and returned it to us. We just wanted to thank them personally,” Dave explained.
 

This seemed to satisfy the woman, in fact more than satisfy - she was suddenly enthusiastic to put Dave in touch with the ‘footpath team’ and she asked them to hold on. They waited with the rain blowing around them while the tinny sound of Tom Jones played from the speaker of Dave’s phone. Tom got through almost a whole song before she came back on the line.

“So. I’ve spoken to the team in footpaths. They said it’s a commercial contractor but they do believe they’re still in the area. I can’t actually reach them myself, but I do have a mobile number if you’d like?”

Natalie nodded her head. She pulled a pen from her bag and held it ready to write on her palm.

When they had it Dave hung up and immediately dialled the number now written on Natalie’s hand. After a moment though he held his hand over the phone to mouth “
answerphone.”
She shrugged and mouthed back “
leave a message.”

Dave quickly explained why he was calling and left his number, asked for someone from the team to contact him at their earliest convenience, then hung up again.
 

“Well that was a good find. Now what?”

It had nearly stopped raining by then, but it looked more like a short break in the bad weather before things got worse.
 

She shrugged. “Isn’t that helicopter of yours due pretty soon? We could wait in the car before that lot unloads on us?”

They walked, more quickly now, back along a footpath which gently climbed the pebble bank, giving them a view over the beach on one side and the countryside inland on the other. But as they neared the car park Damien called again, and this time Natalie got the gist of the conversation from what Dave said. It seemed the pilot had been delayed, only by an hour, an hour and a half at the most. She worked out while they were still speaking that it still wasn’t worth their while driving home, but this time she felt much less concerned. It was only irritation she felt at the delay. Then she noticed it. When Dave hung up and started explaining the call she waved him away.
 

“I’m sorry Natalie…” Dave began, then stopped. “What is it?”

“There. Look at that.”

“What?”

“That there. That’s a campsite,” she said.
 

 
She was looking behind the car park where a low wall marked off a few fields. Some were dotted with caravans, dirty and abandoned, grass and weeds grown thick around them. There was a building too, a house, a scruffy road leading up to it through the grass.

“He was camping. Jim was camping. I’d almost forgotten. And we’ve tried everywhere else. Come on.” Natalie cut away from the path, working her way down the pebble bank and into the car park, but instead of walking towards their car, she walked towards the back of the car park, where a gate was drawn closed across a gap in the wall. It led to the house. Dave followed behind her, struggling to keep up.