The Beachcomber. Josephine Cox
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half-smile. ‘No.’
‘Then don’t do it.’
‘It’s too late now. I’ve broken it off with Geoff, I’ve left my job, my flat’s been rented out to someone else and, thanks to you, I’m already packed.’ Glancing at the portmanteau, she laughed. ‘If it bursts open on the train, I’ll pretend it’s not mine.’
At that, Maggie laughed with her, before making a serious suggestion. ‘If you change your mind, you know they’ll give you back your job, because they said so. And you can always bunk in with me until you find another flat.’
Kathy thanked her, but, ‘This is something I have to do, Mags,’ she replied thoughtfully. ‘I believe that house at West Bay was left to me for a purpose. Dad wanted me to have it, and I need to go there.’
‘Well, yes, I understand that, but why can’t the pair of us go together … just for a week, to get the lie of the land. There’s no need to throw away everything, not when you’re not sure what you might be walking into.’
Kathy didn’t see it that way. ‘We’ve been through all this, Mags, and I’m still determined to go … though I wish you were coming with me, at least for a holiday.’ Lowering her voice, she tried to explain how she felt. ‘I’ve no family to speak of … except you. I work hard and pay my bills and sometimes I can’t see the point of it all. I’m not happy, Mags … I haven’t been since Dad … well, not for a long time, and what with Mother always on my back, and Samantha whining and moaning at every little thing, I think I’d have gone crazy if it wasn’t for you.’
‘But look, Kathy … packing up and moving to a strange place … to a broken-down old house you’ve never even seen?’ Pausing, she let the words sink in. ‘It’s such a drastic step.’
Kathy was unmoved. ‘But I’ve got nothing to lose.’ She gave a smile that was meant to put all Maggie’s doubts aside. ‘I’ll be all right, you’ll see.’
Maggie was still not convinced. ‘It’s just plain daft if you ask me! Look at what you’re doing. You’ve got two weeks’ wages and a week’s holiday pay, and a few savings – that ain’t gonna last long, is it? And from what your mother told you about the place being “derelict”, you could be walking into a right dump.’
Kathy laughed. ‘Don’t exaggerate.’
Maggie persisted. ‘But how do you know, eh? You haven’t even seen it. What if it’s so bad you can’t even live in it, then what? All right, you could check into a hotel, but then your money will be gone faster than you can catch the next train back … that’s if you’ve got the fare.’
She was desperately worried. ‘Think again, Kathy. Give me a few days and I’ll get time off to go with you. It’s at the coast so there must be caravans there. We’ll rent one for a week and get the house sorted out at the same time. It’ll be fun. Oh, Kathy! Say you will?’
Kathy was half tempted, but on reflection her resolve hardened. ‘My mind’s made up. I’m catching the half past ten train and I’ll call you when I get there.’ She loved Maggie and didn’t want her worrying. ‘Look, if you like you can still ask for time off and follow me down. I’d like that.’
‘I’m not staying in no “derelict” house, though!’ Maggie was adamant. ‘I’m not as daft as you.’
Kathy laughed. ‘No, you’re dafter, or you wouldn’t be going out with that bloke.’
Maggie gave her a playful thump. ‘We’ll see.’
Kathy asked hopefully, ‘Do you think you will be able to get time off?’
‘I’ll have a damned good try.’
Returning to stand the case on its end, she groaned when trying to lift it. ‘Like I said … I’m not carrying this thing down the stairs.’
‘Stop moaning, you don’t have to,’ Kathy explained. ‘I’ve ordered a taxi. The driver can take it down the stairs, and the porter will carry it for me at the station.’
Maggie gave a sigh of relief. ‘Thank God for that. Let them get the ruptures!’
There was still a lot more to do before the taxi arrived. ‘These are the boxes to be collected for the charity shop.’ Kathy closed the last box. ‘And the rest is to be left for the landlord.’ Pointing to a piled-up sofa, she told Maggie, ‘He paid me a few bob to leave all the curtains, bedding, rugs and towels … oh, and a few ornaments I don’t have use for. He wants to keep it all for his next tenant.’
Maggie tutted. ‘Tight git! You’d think he’d at least get some new stuff.’
Kathy agreed, but said, ‘He’s tight-fisted with his money. That’s why he’s rich and we’re not.’
‘No, it’s not,’ Maggie retorted. ‘He’s rich because he bought two houses along the street for next to nothing, and made them into eight flats.’ She pulled a face that made Kathy laugh out loud. ‘… And because he’s a tight git!’
‘You’re right.’ Kathy had to agree. ‘We’d best get a move on or I’ll miss the train.’ She began checking each room. ‘Best make sure everything’s all right before we leave,’ she told Maggie. ‘I don’t want him to think I keep an untidy, dirty place.’
Maggie followed her. ‘If he wants to see untidy –’ she was not surprised to note that every room was neat and clean as a new pin – ‘he’d best come and see my place.’
They were startled when a man’s voice boomed out behind them, ‘Taxi for the station. Would that be you two?’ A large man with a beer-belly and a thick, gruff voice filled the doorway. ‘Well? Did you order a taxi or didn’t you? I ain’t got all day.’
‘It’s me.’ After the initial shock of this big man with the booming voice, Kathy leapt into action. ‘If you could please take the portmanteau down, I need to collect a few things. I’ll be right behind.’ She straightened her jacket and picked up her hat and gloves from the side.
As he walked towards the portmanteau, Maggie dodged into the bedroom. Without delay, Kathy followed, the pair of them peeping round the corner as he lifted the article. ‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph! What the bloody hell’s she got in ’ere?’
‘See, I told you it was heavy!’ Digging Kathy in the ribs, Maggie was bursting to laugh. ‘I bet you’ve ruptured the poor devil!’
Red-faced and grunting, he carried it across the room and out the door, moaning and groaning as he bounced it down one step after another. ‘I wish he’d be careful,’ Kathy declared as they emerged from their hiding-place. ‘He might break it.’
‘Yes, and he might “break” your bleedin’ neck if you say anything.’
A knock on the door announced the arrival of the charity people to collect the boxes. ‘Every little helps,’ the bottle-blonde said with a grateful smile. ‘We have all kinds of people who come into the shop and buy this kind of bric-à-brac.’
Maggie had a naturally suspicious nature. ‘If you ask me, they were a dodgy pair!’ she said as they left. ‘I bet you they’ll be straight round the market and flog the bleedin’ lot.’
‘Don’t be so cynical,’ Kathy chided. ‘These people do a good job.’
Maggie didn’t answer: she knew what she knew and that was that.
As the two of them left the house, the irate driver rounded on Kathy. ‘I hope you realise this meter’s ticking?’ he asked pointedly. Before she could answer, he grabbed Kathy’s bag and threw it in the back. ‘I recall somebody saying they had a train to catch, and it won’t be my fault if she misses it!’
Behind him, Maggie was laughing.
When it was time to leave, Kathy hugged her friend tight. ‘I’ll