The Beachcomber. Josephine Cox
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me travelling all day, worn out when I get here and not even able to stay in the house. And there’s you … dancing the night away, doing Lord knows what! And lying in bed half the next day.’ A thought struck her. She whispered, ‘He’s not still there, is he?’
‘No. He went home about two this morning … said he had to be up early for work. But I’m seeing him again tonight … and don’t you dare say anything! Or I’ll put the phone down.’
‘I’m saying nothing,’ Kathy replied, ‘but I still think he’s wrong for you. I reckon you might be heading for trouble falling for him hook, line and sinker, without even knowing him.’
‘I do know him!’ Maggie decided against putting the phone down. ‘I spent the bleedin’ night with him, didn’t I?’
‘Right then. Where does he live?’
There was an awkward pause. ‘I’m not really sure … somewhere the other side of Ilford, I think.’ Her voice rose in anger. ‘It’s not important. He’ll tell me when he’s good and ready.’
‘And did he say where he worked … when he had to rush off like that?’
‘I mean it, Kathy! I’ll put the phone down if yer keep quizzing me.’ Another pause, before she said lamely, ‘If I’d asked him where he worked, I’m sure he’d have told me.’
‘All right, Mags … I’m sorry. It’s just that I don’t want you to get hurt, and … well, there was just something about him that made me suspicious, that’s all.’
‘Hmh! That’s because you’ve got a suspicious mind.’
‘Promise me you’ll take it slow with this one?’ Her every instinct told her that this bloke was a chancer. Maggie had been through it all before and never seemed to learn. Sometimes she couldn’t see beyond all the attention and flattery. In the end she always got hurt.
Now that the well-meaning ‘inquisition’ was over, Maggie’s questions came fast and furious. ‘What’s the house like? Why couldn’t you stay there? And if you couldn’t stay there, where did you spend the night?’
Kathy explained about the caravan, which had turned out to be cosy and comfortable. ‘The site is just a short walk from the house,’ she said. ‘It so happened they’d had a cancellation and I was able to take the caravan for a night.’
Maggie was exhilarated. ‘See! I told you there’d be a caravan site.’ She went on enthusiastically, ‘Happen I’ll stay there with my bloke, seeing as you don’t like him.’ She continued, in a worried voice, ‘Will you be able to get the house right? I mean … it’s bound to cost you for getting the lights and the water on.’
Kathy sighed. ‘That’s not all. There’s paint peeling off everywhere, and it looks to me like the window-sills are rotten.’
‘I can’t believe yer dad let it get that bad.’
Kathy had wondered about that herself. ‘Maybe he was in love and didn’t notice, or maybe he was tight for cash since he was keeping two homes going. But it’s been empty for over a year … maybe longer for all we know. It’s stood right through the winter at least, and I’m sure the sea air can do a lot of damage.’
‘So, how will you afford to get it done up?’
Kathy confided her plan. ‘I intend getting a little job. I could buy paint and brushes, rub the wood down and do the work myself at weekends.’
‘Hmh! Rather you than me.’
The conversation inevitably came onto men. ‘Go on then!’ Maggie urged excitedly. ‘Have yer come across any good-looking blokes yet?’
Kathy laughed. ‘Give over, Mags, I’ve only been here five minutes!’ Kathy’s mind went back to Tom. ‘There was one man though … in the chippie … aged about thirty-five or six, I reckon.’ She recalled him clearly. ‘Nicest-looking chap I’ve seen in ages, only …’ She paused, trying to put her feelings into words.
‘Only … what?’ Maggie was not the most patient of people.
‘Well …’ Kathy couldn’t quite put her finger on it. ‘He seemed, I don’t know, kind of sad. I nearly choked on a hot chip and he told me to be careful.’ She could see him now, in her mind’s eye. ‘He had the loveliest smile.’
Maggie laughed. ‘Sounds to me like you’re the one who needs to be careful. Some bloke smiles at you in the chippie … and you’re gone.’
Kathy hotly denied it. ‘Don’t be daft! I’m not “gone”, as you call it. I don’t know him from Adam and I don’t want to. Besides, I reckon I’ve got enough on my plate without worrying about men!’
Maggie was incorrigible. ‘All right, all right!’ she chuckled mischievously. ‘If you say so.’
‘I do. So you behave yourself.’ As her money ran out, Kathy promised to write very soon. She knew the chances of Maggie putting pen to paper were slim.
On her way to the house, she paused to look at the boats in the harbour. Everything was beginning to come alive: it was still early but the boats were being fitted out and taken to sea; down on the slipway a man and a woman were launching their boat.
Some way along the harbour, two sleepy-eyed children walked along, holding their mother’s hand and looking as if they would still rather be in bed. Others were running and leaping about, excited by being at the seaside and impatient to get down on the beach with their buckets and spades. Kathy loved it all. After London, it was like another world.
Eager to get back to the house, she turned away. It was then that she saw the man from the chip shop emerging from the shop, his newspaper rolled up in his hand and his head bowed as if deep in thought.
She recalled what Maggie had said. ‘One smile and yer “gone”.’ That was not true, but there was something about this man that seemed to cling to her. It wasn’t just that he was handsome, or that, as he strode across the road, the sun shone down on his hair and streaked it with gold; nor was it just the pleasing sight of his long, lean figure in flannels and white shirt, with short sleeves revealing strong, bronzed arms. It was more than that.
There was something else. Something the eye couldn’t see. Something she had sensed last night when she saw him for the first time. There was a natural ‘goodness’ about him … a warmth that reached out, yet kept you at bay somehow. She had seen it in his eyes last night. Even when he smiled at her, she had seen how his dark eyes were full of sadness.
Intrigued, she watched him walk away, over the bridge and on, past the caravan site and up the hill, until she could no longer see him. ‘A man with troubles,’ she deduced quietly. But, she shook herself, she was not here to get involved with another man.
Continuing on to the house, she realised for the first time how wonderfully sited it was. There was a well-kept public green in front and a high wall at the back, with shrubberies and lawns either side, though, like the front garden, they were badly overgrown.
As she stood with her back to the door, she had clear, uninterrupted views of the harbour on one side – a hive of activity – and the river on the other, with boats and ducks, and a restaurant whose terrace spanned the water on wooden stilts. ‘You chose well, Dad,’ she murmured, and a great sense of quietness flooded her heart. ‘I know I’ll be happy here.’
The extent of disrepair was more than she had realised. Apart from the peeling windows and overgrown gardens, the path itself was pitted with holes and the gate was hanging on one hinge. There was a shed at the side of the house that was already halfway collapsed, and a broken window upstairs at the back. ‘Blimey, Kathy!’ She took a deep breath. ‘You’ve got your work cut out and no mistake.’
For one nerve-racking minute she wondered if she was up to it … or even whether she could ever afford to do it. But the longer she stood