‘Gabe?’ I’m frightened now. What’s going on?
He looks up, his eyes finally locking on mine. ‘Martin Forbes is a friend of mine,’ he says softly. ‘A private investigator. I said I’d help him out.’ He takes in a long breath and blows it out slowly. ‘Last week, he phoned me. He’d had a call from a woman. She was desperate to find her friend, who’d left without telling her where she was going. She had a hunch she’d headed here, to Pengully Sands.’ He shrugs sadly. ‘Martin asked me to find you.’
I stare at him, hardly able to believe what I’m hearing.
‘Amber knew I’d be here?’
‘It seems so. Apparently, you used to take the camper van down here for holidays with your mum?’
I nod.
‘Amber just wanted to know that you were safe. She panicked after you left and found Martin on-line. She must really care about you, Lucy.’
I swallow on the lump in my throat, imagining Amber’s worry. I was in such a state the day I fled, I didn’t stop to think of the effect my leaving would have on my best friend.
‘Are you okay?’ he asks softly.
I look up at him through a mist of tears. My throat hurts so much, I’m afraid to swallow. ‘I’m fine,’ I say stiffly, getting up. ‘Thank you for dinner but I’m going now.’
‘No.’ He rises, almost knocking his chair over. ‘Stay. Let’s talk about this.’
‘There’s nothing to say. Everything I thought I knew about you was false. We didn’t just ‘bump into each other’ that day outside the park when you gave me a jump start, did we? Or that day at the newsagent’s? And I presume you were trailing me when I dropped my notebook climbing The Rocks?’
His weary expression tells me everything I need to know.
‘I thought so.’ I swallow hard. ‘You’re not a very good private eye. I knew I was being followed.’
‘Oh, Lucy. I couldn’t believe it when I ran into you that first time. I’d spotted your van driving along the high street. It’s hard to miss. And yes, I followed you. I wanted to just go before you saw me, but when I saw you conked out at the entrance to the park, I knew you needed help, so I couldn’t leave you.’
‘That was very kind of you, I’m sure,’ I say bitterly.
‘I wanted to tell you what was going on. But I didn’t want to spoil things. I liked you, Lucy.’
‘And I liked you. But now I don’t know what to think. I feel like such a bloody fool.’
The pain of realising I’m just a job to Gabe is tearing at my heart.
Of course he wasn’t really interested in me, the person!
I scrape back my chair and he says, ‘Lucy, please sit down and let’s talk about it. I’m sorry.’ He moves towards me but at the touch of his hand on my arm, I pull away and head blindly for the door. In my anguish, I can’t seem to get it open, then I realise I’m pushing instead of pulling.
Emerging onto the street, I glance back and see Gabe at the counter, paying the bill. Our eyes meet and he gestures for me to wait for him.
But I take my chance and flee, back to Mrs West’s, taking a winding route through the side streets so that Gabe can’t catch up with me.
*****
Back at the van, I throw myself on the bed and curl up in a ball on my side.
Warm tears leak out, soaking into the pillow.
I’d built tonight up to be something special. Buying a dress that I could ill-afford (five pounds of my precious cash) and leaving work at six, because risking Mrs West’s disapproval seemed like a chance worth taking if it meant I could be with Gabe again.
But it wasn’t a date at all. It was a way for him to ask me questions so that he could report back to his friend, the private investigator!
A knock on the door startles me and I sit up.
‘Lucy?’
Gabe’s voice, low and urgent, reaches me and my heart lurches.
‘Lucy, please let me in. Give me a chance to explain.’
I blow my nose softly and go to the door. ‘Go away, Gabe.’
‘Please, Lucy. Talk to me. I know it must seem bad. But I genuinely like you…a lot.’
Ignoring the pain in my heart, I draw in a deep breath and stand tall to give me the courage to say what I need to say. ‘Please let Amber know that I’m fine and I’ll be in touch as soon as I can. Martin will be pleased you’ve completed the job successfully and you’ll get your cash. A happy ending for everyone. Goodbye, Gabe.’ And I shut the door in his face.
I stand there, holding my breath, battling a sudden, ridiculous hope that he’ll shoulder the door in, grab me and insist I hear him out. But after a moment, I hear the echo of his footsteps in the night, walking away down the driveway. I listen until there’s no sound, then I retreat to the bed and crawl under the covers, still in my lovely charity shop dress.
A surge of despair mingles with the hurt inside. I was starting to have real feelings for Gabe.
More fool me!
I turn over and the spaghetti straps of the dress dig painfully into my shoulders. In a burst of frustration, I pull hard at the straps, yanking the stitching apart.
Then grief takes over and I give in to the tears.
I’m crying for Mum. And because I’m missing Dad so much. And because what I need really badly right now is a heart-to-heart with my best friend. But I can’t return because the thought of running into Eleanor truly makes my blood run cold, which makes me a coward as well as a pathetic loser in love.
After a while, I haul myself up and go in search of loo roll to unblock my nose. Then I kneel on the bed, pull the curtain aside and stare out at the sinister shapes in Mrs West’s garden. A full moon hangs in the sky above the trees, seeming eerily close, as if a quick flight on EasyJet might get me there. My lips curl in a bitter smile. Decamping to the moon would be ideal. That would be ‘getting away from it all’ with bells on!
But back to more earthly matters. I need to be up early tomorrow to get a head start on the factory floors.
At least I have a job. It might not be much, but if I keep plugging away, things will surely get better…
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
A rap on the camper van door wakes me up before the alarm.
Struggling to a sitting position, my heart starts beating hopefully, thinking it might be Gabe, wanting to apologise again. After a good night’s sleep, I’m feeling more together than I was last night. Perhaps I should give him another chance…
But my mood falls flatter than a duck’s in-step when I open the door to find a sour-faced Mrs West standing there.
She launches straight in. ‘Lucy, I wasn’t very pleased with your efforts yesterday, so I’m afraid I’m docking your pay accordingly. And since you’re obviously not up to the job, I’ve given this one to someone else.’
I stare at her in alarm. Is she sacking me?
Nausea swirls in my gut. ‘I’m really sorry, Mrs West, but the cleaner machine isn’t working properly and that held me up quite a bit. I probably should have phoned you to let you know.’
‘What is it they say about a bad workman blaming his tools?’ she snaps. ‘No, I’m sorry, Lucy, but I need staff who are capable of getting the job done in a reasonable time, and clearly, you’re struggling to keep up with the workload.’