Julian Chesney heaved a sigh of relief. Writers
suffered more than most from disruption and now after
weeks of it, moving day had finally arrived. Now as he
sped along the beach road in spring sunshine he could
see the white pebbledash outline of his new home
zooming large.
Shortly he’d seen the pantechnicon of T@B removals
parked in his driveway, together with his wife Jodie’s
car, who’d traveled ahead to supervise things.
He inched his head closer to the screen and frowned,
the pantechnicon wasn’t there. They’d wasted no time
in getting the job done, fine as long as Jodie had
supervised then correctly – but that was another thing,
her MG was missing also.
Then again, that was okay, she’d probably popped to
the village store for emergency provisions. Jodie after
all, was a go-ahead woman, something he liked about
her. He parked his car, strode towards the house, it
looked like a white fortress against the blue sky, albeit
in need of a little attention but he wasn’t worried about
that, he’d planned on making a few improvements and
renovation was easy enough to arrange.
The frosted glass door was locked, of course it would
be. Jodie had the keys which made him sigh – she might
have been considerate enough to await his arrival. He
made a mental note to get a separate bunch cut and
then proceeded to the back, where the extensive lounge
provided a panoramic view of the sea.
Then his breath caught in his throat, his mouth
became as dry and rough as the pebbled beach; he was
staring into a large void, nothing but bare floorboards
and paintings he’d bought off the previous owner.
He raked his fingers through his hair, suddenly aware
of the heat of the day. He’d had things to tie up at the
other end so Jodie and the removal men had left a
couple of hours earlier. What the hell had happened?
Three flat miles of open beach road lay between
Aldeburgh and their new Thorpeness home, if there had
been problems he could hardly have missed them.
But no trace.
He grabbed his mobile phone from his pocket,
fumbled and almost dropped it before his shaky fingers
tapped out Jodie’s number.
Her phone was switched off
He cursed, swung round. To the few ramblers along
the beach he must seem like a whirling dervish – he
called the removal company – ‘Ah, Mr. Chesney…’ a
voice crackled before the line went dead. He felt like
screaming to high heaven – why couldn’t they erect
decent phone lines in this part of the world? He tried
again to no avail.
The phone in the house – had it been connected? He
couldn’t remember. But he didn’t need to break the
glass to find out; he’d known a locksmith in days gone
by, learned a few tricks he’d later applied to his novels.
He ran to the side door and picked the lock in seconds.
He got that sinking feeling the moment he picked up
the lounge phone – it was disconnected, but there was a
separate line in the gallery upstairs – the room that was
supposed to provide inspiration for his writing –
Again, it hadn’t been connected.
Anxiety turned to despair, turned to anger. A
downward spiral of emotions ending in deceit. Deceit
was the name of this game, what else could it be? He’d
no reason to believe she might deceive him, she was
dynamic, involved in everything but-
His mind was becoming a waterlogged field of
irrational thoughts, sucking him down, denying him any
sense of direction. He ran down the stairs two at a time
– she’d left him as high and dry as the ridge their new
home was built on.
Thump, thump, miss-a-beat thump – he ran from the
house, revved the engine high and raced it the couple
of hundred yards to the one village phone box –
Out of order.
What sort of place was this.
He spun full circle, headed back towards Aldeburgh
and the nearest working phone, not heeding the simple
fact that he needed to be careful – he’d been having
dizzy spells for some time and not getting round to
having it sorted out, and this was becoming one of
them. His head had started to turn like a wheel
gathering momentum, but anti-clockwise it seemed.
Despite his desperation to get to the bottom of his
growing nightmare he was forced to concede, to pull off
the road onto the grass until it passed.
The phone rang on the passenger seat where he’d
dumped it. With glazed eyes he reached out and picked
it up, but the reception was as useless as ever.
He swore, rested his head against the steering wheel,
willing the merry-go-round to stop and then dozed,
perhaps just for a minute of two but there was some
relief in that, for his dizziness seemed to have eased.
He opened his eyes, narrow channels at first but they
soon widened. There was something not quite right,
something odd, but with his depleted senses he was
having difficulty figuring it.
Before he could fathom what it was Julian saw two
vehicles approaching. The first was a black MG
convertible and even before it was fully in view his
heart played the big bass drum. The woman with long
blonde hair and reflective shades was unmistakable, and
close behind her was a large pantechnicon.
She pulled across stopping just short of him, her tyres
burning rubber, while the van continued a short way
then pulled up.
Long legs emerged from the car as the woman sprang
out, in just a few strides she was beside his door,
yanking it open –
‘Julian what the hell are you playing at? We’ve been
loaded up for an hour waiting. What on earth possessed
you
to go driving –‘then her angular jaw softened along with
her voice, ‘you haven’t been having those funny turns,
have you?’
Julian was trembling and instantly Jodie perceived
that he had. ‘Just a couple,’ he acknowledged, ‘what
time is it?’
‘Eleven am, why?’
He shook his head, ‘No matter.’ By the height of the
sun he knew she was right, and yet it couldn’t be, when
he left their home it had turned three.
‘Right, that’s it,’ Jodie placed her arm round his
shoulder and helped him out, ‘Leave your car where it
is and we’ll collect it later. Then first priority Jules, you
can see the doctor. This just isn’t you.’
Amidst the flood of relief in Julian Chesney’s veins a
question rose up in a black tide.
What was wrong with him.
He must have left home early morning but he’d no
recollection of it, other than to him it had been
afternoon. So, some kind of paranormal phenomena, or
approaching insanity? As a novelist his mind was seldom
in the same place as his body. So payback time, or
something more sinister
He shuddered as Jodie’s arm tightened around him.
‘Hey it’s okay,’ she said, ‘we’re going home.’
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