Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
I distract myself by staying busy. I start my new book, which as ever feels like an insurmountable task.
At the beginning, it’s like I’m at the bottom of Kilimanjaro looking up, wondering how I’ll ever reach the top.
Then, step by step and word by word, I always seem to get there.
This will be the first book I write here in Budbury, and I hope it doesn’t affect me too much.
What if I start lovingly describing lemon meringue at crime scenes, or making my super-villain a donkey?
My readers expect darkness and gore and terror, not daisy chains and cupcakes!
Luckily, so far, so good. Or bad, I suppose.
DI Carina Shaw is going to be up to her neck in serial killers, suspicions and deeply worrying omens.
In the very first scene, a crow flies straight into the windscreen of her car and lies twitching out its death throes on her bonnet.
If that isn’t a portent of doom, I don’t know what is.
It actually feels good to be writing something new, to get back to a familiar routine. It’s only familiar up to a certain point, though, because these days, once I’ve finished, I actually emerge into the real world and do that most horrifying thing of all– socialise.
I joined Laura, Matt, Becca and Sam for a pub quiz at the Horse and Rider, which we won on a tie-break.
We all looked very surprised when Matt, the vet-of-few-words, displayed a superior knowledge of the works of Ed Sheeran.
He shrugged and said: ‘I have the radio on a lot at work… cultural osmosis.’
Laura poked him in the ribs, laughing as she responded: ‘You told me you always listen to Classic FM, you big, massive Ed Sheeran fan, you!’
I went over to Max’s place for dinner with her and Gabriel, though that mainly involved Gabriel eating and then immediately leaving so we could chat. He looked terrified that we might invite him to stay.
Aidan brought Juno around to visit me as part of her socialisation, and she immediately peed on the kitchen tiles. We just stared at each other and burst out laughing, Juno jumping all over us and looking very pleased with herself for being so entertaining.
As we cleaned it up, he said: ‘Sorry about that. Maybe next time, we’ll take her straight through into the yard.’
‘Not a problem at all. Could have been worse.’
‘Why don’t you have a dog of your own?’ he asked as he washed his hands, watching Juno frolic around the courtyard. ‘You’re a natural with them.’
‘Good question. I mean, I work a lot, but I work at home… I suppose, Aidan, that I can’t even commit to a dog. Does that make you feel better?’
He pretended to consider it, then shook his head. ‘Nah. Not really. But I’m sure I’ll survive. Do you want to come out to Hazelwell and do a woodland walk with me and the pack sometime soon? You can pee on my kitchen floor if you like, get your revenge.’
I’ve taken him up on the offer of the walk, but not of the revenge.
The other dogs are getting much braver around me, occasionally running up to sniff my hand or take a treat from me.
The weather is just about holding back winter, with a drop in temperatures at night but still some sunshine during the day.
It’s a glorious time to be in the woods, with colours changing around us, the perfectly camouflaged dogs winding in and out of the tree trunks.
I’m glad to have cleared the air with Aidan, to have cemented that things are staying firmly in the friend zone.
Even though I can’t resist sneaking admiring peeks at him as he runs and plays with the pack, looking as at home in the forest as he did in his Tom Ford suit, I know I’ve made the wise choice.
I have been Captain Sensible and I’m sure I’ll thank myself for it at some point.
Melody went home the day after I met her, and I haven’t asked if they picked up where they left off.
It is none of my business and it would hurt a little too much. I’m better off not knowing.
All things considered, I’m relatively content with life as it is. It has definitely exceeded my admittedly very low expectations when I moved here.
This afternoon, I’ve finished work early and am heading to the café to discuss ‘all things Halloween’.
I suspect this is code for ‘drink a bottle of absinthe and eat apple crumble’, so I shall have to be on my guard.
I go for a walk along the beach first, glancing at my phone to check that I’m nowhere near the Aidan Watch Danger time.
I wouldn’t want to spoil Laura’s fun, if she’s sitting up there with a pair of binoculars.
There’s quite a breeze blowing today, and the sky is a dull grey, streaks of sunlight breaking through the clouds to shimmer on the water.
I walk as far as the old boat house, enjoying the sound of the waves rushing in to land, and gaze further down the coast, where the red and gold of the distant cliffs curve into the edge of the world.
It’s so very beautiful, I get a little thrill every time I’m down here.
I make the now-familiar trek up the steps and walk through the wrought-iron arch that welcomes people into the Comfort Food Café. As soon as I get near to the door, I smile at the sound of laughter coming from inside. Looks like they’ve already started on the absinthe.
I open the door and am hit by a delicious blend of warmth and sugar, vanilla and spice.
Cherie is standing in the middle of the room, dressed in a clown suit, complete with giant red feet.
That would be terrifying enough by itself, but she’s also wearing a huge curly red wig and brandishing a curved machete.
I stop in the doorway and give some thought to running all the way back down the hill.
Luna obviously feels the same, and is sniffing at the shoes suspiciously.
‘Bloody hell,’ I say, as I edge inside, ‘you look horrible!’
‘Thank you, sweetie, how kind of you to say,’ she replies, waving her machete at me. ‘I feel horrible too. This wig is itchy as hell.’
Laura is doing something behind her back and pops her head around to say hello.
‘Just making an adjustment,’ she explains, waving a sewing needle with almost as much menace as Cherie does the machete.
‘We had to get a super-size clown suit and I’m taking it in.
There’s no consistency in Halloween clown costume sizing these days… ’
‘Was there ever?’ I ask, joining Becca at a table and pouring myself a glass of wine.
‘Yes, probably, in the eighties, when everything was better…’
‘What are you going as?’ I ask Becca, who is sipping a pumpkin spice latte and nibbling on a biscuit in the shape of a bat.
I’m working on the assumption that Cherie is wearing her outfit for the Halloween Ball, but I could be wrong.
It could be something she’s planning on wearing on a trip to the supermarket for all I know.
‘Me and Edie– big Edie– usually go as something together. This year we’re zombie ballroom dancers.
It’s Halloween week on Strictly, and that’s a big deal for Edie.
Auburn ordered her a load of fake scars and spray on blood, and she’s found an old ball gown on Vinted.
She’s a demon on Vinted. I’ll be the man.
It’s easier; I can recycle the suit I used when we were “brutally murdered Laurel and Hardy” last year… ’
I nod. Of course. It’s amazing how quickly I’ve adjusted to these concepts.
‘I’ll be a ghost, as usual,’ Laura shouts from behind the solid bulk of Cherie’s killer clown. ‘Last year, I swore I’d have lost a load of weight by now, so I could be a sexy vampire of whatever, but that doesn’t seem to have happened. Back to the sheet with eye holes for me!’
Laura is by no means enormous, but as ever with women, it’s all about confidence. Cherie is a big lady, too, but if she wanted to wear a thong on the beach, she would, because she is comfortable in her own skin. Laura, like most of us, isn’t quite so blessed.
‘What about you?’ she asks, popping her head out again. ‘What’s your costume?’
I’m silent for a few moments, feeling all of their eyes on me. It is actually quite scary, all of this scrutiny.
‘Um… I haven’t got one,’ I confess, guiltily. ‘I’ve been busy.’
Cherie shakes her head, and her red nylon curls bob threateningly. Laura looks crestfallen, and Becca tuts, though she also looks amused at my predicament.
‘You’ve got to come,’ she says. ‘This is Edie’s gig, and if you don’t come, she’ll notice. You’d need a really good excuse to get out of it. Like losing a limb, or finding a time machine and accidentally going back to the Bronze Age.’
I kind of like the sound of that option, and set it aside to think about later. ‘I know,’ I say. ‘I know. And I will come. I just haven’t sorted a costume.’
‘Yet?’ Laura says, raising an expectant eyebrow.
‘Yet,’ I confirm, starting to panic. I wonder if I can get something off Amazon that will land tomorrow.
‘Good,’ she says, going back to her sewing. ‘Hands off the ghost sheet though. That’s mine. I can’t have you turning up looking like a sexier ghost sheet.
‘Right,’ she adds, standing back and admiring her handiwork, ‘that should be fine. I wouldn’t suggest any limbo dancing though, Cherie. You know what happened that year you tried it dressed as Cat Woman.’
‘Pah, if I want to limbo dance, I’ll limbo dance, love. I don’t care if the crotch splits!’
My eyes widen at both the idea of Cherie as Cat Woman, and of her as a crotchless clown. The mind absolutely boggles.