Chapter nine
Lifting his wrist, Marcus checked out the time. His watch showed nine o’clock. It would be dark within the hour. Swirling his pint of lager to catch the froth from the sides of the glass, he downed the remainder in one gulp and placed the glass down on the bar.
‘You off already, mate?’ asked Nile, as he stepped forward to collect it.
‘Yes, I’m booked onto Veronica’s ghost tour.’
Nile laughed and looked at Leanne. ‘See Leanne. If Marcus is doing it alone, it can’t be that scary.’
Marcus didn’t want to broadcast the fact that he actually wasn’t doing the tour on his own, so he played along. ‘Shall I tell you about it next time I’m in, Leanne?’
Leanne did a mock grimace. ‘If you don’t mind, Marcus. Only, Nile has been trying to get me to go on it with him since Veronica started up her new business, but I don’t like scary films or anything like that.’
Marcus nodded and smiled warmly at Leanne. ‘I’m sure it won’t be as macabre as you think. I’m guessing Veronica is just laying it on thick with the history here.’
Nile sidled up to Leanne and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe.’
Oliver appeared from the cellar carrying a crate of bottles. His eyes went straight to Nile, and he grinned. ‘Oi, lover boy. Less of that, and more pint pulling, please.’
Leanne’s cheeks turned crimson.
Marcus chuckled and lifted a hand, bidding farewell. ‘Good night, all. See you soon.’
He left The Cheese Wedge and Pickles and headed for the seafront, to the harbour wall, the place that had unofficially become a meeting place for Rowan and him.
Rowan raised a hand when he saw him approaching. He smiled and mirrored the wave. Marcus felt as though he had his very own base drummer doing a solo in his chest as he walked towards Rowan and Atlas.
Rowan was dressed in dark jeans and a linen shirt, unbuttoned at the top.
Marcus’s breath caught in his throat when he saw a smattering of dark chest hair peeking out.
He had to tear his eyes away, and looked down at Atlas.
To his amazement, Atlas’s attention was for once, directed right at him, and his body, although still in his usual erect stance, seemed a little more relaxed.
‘Hello, handsome.’
‘Hello.’
Marcus’s brow shot up with his smile. ‘I meant Atlas.’
‘I know.’
The corners of Rowan’s mouth were betraying the usual guarded and stoic mask he wore, and Marcus couldn’t help but laugh softly.
‘Is Atlas ready for his desensitisation tour?’
‘I’m not sure about that, but his owner is certainly intrigued.’
‘Me too,’ agreed Marcus, ‘It starts in ten minutes.’ He gestured with his hand. ‘This way. Veronica said she’s starting it in Keeper’s Lane, outside The Lantern.’
‘The Lantern? Is that another pub I’ve missed?’
Marcus shook his head. ‘I’m not sure. It’s been empty since I moved here Although, what the history of the building is, I couldn’t say. Maybe it was once a pub.’
They walked comfortably side by side, Atlas nestled in between them, the distant squawks of the gulls making Atlas’s ears twitch.
‘How are you getting on with your decorating?’
‘Erm, I’m afraid it’s come to a standstill again. I did get the loose paint scraped off the front door, one of the windows and gate though, but sanding will have to wait until tomorrow now. Then the undercoat and top coat will be finished after the competition.’
‘I’d offer to help, but the contract I’m here for has notched up a gear.’
‘Oh yes, I remember you telling me about it.’ Marcus thought it was the perfect opportunity to find out more about Rowan’s circumstances. ‘And when the contract finishes, do you plan on staying in the bay?’
Rowan was quiet for a while, and Marcus willed him to speak so he could breathe again.
‘I have a house south of here. I’m only renting in the bay whilst I fulfil the contract duties.’
‘So you don’t plan on sticking around?’ Marcus willed his voice to filter out all emotion.
‘I-I like it here... And it’s actually doing Atlas the world of good, but...’
‘But?’
Veronica’s shrill voice cut in. ‘Are you my last two booked for the ghost tour, Marcus?’
Marcus wrenched his head away from Rowan’s profile, forcing a smile. ‘Yes. I booked it this morning online under Mitchell.’
Veronica clapped her hands together excitedly.
‘Wonderful.’ She gestured for Marcus and Rowan to join the dozen or so other people gathered in a huddle.
‘Okay, everyone. Torches are permitted whilst we walk in between destinations, but once we are at each point of the tour, can you please turn them off.’
Rowan turned his head and looked at Marcus as he pulled out a small torch from his pocket and turned it on, a dry expression on his features.
Marcus quirked an eyebrow. ‘You always come prepared?’
‘You can take the man out of the force, but the force never leaves the man.’
Marcus grinned and gestured for Rowan to lead. ‘May the force be with you.’
Rowan shook his head, trying to hide his smile as he filed after the last person in the crowd, Veronica leading the way.
She stopped halfway up Keeper’s Lane. Marcus looked up at the faded sign overhanging the door. The Lantern was barely visible, and the street light a few feet away flickered, adding to the atmosphere.
Veronica angled her torch up from below her chin, casting her face into shadows.
‘Can you all turn off your torches for a moment!’ She waited until all were off before continuing.
‘Imagine it’s a stormy night. Waves are crashing in the distance.
Gulls are squawking from the cliffs as they try to shield themselves against the elements.
Mist is creeping up Keeper’s Lane.’ Veronica pointed in the direction they just came from, and all eyes followed.
Rowan and Marcus’s eyes met and Marcus pretended to shiver. He noticed a glean in Rowan’s eyes.
Veronica continued. ‘The lantern has had many uses, and has been home to many residents... but the story that is most poignant, is of the woman who lived here when it was called Lantern House. Legend says, the woman had a secret love. A love so secret, the only way of communication was for her to place a lantern in the upstairs window whenever she wanted her love to know she was thinking of him. But because of pride, family pressure, misunderstanding, or timing, they never fully found their way to each other.’ Veronica turned off her torch, and remained silent for a moment, before aiming her torch up at a window, and turning it back on again.
A couple of women in the group gasped. ‘Legend says, she went to her grave with a broken heart... But every year, a light mysteriously appears in the top window. Especially when the sea is at its roughest.’
A woman made a mock shriek, and the group laughed.
Atlas immediately reacted, his legs jumping up and landing wide, his chest puffed out, ears pricked up.
Rowan crouched down and placed a hand on Atlas’s shoulder, and in his deep controlled voice, began to calm Atlas. ‘Leave it. Down. Quiet... Good boy.’
Marcus was impressed. Atlas’s reactions to Rowan were much more responsive than he’d seen before.
Veronica lowered her torch. ‘Okay. Torches back on, and off we go to the next location on our tour.’
Marcus went down on his haunches to be at the same level as Rowan and Atlas. ‘Are we good? Or do you want to stop?’
Rowan patted Atlas. ‘No. We’re good.’
The corners of Marcus’s mouth hitched. ‘That’s great. He’s doing so much better.’
Rowan stood up and Marcus followed suit. ‘Hmm. It’s slow progress.’
‘But it’s progress.’
‘So you keep saying.’ Rowan looked down at Atlas.
Rowan walked after the group, Atlas quickly getting up to walk by his side. Marcus took a moment to compose himself before following after Atlas.
By the time Marcus caught up, Veronica had already guided the group away from The Lantern and towards the narrow lane that curved in the direction of the harbour.
The sky above Seagull Bay had deepened to bruised blue, the last streaks of sunset fading behind the rooftops.
Lights glowed in cottage windows, warm and golden, and the smell of salt, seaweed and evening fish and chips drifted on the cooling breeze.
Marcus fell into step beside Rowan again, careful not to crowd Atlas.
‘You handled that well,’ he said quietly.
Rowan kept his gaze forward. ‘It was a small reaction.’
‘Still counts.’
‘You count everything as progress.’
‘That’s because it is.’ Marcus glanced down at Atlas, who was walking with his head up, ears pricking at every sound but not straining to leave. ‘He could have shut down completely, but he didn’t.’
Rowan said nothing, but Marcus saw his fingers loosen slightly on the lead.
Ahead of them, Veronica stopped beside the old stone steps, leading down towards the harbour wall. She waited until everyone had gathered, then lifted her torch again, the beam catching the underside of her chin and nose, turning her pretty face theatrical with shadows again.
‘Now,’ she said, lowering her voice until the group leaned in, ‘Seagull Bay has always been a place of warnings. Bells, lanterns, lamps in windows, knocks on doors before storms. But not every warning comes in time.’
A hush moved through the group.
Marcus felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, even though he told himself it was only Veronica, a torch, and a very well-rehearsed voice.
Beside him, Rowan glanced at him.
‘Cold?’ he asked.
‘Atmospheric,’ Marcus whispered.
One corner of Rowan’s mouth shifted.
Veronica pointed towards the black shape of the lighthouse in the distance, its pale body only just visible against the darkening sky.
‘They say the lighthouse keeper would walk this route after sunset, a letter folded inside his coat. Every night, he planned to deliver it. Every night, he turned back before reaching Lantern House.’
Someone in the group sighed softly.