Chapter 24
I need to do something. Tell someone. But what?
Who? I go downstairs and consider my options.
Should I go against Med’s wishes and call the police?
No – clearly there’s a risk of the traffickers going to ground, in which case Med might never be reunited with his sister.
So who does that leave? A few days ago, I might have trusted Ollie, but now I know I can’t.
Then there’s Will. His story resonates with me. The depths of his grief, his unhealed soul. But he’d tell me to go to the police, surely. I’m back full circle wondering what to do.
In the end, there’s one person that I trust above all others. I put on my jacket and go out to the cove. Fortunately, Cliff’s boat is moored at the dock. Although the tide is going out, the water receding to mud, it’s still afloat. If anyone will know what to do, surely, it’s him.
But when I go down to the boat, no one’s there.
‘Cliff?’ I call out, but there’s no answer. I peer inside the window of the wheelhouse and see a cup of tea steaming on the ledge. He must be here somewhere.
‘Cliff!’ I call again. ‘I need your help.’
Clearly, he’s popped off the boat. Maybe gone up to the museum to see Elspeth? I look back up the path the way I’ve come. Nothing.
A sound comes from inside the boat. A dull thud.
‘Cliff?’
I’ve no choice but to act. I pull the rope hard to force the boat closer to the dock. Then, I climb aboard. The little craft bobs up and down from my weight, tea sloshing over the rim of the mug.
The thud comes again. The hatch that leads down below is open.
I go over it, calling down it. But then I’m seized by a terrified paralysis.
What if I’ve got this all wrong? What if Cliff is one of the traffickers?
He could easily be keeping prisoners in the pirate cave right under my nose, just like he’s got his bootleg spirits.
Which would explain why he was there that first day – with a pistol.
Another thud. Actually, he could have the prisoners on the boat only a few metres away from me.
Shoved in the hold in their own filth, starving and dehydrated.
Cliff hanging on to their promised passports as they get taken away in a lorry to work off their ‘debt’.
The idea – along with the motion of the boat – makes my stomach roil.
But there’s nothing for it. I have to go down there and see for myself.
My hand is shaking as I grip the railing and go down the steep ladder into the hold, my breath shallow with muted panic.
There’s a smell as I continue – sharp and acrid, like alcohol.
The boat bobs and the smell gets stronger.
At the bottom of the few stairs, there’s a single large area mostly full of casks.
Whisky. I’m guessing that Cliff didn’t go down to the offie and buy all this.
Another thud and a low groan. The skin prickles at the back of my neck. Someone is here. I tiptoe over to the casks and look behind them, squinting in the dimness.
A figure is slumped on the floor. Not a refugee or victim of trafficking – it’s Cliff himself. He’s bleeding from a head wound.
‘Cliff!’ I say. ‘Are you OK? What’s happened?’
‘Elspeth?’ His voice is croaky.
‘No. It’s me, Juno.’
‘Juno.’
He scooches up onto his arms and tries to struggle to his feet.
‘I think you should stay put,’ I say. ‘Let me get the paramedics.’
‘Oh, no need for that,’ he growls, seeming more coherent. ‘Help me up and I’ll be right as rain.’
He’s a stubborn old sod, that’s for sure. I hold out my hand and lever him to his feet. He staggers a few steps, clearly dazed. I too am feeling lightheaded from the fumes.
‘Let’s get you off the boat. Then I’ll drive you to the hospital.’
He grimaces. ‘Hate hospitals and homes,’ he says. ‘Spent enough time there when my da and gran were alive.’
‘I get it, but you need to get that head wound seen to. What happened, anyway?’
‘Don’t rightly know.’ His words slur a little. ‘I remember I made a cup of tea – came down for a drop to put in it.’
The hairs on my neck prickle with alarm. The cup of tea was still steaming when I came here, which means that if someone attacked Cliff, they might still be here somewhere. My curiosity is replaced by panic. If someone’s here then they can stay. But Cliff and I are getting off the boat.
‘Well, you can get another cuppa at the doctor’s surgery then. At least they can bandage you up.’
He sighs. ‘Fine. You win.’
We exit the boat, both of us unsteady on our feet once we’re back on dry land. He makes a pretence of protesting when I put an arm about his waist, but then leans in to the support.
‘Head feels a little foggy,’ he says.
‘You can have a rest once we’re in the car.’
‘Aye, maid. I will.’
And if you’re asleep, I might just take you directly to hospital, I don’t say.
I bundle Cliff into the car and quickly run to the museum to tell Elspeth what happened. She comes outside with me, clucking like a worried mother hen.
‘Oh, Cliff,’ she says. ‘How could you do this?’
‘Sorry, Els,’ he mutters groggily.
She leans in and gives him a kiss on the cheek. Then she turns to me. ‘Take him to hospital,’ she directs.
‘No, please.’ Cliff tries weakly to protest, but Elspeth gives him a piece of her mind. While she’s at it, I ring Bridget – she’s hanging about the beach car park waiting to talk to Alex.
‘Can you come home?’ I say. ‘If Cliff was attacked, then someone dangerous could be out there.’
‘Well, then aren’t I better off here where there are loads of people?’
‘Connor’s upstairs in his room. Elspeth is here, but I’d prefer it if both of you were inside where it’s safe.’ Especially when there are traffickers in the vicinity, I don’t add.
‘Fine,’ she huffs, clearly put out. ‘Alex hasn’t turned up – and I’ve been waiting for over twenty minutes.’
‘Sorry,’ I say.
‘Don’t be.’ Bridget ends the call.
Elspeth is still fussing over Cliff; I begin driving away slowly so that she has to close the car door. In the mirror, I see her wave and wipe her eyes with a handkerchief. She cares about Cliff – I’ll give her that.
In the end, because it’s nearby, I drive to the doctor’s surgery in the village.
They take one look at Cliff, growing groggier by the second, and call an ambulance.
I decide I’d better follow behind and go with him to the hospital, if only to give him a lift home once he’s discharged.
But when we arrive and he’s admitted, he has to wait ages for a CT scan, and then wait for the doctor to interpret it.
As the hours tick by, my worries balloon in size.
I should be at home with my kids. With Cliff out of commission, I haven’t actually managed to tell anyone about what may or may not be going on in the caves below the inn.
Eventually, anxiety gets the better of me. I ring Elspeth – it’s nearly closing time at the museum, and she agrees to come and stay with Cliff.
‘Would you mind popping inside and telling Bridget and Connor that I’m on my way home?’ I ask her.
‘I’ll tell Bridget,’ she says. ‘Connor stopped by a few hours ago, but he’s gone off now.’
‘Gone where? You mean he’s missing?’ My chest squeezes with worry.
‘All I know is that I saw him heading towards the cliff path with his little friend.’
‘His… oh no.’
I end the call, trying not to feel panicky. After all, I don’t know that there’s any danger. Still, I need to get home…
As I get up to leave, the doctor comes round.
‘Are you Cliff Kernick’s next of kin?’
‘I…’ It strikes me that I probably am. ‘Sort of,’ I say. ‘Is he OK? Because actually, I need to go.’
The doctor frowns, clearly unimpressed by my desire to make a hasty exit. ‘Mr Kernick suffered a minor concussion,’ he says. ‘Do you know how it happened?’
‘No,’ I say, ‘and neither did he when I asked him.’
‘He might just have fallen,’ the doctor says. ‘But it’s also possible that someone clocked him with a blunt object.’
‘You mean he was attacked?’
‘It’s possible. We’ve given him a mild sedative, and we’ll keep him overnight for observation.’
‘Fine,’ I say. ‘Another friend is coming to keep him company when he wakes up.’
‘OK,’ the doctor says. ‘That’s all for now. Have a good evening.’
‘Thanks,’ I say.
He has no idea how unlikely that is.