‘Victoria?’ said Cilla, knocking softly. ‘Are you awake? Come for a walk, darling. It’s beautiful outside.’
The vastness of the bay was breathtaking for Vicky. Cilla’s house sat perched on a rocky cliff high above the beach, and they took a set of ancient stone steps down to the beach, where this morning the air was crisp, the tide was far out, and the sun was glinting off the ridges in the wet sand like thousands of mirrors.
When they reached the sand, Nutmeg went gambolling ahead, running towards a flock of seagulls on the sand. As he reached them, they took flight in the air, cawing.
The sea air and having the sun on her face seemed to cut through Vicky’s fear a little.
They walked past a rock pool where bubbles floated up from the smooth sand in the depths and ribbon-like fronds of seaweed twirled lazily in the still water. Vicky wished that she was a sea creature, able to hide in the depths of a rock pool, and then escape out to the vast ocean. Her eyes began to run, partly from the cold air slicing across the beach, but she didn’t want to cry, so she bit her lip. Hard.
Every time Vicky closed her eyes, she saw Sophia’s body, lying on the bed… It had been left there as a warning. That’s what it was. It terrified her how much he’d risked to butcher her innocent neighbour and… She’d confided in Sophia, and somehow, he knew. How?
It was insane that she thought she could run. Even now, two days later, the police must know her location. Britain was a small place… Vicky was now in a very quiet corner of the country, but her journey must have been caught on camera. She should have stayed in London, faced her fear, and spoken up… No, shouted loudly from the rooftops.
But Vicky knew how these things went. Who listens to a woman shouting? He’d threatened her, and he’d already proven that he could get away with it all. In her old life, the time before she stumbled upon all the horror, Vicky had seen the world in simplistic terms; bad people pay for their mistakes, and the good people win the day. If you remained honest and did the right thing, then all would be well. She used to judge the women who kept quiet about sexual assault. She was ashamed to admit that a part of her looked down on the ones who were too scared to report a man for assault, and then he came along. It frightened her. To speak up would be perilous. She would have to put her head up over the parapet and risk her life, and she was ashamed to acknowledge that she didn’t have it in her. And this fear was rolled in with anger. Why was it her job to speak up and risk everything? He was the evil one. She hadn’t done anything, but it was up to her to make it right? No. No. No. Let me live my life, leave me alone, she thought. He had the confidence to kill Sophia in her bed… beautiful Sophia… knowing she would be the one to find her. What reaction was he hoping for? She ran. She couldn’t keep her food down. Terror was a constant companion. What else was he capable of?
Vicky stopped walking, and leant over. The smell of the salty air, and the sunlight glistening off the slimy fronds of seaweed on a rock, activated a powerful nausea. She heaved and retched, her stomach contracting painfully. Two long strands of hot bile hung from her mouth, and the wind caught them. There was nothing left in her stomach to purge.
‘Oh, Victoria, darling!’ said Cilla, turning back when she heard her retching. She rushed over, pulling out a packet of tissues from her pocket. ‘Did you eat something dicey?’ She pulled one out and Vicky took it, wiping her mouth. She managed to catch her breath and straighten up. Tears were running from her eyes. ‘What do you want me to do?’ asked Cilla, looking up at her with concern. Vicky retched again, and she kept the tissue clamped over her mouth. Did Cilla really think this was to do with dodgy food? To be fair, she hadn’t told Cilla anything, yet. But she must have an idea… She was still in touch with lots of people back in London. Surely Sophia’s death would be part of the local gossip?
‘I just want to keep walking,’ she said.
‘This is the perfect place to do that,’ said Cilla with a smile. ‘Look. Beach for miles. Sometimes I just walk and walk, and I think that if I keep going I’ll fall off the end of the earth.’ She checked her watch. ‘I have to go back soon, though. Colin and Ray will be here soon.’
Vicky took a deep breath and swallowed, still feeling a flutter in her diaphragm that might suddenly lurch back into retching again.
‘I’ll carry on walking, if that’s okay?’
Cilla hesitated and the wind changed direction, blowing her hair across her face.