When she reached the end of the high street, the sight of the dunes shining in the spring sunshine gave her a feeling of bright fear. There is sinking sand farther out that can suck you in before you even know what’s happening; no one would come to help you for fear of getting trapped themselves. Many years ago a woman and two young children lost their lives because they ignored the warning signs. Sometimes Marion wondered why Mother chose to live in Northport at all, when everything about the seaside was so fraught with peril.
Mother had even more horror stories to tell about the amusement arcade on the pier. Those places are just child traps run by perverts who want to lure you in. There was the little boy who went to play on the slot machines while his mother listened to a brass band at the pavilion. They never saw him again, but someone found his left shoe washed up by the tide. It was up to your imagination to fill in the gory blanks as to how the shoe had become separated from the boy. Despite these warnings, John and Marion would sometimes sneak off to stare in wonder at the penny cascades and fruit machines, unable to resist the twinkling music and pretty lights that indeed seemed designed to entice a child to some dreadful fate.
Then she saw the Museum of Wax and shivered. Really, she couldn’t understand why that seedy old place had stayed open all these years. Who on earth went in there? The last time she had visited the museum had been with her brother just before he had gone off to Oxford. A sudden gray cloud swallowed the sun and the air chilled. On the horizon were more clouds. Marion suddenly wished someone kind and capable would grasp her hand and lead her home. She turned around and began to make her way back.
Before she had got even halfway home, the rain came sloshing down, soaking into her slacks and sweater. What is wrong with you, Marion, demanded Mother’s voice, would it have been any trouble to slip your raincoat into your shopping bag? She stepped into the doorway of Tyler and Co. Estate Agents to shelter from the downpour. Surely no one would mind if she waited there for a couple of minutes, would they? Perhaps by then the rain would blow over. As she was standing there, she noticed a listing in the window:
Flat 5
OCEAN VISTA COURT
Two bedroom luxury flat with seafront balcony. ￡250,000
As she studied the photographs of the flat interior, a confetti-burst of happy memories filled her head; it was the flat where her beloved aunt Agnes used to live.
There was the large bright living room with the balcony overlooking the sea, the spare bedroom where she had slept when, as a child, she was allowed to stay over. And there was the kitchen where her aunt had shown her how to make French toast and fruit trifle with tins of mandarins and orange jelly. Of course the flat had changed; black and white tiles and a fancy modern shower replaced the old avocado bathroom suite, and the carpets were all beige rather than peach shag, but it was still recognizable from all those years ago.
As she was staring at the listing, a handsome young man in a suit, his fair hair falling into a long fringe, came out of the shop.
“Hi there, I’m Simon,” he said, “can I help you?”
Marion hesitated—what should she say? It seemed strange that he should come out of the shop to speak to her like that. Perhaps he was angry with her for using the doorway to shelter, but his smile seemed friendly.
“I was just looking at that flat, the one with the balcony overlooking the beach.”
“Oh yes, a very well-appointed seafront property—they don’t come up very often, you know. Would you like to see it? I’ve got some free time right now if you’re interested.”
Marion didn’t really know why she agreed to go and see the flat; perhaps it was because she was too timid to refuse. Only minutes after she had gone to shelter from the rain she found herself sitting in Simon’s spotlessly clean car on a seat that was comfier than an easy chair. For a moment, remembering her mother’s warning against getting in cars with strange men, she felt a twinge of fear, then immediately reproached herself, Don’t be so silly, what would a handsome young chap like him possibly want with you? And anyway he works for the estate agency, so he isn’t really a stranger.
? ? ?
DURING THE SHORT drive Marion’s stomach turned to ice; it was the first time she had visited Ocean Vista Court since she was a child. She must be careful not to get emotional and make a fool of herself in front of the estate agent. Then the moment Simon opened the front door and she walked inside the hallway her nervousness melted away. The carpets felt soft beneath her feet, and the summery colors of the wallpaper and furnishings seemed to glow with some wonderful energy that warmed her bones and cleared away the dense, gray feeling in her head.
“Can I go out onto the balcony?” she asked.
“Of course.” Simon found the key for the French windows and opened them. As she stepped out she saw the rain clouds had blown away and the wide flat sea glimmered like tinfoil in the afternoon sun. She breathed in deeply, feeling exhilarated by the view. A woman was playing with her dog on the beach. Marion remembered how her aunt often let Bunty, her poodle, off the lead so she could race across the sands when they went walking. Aunt Agnes was so different from her sister; she didn’t see danger and ugliness everywhere. Life was one delightful adventure to her; she played Maria in the Northport Players production of The Sound of Music and went on wine-tasting holidays to Provence with her French Conversation group.
To the left you could see the pier, teeming with tourists. This was where Marion and her aunt spent hours looking in the little shops and kiosks that sold souvenirs. Aunt Agnes loved to buy her niece presents. Marion would pretend these little trinkets had magical properties; a bar of scented soap could make an ugly person beautiful; the little pixie in the snow globe would come alive at night and protect you from evil spirits; a teddy bear was really a prince who had been enchanted by a witch.
“So what do you think, then?”
Marion realized she had been so distracted by memories of her aunt she had almost forgotten Simon was there.
“It’s lovely.”
He paused. She realized she was expected to say whether or not she was interested in buying it. Even the idea of Marion buying a flat herself was too silly to imagine, and she felt suddenly guilty at having wasted his time.
“I—do like the flat,” she stuttered, “but of course—I—will have to think about it. I mean, it’s a big step, isn’t it?”
The young man’s large eyes filled with sadness, and his lower lip dropped very slightly. Marion was shocked by how genuinely upset he seemed and how much disappointing him, in turn, pained her.
“I might decide to take it in the future, but for the present . . .” Not knowing what else to say, she trailed off.
“Perhaps if you give me your details, then I could let you know if there is any change in price, or if any similar properties come on the market?” he asked hopefully.