Then Zander opened up the throttle and sailed into the night.
Chapter 8
Shazam barked eagerly as she ran along the beach for the driftwood Bruce had thrown for her. He watched as she splashed into the surf, snapping at the small waves that broke against her legs.
A warm day; there was already a heat haze on the horizon and Bruce had built up a sweat with the three-mile jog he’d undertaken after breakfast.
Jack had still been in bed when he left–probably still annoyed at moving out here. With the house being in such a state, Bruce had erected camp beds for them to sleep on until they were sorted out. Jack had complained as usual.
A couple of kids were making sandcastles at the water’s edge while their parents lay on beach towels. Bruce was surprised how quiet the village was considering it had such a wonderful little beach, but he supposed most people opted for the new resort further along the coast, where the kids could be more easily appeased with arcades and amusement parks.
From where he was, he had a good view of the harbour and the houses clinging to the hillside beyond it. There were a couple of small dinghies setting sail, and a couple of trawlers moored up. The tide was out, which literally grounded the big boats. Bruce couldn’t imagine being controlled by the tides of the sea.
A dog howled somewhere in the village and the sound carried across the bay. Shazam cocked her ears and barked in response and the dog howled twice more then fell silent. Bruce remembered reading somewhere that if a dog howls three times; it signified someone was going to die. He guessed the thing with superstitions was they had to have had some basis in fact somewhere.
When he reached the end of the beach, Bruce walked onto the path at the side of the road. The sand to his right had given way to rocks, and now the tide was out, numerous rock pools remained.
Recalling Jack’s comment about the house, he headed for the bar to ask Duncan about its history.
When he reached the harbour, he spied the woman Jack had given the light to in the bar. His heart did a little flutter at the sight of her, which made him feel guilty. Not that Veronica would have wanted him to become a recluse; she had made that perfectly clear on her deathbed. It had been eight months, but he felt almost as though he was being unfaithful. He realised he was unconsciously revolving the wedding band around his finger so he released it.
The woman was talking to a man on one of the trawlers. She laughed, and the sound carried across the harbour. Bruce felt his cheeks flush with colour and he clenched his fists.
This is stupid. I don’t even know her, he thought.
Ordering Shazam to heel, he walked around the harbour. It wouldn’t hurt to say hello.
When they drew close to the woman, Shazam barked.
The man on the boat and the woman both turned.
“Hello again,” the woman said, smiling.
“Hi,” Bruce said, looking from the woman down to the man.
The man on the boat nodded and continued unravelling the nets, stringing them across the deck like a web.
Shazam growled from the back of her throat. “Shush,” Bruce said. “I don’t know what’s got into her.” He shrugged apologetically. “Away. Go and lie over there if you can’t behave.” He pointed to a spot by the harbour wall about twenty feet away. Shazam whined softly and then licked Bruce’s hand. “You won’t get around me like that.” Tail between her legs, Shazam walked away. “Lie down,” Bruce said. Shazam obediently dropped to the ground, resting her head on her front paws, ears pricked as she watched her master.
The man on the boat looked at Shazam and chewed his gums. “Perhaps she doesn’t like the smell of fish.”
Bruce nodded. “Yes, that’s probably it.”
“What’s the dog’s name?” the woman asked.
“Shazam.”
“Strange name.”
“Long story.”
“Perhaps you’ll tell it to me sometime.”
Bruce blushed again. He hoped she thought it was only the heat. “Yes, I’d like that.”
“I didn’t introduce myself the other day. My name’s Erin McVey.”
Bruce shook her hand. “Bruce Holden.”
He looked down at the man on the boat, noticed what appeared to be a look of green-eyed rage that disappeared almost immediately.
“Trent Zander.” He nodded curtly and returned his attention to his nets.
“I’m not interrupting, am I?” Bruce asked.
Erin laughed softly. “No, Captain Zander here was trying to convince me to go for a drink with him, that’s all.”
Bruce felt another flush of jealousy. Zander looked up, his blue eyes unreadable. Toughened by the elements, his skin looked like leather, and his stubbled chin and angular jaw gave him a rugged appearance. He reminded Bruce of a young Clint Eastwood, so he wouldn’t be surprised if Erin accepted and went out with him.
“You on holiday?” Zander asked.
Bruce wondered whether he should post an ad in the local paper. “I’ve just moved here.”
“Was that your son you were with yesterday?” Erin asked.
Bruce nodded.
“And Mrs. Holden?” Zander interrupted.
Bruce swallowed. He still felt raw having to explain. “She’s dead.”
He noticed Erin glance at the wedding band on his finger. Women always noticed these things.
When neither Zander nor Erin apologized or asked further questions, Bruce found himself explaining anyway.
“She died of cancer eight months ago. Since then, it’s just been Jack and me.” He looked at Erin and smiled sheepishly as though apologizing. He noticed Zander staring up at him venomously “What about you two? Do you live around here?”
Erin reached into the pocket of her baggy grey pants and withdrew a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, which she held up for inspection. “I came prepared today,” she said as she lit a cigarette. She exhaled slowly. “I’m a marine biologist employed by a deep sea mining company to ascertain the ecological implications of their drilling, so I’m just a visitor.”
Bruce raised his eyebrows. He was impressed, but it made his fear of the sea seem childish.
Zander paused mending his nets. “If I had my way she’d move here permanently. The village could always do with more pretty girls.” He shot Bruce a glance and then winked at Erin.
Clive Dunn wiped sweat from his brow. It was damned hot today.
He pulled his sunglasses down from his forehead to shield his eyes and sat up on the beach towel. Sweat trickled down his chest, navigating a course through the sand that had stuck to the suntan lotion.
“You two be careful,” he shouted to Ben and Jane as they splashed at the water’s edge. Kids! They seemed to have no fear.
“Now that you’ve woken up, would you rub some oil on my back?” his wife Gaynor asked.
“What makes you think I was asleep?”
“Because you don’t usually snore when you’re awake.”
“You got me there.” He leaned across and picked up the bottle of oil. He opened it and squirted a liberal amount onto his palm. Gaynor held her blonde ponytail out of the way to allow him to rub the oil onto her back.
“You could have wiped your hands,” she said. “It feels as though you’re rubbing me with sandpaper.”
When he looked down, he noticed the sensual act of applying the oil had given him an erection, and he was glad the kids were too far away to see. He ran his hands over the thin string holding the blue bikini together; knew it would be a cinch to undo the bow before Gaynor could complain. Testing his luck, he circled his hands to the edges of her back, and then quickly slid them forwards and underneath the cups of the bikini and squeezed her breasts.