Read Online Writing in the Sand by Helen Brandom - Free Book Online Page B

faster, partly because I’m taking such care, but partly because my whole body is throbbing and tender. Toffee bounds on and on, only stopping when eventually he gets to the bottom of the steps cut into the sea wall.
    A cat appears, stalking along the wall. Toffee, his bark almost lost in the smash of waves against the breakwater, rushes after it. When it’s gone – into thin air – he sits waiting for me, as if there never was a cat.
    These steps, usually no bother to me at all – even when I take them two at a time – tonight feel like Everest. Before I get to the top, I stop. Suppose someone’s having a night-time walk? Worse still, taking their dog out. I peer up onto the paved seafront. It’s deserted. Clutching the shoebox, I manage the top step. I turn left. Toffee knows where I’m going and runs on, like we’re having the best game in the world. I almost wish he wasn’t with me.
    Kirsty’s house is the first in a row of three. It’s the largest, with an extension on the end nearest me. My legs feel shaky and I sink onto the pavement. Toffee tries to lick my face. I have to calm him down. “Good boy, good boy,” I whisper, and he flattens himself.
    The house is in darkness. I feel heavy, so heavy. I long, overwhelmingly, to go to sleep – hidden from the house by this low hedge.
    I have to keep my eyes from closing. I try to stand up. I’m holding the shoebox in the crook of my left arm – using my right hand to press on the ground for support – when the top of the hedge glows green. Toffee rears up. Forcing him down, I look up and see, on the side-end of the house, a small first-floor window ablaze with light. I stare at it. For how long? I don’t know, but now there’s blackness again. I’ve stopped breathing, and it’s seconds before I dare take a proper breath.
    It’s too much to hope Toffee won’t follow me, so when I walk – unsteadily – to the front door, I don’t try stopping him. For a reason I don’t understand, I encourage him to have a last quick peek at the baby. Which he does, sniffing – then looks up at me. Does he expect me to do the same? I think I should kiss my baby.
    But I don’t. I put him down on the step and ring the bell. For a few seconds my head spins and I have to lean against the door. Recovering – but with my heart bursting in my chest – I turn, grab Toffee, and run down the path. I can’t say how I manage to run, but I do. I run, then collapse behind the hedge. In a rush it comes to me that when the front door opens, Toffee will expect to be invited in. Holding him down, I stretch myself across his back and stroke his head fiercely.
    Staring up at the house, my neck cricks.
    One after another, lights go on. The front door opens and a wide stream of light colours the garden. Mr Kelly looks down the path. Next he looks down at the step. He sees the box, and calls back into the house. “Susie!” He’s bending down, picking it up. Mrs Kelly comes running and they both look towards the road. Mrs Kelly calls, “Hello? Is anyone there?” She’s wearing a short nightie. What is it makes me notice this when I’m hunkering down again, grabbing Toffee and crawling along the pavement?
    I don’t see any more, but, after a moment, I hear someone shut the front door.

Chapter Eleven
    The tide’s right up now; there’s hardly any beach left. I’ve pulled my trainers off, and the water swishing over my feet is like every cool thing in the world. Cool, cool, cool. I’m tempted to paddle in further, but I know there’s something dark about this thought. Toffee loves the sea, but I fear for him. If he decides to have a swim and gets into difficulties, I’m in no state to go after him.
    My right foot meets a massive hidden pebble. Almost a small boulder. Bruised, my toe starts to hurt, like the rest of me. I stumble,