The House On The Cliff

Now - Paul

Paul rubbed a hand across his aching face, blinking rapidly to rid his eyes of the blurred effect.

He closed them, the lids heavy with exhaustion, allowing his mind to drift along with the train, his body moving with the carriage. He felt his heart beat settle, calm and steady, his whole body relaxing into a light sleep.

He hadn't slept for months. Probably not properly for years if he really thought about it. Ten years.

When he had received the text from Steve his heart had dropped so hard and fast that he had almost heard it clang against the floor. He had been at work, locked in his office as he always was these days, despite what Maisy seemed to think.

She was convinced that he was having an affair, she had said as much to him, asked him in the middle of the kitchen whilst chopping vegetables one day, one hand on her slim hip, the other waving the knife around. She had been whispering, in that way that people do when they are angry but aren't able to shout. The children were in the play room, and neither of them wanted them to hear what was going on.

When he had read the text, his breathing shallow, he had left the building, driving home as fast as he legally could and flew into the house. He had found Maisy on the edge of the grey sofa, phone on the coffee table in front of her, hands folded in her lap. She was staring at it, as if she could delete the message with her mind. He knew that she had got one too.

"Maisy?" He had taken a step towards her, but no more, not entirely sure how close he was allowed to be these days'.

She looked up at him, her caramel curls falling back from her face, the skin beneath her eyes blue as if she had missed out on as much sleep as he had lately.

"Tina called' it came out as a whisper, and she cleared her throat, 'she's going to stay there again. In that house. She thinks that we all should."

And so, they were. Paul wondered whether they were all there already, waiting for him. Wondered whether the beach was still as beautiful as it had always been, whether the house had changed at all.

He had avoided everything about it, hadn't looked into it, had tried so hard not to think about it. They hadn't been back to Cornwall in all that time.

Paul prised open an eye, saw that they were pulling into his station at last, and shook his head, trying to dislodge the drowsiness.

There was only one other person in the carriage, an old man who smiled at him toothily. Paul nodded back, stood and clutched at his gym bag. He had only brought a few things, knowing that Maisy would have packed for him.

The sky was pitch black and the air ice cold when he stepped out on the platform. The ground was wet and smelled of rain. He took a deep breath, already feeling different, the air fresher. He imagined that he could smell the sea, though he was sure they were too far.

The taxi driver driving him up to the house was silent, and it wasn't until they had begun to ascend upwards that he glanced at him in the rear-view mirror. "You're the second person I've driven up here tonight' he said curiously, voice questioning, 'no-one has stayed in this house for... goodness, nine, maybe ten years."

Paul felt his stomach twist. Ten years. They had put the poor woman out of business. He wondered where she was, what she was doing.

The driver was still glancing back at him, eyes flicking between the road and Pauls' reflected in the mirror, waiting for a response. He didn't have one to give, none that wouldn't result in a myriad of questions that he didn't want to answer.

He looked away, wondering at the last moment whether that might be worse, might make him look guilty, but it was too late then.

"Here we are then" The driver, stopped, the engine still rumbling as though he wanted to get away. Paul handed over some money, waving away the change, as desperate to get away as the driver was, and climbed clumsily out of the car, stumbling on the rocky ground.

He lifted the gym bag onto his shoulder and climbed the final steps to the door of the house. There was a single light on in the living room, he thought, the rest of the building shrouded in darkness.

He pressed a palm against the door, the paint rough and peeling beneath his skin, and took a deep breath. He felt as though he were being sucked into a parallel universe, or somewhere dangerous.

The door flew open before he had the chance to knock, and the familiar figure of Tina stood in the doorway, hair starting to fall out of the elastic band and around her face.

"What are you doing?" She asked mildly.

Paul gave her a half-smile, stepping into the shelter of the house, "Taking a moment."

Tina nodded, she understood. She always had.

He followed her through to the lounge, saw Maisy at the bay window with her back to him. She had changed into pyjamas, a soft cotton pair, with shorts and a vest top. Despite the cold. Despite the fact that her feet were plunged into thick, fur-filled boot slippers.

He moved across to her, putting on a performance just for Tina, who would expect them to be the perfect couple, just as they used to be.

"Hello babe" He whispered, slipping an arm around her tiny waist and leaning down to her ear, pressing a gentle kiss there.

She turned, looking up at him with her big, brown eyes, looking so useful, like she was eighteen again.

*