MEET ME AT PEBBLE BEACH
Part Three
Sink or Swim
Bella Osborne

Copyright

Published by AVON

A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2020

Copyright © Bella Osborne 2020

Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers 2020

Cover illustration © Shutterstock.com

Bella Osborne asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © April 2020 ISBN: 9780008331252

Version: 2020-03-09

Dedication

For Julie – Everything a sister should be and more.

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Keep Reading …

About the Author

Also by Bella Osborne

About the Publisher

Chapter Twenty-One

The sight of Kevin and Elvis lying so still in the road punched the air from Regan’s lungs. Her legs were leaden with shock. This couldn’t be happening. Charlie reached them a moment before Regan and fell to his knees at Kevin’s side. He quickly checked Kevin for vital signs whilst the rain continued its onslaught.

‘I’ll call an ambulance,’ she said, and with fumbling wet fingers Regan dialled 999.

‘Is he alive?’ she asked, crouching next to Kevin, the whole time watching Charlie’s face for a hint of hope. Her call was picked up and Regan asked for an ambulance, giving details of where they were. The rain was now bouncing back up off the road, having upped its ferocity. Charlie undid Kevin’s coat and harshly pulled it open.

‘He’ll catch his death,’ said Regan, alarmed to see Kevin’s T-shirt darken from the rain. Charlie’s expression was grim as he laced his fingers, locked his arms and commenced chest compressions with a force that frightened her. Charlie was using his whole body in an attempt to pump life back into Kevin. She looked about. She felt utterly useless. There was nothing she could do.

The 999 operator reassured her that the ambulance was on its way. A few people sauntered out of the pub, but on seeing the rain most soon disappeared inside again. A barman came over with a golf umbrella and held it over Charlie and Kevin as best he could. He gave Regan a wan smile but after that he stared resolutely at the ground. Seconds ticked by, each one making the situation more hopeless. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Elvis. He was a large grey motionless mass on the periphery of her vision.

A police car appeared first, its siren screaming to them long before the vehicle itself. The blue lights threw an unnatural glow on the scene. Two officers got out and one immediately started to speak into his radio. The other officer strode over and began asking questions, but Regan couldn’t pull her eyes away from Kevin. She shook her head. ‘I’m on the phone to the ambulance.’ She knew it sounded lame but the 999-operator was still intermittently speaking to her, and right now it was too much to ask her brain to focus on what the officer was saying. She watched the police officer share a quick word with Charlie, who didn’t lose his rhythm for a second – he was relentless.

At last the ambulance swung into view, pulling up at speed right next to them, and two paramedics jumped out. The female paramedic was quick to take over the chest compressions from an exhausted-looking Charlie. He sat back on his haunches with rain trickling off his hair and down his face. He looked at Regan but she didn’t want to see the sadness in his eyes. Charlie got to his feet and left the paramedics to do their job. Without a word, he lifted Regan to her feet and ended the call on her phone. The police officer guided Regan and Charlie out of the road and onto the pavement and reminded them that they weren’t to go anywhere without giving a statement.

‘They’ll save him, won’t they?’ Regan’s eyes were fixed on Kevin’s lifeless body. She needed to hear something positive; some hope that she could cling to; but, in her heart, she already knew the answer she wasn’t ready to accept.

Charlie cleared his throat. ‘It’s been twenty minutes now.’

One of the paramedics shouted ‘Stand clear’ and they shocked Kevin. His whole body lurched, and for a second Regan was filled with hope. The other paramedic resumed the chest compressions. Minutes passed, until eventually the male paramedic shook his head and the woman checked her watch.

‘Nooo!’ yelled Regan, throwing herself forward. Charlie threw an arm out to intercept her. He held her tight, stopping her from running into the road. How could the paramedics stop? They couldn’t give up on Kevin. She fought Charlie until he pulled her back into his arms. He held her firmly while she sobbed, letting out great heavy blubs. An ocean of sorrow engulfed her and she clung to him.

More police arrived and the area was quickly cordoned off. The first officer on the scene ushered them into the back of his police car, took their details and asked a few questions. He jotted down brief statements from them both and requested that they come down to the police station the next day to fill out proper ones.

By the time they got out of the car, great stretches of the road were cordoned off with police tape. A small white tent was covering where Kevin had been lying. It didn’t go far enough to cover Elvis.

Charlie put a comforting arm around Regan’s shoulder. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘There’s no more we can do.’

‘But I think Elvis was following me … and if Kevin ran after him, then—’

‘Stop,’ said Charlie, firmly. ‘Don’t even go there.’

Regan’s whole body had started to shake and she couldn’t control it. She wasn’t sure if it was shock or because she was wet through to the skin. ‘I can’t leave Elvis like that,’ she said, watching another police officer step over him. ‘They’ll dump him somewhere.’ She choked back more tears. ‘Kevin wouldn’t have wanted that.’

Charlie squeezed her arm. ‘Okay. Let’s see if they’ll let us take him back to mine. We could bury him in the garden.’ Charlie went and spoke to the police officer who had taken their details and he waved Charlie under the tape. Regan watched Charlie crouch down and reverently lift the dead weight of Elvis into his arms. The sight was almost too much for Regan. Charlie put his cheek to Elvis’s face and the gesture nearly made Regan’s legs crumple.

Charlie’s head jerked up. ‘Reg!’ he shouted, his face spreading into a grin. ‘He’s alive!’

Regan found herself on a plastic chair in the dimly lit waiting area of a charity-funded veterinary hospital. Charlie was asleep next to her. The kind barman who’d held the brolly had driven them there after calling his sister who was a veterinary nurse, and the on-call vet had been waiting for them when they pulled up. That had been three hours ago and she’d heard nothing since. She figured the longer they worked on Elvis, the better. It almost felt like they were making more of an effort with the dog than they had with Kevin – although she knew this wasn’t the case. She couldn’t comprehend why they had stopped trying to resuscitate Kevin, although Charlie told her he was pretty sure Kevin had died instantly and there would have been nothing anyone could have done. Elvis, it seemed, had come off slightly better.

Her mind had had time to mull over the evening’s events – there wasn’t much else to do in a closed vet’s surgery in the early hours of the morning. She remembered the sickening sounds of the car, the sensation of the pavement jarring her limbs as she ran flat out, and the sight of Kevin and Elvis lying on the crossing – an image that was now etched behind her eyes. In the edge of her vision she’d seen the car driving off at speed, but in truth what she’d really seen was the flurry of spray it had left in its wake. She’d been too focused on Kevin to look at the vehicle that had killed him. She closed her eyes and tried to picture it. If she could recall a part of the number plate, or the car’s make or model, or even its paint colour, it would be something to help the police, but it was a blur of teeming rain and rear lights. Nothing helpful at all.

She must have drifted off to sleep because a tap on her shoulder made her jolt to consciousness. Charlie did the same. They both sat up like expectant parents. The vet’s expression was stern.

‘We’ve done all we can …’

‘Oh no,’ said Regan, swallowing down tears. ‘You can’t let him die. You can’t—’

The vet held up his hand and his expression softened. ‘For tonight. We’ve done all we can for tonight. He’s not out of the woods yet, but he is out of surgery, and he’s sleeping. You can come and see him if you’d like to?’

Regan rubbed away a rogue tear as she got to her feet. They followed the vet out through the other side of a consulting room, down a corridor and into a very brightly lit room filled with built-in animal pens of varying sizes. Elvis filled the floor space of one of the larger pens. He had a drip up and was lying on a comfy-looking bed. Regan knelt down at the grille. ‘Look at you, buddy. I bet you’ve never known such luxury.’ Elvis didn’t move.

‘The bed is heated,’ said the vet. ‘The drip is to keep his fluids up; he lost some blood during surgery.’

‘How much will all this cost?’ asked Charlie. ‘I think I explained that he’s not actually our dog.’

‘I know,’ said the vet. ‘We’re a charity, so as the owner was homeless it’ll be taken care of – but we’re always grateful for any contributions you feel able to make. For now let’s concentrate on getting him fit.’

‘That’s great, thank you,’ said Charlie. He turned to Regan. ‘He needs rest, and so do we. He’s in the best place.’

Regan nodded and a giant yawn escaped. He was right. She wasn’t sure she would be able to sleep but she felt she should at least try. She got to her feet. ‘Thank you,’ she said to the vet. ‘When can we come back?’

‘Call me in the morning, after surgery.’

‘More surgery?’ Regan looked pleadingly at Charlie, although she wasn’t sure what she was expecting him to do. He reached out and gripped her hand.

The vet shook his head. ‘Sorry, I mean morning surgery, not operating surgery.’ He handed her a card. ‘After twelve I’ll be able to give you an update.’

A small thread of relief ran through her until she remembered that this didn’t change anything for poor Kevin. But it was still a tiny dot of hope on an otherwise bleak canvas.

Charlie had set Regan up with a sleeping bag on his sofa, but she hadn’t been able to sleep. At five she scribbled a note, folded up the sleeping bag and slipped out of the house. It was a crisp but bright May morning outside, and it somehow shocked Regan. She wasn’t entirely sure what she’d been expecting – dark, sombre clouds? Crows on every lamp post, perhaps? She wandered down to King’s Parade where a few cars were already zooming up and down. No, they weren’t zooming; it just felt like they were. She found herself scanning each one for any sign that they might have been the driver who committed the hit and run, but she had no idea what she was looking for.

By the time she’d walked to the marina and back, things were starting to open up. The odd café here and there. Deliveries piling in to the seafront hotels. More cars, and now more people striding purposefully along. ‘Oi!’ shouted a cyclist as she veered into the pavement’s cycle lane.

‘Sorry,’ she called, but he rode on, shaking his head. She hoped that was the worst thing that happened to him today. A few seagulls were on the railings hollering their morning demands, and the tide was on the turn. It was all a stark reminder that life really did carry on, and it highlighted to her how insignificant everything – and everyone – truly was.

She wasn’t sure how far she walked, but a few hours later she found herself sitting under the pier. If she closed her eyes she could imagine the night she’d sat there with Charlie, Kevin and Elvis. The sounds today came from the pier’s funfair – some distant music interspersed with squeals of delight from children. It should have been a joyful sound but it wasn’t. She wanted to go up there and tell them what had happened last night. How one person’s careless actions had changed lives forever. But they wouldn’t care. And that was what hurt the most. There was nobody to care about Kevin. No-one would be grieving for him, except her and Elvis. The world didn’t care about people like Kevin.

She realised now that Charlie was right. She couldn’t enter into a relationship with him only to have him snatched from her. She knew, like he did, that any relationship they embarked on was going to be something special, and that would make parting all the more painful. She had to let him go, and the sooner she did that the easier it would be. She got up and walked some more. Hours passed, but her thoughts remained the same. Swirling over and over.

Regan was feeling a little chilly as she stared out towards the horizon. The sun was sinking into the sea, streaking colour across a sky as grey as the pebbles. The vibrant colours reflected in the darkening water, its surface pock-marked by the rain. The skeleton of the West Pier drew her attention away from the damp stones beneath her. The blackened metal frame was all that remained of the once-famous landmark. There was something about it that had always drawn Regan to it – perhaps its defiance at never completely giving in to the weather, the fires or the sea. After everything that had been thrown at it, it was still there. Not exactly as it had once been, but still there all the same.

‘There she is!’ She vaguely recognised the voice that travelled from far up the beach. ‘Regan!’ She heard the distant shout but didn’t turn. She wasn’t sure she could turn – every sinew was stiff. Her clothes were stuck to her. She hadn’t moved for a while. The grinding sound of someone running across the stones grew louder until it was almost on top of her, jolting her back to reality.

‘Reg?’ Charlie dropped to his knees next to her making her turn to look at him. He looked so afraid. He reached forward and touched her cheek, wiping away the rain, and tears she wasn’t aware were there. ‘Are you okay?’

Regan swallowed. Nothing was ever going to be okay again. Seeing him this close, she wanted to settle in his arms and never move. ‘Why do you think they didn’t stop?’ she asked. ‘The driver. Why didn’t they stop?’

Charlie blinked as if this was the last thing he’d been expecting her to say. ‘Fear of prosecution, maybe. Drink driver. Who knows? We need to get you dried and in the warm.’

‘I’m fine.’ She turned back to look at the seagulls wheeling over the West Pier. Having him this close wasn’t helping. She loved him, and it was the most painful thing in the world.

‘I don’t think you are,’ he said, kindly. ‘We’ve been looking for you all day. It’s gone nine o’clock.’

‘Where the bloody hell have you been?’ said an out-of-breath Penny as she crunched alongside them. ‘I’ve been worried stupid.’

Regan looked up and the sight of Penny’s red face made her want to smile, although she couldn’t. ‘I’m fine.’

‘No, you’re not,’ said Penny. ‘You’re soaked and I bet you’ve not eaten anything. Come on. You’re coming back to mine.’ Regan was about to protest. ‘I don’t want to hear any excuses. You’ve had a nasty shock and I’m taking care of you whether you like it or not. Sue me.’

Charlie reached out a hand to help Regan up and she pushed it away. The hurt in his eyes pained her, but she knew they were both vulnerable right now. He stood up and pushed his hands deep into his pockets. ‘I rang the vet,’ he said.

Regan hauled her stiff limbs upright. ‘How’s Elvis?’ She felt awful that she’d forgotten to call. She’d been so caught up in everything else it had slipped her mind completely.

‘He’s off the drip and demanding food. The vet says the early signs are good.’

Regan choked back a sob. What a daft thing to cry about after all that had happened – but it was such a relief. She wasn’t sure she could cope with losing anyone else. Regan moved to walk on the other side of Penny and distance herself from Charlie. And that was what she was going to have to keep doing.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Penny lived in a small, modern estate house, but Regan hadn’t noticed much in the way of detail. After forcing her to have a warm brandy, Penny had tucked her up in a cosy bed and threatened her with all sorts of torture if she was to sneak out.

What with the trauma of the previous night, and a day spent wandering the seafront, she had at last been ready for sleep.

When she drifted back to consciousness, she could hear mumbled voices outside the room. She stretched her stiff body and strained her ears to try to hear what was being said. She recognised the timbre of Charlie’s voice and her initial excitement was dampened by a dose of reality. She waited and, when it went quiet, she pulled on her clothes and slunk out of the bedroom.

‘Morning. How did you sleep?’ Penny must have been hovering outside. ‘Coffee?’ She held a large mug under Regan’s nose.

‘Good, thanks,’ said Regan, taking the proffered mug and glancing surreptitiously around the landing.

Penny followed her gaze. ‘Oh. He’s downstairs.’ Her expression changed. ‘He’s really worried about you.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I think he’s a keeper.’ Penny beamed a smile at her and she so wished she could mirror it.

‘If only,’ said Regan, the fear of losing him already a constant presence. She wandered downstairs. For a brief moment, she considered asking Penny to send him away – but what good would that do? They were in a rubbish situation, but at least they were now both on the same page.

‘Hi,’ she said, entering the living room.

‘Hey,’ he replied, twisting in her direction. ‘You look rough.’

‘Cheers.’ She gave his head a nudge with her elbow as she walked past and immediately froze. ‘I’m so sorry.’ Could she do him damage doing that? She didn’t know.

‘It’s all right. You don’t have to wrap me in cotton wool … although I do have a bit of a thing about bubble wrap.’ His eyebrows danced cheekily.

‘Are you stalking me?’ she asked, curling herself into the chair opposite.

‘Oh yeah. One hundred per cent. Penny spotted me lurking outside, felt sorry for me and gave me coffee.’

‘Okay. As long as you two aren’t fussing.’

‘Noooo,’ said Penny, overacting as she joined them.

‘I thought maybe we could check in on Elvis.’ Charlie seemed cautious.

‘I’d like that,’ said Regan, taking a sip of the coffee.

‘Once you’ve had a shower and done something with your hair.’ Charlie peered forward for a better look. ‘Do you backcomb it in your sleep?’

‘It’s the work of evil pixies,’ said Regan.

‘That explains it.’ He smiled a warm what might have been smile at her and her insides melted. This was going to be so hard. He was like a giant magnet drawing her close, and she a tiny iron filing.

‘How come you’re not working?’ asked Regan. Her mind was ticking; she knew he’d been off work since Wednesday – he’d told her that in the pub when he’d once again tried to explain his shift pattern. He’d spent all yesterday searching for her, and now he was off again.

‘I was owed a few days’ leave.’ He gave a dismissive shrug. Regan felt something didn’t add up, but she decided to leave it for now.

The vet’s reception walls were covered in bright, jolly posters about fleas, ticks and overweight rabbits. A faint scent of disinfectant filled the air. An excited puppy – like something straight out of a toilet roll commercial – bounced towards them and seemed surprised when its harness bungeed it off its feet, making an almost-bald parrot with a Mohican squawk in protest. An elderly dog was sitting with its nose in the corner and its back to the room – clearly this wasn’t his first visit.

‘We’ve come to see Elvis,’ said Regan to the receptionist, and she ignored the tittering that followed. Any other day she would have found it funny, but today was never going to be one of those days.

‘I think you’d need a séance at Graceland for that,’ she said, beaming bright white teeth through a fuchsia smirk.

‘Hilarious.’ Regan’s face was stern and the receptionist’s smirk slid from her over-made-up face. ‘He’s a dog.’

‘Your dog?’ asked the receptionist.

‘No. He’s … he’s …’ Why was this so hard? The very thought of Kevin conjured up a picture of his body on the crossing. No matter what she did it wouldn’t go away.

Charlie stepped forward. ‘He was the emergency on Friday night. We brought him in.’

‘It’s against our policy. Only the owner can have access, I’m afraid.’ She jutted out her jaw.

Charlie beamed a smile at her. ‘I’m afraid the owner—’

Regan cut in and locked the receptionist in a stare. ‘His owner was the victim of a hit and run and is now lying dead in a morgue. If you want it to be front-page news of The Argus that you won’t let us see his dog then you feel free to go ahead and enforce your policy.’ Regan was now leaning over the counter. Charlie placed a hand on her arm to stop her getting any closer.

The receptionist swallowed. ‘Ah. I see. I’ll need to check with someone.’

‘Yeah. You do that,’ said Regan, feeling ready for a fight.

They took a seat and waited. Regan looked around at the other patients and their owners. She hadn’t really noticed the woman with a fancy cat carrier until the cat inside let out an ear-piercing wail. Poor thing, thought Regan, eyeing the pretty tabby cat who was peering out at her. Maybe it was in a lot of pain.

‘Fifi,’ called the vet, and the woman with the cat stood up. ‘Just a checkup today then?’ he asked, as the cat continued to yowl its protest.

Blimey, thought Regan. I wonder what noise she makes when she is in pain.

Minutes later, the receptionist reluctantly escorted them through to a consulting room and handed them over to a veterinary nurse. She was far more pleasant and already seemed to have the measure of Elvis. ‘Boy, is he a character,’ she said. ‘He chews everything.’

‘Yep. That’s Elvis,’ said Regan proudly.

‘He’s quite thin, but that’s easily fixed. We’ve treated him for fleas, ticks and ear mites so he should be a bit more comfortable now, too.’

Poor Elvis, thought Regan. She’d not thought about the sort of life he’d had living on the streets with Kevin. ‘And after the surgery – is he all okay?’ Regan held her breath.

‘He’s amazing. He’s a bit sore and he’s very unhappy about having to wear a collar, but the operation was a success. He just needs to heal.’

Regan’s shoulders slumped in relief. ‘Can we see him?’

‘Sure. Come through. You can pet him but don’t touch his stitches, all right?’ They both nodded their understanding.

Elvis was lying in the same pen he’d been in after his operation. He wagged his tail excitedly at the sight of Regan and tried to stand up when the nurse opened the cage.

‘Easy, boy. You need to take care,’ said Regan. He looked a million times better than he had the other night, but she couldn’t ignore his shaved fur and the long set of Frankenstein stitches on his abdomen.

‘It’s really okay,’ said the nurse, seeing Regan’s expression. ‘They had to get in quick. He had internal bleeding and a ruptured bowel.’

‘You poor thing,’ said Charlie, joining Regan in giving Elvis some fuss.

Regan looked at the dogs in the pens around Elvis. Each one had a label explaining who they were. A beautiful black dog with more than a hint of Labrador in his genes pawed at the grille for attention. Regan checked his label. Barney. I bet Barney has a home to go to and people who love him, she thought.

‘Thanks for everything you’ve done,’ said Regan.

‘You’re welcome,’ said the nurse. ‘I’ve a huge soft spot for him – he’s like the dog I had as a child. Next time you want to see Elvis, ask for me. My name’s Deborah.’

Charlie and Regan exchanged looks.

‘Thanks,’ said Regan. ‘I’ve got a good friend called Debbie.’

‘You’ll remember it then,’ said Deborah. ‘Try not to worry about Elvis. He’ll soon be back to himself,’ she added, shutting the cage again.

Elvis’s big sad eyes stared out at Regan. ‘You can’t come out until you’re better,’ she said, pushing her fingers through the wire. But what happens then? she wondered.

She had no idea.

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