Page 15 of Christmas at Sturcombe Bay
Shelley’s heartbeat was slowly returning to normal. That vile man! She hadn’t been afraid of him — she’d met plenty of men like that, and she knew exactly how to deal with them. What she’d been afraid of was losing her job.
This job, this safe place where she had lived for the past three years, had been the most settled time of her life. Her whole life. Growing up in one foster home after another, some of them lasting no more than a few weeks, she had never known that stability.
Thank goodness Lisa was here today. She knew her, and trusted her. Actually she was supposed to be on maternity leave, but Vicky, her temporary replacement, was on her honeymoon, so Lisa was helping out for a few hours most afternoons. There was Mike, of course — the manager. He was a sweetheart, but she doubted he’d have stood up to the scumbag the way Lisa had.
And the other man, the American . . . He’d been brilliant.
She slanted a cautious glance at him from beneath her lashes as he sat opposite her in Lisa’s small office. He could have been a film star. Were all Americans that tall, that handsome? He mustbe a good couple of inches over six feet, with wide, powerful-looking shoulders.
His hair was dark and neatly clipped. She suspected that if it was any longer it would curl. And his face, with those hard cheekbones, that sculpted jaw, and that finely drawn mouth . . .
But it was his eyes that drew her in — eyes the colour of espresso coffee, with long silky lashes. And so kind. When he had smiled at her . . . And he had believed her, and tied that horrid scumbag up in knots when he’d questioned him.
He was smiling at her now as Lisa poured them all coffee.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, thank you.” She managed a smile. “I’m fine.”
He looked as if he doubted that but he didn’t argue, instead taking his coffee from Lisa with a word of thanks.
She sat down behind her desk. “Now, I can understand you not wanting to speak to the police,” she said, “but will you speak to the people at the golf league?”
“Yes.” Shelley drew in a long, deep breath to steady her nerves. “In fact... I will speak to the police.”
“You will?” Lisa’s approval was warm in her voice. “That’s very brave of you. Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Tension was coiling in the pit of her stomach, but she had never been a coward. “I just don’t want to see him get away with it, and maybe try it on with someone else.”
“Right.” Lisa picked up the phone. “I’ll ring them now.” The wordsbefore you change your mindlingered, unspoken.
Across the room the American smiled at her again, and mouthed a silent, “Good for you.”
She managed to return the smile. Was it his presence that had given her the courage to agree to speak to the police? There was something very reassuring about him, a warmth in his eyes . . .
Lisa had been talking on the phone, but now she ended the call and put it down. “I’ve arranged for you to go to the police station to make a statement.” She frowned. “Look, I really should go with you, but I can’t make it this afternoon. I have to get home for the baby, and I can’t ask Jess to leave reception. Tomorrow would be better.”
“No!” Shelley insisted quickly. “I’ll be fine on my own. I’d rather get it over with as soon as possible.”
“Don’t worry,” the American intervened. “I can take you.”
Lisa looked uncertain. “Well . . .”
“It’s okay,” Shelley assured her. “I don’t mind.”
“Well, if you’re sure.” She glanced up at the American. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to imply . . .”
He shook his head. “No. I quite understand.
“Well, all right then,” Lisa conceded. She turned to the American with a smile. “Thank you. It’s very kind of you.”
“No trouble. I can give them a supporting statement at the same time.”
“Of course. Well, goodbye then.”
* * *
The police station had been built in the nineteen seventies, and was showing its age. The waiting room was lit by a fluorescent tube that was flickering as if it was about to go out. The floor tiles were cracked and crumbling in a few places, and the blue plastic chairs had clearly been designed to discourage sleep.
