The Netherwell Horror Page 3

  Four hours of driving—even broken up with a couple of toilet breaks—was taxing. Beth checked the built-in satellite navigation system that displayed on the dashboard, and, thankfully, it showed just over an hour of the journey still remaining.

  The home stretch.

  Beth had spoken to Erland Cowell when he had called to check up on her. He was good at his job, and a good friend, but Beth was aware he carried a little bit of a torch for her. Something that was not reciprocated. He was handsome enough, and had auburn hair and stubble that was indicative of his Scottish roots, but she just wasn’t in the market for anyone. During the call, she told him what had happened with Mark, and also that she’d quit. Erland was shocked, and offered to fight her cause, but she’d told him not to. No sense in both of them losing their jobs. Erland had insisted that if there was anything he could do for her, she should just let him know. Beth told him she would, and that she would keep in touch. She meant it, too. These days her industry was full of underhanded and untrustworthy people, so she refused to let good colleagues just fade away into the past.

  Beth had also tried calling the number of the payphone in Netherwell Bay a few times during her drive, but each time had yielded the same results: endless ringing until she grew annoyed and ended the call herself.

  Beth sighed, feeling like she was losing a fight with fatigue. She tried the number again, using her hands-free setup so she could concentrate on steering the car. She figured that calling again would help break the monotony of the drive, if nothing else. It rang a couple of times, and then, to Beth’s surprise, the call actually connected.

  A voice answered, one that was clearly not her brother’s. It sounded aged and gravelly.

  ‘Hello? Who the bloody hell is this?’

  The curt tone took Beth off guard. ‘Hi,’ she eventually said. ‘I had a missed call from this number, so I was just calling it back.’

  ‘Well, this is a phonebox, love. Whoever rang you ain’t here anymore. Is it you that’s been calling this phone all day?’

  Beth paused for a moment. ‘Yes… I guess that was me. As I say, I had a missed call—’

  ‘And as I say, whoever it was ain’t here anymore. This phonebox is right outside my house, and I’m trying to enjoy some quiet time in my garden. Hard to do with this thing ringing all day. Didn’t even think it was still connected. Goodbye. And stop calling.’

  ‘Wait!’ Beth quickly said. ‘I promise not to bother you anymore, but can I ask, did you see anyone using that phone earlier today? Around lunchtime? I think it would have been a man in his early thirties. Dark hair, fairly tall?’

  ‘Didn’t see anyone!’ the grouchy man snapped. ‘Now bugger off!’

  The line went dead.

  Beth took a moment, shocked and slightly amused at the man she had just spoken to. ‘Charming,’ she muttered. Beth had a feeling Netherwell Bay would not be a welcoming place. From the little information she had found online, the fishing town was fairly small and, despite having a somewhat interesting layout, not a place that attracted tourists. Beth had been to small, out-of-the-way places before in her line of work, and they tended to be isolated and insular. And—as clichéd as it was to say—the locals generally tended to be wary and distrusting of outsiders. Was that the kind of general welcome she had in store? Or had the man she’d just spoken to been something of an oddball and not representative of the town at large?

  She would find out soon enough. Beth raised a hand and started to massage the back of her neck, trying to work out a kink that was developing. After the call with the rude man had ended, AC/DC had again begun to thunder out their fast riffs and high vocals. Beth found herself nodding along to the music. She liked the band well enough and had one or two of their albums loaded onto her phone, but the last time she’d heard them would have been… four years ago. And it was the same album that she was now playing.

  Four years prior…

  The day had been a hellish one for Beth.

  Saying goodbye to her father, the man she loved and respected more than any other in the world, was heart-breaking. The ceremony at the church had been mercifully brief, yet it still felt like an eternity for her. Beth couldn’t stop crying through it all. Worse was the crematorium, where she had to sit in the front row and watch as her father’s coffin disappeared into a chamber hidden behind a small red curtain. The coffin was pulled along on a quiet conveyor belt as it passed into its final resting place, where Beth knew full well that the body of her father would start to burn.

  A great man, who had taught her so much, reduced to nothing more than ash and dust.

  The wake afterward was sparsely attended.

  Beth had organised a gathering in a local pub and a few friends and extended family followed along after the funeral. It wasn’t anything fancy, her father wouldn’t have wanted that, but the people there were pleasant and kind with their commiserations and well-wishes. And, in truth, when the funeral and cremation was over with, Beth felt a palpable sense of relief. Her body actually seemed lighter since the previously terrifying idea of saying goodbye to her father was done with.

  She was still crushed, of course—just as she had been when her mother had died all those years ago. But this was different. Beth was an adult now. The idea of death was different than it had been for her as a child, though it was no less terrifying.

  The pub was a well-to-do country public house, with a rustic interior made up of low ceilings held in place by exposed timber beams, polished wooden floors, a large ornate fireplace, and plush seating. Beth had paid for some food to be served that people seemed to be enjoying. But as Beth looked around those present, she searched for someone in particular. Someone whom she had not expected to turn up to the funeral. Someone who had surprised her.

  Her brother, Josh.

  Beth had been floored earlier that day when he’d turned up. She had been standing outside of the church, greeting people as they arrived, only to see an old, beat-up car come to a stop close to her. Josh got out. He was dressed in an ill-fitting suit, and his long black hair had been brushed and slicked back. Josh saw her and smiled—the same charming, effortless grin he’d always had. He’d then made his way over.

  ‘Hey, Sis,’ he had said, stopping a few paces before her.

  Beth had no idea how to respond at first. She truly hadn’t been expecting him to turn up. Though she had tried texting and calling him, Beth had no idea if the number she was calling was still current. In the end, she doubted he was even getting her messages. It killed her to think that Josh may not have actually known that his own father was dead. Evidently, however, he did.

  ‘You got my messages, then?’ was all Beth could think to ask.

  Josh’s smile faltered, and he nodded. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Ever think of calling me back? I’ve been struggling, you know, and it would have been nice to know ahead of time that you were coming.’

  He shrugged. It wasn’t an arrogant or careless gesture, more an awkward one. ‘Sorry,’ was all he offered.

  There was a long moment of silence. The physical distance between them may have only been a few feet, but to Beth it felt like they were separated by an immense and impenetrable void.

  ‘Was it quick?’ Josh had asked.

  ‘Cancer. Took about five months after he was diagnosed.’

  ‘Shame.’

  More silence. Other people had arrived, and Beth’s attention was split as she turned to greet them. Josh had used the opportunity to disappear inside and escape further judgement from his sister.

  After that, Beth had kept a close eye on him during the funeral and cremation. He looked sad, though as far as Beth could tell he didn’t shed a tear.

  Now that everything was over with, however, she felt the need to speak to him again. Perhaps clear the air. She was fully aware that anything confrontational or accusatory would send him running for the hills again. Josh had always classed himself as a ‘free bird’—his own words—but Beth knew full well it
was just his aversion to responsibility. He was also not someone who handled criticism well.

  Still, she dearly wanted to speak with him, just to make sure he was doing okay. She wanted to let her little brother know that she was there for him if he needed her.

  Taking a long drink from her glass of wine—her fourth of the evening—Beth looked around for him, but it didn’t take her long to realise he was not among those gathered anymore. She approached Mr. and Mrs. Askwith, an elderly couple who had lived next door to her father.

  ‘I don’t suppose you have seen, Josh, have you?’ she asked them.

  Mrs. Askwith—a small, five-foot-four lady with grey hair and biting wit—answered first. ‘He wasn’t what I expected, dear. Your father told us a bit about him, but I thought he’d be a little more... presentable. First time we’ve met him, you know. Didn’t say an awful lot.’

  Her husband, a tall gentleman with a kind smile, raised a hand and gently took hold of her arm. ‘That wasn’t what Beth asked, was it, sweetheart?’ He then turned his attention to Beth. ‘I did see him heading outside a moment ago. Perhaps he stepped out for a cigarette?’

  ‘Thank you,’ Beth said. She had a feeling he hadn’t simply stepped outside for that. Beth finished her drink in a single mouthful and walked quickly outside. She headed to the front of the pub, which was set back from the main road by a private car park. It was starting to grow dark, but Beth quickly spotted the car Josh had arrived in. Her eyes were drawn by the white smoke that rolled out from the half-open driver’s-side window. The engine was running and she could hear the steady hum of rock music.

  Josh was sitting inside, with his head resting back, eyes closed, and a cigarette pinched between his lips. Beth approached him and tapped the glass of the partly open window. Josh’s eyes snapped open in surprise and the cigarette fell from his mouth.

  ‘Shit,’ he said, coughing smoke and frantically trying to find the dropped stimulant. He eventually retrieved it and chucked out of the window before looking up with an annoyed expression to see who had disturbed him. Upon seeing Beth, however, Josh’s features immediately softened.

  ‘Hey, Sis,’ he said. ‘You scared the hell out of me.’

  ‘Were you sleeping?’ Beth asked.

  Josh shook his head. ‘Just relaxing. I needed to get out of there. Too stuffy.’

  ‘You weren’t about to just drive off without saying goodbye again, were you?’

  Josh’s silence confirmed Beth’s suspicion. Anger suddenly bubbled up inside of her. How can he be so selfish and cold? ‘You really are a piece of work, you know that?’

  ‘Don’t be like that, Sis,’ he said and cast his eyes down to his hands fidgeting in his lap.

  ‘Be like what?! Don’t be honest? What do you expect me to say, Josh? You’ve been nothing but a ghost to me, and to Dad, for years now. I’ve tried to keep in touch, to keep us a family, but you just don’t give a shit. You just don’t care!’

  He quickly turned his head to face her. ‘I do care, Beth. I love you.’

  Beth laughed, humourless and cold. ‘You care about yourself, Josh, and that’s about it. And you only love yourself. You know what, Dad’s dead now, and you've paid your respects. Nothing keeping you here anymore. So just run away like you always do.’

  ‘Beth, I…’ he started, but then trailed off.

  Beth shook her head. ‘Just go.’

  He looked genuinely hurt, but Beth didn’t care anymore. She didn’t want to hear any excuses. She was tired of them, and she just wanted him gone.

  Josh put the car into gear.

  ‘I’m sorry I’m such a fuck up,’ he said. ‘But I do love you, Sis. I always will.’

  With that, he pulled the car out of the car park and headed off down the road. The sound of AC/DC faded away as Josh drove out of Beth’s life yet again.

  Present day…

  It took Beth a moment to realise that tears had welled up in her eyes, and one had escaped down her cheek. The memory of her father's funeral, and her last interaction with Josh, brought with it a lot of anger and sadness. He was right in what he’d said, of course: he was a fuck up. But then she thought back to the message he had left her earlier that day, and the fear in his voice.

  Beth was reminded of Josh as a ten-year-old boy, and the time he had investigated into a hornets’ nest which he’d assumed was old and abandoned. He'd kicked it, not thinking of the consequences, and was then chased all the way home by angry, flying insects, getting stung a few times on the way. With their parents out at work, it fell upon Beth to look after him and apply ointment to the stings, which she gladly did. She then held him until the crying stopped.

  The role of the older sibling was one she had always taken seriously when they were kids, and one she tried to uphold as an adult. She could even pinpoint when the changes in Josh started: when he was fourteen. He’d been the one to find their mother, dead. It shook him up, affected him deeply. Since then, the role of protective older sister was one she struggled with more and more as he pushed her away.

  Until now, perhaps.

  The hard-rock band continued to blare out from the car’s speakers for the rest of the trip. And, just over an hour later, the voice on her sat-nav system came to life, indicating she was nearing her destination.

  The road Beth was on had narrowed in a little, allowing just enough space for a car to pass from the opposite direction. She continued forward, up a gradual incline that went on for a few miles, until eventually she reached the peak. There, things levelled out a little, before again falling away into a steep drop. The winding road then ran to a built-up area—a fishing town that was bathed in the gloom of dark clouds. The expanse of the sea—rolling off into the horizon—was visible beyond the buildings of the settlement.

  Beth had arrived in Netherwell Bay.

  6

  The road ahead dipped down sharply and narrowed even more, making it practically a single lane now. Up ahead, Beth saw a small lay-by on her left-hand side, and she quickly pulled into it rather than just heading straight into town.

  She wanted to get her bearings first and take a moment to assess the situation, and so she switched off the engine and stepped out of the vehicle while stretching her legs and back. The air was crisp and clean and felt good in her lungs. She could hear seagulls singing and squawking overhead.

  There was a single wooden bench in the lay-by, and on the backrest of the bench was a small plaque commemorating a couple named Walter and Doreen. Beth had no idea who the couple were, but the message of a loving man and wife who would be long remembered, as the plaque read, was touching. From this vantage point, and at such a high altitude from the rest of the town, Beth was greeted to a fantastic view over most of Netherwell Bay.

  To her far right on the opposite side of the road was a series of eighteenth-century terraced houses, which ran partway down the steep bank. Each dwelling was stepped in order to keep up with the severity of the slope. The left-hand side of the road, the side she now stood on, was a lush green, with wild grass and trees. That side fell away drastically to meet a small river that cut through the town from the sea. A low and simple wooden-rail fence was all that separated Beth and her vehicle from a grassy drop into the water.

  The road she had been travelling on, and the only one into the village as far as she could tell, continued down, and at the bottom she could see a larger built-up area. Red and grey pan-tile roofs were mounted on tall, thin terraced buildings. The walls of the structures were finished in dull red and grey bricks, or white and pastel renders. The streets were narrow, and the levels inconsistent, with steps, drops, and rises in the town's formation. Natural rock walls interspersed with houses cut into rising ground levels, highlighting the fact that the town was etched into a natural and irregular landmass: a mixture of rising cliffs, dipping valleys, and a river that cut through it all.

  Where the winding watercourse sliced into the town was evidence of a harbour, with moored boats and narrow wooden walkways. Th
e area was sheltered by raised land on both sides, held back by man-made retaining walls of grey brick and stone. Either side of the river’s entrance, and jutting out into the sea, large cliffs could be seen. Two long, stone breakwaters extended from the lower face of these cliffs, running round to meet each other and closing together at their ends like pincers. They left only enough room for small boats to pass between, creating an enclosed body of water.

  A steady hum of the waves could be heard beyond the breakwaters, and small fishing boats bobbed up and down on the current of the vast body of water that ran off to the horizon. Beth could detect that distinctly salty sea smell of a coastal town.

  Netherwell Bay was obviously a vastly different place than back home, and Beth instantly felt alienated, despite the quaint, old-world aesthetic that poured from the vista ahead. Hell, there was even smoke belching from several chimneys, something she hadn’t seen since she was a child, given most homes in the UK were now heated via a gas supply, not by the burning of coals or logs on a fire.

  Beth scanned the town, focusing on the built-up area predominately to the right-hand side—from her perspective—of the river. The area seemed to be the hub of Netherwell Bay: a large, tightly packed cluster of buildings. Beth could see houses, shops, even a large pub that overlooked the sea. With no real idea of where to start, this seemed the most logical place.

  Beth considered her options.

  She could simply start asking questions, trying to find out if anyone here knew or had seen her brother. But that could be risky, especially as she wasn’t yet sure just what kind of trouble Josh was in. If the wrong person overheard her asking the wrong kind of question, Beth knew she could put her brother in danger. Paranoid? Perhaps, but it was still a risk.

  The other option was to take it slow, get a lay of the land, then see what she could pick up. But that route would take time, and given how scared Josh had sounded in his message, time might not be something he had much of.