Peter Robinson - The First Cut

Keith looked surprised. “Yes, well…er…shall we be off?”

“Haven’t you got your gear?”

“Gear? Good Lord, you don’t need gear for a simple walk like this.” He looked her up and down. “You could even do it dressed like that, though I wouldn’t recommend it. No, all I’ve got is my Ordnance Survey guide.” He patted the back pocket of his jeans.

“No, I mean your stuff, your rucksack and all that.”

“It’s back at the B amp;B. I was only having a little stroll around the village. No, what you see is what you get.” He spread his arms and stood before her, tall, slim, thin-faced and tanned. His curly, black hair still looked glossy, as if he had just stepped out of the shower, and his eyes reflected a bluer ocean than the one that stretched before them.

“What did you mean about me not being dressed right?” Sue asked.

“I was only joking really. It’s not a hard walk. It’s just that skirts tend to snag on thorns and things, and those pumps will take a hell of a beating.”

“Wait here a minute.”

Sue hurried into the public toilet, made sure that no one was around and went into a cubicle to change. First she took off her wig, scratching her head in relief when she had done so, then she put on her jeans, a dark-blue checked shirt and her trainers. Carefully, she rolled up the wig, long skirt, white blouse and cardigan and placed them in the holdall. Sometimes, she thought, it was a nuisance having to carry the damn thing everywhere with her, but it was light enough, and she could adjust the strap and carry it over her shoulder if she wanted.

She put the quilted jacket on top of everything in case it got chilly high up on the cliffs. Finally, she combed her hair in the cracked and grimy mirror above the sink and examined her makeup. It wasn’t bad. She hadn’t put too much on that morning as she had intended to be out of Whitby for the day anyway, and now there was no point in standing here and washing it all off. Someone might come. Quickly, she gave her lips a dab with a Kleenex, then dashed back outside to join Keith.

“Lead on,” she said, bowing and standing aside for him.

Keith laughed. “Are you sure you’re not a spy or an actor or something?”

“Not at all.” Sue gave him what she intended to be an enigmatic smile, and they set off.

They wound their way up by the Mission Church of St. Peter the Fisherman, then followed the signs for the Cleveland Way past some farm buildings, over a couple of stiles and right up the hill to the cliff edge. The village lay spread out below them. Even though it was a clear, warm day, smoke drifted lazily from some of the chimneys. Up on the cliff top, there was a cool breeze from the sea. Pausing for breath, Sue put on the quilted jacket she’d been carrying in her holdall.

“What have you got in that thing?” Keith asked. “Your life’s work?”

“Something like that.”

The unfenced path ran close to the edge of the cliff, and the drop was sheer. After Keith had stopped to point out Boulby cliffs further up the coast, they started walking in single file. The pathway was rough, though mostly level, and they soon got into a comfortable rhythm. Keith was talking most of the time, half turning his head to look at her. He talked about how he was loving England but still felt homesick, and about a body that had been washed up on the beach at Sandsend while he was staying there. No, he hadn’t got a good look at it. By the time he had noticed that something was happening quite a crowd had gathered and the police had arrived.

Sue realized now that she would have to kill him. He was just too much of a liability to let go free. She didn’t know how the police were progressing on the Grimley investigation, but she was sure that, without Keith, they couldn’t link her to the dead man. Keith might not have seen the body, but there was a chance he might find out who it was and, if questioned, remember that strange girl who had acted as if she recognized the man…the girl who kept changing her appearance.

But she didn’t know if she could do it. Keith had done her no harm; he had only tried to kiss her. But he could give her away before she’d finished, and she couldn’t afford to let that happen-not after everything else. Grimley had been a mistake in the first place, and one that almost sent her screaming back home. Now Keith. All she had wanted to do was find the man who had hurt her and murdered the other girls and kill him, put a stop to his carnage once and for all, but she was so deep in blood already and she hadn’t even found him yet. How much further would she have to go?

With an effort, she pulled her mind back from the negative track. It wasn’t as if she had any choice in the matter, she told herself. Somehow, from somewhere, she would have to dredge up the courage. He was a man, after all, wasn’t he? When it came down to it, they were all the same underneath. Hadn’t he tried to force himself on her, and wouldn’t he do the same again? She shuddered at the thought.

It would be easy to do it up here. Just a gentle push over the edge, or quick kick at the ankles to make him stumble and fall. An accident. But it was too open, and she could see two other walkers approaching from the opposite direction. As it was, they turned out to be serious hikers with binoculars, boots and rucksacks, far more interested in distant seabirds than in fellow human beings, but there must be no witnesses and no probing, time-consuming inquest. As the men passed, Sue looked the other way. So far she was sure that nobody would remember seeing her with Keith, but there was no point in being careless.

Gulls swooped low, flashing white in the sun, and curious insects buzzed around Sue’s head. Before long, she could see the crumbling jetty of Port Mulgrave way below, and they began their descent into the tiny village. Keith wanted to stop for a cup of tea and a sandwich at the Boat House Tea Room, but Sue urged him on, saying she was still full from lunch. She was nervous now she had made her decision, and that made her cautious. When she took his hand, he gave in quite easily and they set off up the road to Hinderwell.

Soon they were on a rough track approaching a caravan site, then they turned right, crossed some more fields and walked down a steep hill to a footbridge over a beck. It was a dramatic change of landscape, from coast to inland valley. They walked through brambles and blackberry bushes, and Sue could see what Keith had meant about snagging her skirt on the thorns. Even in jeans she had to walk carefully. The smell was different here, too. Rotten fish and seaweed were distant memories, replaced by crushed berries and wild garlic in the honeyed air droning with insects.

Beyond the brambles, they entered the woods. The path was bounded on both sides by dense thickets and tall trees. They passed an elderly couple, who smiled and said hello, then after a few minutes walking in the quiet woods, Sue suggested that maybe it was time for a rest.

“But there’s nowhere to rest here,” Keith said. “Just the path.”

“There’s the woods, isn’t there?” Sue broke free and ran off through the undergrowth. “Come on, it’s nice in here!” she called back. “Cool and dark. I’m sure we’ll find somewhere to sit down.” Keith ran after her.

When they’d gone far enough that they couldn’t be seen from the path, Sue pointed to a concave patch of ground between two trees. “There. Perfect.” She sat and leaned back against a tree trunk. Filtered green light streamed down through the leaves and birds called to one another from their high nests, passing on warnings that intruders had come. Keith lowered himself down beside Sue, so close that their arms touched.

It wasn’t long before his hands started wandering, as she had expected, just touching her hair and throat at first. The tension inside her was almost unbearable, but she tried not to stiffen up. Then he kissed her. She let him. She took off her quilted jacket to make a pillow against the rough bark and he started fiddling with the buttons on her shirt. She let him. One button, two buttons, three buttons…she had one arm around him and the other groping in her holdall. Her mouth was dry and it still tasted of greasy cod. Four buttons. Now her bra was exposed and he bent forward and kissed the dark cleavage. She sighed. His fingers quickened and soon unbuttoned the shirt right down to her waist. Without bothering to take it off, he pulled the bra up over her breasts. She let him. Her free hand stroked the nape of his neck and tears ran down her flushed cheeks.