The Woman on the Bench: a gripping psychological thriller with a killer twist by Eliot Stevens

Author:Eliot Stevens [Stevens, Eliot]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Inkubator Books
Published: 2022-08-27T16:00:00+00:00

26

The sand whispers under our feet as we walk. We pick a spot to sit down, and before she does, I swing the rucksack off my shoulder, unzip it (careful not to show her the wine and two glasses tucked inside it—not yet) and pull out a blanket. I lay it carefully on the sand and the pebbles at her feet. Alice smiles, kneels down, tugging at the corners to smooth out the folds.

The cove itself is small, but stunning. It’s off the beaten path, and tourists tend to go for the more easily accessible and better-known places along the Jurassic Coast—Durdle Door or Lulworth Cove to the west. But none of them beat Blackwood, to my eye. The small woods here creep up almost to the shore, with ancient ash, elm and oak trees leaning over the low cliffs that plunge into the dark sea. It’s a place of rugged contrasts. White rock, grey sand, black waters. A grey-scale wonder that’s at its best during a storm, when the wind screams its banshee screams across the frothing waves.

We decided to head to the cove before going to Lilac House. Neither of us was hungry, but agreed it might be a good idea to pick up a few things at the Cove Cafe, the small cafe-slash-mini-market near the beach. Plus, we both wanted to see the sea.

We left the car in the small gravel parking lot at the top of the slope that leads to the cove, with its handful of houses. Just two other vehicles shared the space with the rental—a battered and apparently abandoned white van and a Vauxhall belonging to the mini-market’s owner, Mr Greene. I eyed it as we got out of the car, suddenly realising that he might raise an eyebrow if he saw me walking into the shop with a woman other than Cecilia. To be fair, he seemed to forget us entirely each time we left, but still, it made me feel uneasy.

I bit my lip as we walked down towards the beach, trying to figure out a way to keep Alice out of the shop.

But just as we reached the bungalow that houses the Cove Cafe, Alice stopped and said, ‘Mind if I wait outside? I love this sea breeze.’

I hesitated, half wanting to stroll in holding Alice by the hand, have all this out in the open. But we weren’t there yet. She sensed my hesitation. ‘Mark?’ she said, her eyes fixed on mine, chin slightly tilted down. I know, those eyes said. I know, and you needn’t worry.

‘Sure,’ I said. Grateful, ashamed.

A bell hanging by the door chimed as I set foot inside. Mr. Greene was nowhere to be seen. I called out, got no response, then wandered through the sparse shelves of the shop, picking up a few snacks, trying to find something for dinner at Lilac House.

I heard a cough, then a groan, and the sound of something heavy being half-dropped onto the floor. ‘Hello?’ came Mr Greene’s feeble voice, from somewhere beyond the shelves.

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