Page 17 of Beautiful Ugly

“Yes. I suppose it is,” I tell her.

She looks at the envelope, eyes filled with suspicion. “Want to send it registered?” she whispers, as though someone else might hear even though the shop is empty.

“No. Standard first class is fine. I’m guessing it will go on the next ferry?”

“First class will go tomorrow. On the mail boat.”

“There’s a boat just for mail?”

I hear what sounds like the crackle of a walkie-talkie beneath the counter, and Cora—who has, until now, seemed like an unflappable woman—looks flustered. “Can I get you anything else?” she asks, checking the time and hurrying to put the rest of my purchases in the bag before thrusting it in my direction.

“No,” I say, paying the bill and taking my things. “Thank you.”

“You take care now,” she replies as I start to leave the shop, and the kind words sound more like a threat. She follows me, practically chasing me out of there, still clutching my envelope in her bony fingers, which remind me of gnarled twigs in the forest. The bell above the door tinkles to mark my departure and as soon as I am out she slams it shut. At least Columbo, who has been waiting outside, looks happy to see me. He wags his tail so hard you would think I’d been gone for hours, not minutes. I give him one of the dog treats I just bought, throwing it in the air for him to catch, and we start to walk away. But then I hear the crackle of a walkie-talkie again from the other side of the shop door and, unless I am imagining it, the sound of someone laughing. A quiet, sinister-sounding cackle. When I turn around, I see that the sign in the window now saysCLOSED.

DEAFENING SILENCE

The Stumble Inn looks inviting, and I wouldn’t say no to a drink before the long walk back, but when I try the pub door, it’s locked. The sign in the window saysCLOSED, even though I’m sure I could hear the clink of glasses and the murmurings of people talking inside only a moment ago. I wander through the village and discover that the rest of the shops are closed as well, all of them, which seems strange for this time of day. Given that there is nowhere else to go, I cross the village green and start heading toward the cabin.

That’s when I hear ringing.

It takes me a moment to translate the sound as I slowly spin around trying to locate its source: the old red telephone box.

The phone insidedoeswork. I can hear it. Which means I could call Kitty.

I sprint across the grass, Columbo running alongside thinking this is a game, then I yank the door open. I’m out of breath, but the sound of ringing is even louder now and I grab the receiver.

At first I don’t hear anything or anyone on the other end of the line.

Then I hear what sounds like the sea.

“Grady, it’s me,” says a distant voice I haven’t heard for a long time.

“Abby?”

“Can you hear me?” she asks, her voice so quiet I barely can.

“Abby? Is that you?”

The line crackles and I think I’ve lost her but then she speaks again.

“Grady, I’m so cold. It’s so dark here. Why won’t you come and find me?”

She sounds so far away.

“Where are you?”

“It’s so cold and so dark—”

The line goes dead.

But I can still hear a dial tone.

There must be some way to reconnect the call.

I stare at the receiver in my fingers. My hand is trembling. All of me is trembling. I hang up and when I lift the phone to my ear again it doesn’t make a sound. It’s completely dead now. I try once more and this time I do think I can hear something, the sound of the sea again. But then it starts to sound like the wind howling outside and I realize that’s all it is. Did I imagine hearing a voice?

Someone knocks on the door of the phone box and I literally jump off the ground.