Page 40 of Beautiful Ugly
“You didn’t think to tell me this was here before now?”
She shrugs. “It’s not up to me to tell a man he can take another man’s things.”
There is an edge to her voice and for a second I think Sandyknows I have stolen Charles Whittaker’s manuscript. But I tell myself I am overthinking everything, and feeling paranoid due to lack of sleep. She just means the car.
The Land Rover isn’t even locked and we find the keys for it in the glove compartment. Of course it doesn’t start, but Sandy seems sure she can fix it. I guess if she can sail a ferry she knows a lot more than I do about mechanics. I head back inside to make us some tea and when I come back she’s already managed to get the engine running.
“There you go, all yours,” she says, giving me the car keys then taking the tea. She sniffs her mug. “What is this? Bog myrtle?” I nod. “Not for me, thanks,” she says, handing it back. “I’d best be off anyway.”
“One tiny thing before you go...” I point at the overgrown forest. “How do I get the Land Rover through the trees?”
Sandy laughs. “You drive it!”
When she has gone I head back inside the cabin and print the book. Then I spend the next twenty-four hours reading it. Other than some small changes, I’m pretty happy with what I have. I would normally do three drafts before sharing a new novel with my agent, but I suppose Charles did the early drafts for me. The only thing missing now is a title; Charles just called it “Book Ten” and that will never do. I’d hoped I would come up with something while I was writing, but didn’t, nothing good anyway. I see the map of Amberly and look at it for inspiration. A lot of the buildings have quirky names: Whit’s End, The Final Straw, The Stumble Inn to name a few, but none of them are quite right for a book title. Then I see something called Beautiful Ugly on the map. I’ve no idea what it is, but it’s perfect.
I pick up the Magic 8 Ball, which I seem to use for all decision-making these days.
“Is the book ready to send to my agent?” I ask out loud, waiting impatiently for the answer.
WITHOUT A DOUBT.
I smile and the sensation feels strange. Smiles have been in short supply since my wife disappeared. I don’t want to push my luck but I can’t resist asking another question.
“Is it a good book?” I surprise myself with the importance I place on the next words to appear on the tiny screen.
AS I SEE IT, YES.
I check the time and see that the corner shop will be closed, meaning it’s too late to post the manuscript today. “We should celebrate anyway,” I tell Columbo. I mostly talk to myself or my dog lately and I find he is a better listener. “What would you like to do?” I ask and he wags his tail. “I quite agree. We should go for a big walk and then crack the seal on a bottle of something nice when we get home. Maybe we should go and see one of the highlights on the island? Would you like that? May as well see it now, since with any luck we’ll be leaving soon.”
I didn’t want to sound rude in front of Sandy. She clearly loves Amberly and it’s been her home all her life, but it isn’t mine. This place has been good for me in lots of ways, but the people here are a bit strange and there are things I miss about London. Things I didn’t think I would. And for reasons I don’t understand, this island seems determined to make me think about my wife even more than I did before. As soon as Kitty tells me the book is good and that she can sell it, I’m out of here, and I have no intention of coming back.
UPWARD FALL
Itake Sandy’s advice and drive the old Land Rover very slowly and very carefully through the overgrown forest, until I reach the clearing where she usually parks. It’s obvious that nobody has driven it out of the shed for years, and it’s a slow and bumpy ride, but the big sturdy jeep crushes any bracken blocking its path with ease. Columbo is strapped into the passenger seat next to me and seems pleased with our new set of wheels. I am too. If I can get to grips with driving the damn thing it’ll mean we can explore the rest of the island before we leave.
I continue to take it slowly along the coast road, but it feels good to be behind the wheel again. Changing gear is tough and there’s no power steering, but the Land Rover is incredible to drive. The open windows allow the wind to blow my overgrown hair in all directions. The smell of the sea is so strong I can almost taste it, and I feel a strange sensation. Something like happy. Columbo has been cooped up for days while I finished the book, so I want a fun walk for him as well as for me. Having looked at the map, I think I’ve found a good option not too far away.
The Orphans is the name of the iconic rocks that form a popular walk to one of the highest points on Amberly. It’s one of thefew things that did come up online when I was researching the place. It’s a distinctive standing formation of rocks that form a ridge, with views of the island and the sea, almost splitting the island in two like a broken heart. I’ve seen a lot of pictures and I want to see it with my own eyes. From what I can remember about what I read it’s an easy enough walk. Nothing Columbo and I can’t handle.
The sign in the car park suggests I might be wrong about that.
DANGER
THE ORPHANS FOOTPATH IS CURRENTLY CLOSED.
“Well, that’s disappointing. What do you think, Columbo? Should we risk it anyway? I have plenty of water and Scooby snacks.”
He barks which I interpret as, “Yes, we should definitely climb up this mountain. We’ll be fine.”
One of the many things I love about my dog is that he always agrees with me.
We walk around the sign and start to climb up the winding path. It’s steep, but with every step the views become more and more impressive. I keep stopping to take in the majestic beauty of it all. And to catch my breath. The spiky pinnacles known as The Orphans rise up out of grassy hills, bathed in sun and casting a series of long dark shadows. Dirty white clouds drift by overhead, casting shadows of their own. It takes forty minutes to reach the top. There’s no sign of danger—nothing too tricky to navigate at all—and I can’t imagine why the path would be closed.
That’s when I see her, sitting on the other side of the stones, reading a book.
“Hello again,” I say.
She looks startled, but then her face softens into a smile. “Hello.”