6th October 2020

"Marlowe, how's that copy coming?"

I looked up from my notebook as Nick perched himself on the edge of my desk. It felt territorial and I bristled.

"Swimmingly Nick and how's your work coming along?"

He looked taken aback. "My work is just fine thank you, why would you ask me-"

"Oh, I thought we were just checking in on each other's progress, you know as two people with similar job roles yet a discerningly large wage gap-"

"Okay, cig time!" Terrence announced, grabbing our coats, and hauling me up with impressive speed and dexterity.

"When I get back, would you like to compare what we've each got for lunch?" I called over my shoulder and Terrence had to turn his snort into a cough. Nick stalked back to his desk just as we rounded the corner and I sucked in an irritated breath.

"Marlowe, you need to chill," Terrence instructed. "He may not actually have any power, but you know he's basically Will's little spy."

I groaned and raked a hand through my hair. "I know, I know." I said. "I just can't cope when he's so far up my arsehole with this stupid deadline that he could lick my tonsils clean. He's like a bad taste in my mouth," I whinged as Terrence held the door open for me to the outside.

"Trust me, I know the man is a fucking nightmare." Terrence motioned to his receding hairline sadly. "When I first started, I had hair. I've been here a year Marlowe. I'm thirty-fucking-six."

I tried to look solemn for his benefit but now that I was out of the office I shared with Nick, it felt like air had come back into my lungs again and I laughed, despite myself.

"I'm so low maintenance, you know," I informed Terrence whilst lighting up. "I'm late to everything, I hate making plans and I love going with the flow. Something about working at a place where it's Christmas 365 days of the year has me weirdly high strung."

"Just wait until we actually get to Christmas," he said. "You'll never look at that prick Father Christmas, the same, ever again."

I snorted and pulled my coat tighter around me. The wind was bracing again today.

"I'm already feeling burnt out and its only October," I said quietly, keeping my eyes on the floor. "Last night I had a drink when I got in and then spent the rest of the evening in front of my laptop, trying to smash out as much of this copy as possible. Wendy found me this morning, completely passed out with my head on the Q key."

"We've all been there," Terrence assured me. "It doesn't get better, but it does get easier."

I sighed. "I don't know. Maybe I'm not cut out for this," I confessed. "I'm not sure that the joy I felt when I first started, that someone was actually paying me for my writing, is quite enough to keep me afloat through all the shit that goes with it."

"You're 22," Terence said gently. "You've got an entire lifetime to feel miserable and burnt out. Don't get too disenfranchised just yet."

"Comforting," I muttered at him. "And what would you suggest? To keep the blues at bay and operating at full Mistletoe Kiss Cosmetics potential?

"Well, I'd start with a cheeky line of coke every now and again and go from there."

We fell about laughing (Terrence perhaps a little too hard) and just like that, my dire mood had been lifted. It normally wasn't hard to get me out of a sleepless night induced funk, and either Terrence or Jenny was usually the perfect antidote. Work really was so much easier when you loved your co-workers (not you Nick).

"What's up gang?" Will announced, suddenly appearing from behind us. My eyes widened in surprise, but I managed to style it out. Where had he even come from?

"Oh look, it's Scrappy Doo," I murmured, and Terence choked on his cigarette.

"What's up geezer?" Terence managed to choke out and I patted him on the back.

"Nothing much mate, one of them days you know?" Will replied, lighting up as well.

I wanted to comment that we wouldn't know, because this was the first time we had seen him today. But I kept my mouth shut. Rent was due in two days and I had pissed off enough people today as it was. Plus, I was feeling much cheerier and figured I could handle a little bit of Will to cap off the day.

"How's the copy stuff coming Marlowe?" Will asked casually, as if he was totally non plussed that the deadline was tomorrow.

I shrugged and inhaled the warm smoke from my cigarette. "Not bad," I answered, matching his bored tone. "Might actually get it done by Thursday. You know if God really is listening and grants me those two-extra pair of arms I prayed for."

"Is that the deadline then?" Will asked. "No one ever tells me anything," he laughed.

I blinked at him and glanced at Terrence. "I assumed so, considering that's what you told me?"

This time Will shrugged. "Could be, I'd have to check. It was definitely due on a Thursday."

I closed my eyes and counted to ten in my head, to stop myself from grabbing one of the cheap plastic chairs which lived in the smoking shelter and beating him to death with it. Terrence, like the king he was, sensed my barely contained anger and quickly stubbed his cigarette out.

"Come on mate," he said to Will. "Let's go in, I'll catch you up on the meeting I had with the Facebook rep."

They disappeared inside and I exhaled deeply. This job was absolutely going to kill me.

It would have been different if I were this stressed from saving lives or something actually important. But no, I was going to end up with a receding hairline from selling Christmas themed cosmetics.

"I am God's clown," I muttered to myself and stubbed out the remainder of my now smouldering cigarette. My phone vibrated in my coat pocket and I pulled it out.

Weird shit going on next door. Genuinely looks like they're setting off fireworks in their house? Peered over the fence like a psychopath and I stg one of their plants had a FACE. -W

Wendy had today off from work and had been tasked with recon on our new neighbours. I hadn't quite meant for her to peer over the fence, but I liked her commitment to the cause.

I typed back a reply, asking whether the plants looked like something out of Alice in Wonderland or a horror film (the two were mutually exclusive if you asked me) and pocketed my phone.

Walking back into the office, I greeted Nick with a cheery smile, and he scowled in return. Now that Will was in, the power balance was restored, and I wouldn't have to brutally murder Nick in the near future.

"Oh Marlowe?" Will called.

I stopped by his desk and carefully rearranged my features to be considerably more polite.

"Yeah?"

"I doubled-checked and that copy's due next Thursday. My bad." He inhaled on his vape and slowly blew the smoke out towards me.

I sucked on my teeth and swallowed my annoyance like a champ. I could absolutely be the bigger person here. On the bright side, I wouldn't have to work tonight.

"No worries, Will," I smiled. Without another word, I sat back down at my desk and put in my earphones, blocking the rest of the world out.

The sun was much lower in the sky by the time my bus pulled into the harbour. It was my favourite time of day when we hovered in that liminal space between day and night. On the cusp of the evening, I felt my stress from work melt away. A soft sky and a direct view of the sea had always had a very calming effect on me. By-product of growing up in a seaside town, I supposed. The ocean always felt like home.

Without thinking about it, I grabbed my bag and got off the bus, passing the smoking driver on his break.

"Thanks," I said. "Have a good evening." He smiled and went back to scrolling on his phone.

I crossed the road and walked along the pavement, staying parallel with the beach. When the rows of cafes, bars and pubs fell away, I left the tarmac and stepped onto the sand.

The beach was almost completely deserted, save for a dog walker or two and I paused my music, wanting to drink in the sound of the gulls and crashing waves. I pulled off my boots and walked slowly across the sand, feeling the tiny grains coat my feet and pull me back to myself.

It was cold, but I barely felt it. For the first time in weeks, I felt truly anchored in reality. Not the reality I lived at work with deadlines and office politics. Or the one at home with too much drink and arguments over who's turn it was to cook.

But the reality where I was one in seven billion, walking the Earth. Where I was one of sixty-six million, walking on this little island. One, all on my own, on this stretch of beach. I revelled in the complete anonymity of being alive and mulled over the idea that no one would ever truly know me like I did. Like the sea did. It was oddly comforting.

The sun began to set over the water and I was completely transfixed by it. Surrounded by glorious shades of pink, orange and yellow. A hint of indigo creeping in, not unwelcome, but much like an old friend who knew the routine well.

I glanced up and down the stretch of sand and couldn't see anyone in the immediate vicinity. A vaguely dog shaped black mass trotted in and out of my eyeline but I figured that a dog wouldn't judge me. Quickly, I pulled off my tights and stuffed them into my bag, leaving it safely out of the sea's reach. I pocketed my earphones and shed my coat and cardigan. I left my boots a little further away and stepped into the water.

The waves crashed lazily around my ankles and the icy temperature grounded me even more. It felt like the sea was pulling me in, not with it's current but with its arms, and I so badly wanted to let it call me home. I waded in a little deeper and let the tips of my fingers graze the water.

I closed my eyes and let the gold light filter in through my eyelids and warm up my soul. It felt rather like plugging a phone in to charge, the Earth was resetting my spirit. I felt totally at peace.

The strange feeling started in my chest first- one minute I was fine and the next my lungs were on fire. I opened my eyes in alarm and was met with an unsettling blackness. The sky had darkened considerably, indigo fading into almost complete black. It felt unbearably heavy, laying across my shoulders, weighing me down. Crawling up my nose and down my throat. It was suffocating.

I took a deep breath to try to clear my lungs and the burning sensation moved upwards, towards my throat. I looked around desperately for help, but I couldn't see anything, it was so dark.

My tongue burned and I recognised the acrid taste immediately, as seawater. My breaths had begun to bubble up in my throat and I coughed, or rather spluttered. I was horrified to see water splash onto the glassy surface of the sea. I coughed again and choked up even more seawater, not sure where it was even coming from.

My eyes and nose burned viciously, and I doubled over, desperately trying to stay upright. At some point the water had risen to my waist. I couldn't remember wading out this far.

I tried to scream but it just gargled in my mouth with the seawater and was expelled with another hacking cough. I was starting to see spots behind my eyes, funnily enough, shaped like stars. My vision swam in and out, but the stars continued to twinkle, just out of reach. I clung to them, scared and breathless. The darkness bore down on me like a weighted blanket, wrapping me in its arms and gripping me tightly. Like my mum had when I was little. I thought about my mum and how much I wished she were here right now, just to hold my hand.

A sharp noise cut through the black. Quite literally ripped through the sky like someone had taken a pair of fabric scissors to the weighted blanket.

A bark, it had been a bark.

The black began to disintegrate around me, and the stars fell one by one from my eyes, straight into the sea. Shards of golden light punctured the dark, each one bigger than the last.

I screamed and cut myself off abruptly when I realised that my airways were clear. I sucked in a deep lungful of air and could do nothing but dry sob as the oxygen breezed down my throat and into my chest.

In the blink of an eye, the darkness was gone, replaced by a soft twilight. Dazed and still heaving, I looked around wildly, coming face to face with the largest black dog I had ever seen. He was waist height, with a beautiful shaggy coat and big grey eyes. It was disconcerting actually; I had never seen such emotive looking eyes in a dog before.

Blacking back in (for want of a better phrase), I realised that the dog had herded me clear of the water and onto the soft sand. With a gentle but firm shove to the back of my leg, I followed what I assumed his instructions were and sat down beside my bag with a thump. Satisfied, he settled in front of me, staring at me face on.

"Am I losing my mind?" I asked the dog, my voice coming out in a hoarse whisper. He looked at me solemnly and I felt strangely soothed, despite the maybe real, maybe not drowning incident.

I took great care to calm my previously frenzied breathing and tried to wipe away my tears with the back of my hand. I was surprised to find it dry; I hadn't cried any tears at all. I held my other hand up to the dog's face and let it hover there, waiting for permission. The dog blinked at me and then nudged his face into my hand. I stroked my thumb back and forth over it's cheek, trying to convey my immense gratitude in the little motion.

"Thank you, you beautiful baby," I murmured. I moved my hand from it's cheek, to scratch behind it's ears and the dog's tongued lolled out of the side of his mouth in joy. I laughed quietly.

"You're just so gorgeous aren't you?" The dog blinked at me again, as if confirming my statement. It was wild how animals could take you from the pits of despair to unadulterated joy in a matter of moments.

I wasn't sure how long I sat with the dog, or even how much time had passed when I was in the water. I wrapped my coat around my shoulders and watched the last slivers of sun go down beside the big black dog, the fear ebbing away with the tide.

"Padfoot! Padfoot!"

The calls broke through our comfortable silence and the dog and I lifted our heads at the same time, to find the source of the noise.

"Paddy?"

I craned my neck and through the dark, I could sort of see a figure emerging.

"Are you Padfoot?" I asked the dog and I swear to god, I heard him sigh. "Is that your owner? If it's not and it's actually a chainsaw murderer or something, I am going to expect you to protect me." The dog blew air through his nose and I rested my hand on his big head, giving him a good scratch, as the man came upon us.

"Ah so you've found my dog." I looked up into the man's face and was beyond surprised to see the hot new neighbour, Remus, blinking back at me. The easy smile immediately slid off his face just as I was raging an internal battle to keep my expression neutral.

In the last of the light, his face was more illuminated than it had been last night. Now, I could see quite clearly, two white scars, stretching from his eyebrow down to the corner of his mouth. The silvery skin shone with the dying sun and I swore, it looked like two long claws had raked across his face. The scars had surprised me, but what didn't was just how beautiful they made him. His face took on an ethereal quality and I couldn't quite decide if I was still dreaming or not.

"Your dog?" I managed to ask, the question sounding more accusatory than I had intended.

Remus crossed his arms over his chest, and I forced myself to meet his honey-coloured gaze (and not stare at his gorgeous shoulders, like every bone in my body was begging me to). Even in this weird standoff, I was so attracted to him.

"Well, my friend's dog technically," he replied curtly. The dog didn't move from beside me and I got the impression that he was actually enjoying the tense atmosphere.

I quirked my head to the side but still made no effort to get up. "I thought you just moved here? You've made friends in a day?"

He frowned. "Maybe I already had friends here."

"Maybe or do?"

"Do. Not the point- are you planning on holding my dog hostage all evening?"

The realisation that I was essentially doing just that, hit me like a freight train and I felt a blush start to creep up my neck. I had once again been completely sucked in by him.

"Right sorry," I said awkwardly, releasing my hold on the dog and getting up. I gathered up my things and dusted the sand off my legs whilst Remus talked to the dog in a low voice.

"What have I told you about exploring without me?" he muttered. "You can't just run off whenever you-"

"He's lovely, by the way," I said quietly. I slipped my arms into my cardigan and turned to face Remus. "Padfoot is an interesting name."

"It is," he agreed. He paused, like he was deciding whether or not to humour me.

"Where's it from?" I asked, shouldering my bag.

Remus hesitated and I focused on the dog instead, watching it lick Remus' palm. Remus smiled and I couldn't help but smile too.

"It's uh, taken from English folklore, I guess. Padfoot was the name of a ghostly dog which haunted Leeds, I think."

"Was it a nice ghostly dog?" I asked. Remus grinned.

"No, I don't think so. Visions of big black dogs are normally succeeded by an untimely death. They're supposed to be like, hellhounds."

"Hellhounds?" I said with wide eyes. "Your friend has a weird sense of humour. Padfoot might be the sweetest dog I've ever met. Hey baby?" I bent down and scratched his ears again and he lapped it up eagerly. His grey eyes shone and somewhere in my brain, alarm bells were going off at just how involved in this conversation, the dog actually seemed.

"Oh, he's sweet alright," Remus chuckled. "They're not all bad, some people reckon they're more like guardians of the night. Leading people out of danger or onto the right path."

My heart thumped in my chest as I replayed Padfoot leading me out of the sea and to safety, following my weird episode. He was certainly a guardian alright.

"I'm going to go with that version," I told Remus who smiled warmly at me. "I don't think this one is capable of haunting anyone, are you?" Padfoot licked my face and Remus jerked back in surprise.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed, oddly thrown at the affectionate move. "Padfoot, what is wrong with you!"

I patted Padfoot on the head with one hand and rubbed the slobber off my cheek with the other.

"Nah, don't worry about it," I said with a smile. "My parents have dogs, sometimes they just want to love on you," I laughed. Remus didn't look convinced.

"Okay, well, I've taken up enough of your time. I better be going," I said. I crouched down in front of Padfoot and held his massive face in my hands. He panted gently and I couldn't help but think that his breath smelled distinctly minty. I made a mental note to ask Remus where his friend bought his dog treats.

"Thanks for the company little man," I said softly. He nosed his way into my palm, and I patted his head fondly. I stood up and hefted my sliding bag back onto my shoulder.

"And thanks for the history lesson," I smiled at Remus. "I guess I'll see you round the Tesco Extra or something." Remus' brow furrowed and he nodded, absentmindedly.

My short walk home was a blur, spent partially lost in thought about the strange incident in the sea and partially lost in the memory of Remus smiling while he talked about English folklore. His honey-coloured eyes had glittered so brightly in the dim evening light that they could have guided me home through the most savage of storms.

Reliving the last half hour, kept me warm all the way home and I was almost surprised to find myself at my own front door. I couldn't help but peer up at the house next door, wondering how our new neighbours were spending their evening. If Remus had made it home yet. Almost every light in the house was on and they lit up our corner of the road better than the street lamps.

I unlocked the front door and was barely into the hallway before Wendy rushed out to greet me. Her curls were looking especially manic today, sticking up at all angles, like she had been raking her hands through them all day. Her hazel eyes shone in the low lighting and I smiled, despite my crappy day.

"Where the hell have you been?" she demanded. I went to answer but she waved me away almost instantly. "Never mind, it doesn't matter. I have GOSSIP."

I dumped my bag in it's usual spot and followed her with lightning speed into the front room. I settled into the armchair and Wendy perched on the edge of the sofa, her legs bouncing excitedly.

"Okay, go!" I said.

"Marl, this is big. I've found out why the neighbours are so shady. I've cracked it."

"In a day?" I asked. "What did you do, waterboard them?"

She hesitated. "No… I might have hopped the fence when they went out and snooped around their shed though."

I gasped and Wendy didn't even have the sense to look ashamed.

"Wendy! You can't just break in to people's sheds! That's quite literally a crime, you fucking maniac."

"Look," she said dismissively. "A little bit of light B and E never hurt anyone, and it was barely even a break in. The lock on the shed was a joke."

"I don't even know who you are anymore," I shook my head sadly. "Crime has changed you."

"Do you want the gossip or not?" Wendy demanded, practically rocking the whole sofa with her eagerness to tell me this juicy bit of drama.

I sighed. "Go on then if you must. I hope this is worth becoming an accomplice, by the way."

"Oh, it is," she assured me. She paused for dramatic effect and I rolled my eyes. "They're fucking drug dealers!" she revealed grandly.

I blinked at her in complete and utter surprise.

Drug dealers. Well, that had certainly caught me off guard.

"Are you- are you sure?"

Wendy nodded emphatically. "Absolutely, they have a whole set up in the shed. I saw it."

"Well," I said, completely at a loss. Drug dealers.

Growing up in Baywick had meant that we had been exposed to a slightly rougher way of life since a young age. There were two main factions in our little seaside town- the very rich and the very working class. Summer homes and council houses merged messily, showcasing the ugly rivalry underneath the peeling paint and old carnival lights. We were a washed-up holiday destination and the town and it's inhabitants were steeped in bitter nostalgia, desperate to get back to a time when our pubs and beaches were full of tourists and business was booming.

When it became evident that the town was falling into disrepair, the crime rates skyrocketed as did any other kind of ugly statistic you could imagine. We all had after school jobs as kids; some of us were working in retail and others were running weed and cheap variants of coke. Pills had hit the local market in a big way by the time I left for university, with gangs beginning to migrate from London to the coast. It was a harsh reality to face, realising that there were actual consequences to living in a Skins episode. All of this to say that Wendy and I were no strangers to drug dealers. Most of the time, it didn't even come as a shock anymore. But this revelation had thrown me for some reason.

"I wonder what their rates are," I mused. "The last guy we bought weed from just did a gender reveal photoshoot on Facebook with his pregnant girlfriend. Something tells me he won't be open for business for a little while."

"Marlowe, I don't think they're growing weed." Wendy said seriously and I raised my eyebrows.

"God, was it like an episode of Narcos in there?"

"Try Breaking Bad," she said solemnly.

I spluttered in shock. "Meth? Our neighbours are making meth?"

Wendy bolted from the sofa and shushed me, hurriedly. "Jesus Marlowe keep it down! The walls are thin! Do you want them to hear us?"

I tried to regain myself to very little avail. Beautiful Remus, talking about folklore on the beach, was making meth? I just couldn't wrap my head around it.

"Fuck, Wen- what do we do?"

"What do you mean, what do we do?" she asked, rocking back into a squat. "We pretend that I never broke into their shed and that we don't know about their little potion experiments, okay?"

"We can't just pretend we don't know!" I exclaimed. I lowered my voice to a whisper. "They're making meth in a wooden shed, next door to us! It's like you've never heard of a meth lab explosion before."

"Look, let's just focus on the positives here."

I stared at her pointedly.

"At least they were only being rude because they're secretly making meth. This in no way reflects badly on us."

"You cannot be serious," I argued but I sensed that I was fighting a losing battle.

I hated to admit it to myself, but she was making sense. Sort of. I didn't particularly fancy pissing off our new neighbours by reporting them to the police- not only would we have to cop to breaking into their shed in the first place but what if it all went wrong and they smashed our front door in with a bat? It also went entirely against my upbringing to grass on people, but meth did feel a little like a grey area on that one.

I sighed. "Let's just put a pin it in for now, I guess. They might be totally respectful, meth making neighbours. Who knows?"

Sensing that she had won, Wendy stood up and settled onto the sofa again.

"Do you want to finish watching the seventh season of Bake-Off?" she asked, grabbing the remote. "I honestly think Andrew is going to win. You know how good I am at predicting this stuff."

I didn't have the heart to tell her it was going to be Candice and settled in for a long evening of fractious baking.