A Long Time Coming

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A Long Time Coming

The kettle in the background whistled, and Rachel Baxter sluggishly stood up from the sofa to prepare a strong brew of coffee. All she wanted was a coffee, strong, black and no sugar. She had had a long night catching up on all the paperwork, which was meant to have been prepared for her manager’s press conference that morning. Of course this meant she would have to go in early that morning in order to get it to him on time. To her it was critical to have a cup of coffee every day, especially this early. She grabbed the cup of coffee, and sat down at the table. She firmly pressed her lips against the cup and sipped at the revitalizing drink as she flicked through a travel brochure that had come through the post. While looking through it she realized what she really needed was a holiday. She hadn’t been on a proper holiday in two years, or at least not since she broke up with her boyfriend. Then of course she had to admit that the busy hustle and bustle of life in New York made time pass quickly.

        As she considered the different places she could travel to, she remembered being told about a small island off the coast of Massachusetts. Her mother, who had been brought up on Nantucket Island, had told her many stories about when she was young. It was apparently a quaint little island, surrounded my many beautiful beaches. This sounded exactly what she needed, and so went to the phone to call her manager and ask for holiday leave. She felt sure her request would be accepted as she had often worked many hours overtime when many of her other colleagues were off enjoying themselves for a week or two. In addition to that, she had also just celebrated her 23rd birthday. In fact she didn’t even celebrate it, nor take any time off and do anything for it. The phone began to ring through.

“Mr. Fogarty’s office, how may I help you?” said her manager’s receptionist.

“Hi, this is Rachel. Could I speak to Mr. Fogarty please?”

“Yes ma’am, right away.” Replied Miss Jones, the receptionist.

After a few seconds silence, Mr. Fogarty’s deep voice was on the line.

“Rachel, what time do you plan on coming in this morning? And don’t you dare tell me you can’t because I need those files as soon as possible, which means I better see you over here in the next half-hour or my career could be at stake. You understand?”

“Yes Sir, I’ll be there,” replied Rachel

“I was actually wanting to speak to you about holiday leave. As you know I haven’t been on holiday in about two years. I was kind of wondering if you would allow me to go on holiday for a week in two days time.

“Of course, you deserve it. As long as you can get those files to me on time and come back prepared to work,” replied Mr. Fogarty.

“Thank you very much.” Rachel said in appreciation.

“Bye” said Mr. Fogarty.

        The phone clicked and Rachel put down the phone and went back into the kitchen to finish off her coffee. “All I have to do now is book my holiday,” she said to herself as she walked out of the door.

        Rachel booked a little cottage in a wooded area right beside the ocean.  The travel brochure said it was walking distance away from the town and was surrounded by gorgeous scenery.

        On the day of her departure she got a taxi down to Hyannis, the small town where she would then get on a ferry. As she got out at the harbour she was completely unaware of the dark secret that awaited her on Nantucket Island.

Rachel sat on a wooden bench by the harbour, waiting for the ferry that would take her to the island. “I need to see your ticket ma’am,” said the elderly ticket woman passing by. She handed her ticket over to the woman, who then gave it back with a warm smile. That smile, she had seen it before, but where? It then came flooding back to her. It resembled the smile her mother had given her before she left the house for the very last time. She dwelt on that smile for a moment, and wondered what it would be like if her mother were still alive, if she hadn’t been murdered. The case on her murder had eventually been closed, as the police were unable to find the murderer.

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 Rachel was suddenly brought back to reality, as she was interrupted by a young lady rushing up to her. “Excuse me. Do you have the time?” she politely asked. Rachel sighed inwardly. She didn’t feel like talking, but still, a question had been asked and a reply was needed.” 10:30 “ she responded in a quiet voice, as she looked up from her watch. She still had half an hour to wait and was unable to think of any other way to pass the time other than to gaze into the distance and enjoy the sound of the sea, which ...

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