‘Then go. We can do cake another day.’
‘Thank you.’
I run out of the door in my damp clothes, passing several people entering the hotel. My car is at the back of the car park in the staff area and I can’t get there fast enough. My girls – they need me. Millie can’t get out of nursery until I actually get there, but with Rosie, it’s different. I know a teacher normally waits with the children but what if they left her because it’s so windy and chilly. Maybe the teacher didn’t notice her because I know Rosie likes to sit on the dwarf wall that is enshrouded by bushes. She’s on her own and scared, I can feel it. My heart pounds as my mind’s eye feeds me images of her leaving the playground to look for me after the teacher has gone back into the school. My worst nightmare is coming true. She knows the route home. Maybe she tried to walk. A twig almost hits me as a gust of wind propels it in my direction. A few raindrops begin to fall. Rosie – someone has taken her, I know it. It’ll all be my fault if she’s gone.
My phone rings so I answer on hands-free as I start the engine. ‘Hello.’
‘Kate, where are you?’ Damien sounds concerned.
‘I’m on my way. Has the school called?’
‘The nursery has. I’m just leaving to get Millie now.’
‘Something’s happened to her, I know it.’ My heart is banging in my chest.
‘Kate, calm down. I’m sure Rosie’s—’
I cut the connection. She’s not fine. The school hasn’t called. I press my foot on the accelerator and speed out of the car park, nearly crashing into a car entering. Slamming on my brakes, I take a deep breath and start again as the man mouths angry words at me.
When I take my mind off the things that are important to me, bad things happen. Really bad things.
FOUR
NATALIE
Natalie started to pack up for the day. Every man and his dog had wanted their finest Cornish ice cream, despite the wind howling the way it had been all week. That’s what happens after a death. People sympathy buy. She thought people might avoid her with them not knowing what to say but they’d all come out, buying ice cream in support and now she was exhausted. She needed time to nurse a glass of whisky alone while she thought about how Alan’s life had been cut short.
He was fit, always up with the birds and ate a healthy diet, but a heart attack got him in the end. Natalie slammed a lid on the chocolate chip, then she pressed it hard as if it were to blame. Ice cream – that had been his only downfall and he’d eaten lots of it. All that sugar and fat got him in the end.
She grabbed the local rag and skimmed the pages until she stopped on the article.
Community in shock as much loved ice-cream man, Alan Thomas, dies of a heart attack.
Why wouldn’t the local paper run an article? He’d been a pillar of the community all his life and his parents had owned the shop before him. She scanned through it, all of it good. They didn’t see what she saw. Alan was far from the perfect husband.
All day people had popped in with cake. That’s what people do when they face the grief of others, they give food and sympathy, both of which made her uncomfortable.
She stared out of the shop window. Transfixed by the power of nature. With this savage landscape on their doorstep, Alan finally died of a heart attack. Not from boating, sea swimming or abseiling – all dangerous pursuits of his in the past.
Danger splashed up the harbour walls, spray hitting any unsuspecting person who strayed too close to the edge. She’d watched the fishing boats being cleaned after their catch, the workers on them swaying back and forth as they washed away the blood and grime of the day.
During happier times in their marriage, they loved to walk around the fish market, taking in the boxes of mackerel, lemon sole and John Dory. That’s what it was all about. The dangers and perils of the sea gave them the best seafood. It didn’t come much fresher. She reached into the fridge and grabbed the pale and lumpy cottage pie that Laura had made for her. That was as good as it was going to get. She shook her thoughts away. Even after all the accusations she had thrown at Laura when she thought it was her who was having an affair with Alan, Laura had proved she was still her friend. She should be grateful and she was.
She checked her phone to see what the weather was going to be like the next day. Sun always equalled ice-cream sales and she hoped for sun, even in October. If only Alan had life insurance but both of them decided not to bother. Big mistake. The stormy outlook could do one or it was going to be a frugal winter for her. Frugal and now lonely. What a combination. She grabbed a flaked chocolate out of the jar and began eating it as a tear slipped down her cheek. Had he ever loved her? That was a question she’d never be able to ask him now.
She flicked over to another page in the paper and an article caught her attention. Baby Jessica. Twenty-Five Years On. That case had broken her heart at the time. It had broken everyone’s heart, but now Jessica was no more than a lesson that the media rehashed now and again to remind people to watch their children when walking by the harbour and on the pier. Today, they were going for it large with it being a big anniversary date. She almost choked on her chocolate as she read it and held the sobs back.
‘Damn, Nat. Pull yourself together.’ She closed the paper and scrolled through Facebook. So many condolences, she didn’t know how she was ever going to get through them, then she stopped on the Remembering Baby Jess page.
Many people believed it was the father’s fault for not supervising his baby properly, others speculated as to whether someone else was involved in her drowning. An accidental drowning was believable. Drunk father left in charge of tiny baby. It’s so easy to lose concentration for a moment. Shaking her head, she scrolled down the other posts on the page, clicking on some of the comments. Two restaurants had planted adverts under the posts on the page, telling tourists about their daily specials. She let out a sigh, wondering when it became okay to be that morally bankrupt but then again, social media was morally bankrupt in many ways.
She clicked on another picture. A tiny baby with swirls of wispy brown hair and her gummy little mouth filled the profile picture box. Bright eyes and peachy skin. She was a beautiful baby and if she and Alan had had children, she’d have wanted a baby that looked just like Jessica. She often wondered what it would feel like to cradle her own little baby in her arms, a warm bundle that she’d do anything for, but it wasn’t to be. After several failed attempts at IVF, their souls had been destroyed and they chose not to try again.
The bell rang and Mary entered, her fifty-five years on the planet not showing on her face at all. Natalie stood erect behind the counter with folded arms.
Mary’s black leather jacket had half-slipped off her shoulders to reveal a low-cut leopard-print top. She pulled it back on properly. ‘I’ll take a box of your finest salted caramel for the pub.’
‘Right.’
