A quick hop in Rosie’s car followed by a two-minute walk to the harbour, and Mattie found herself judging the iced Americano that the waitress had placed in front of her. “I’ll give you the win. It’s decent coffee.” Open brick walls were decorated with arty black and white photographs. The soft-focus prints featured views of the harbour and fishing boats, adding to the cosy vibe of the place. It was ideal after the trauma of this morning. If only she could get rid of the smell of charred wood still lingering in her nostrils. “It’s a busy place.”
“It’s just as popular with locals as it is with tourists.” Rosie stirred another sachet of brown sugar into her latte. “I can’t believe I’m here with you. I mean, we studied you during my journalism module at university. Your work, I mean. Not you, obviously. Oh god, I’m burbling.” She took a large slurp of her coffee. “Believe it or not, I’m usually pretty good with words.”
“Don’t worry, it happens to all of us. You should’ve heard me when I interviewed Cate Blanchett. I was a burbling mess of a puddle. She was gorgeous.” Mattie swooned at the memory that made her smile. Her career hadn’t just been all war zones and relentless trauma. It was good to remember that.
“If only I had the chance.” Rosie laughed. “I know: typical lesbian.”
That comment confirmed there was nothing wrong with Mattie’s gaydar as far as Rosie went. What about Nell? There was something there, Mattie was fairly sure of that, but she came across as a private person. Closeted, maybe? Or perhaps she simply didn’t share her personal life with her neighbours, even though Angie seemed to be a good friend. Mattie had to tread carefully here. “Nell was a lot more chilled when I met her at your mum’s last night. Is she normally so officious?”
Rosie nodded, her eyes wide. “There’s no messing with her. She’s super professional, and she’s very highly regarded. Mum’s been friends with her ever since Nell bought the house next door. She used to babysit me and my sister. I was a bolshie kid, but she’s far too classy to hold that against me. Really, Nell’s lovely, very caring, and nurturing.”
As well as frosty, bordering on icy. Though it could be fun to melt her,ifMattie was up for a holiday fling, which shewasn’t. “And she’s always lived alone?”
Rosie tilted her head to the side as she considered. “From what I remember, yes. It’s not something you take much notice of when you’re a kid. Why?”
“Just curious. She’s intriguing,” said Mattie.
Rosie’s lips twitched. “I’ve never seen her with a woman, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Mattie raised her eyebrows in response.
Rosie’s phone buzzed and she read the message. “My editor’s bugging me about my story. Can I ask you a few questions about what you saw?” At Mattie’s nod, she continued. “I saw your video footage. I was so scared for that mum and her kid, even though I knew they’d be saved in the end. It must have been terrifying to watch it happen in real time.”
Mattie tsked. That wasn’t a question; it was a statement, a ploy to get her to open up emotionally. Next thing, she’d be asking about Kenya and comparing the two experiences.Howdid it feel to be confronted with your worst nightmare?No way was she talking about that. “The two men who saved the baby were incredibly brave. They’re heroes,” she said instead, wondering if Rosie had the experience to recognise she was purposely ignoring the nuance of her question. “I was only in the area because I was taking a trip down memory lane, revisiting places I went to as a child. I smelled the smoke first. The fire spread so quickly.” Mattie’s breath caught in her chest at the memory of it. She gulped a too-large mouthful of coffee.
“How did you feel?”
“It was...scary to watch.” There, that was the sound bite Rosie was after. “Honestly, Rosie, that’s all I want to say. I’m way happier being behind the camera than I am with being the interviewee.”
“That’s great. I mean, not that it was scary. I mean for your answers. For talking to me at all, really.” Rosie pushed her stool back and stood up. “I wish I didn’t have to rush off.” She extended her hand. “Thanks again.”
“You’re welcome. Good luck with your story.” Mattie watched her go. How wonderful to be that young without the burden of life’s scars.
Scars.She shook her head and caught a whiff of smoke in her hair. She needed fresh air. No, more than that. To escape from the trauma of this morning’s events and the memories it had stirred. That meant getting away from the entire town as quickly as possible. The sensible option was catching a bus or hailing a taxi back to Cove House. But being in an enclosed space? Unbearable. Giving up control to a stranger driving the vehicle? Unthinkable. Total control was the only thing that would keep her from falling to pieces, which meant she’d have to walk.
Swathes of tourists milled on the promenade around the harbour without any perception that they were blocking the way. “Keep moving or stand at the side so people can get past!” Shewouldn’t normally be so rude, but the emotions swirling inside her meant she’d push people into the water if she needed to.
The couple ambling at tortoise pace glared at her over their shoulders. Mattie swirled around them and forged ahead. Her eyes were dry and gritty. She ought to stop and delve into her backpack for eye drops, but a space opened up ahead, and she took the opportunity to get past the worst of the dawdling crowds.
The wide promenade soon ran out as the sandy cove curled round to a rocky promontory, narrowing to a pavement alongside the busy road.Fuck. She hated road walking. Her legs moaned at each step pounding on hard concrete, on and on and on.
Eventually, the pavement dipped away from the road and down to a wide bay. Hell, she was thirsty. She downed the last sip of water from her flask, and it wasn’t nearly enough. There was a kiosk ahead. She ought to buy a bottle of water, but the queue was too damn long.
Time for more sunscreen too. Her skin was hot to the touch and her fingertips tingled, just as they’d done in Kenya when she’d grabbed the burning debris pinning Jon down. It hadn’t budged, nor had Jon. Not even when she’d resorted to kicking the flaming ceiling panel and had inadvertently caught him with the side of her foot.
The shells of her ears were melting. What to do? The fire was gobbling up the choices left open to her, to save herself and Jon.
BANG!
She started, her head jerking in the direction of the sound.You’re in Devon. Not Kenya. A lorry had hit a speed bump too quickly, and its load had shifted. That was all. A simple cause and effect. The IED had been loud when it detonated too. Deafening, that much she could describe. But the rest of it? Aconcertina of sound that was too much all at once to pick apart. And then a profound, shocked silence before everything went to hell as the hotel’s conference room caved in on itself.
She was a reel of cotton thread, rapidly unravelling. The adrenaline that’d kept her together since the moment she’d smelled the smoke had dissipated. What had her therapist taught her to do if she had an anxiety attack?Fuck. Can’t remember.
Shona, she’d know what to do. Mattie fumbled for her phone. There was no point in ringing because Shona would most likely be in clinic, but a WhatsApp message might work. She sent a text and stared at her phone for a few minutes, but Shona didn’t pick it up. So she walked. The sea sparkled like silver fireflies were dancing on its silky surface. So beautiful. So deceptive. She hated their duplicity.
Her phone rang but by the time she got it out, it’d gone to voicemail.
“Hey, Mattie. Got your message,” said Shona. “I wish I was talking to you in person, but hopefully you’ll get this voicemail in time. You need to do 5-5-5, yes? Breathe in deeply for five seconds, hold it for five seconds, and then breathe out for five seconds. I’ll do it with you.”
