“Oh, no, thanks. I wouldn’t want to intrude. Besides, I have plans with Watson to eat this delicious lasagna made by your lovely sister.”
“Your boyfriend?” Bradford asked, watching her intently.
She laughed. “No, my cat. I’ve got to get home to feed him or he might destroy my armchair. He likes to sharpen his claws on the fabric for some reason, especially if I’m late getting his dinner.”
“Come on, Brad, you’re not getting out of cleaning the fish this time,” Elias shouted from the other end of the dock.
Bradford glanced back at his father impatiently. “Well, maybe you could come fishing with us next time.”
“I’d love that,” Charmaine replied.
She watched Bradford walk away. He looked over his shoulder at her once before heading off in the direction of the fish cleaning station nearby. Aidan and Elias joined him, and the three of them got to work. Charmaine sat on the end of the dock for a few minutes watching the quiet water sloshing against the pylons until the last vestiges of the sunset were gone and the town was bathed in darkness.
There were a few streetlights still glowing when she walked back through the town to her flat above the florist’s. Upstairs, she caught Watson with his claws embedded in the fabric at the base of the armchair, his back stretched out. He looked up at her when she opened the door without the slightest trace of guilt on his sleepy face.
“No, Watson,” she said in frustration. “Step away from the armchair. That fabric isn’t going to sharpen your claws.” Perhaps she should make him some kind of claw sharpening station so he’d leave her furniture alone.
She fed him quickly and took his attention away from the chair. Then she heated up a large slice of lasagna for herself and placed the rest of it in the fridge. With only one person to feed, it was likely to last for days.
It reminded her of the casserole and lasagna dishes that’d piled up on the hall table before her mother’s funeral. Mum’s former colleagues, friends, and neighbours, as well as people who knew Charmaine, dropped by with their condolences and often with a dish of food.
Once they handed over the dish, they didn’t seem to know what to do. They shuffled in place, unable to make eye contact for long. Whispered a few platitudes, then scurried back to their cars. There were a few people who remained longer, held conversations with her, showed genuine concern for her wellbeing.
It was amazing to Charmaine how quickly loss and grief revealed who was able to handle the pain of others and who couldn’t face it. It thinned the crowd in a rapid fashion until she came to the realisation that there was nothing and no one worth remaining in Newcastle for after the funeral. No need to stay there any longer. Without her mother, it didn’t feel like home.
The lasagna was delightful and melted in her mouth, cheese oozing from the béchamel sauce. The new book in her shoulder bag cried out for her attention, so she sat at the small dining table and opened it up to read. When she was mid paragraph, her mobile phone rang. She set down the book and answered the phone with a yawn.
“Yes, this is Chaz.”
“Hi, Chaz, it’s Sean again. Don’t hang up.”
She really should’ve added his number to her address book. Her heart thudded against her rib cage as adrenaline surged. “Sean. What a surprise.”
“You know I’m in town. You saw me, just like I saw you.”
She inhaled a sharp breath. “Okay then, why are you here? What do you want?”
“I want to meet up. There are things we need to talk about.”
“I don’t know…”
“You can’t hide forever, you know.”
She let her eyes drift shut. It was tempting — hiding forever. If she did that, she’d never have to face the truth of what the past held in its grimy little hands. So many secrets, so much unknown. The regret swamped her sometimes, but she’d gotten better at putting it behind her — as if the past was a creature she could shove into a small room and lock the door on.
“I wasn’t hiding,” she whispered.
“Yes, you were. But the question is, what were you hiding from? From the police, from me, from the past…That’s what I’m still not certain about. Maybe it was all of those things. Was it, sis?”
“Why would I hide from the police?” she asked.
He laughed. “Good question. Why would you? Why would you run away and hide?”
“I’ll say it again — I’m not hiding. Yes, maybe I wanted to leave that place and start my life afresh because there was nothing left for me there. But I didn’t change my name, did I? It couldn’t have been too difficult to locate me because here you are.”
“That’s true, I suppose.”
“You were the one who disappeared without a trace,” she said, her voice rising.
