I didn’t expected to hear anything back from him, so I was surprised when my phone started to vibrate with an incoming call, the name ‘Cassian Head Teacher’ coming up on the screen.
I headed downstairs, not wanting to wake the girls, answering the call as I reached the kitchen.
“Hey.” How exactly did you greet a head teacher on a Friday night.
“I thought I’d check in and make sure you were okay.” His voice was soothing. I imagined he’d been a good classroom teacher before he became a head.
“All fine. The girls are asleep and I’m wondering what to do with myself.” Which was true. Usually I’d be having a glass of wine or two, watching something easy on TV or reading a book. Occasionally, one of the other mums from school would come round and we’d have a drink together.
That was how life was now. How it had been for the last half a decade.
“I’m kind of the same. I don’t even have a TV yet. One’s being delivered tomorrow.” His laugh was full of self-deprecation. “I can run a school but not my own life.”
“I’m sure you’ll be fine at that when you’ve got in the swing of things.” I took a glass out of the cupboard and half-filled it with red wine. “It just takes time to get used to a new normal.” Look at me sounding all wise. I almost laughed at myself.
“I’ll accept that given I think you know what you’re talking about.” He fell quiet, a pause. ““I don't mean to overstep – but with your history, you probably know a lot about adapting tounexpected circumstances. I don't know how I would have coped with a loss like that.”
It was times like these when I felt like Joel was still around, or maybe it was the idea of him, or me willing for it to be so. He felt so very far away some days, but what happened also felt like it was just yesterday when he didn’t come home.
“The whole island knows what happened to Joel. He saved a boy’s life but lost his own. They were never able to find his body.” Which was hard, although we had the statue that commemorated him as a place to go to mourn or remember. “He was a good man.”
“He must’ve been. I’ll change the topic – I shouldn’t have brought him up really. What did the social worker say about Mia’s mum?”
I updated him, talking through what we knew versus what I suspected.
“I know she’s had a couple of boyfriends who’ve been in trouble with the police, mainly for dealing drugs. That’s just the Puffin Bay gossip. I know Cara enough to talk to about Mia, but she never gives anything else away.” Which made me more curious now.
“Were you worried about Mia before?”
“A little. She was unkempt and I sometimes wanted to take her home for a bath and to wash her clothes. I knew she spent time on her own but I’d figured it was because Cara was sleeping or something like that, rather than her being totally on her own. What do you know?” I sipped on the wine, enjoying the taste, enjoying having someone to talk to of the male variety.
“The teachers had concerns at school, but I can’t go into any more detail.” He sounded regretful. “Not yet. Hopefully Cara comes back tomorrow and she can look after Mia properly.”
The sinking feeling in my stomach told me a few things. “I don’t think she will. I think Mia knows something too that she’s keeping hidden.” I couldn’t put my finger on what it was.
“I hope she does come home,” he said, the sound of something pouring in the background. “You’ve got a busy weekend otherwise.”
“It’s easier with two. They occupy each other. When it’s just me and Heidi she wants my company all the time which is nice, because when she’s a teenager I’ll be the equivalent of chopped liver, but being her sole companion is equally draining at the same time.”
“What are you doing with them tomorrow?”
I sensed he was talking now just to be polite.
“Breakfast. Beach. Amelie’s Cakery for a snack, and then the beach again. There’s usually a group running kids’ activities on the beach and if not, there’ll be something going on in the community centre.”
He asked about the town, the community centre and exactly how far Amelie’s influence spread through Puffin Bay, which meant the time ticked on until nearly ten, by which time my glass was empty and I had a decent buzz going on.
“So who owns the brewery?” he asked. “Which one of the brothers?”
“Finn. He’s the eldest. Roe codes apps and things like that, and does something involving cyber security but I don’t know exactly what, which is probably the point. Gully is a crime writer. His friend Ivy died a couple of years ago. One of the beaches nearby has an arch covered in ivy which is kind of a memorial for her.” It was times like this when I was reminded of how it was to be in a small town where everyone really did know your business, your life story and how you buttered your toast.
It was both comforting and scary.
“I think I need a list of characters to understand who’s who,” he said, sounding like he was lying down.
“You’ll know them soon enough. They’ll already know you – trust me.” I sighed, thinking of those jungle drums. “They’ll know soon enough about Cara too. That might be how we find where she’s gone.”
“If she doesn’t turn up tomorrow, which she might. She might just be having a wild night out somewhere.”
