Plus, speaking to Romy had been different. We weren’t talking about feelings or anything like that, although I’d heard her embarrassment when she’d mentioned women throwing knickers a la Tom Jones.
She thought I was attractive, which was nice to know. I’d thought she was stunning, probably a thought I shouldn’t have given she was the parent of a child in my school, and while relationships between parents and teachers or school staff could happen, at this moment I knew I’d be unwise to even consider getting involved with anyone.
Which lead onto another thought, this one about Mia and her mum. I hadn’t heard from Romy this morning, which suggested there were no new developments. I hadn’t heard from the social worker or the police either, which was who it now lay with to investigate.
The tide was out when I got down to the beach, the car park just before it packed with cars, some families struggling out carrying buckets and windbreakers at the same time from trying to wrangle their children.
I saw a couple of the kids from school with their parents, waving back to them, their parents asking the kids who I was if they hadn’t met me already. Tim Lawson’s mum waved a little too enthusiastically and then looked really embarrassed before moving away quickly. Another family looked over as if they expected me to be dressed up in a clown’s costume or something. I suspect I disappointed them.
I took a short walk on the beach, envious of the people with dogs, determined to get one of my own, knowing that watching the dogs was my way of not admitting that I was hoping to see Romy.
I didn’t have to pretend to not be hoping for that for long.
“Mr Caddick! Mr Caddick!” The voice was clearly Heidi’s and it was getting closer.
I spun round, pleased to see Mia running over to me with her, both carrying buckets and spades.
Romy was behind them, her feet bare, cropped pants showing off the start of tanned legs and her mahogany hair tied up in a messy bun thing. She was smiling at me, her cheeks flushed and I noticed that she was carrying a bucket too, along with a backpack.
“Let me guess, have you been building sandcastles?” I crouched down so I was at their level. The school ran from reception to year six, so four to eleven-year-olds. As a teacher,I’d only taught from year four and up, most of my career spent teaching year six, preparing them for secondary school, but I’d always wished I’d had chance to teach the younger ones too.
“We built a huge one with a moat and then we demoli-sed it at the end,” Heidi said.
“Demolished. With a sh in it. It’s a good word.”
Heidi repeated it, correctly this time. “My mum helped demolish it too. And Mia.”
I looked at Mia, aware that Romy was on her way over, not wanting to stare at her or see if she was studying me. I focused on Mia instead, who was smiling, her eyes shining and her hair wind-blown.
“How are you this morning, Mia? Did you sleep well?” I crouched down so I was at her level.
Mia nodded, not seeming as shy as she had before. “I didn’t wake up until late.”
“Mia had a long lie in,” Heidi said, bending down to pick up a shell. “We didn’t want to wake her because she’d been so tired.”
One of the things Romy had said on the phone was that Mia had seemed suddenly exhausted before she’d gone to bed. Romy had asked her how she was sleeping at home, if she was waking up a lot, and Mia had said she’d not slept much.
We’d figured she’d been kept awake either because she was worried or because something was going on in her house that was scaring her.
“So Heidi had to practice being quiet this morning.”
I looked up and saw Romy standing with us, her bucket on the sand next to Heidi. I stood back up, noticing how she was bare of any make-up, her skin-tinged pink from the breeze and the sunshine.
“Morning.” I wasn’t sure if there was a less-awkward greeting. “The beach is busier than I thought it would be.” Nothing like small talk. I was pretty good at small talk, I hadto be, given my job. Finding things to say to small people and parents could sometimes be like scraping a very empty barrel, especially when your own barrel was empty after the end of a long week.
“Day trippers and weekenders. It’ll be like this every weekend now until the end of September. Then you’ll get to experience an island autumn.” She ruffled Mia’s hair. “Every season on this beach feels different, doesn’t it, girls?”
There were nods, some chatter about favourite seasons and then they saw someone they knew and trotted over to them, Romy watching them carefully.
“Has Mia said any more about her mother?” I was really concerned about Mia. The signs were there for a child who was being neglected, and reports had been made to social services from the school’s deputy head, who was also the safeguarding lead. There was also the local gossip about what Cara did or didn’t do: irregular work, a couple of boyfriends who had reputations for criminal activity – which didn’t mean it was true, but experience had taught me that there was definitely no smoke without fire. There had been a couple of concerns raised about Cara not collecting Mia, and Mia’s attendance was low enough to have caused a formal letter to be sent to Cara saying that she was at risk of being fined if Mia’s attendance didn’t improve.
“Nothing. She went very quiet the two times I mentioned her mum. I think she’s been told to not talk about something.”
We walked along the beach, the girls’ and Romy’s buckets now carried by us as they were busy hunting shells with their friends.
“Have you heard from the social worker?” I knew it wasn’t guaranteed.
“I had a phone call this morning just to say they were still liaising with the police to find Cara. They’ve been in touch with Cara’s aunt, who hasn’t heard from her in weeks. She would bethe next of kin to look after Mia, but she’s not able to. She’s got chronic COPD and is on oxygen most of the day.” Romy handed a bucket to Heidi. “Five minutes and we’re going to the cakery.”
