Before heading to Beryl’s, I did a circuit around the cottages as I’d promised, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. The cottages were picture perfect, the sort you’d see on a jigsaw, but they were very accessible. A single track road was at the front, the road leading to a field where there were bulls at the moment. Another road that was access only ran at the back, that leading to the farm where those said bulls belonged. But there were footpaths that were fed from those tracks, a couple that I already knew led to the beach, not the main beach at Puffin Bay, but Elderwood Sound, a small quiet bay that traffic couldn’t park near, meaning it was quiet. There were also a few huge rocks on the beach that would provide good cover to anyone hangingabout. Another track led onto the coastal path, and from there it wouldn’t take long to get to a parking spot. Trees and bushes were dotted around, and there was an abandoned cowshed about four hundred metres away. Thinking about that made me thankful Roe Holland had installed really good security.
Nothing looked amiss, everything seemed the same as usual, a few fresh bits of litter which could’ve come from visitors or careless teenagers. I headed back home and sent Romy a message to say that everything had been alright.
It hadn’t been, but it wasn’t until the following morning I found that out.
TWELVE
Cassian
Iwoke up stupidly early and didn’t linger in bed to try to go back to sleep. Saturday mornings was the one time when I felt maudlin for my marriage. We’d woken up most Saturdays thankful that we didn’t have to go to work for two whole days and with the freedom only that could bring. The world was our oyster. We could be lazy in bed, or choose to go out for breakfast, or head out for the day making out the plans as we went along. I knew that Jason was living in what’d been my house, and he’d be spending Sunday mornings with Bryony, while I had no one to wake up with, or make those plans with.
So my solution was to not linger. I got up and I moved. Today was a run, all part of pre-season training, as would be the Saturday afternoon pint in the Puffin Inn watching the rugby match that was being shown on TV, especially since Wales was playing England. I ran along the coastal path, meeting at least a dozen dog walkers even though it was only just past seven. I saw red squirrels, countless seabirds and fishing boats heading back from their morning catch.
By the time I got back to Beryl’s I was glad I hadn’t woken up anywhere else today, and was making my own plans for what was looking like a gorgeous day where the only place anyone should be was at the beach.
Maybe I’d buy a paddle board and take it out. Maybe I’d go and watch the local cricket team play at home. Or do both. No one else had a say.
I showered, read the paper that Beryl had forgotten to have cancelled while she was away, and made a fresh pot of coffee, which I drank in the garden, listening to the bird song and thoroughly glad about what had happened to lead me to being here.
I headed into town about one, having researched paddle boards and ordered one for delivery next week. A decent late breakfast was in order and a meander around the town that looked to be shimmering in the sunshine. Next week I had a couple of meetings with builders about the schoolhouse, with the chair of governors accompanying me mainly to discuss the budgets, so my weekend might not be as free.
Thoughts of kitchens and new bathrooms were the only thing occupying me as I walked into the Puffin Inn, the place half-filled already. Amelie was at the bar, pulling a pint for Morris, one of the town elders. She looked puzzled when she saw me.
“Any update from Romy?”
I frowned. “What do you mean? Is Romy okay?”
Amelie set Morris’ pint in front of him. “Let it settle and I’ll top it up. Sorry, Cas, didn’t you hear? Someone broke into Cara’s house last night and the house next door. Romy’s fine – I think she’s just shaken up.”
I cursed under my breath. “Who do they think’s done it?”
She shook her head. “They think it’s connected with Cara. The house next door is where Mavis’ friend, Jayne lives. She didn’t wake up – just went downstairs this morning and foundher house had been turned upside down. They’d torn open cushions and gone through all her drawers. She’s no idea what they were looking for.”
“Shit. Is she okay?” I had no idea how old Jayne was. Mavis was rumoured to be a hundred and eleven by some, others put her at around eighty, which I figured was about right.
“Jayne’s fine. She’s going to stay with her daughter for a few days and we said we’d sort out the house as best we can. Romy’s been here with the girls this morning to speak to Liv. Joel's mum met her here too – she was looking after Heidi and Mia for the afternoon.” Amelie pointed to the tap that poured the beer I’d been having when I came here.
I shook my head. “Coffee, please, and an all-day Welsh breakfast. I’ll go and check on Romy.”
“Let me guess, you were going to watch the rugby?”
I nodded. “Here early to get a good seat. I’ll head back and see if she’s there.” She might’ve gone out for the day herself, or be shopping or something that had nothing to do with me. She might not want me interfering.
Amelie gave me a knowing grin. “She’s pretty, is Romy. And super-bright. Her job is all numbers and I don’t even understand what it is that she actually does. She’s one of the toughest people I know.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I knew exactly why.
“Just thought I’d point those things out, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
Her fiancé, Roman, breezed past. “Is she plotting again?”
“I think she is.” I shook my head at Amelie. “Interfering.”
He laughed, slipped behind the bar and started to pull himself a pint. “She makes a living out of it. Why don’t you bring your neighbour down here? Or am I interfering now?”
“You are. I’ll see if she wants to watch the rugby.” After what we’d talked about last night, I suspected she did.
Amelie wiped her hands on a towel. “I think we’d feel better if she was down here rather than on her own.”
