‘From my days at Perranporth,’ she confirms.
She was a GP at the surgery there when I was at school. Finn and his family must have been registered at her practice.
‘How is he?’ she asks, her brow etched with concern.
‘He’s good,’ I reply, her expression making me feel uneasy. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘I know what he went through,’ she answers sombrely, before letting out an audible sigh. ‘Obviously, I can’t talk about my patients, but be careful, Liv. His mother was a very troubled soul.’
‘Mum, Finn isnothis mother.’ It comes out sounding sharper than I had intended.
I do vaguely recall the rumours and the articles in the local papers following her disappearance, pieces that spoke of issues with drink and drugs.
‘That’s true, but I will say this,’ Mum starts, tightening her dressing gown in a gesture that I am so familiar with. ‘You don’t go through something like that and come out the other side unscathed. Practise caution, Liv. I’m begging you.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
Michael lives on Stippy Stappy, a quaint row of eighteenth-century terraced stone cottages that step sideways up the steep hill towards town. His door is robin-egg blue and there’s a bench outside that catches the afternoon sunshine. I’m walking past his place the following day when I see Finn approaching in the opposite direction.
He’s wearing navy swimming trunks and a white T-shirt, with beach towels draped around his neck.
‘Hello,’ he says with a broad grin.
‘Hello,’ I reply, my heart cartwheeling.
‘Where are you off to?’ he asks, coming to a stop.
‘Bakery.’
I can’t help looking at him with new eyes, my mum’s warning ringing around my head.
‘Careful,’ he admonishes as two boys roughly shove past him. ‘Oi!’ he shouts as they go to push past me too. ‘Watch your manners with my friend.’
They stop abruptly and look up at me and I vaguely recognise them from around here, but now the similarities between them and Finn jump out at me: the long lashes and bluey-green eyes of the older boy and the dark hair and dimples of the younger, who is grinning at me.
‘These are my brothers,’ Finn corroborates, ‘Tyler,’ he points at the taller boy with the long lashes, ‘and Liam.’
‘Hi,’ I manage before they head off.
‘Wait for me at the stream!’ Finn shouts after them before returning his attention to me. ‘Fuck me, they’re hard work.’
I laugh. ‘Did you all drink fertiliser when you were younger? Tyler’s eyelashes are almost as long as yours.’
He looks amused. ‘My nan wanted them out of the house, so I offered to take them to the beach.’
I give him a quizzical look. ‘How old are they? And where does Jimmy fit in?’
Neither of those boys is anywhere near old enough to have produced a one-year-old nephew for him.
‘Liam is ten and Tyler’s twelve and Jimmy is my sister’s son,’ he replies with a lopsided smile. ‘Well, half-sister,’ he clarifies. ‘She’s seven years older than me. My dad was married with two small children when he shagged my mum and got her pregnant.’
He says this in a throwaway manner, but his eyes lack their usual sparkle.
I’m saved from responding when the door of Michael’s house opens and my brother steps out.
‘Liv!’ he yells with delight.
‘Hey!’ I reply, stiffening.
