‘You sure don’t travel light, boy,’ I muttered as I hefted the holdall containing kibble, food bowls and his favourite toys down the steps from the mansion-house flat and into the back of the car. Fletcher was pacing impatiently along the back seat, clearly anxious to be on our way. How he knew we were going anywhere more exciting than the vet was a mystery, but he was certainly keen to go. In a strange way, so was I. I’d delivered hundreds of cakes to customers over the years, yet there was an excitement to this trip that defied all explanation. Plus it would be a nice distraction from my failed attempt to find Josh. I’d had weeks to think of a new plan and had come up empty.
I refocused my mind on the six-hour drive ahead of me as I did one final check of the flat and reached for my warm, padded coat. But as I threw it over my arm, I noticed a mosaic pattern of dirty pawprints covering the fabric. I’d forgotten that Fletcher’s last walk had ended with both of us looking as though we’d been mud-wrestling. There was no way I could wear the soiled coat, and my only other option was a much thinner jacket.‘It’ll be freezing up there at this time of year,’Raegan had warned, and I assumed she knew what she was talking about.
With a sigh I went from hallway to bedroom and opened the wardrobe doors on the far side of the room. There’d been days when I’d stood for worrying lengths of time in front of Adam’s clothes, inhaling the lingering scent of him. I’d certainly put off clearing out his wardrobe far longer than the bereavement books said I should. It was the final wall to scale in the long process of saying goodbye, and although I knew it would feel like crawling over broken glass, I resolved to tackle the task when I got back from this mini break.
But right now, I was grateful I’d delayed, because it meant that Adam’s thick cashmere coat was still hanging exactly where he’dleft it, at the back of the closet. I pulled the navy garment from its hanger but resisted the urge to try it on. I already knew the warm woollen fabric would be more than a match for whatever weather Northumberland chose to throw at us.
‘That has to be the bonniest cake I’ve ever seen.’
It was probably the fifth or sixth time Raegan’s mum had said this, but the joy on her face every time she took ‘another wee peek’ at her cake was in no danger of growing old.
‘And you say our Rae did this?’ asked my friend’s father, scratching first the stubble on his chin and then his not inconsiderable belly. It looked like he was already anticipating the first slice. I had no idea if the cake would arrive intact or minus a slice or two for the party the next day, but I’d done my bit – I’d got it from my home to theirs without mishap.
‘Yes, Raegan pretty much made it herself. I was more of an assistant.’ I had no qualms about switching the truth a little. It was worth it to see the pride in her parents’ eyes.
‘Are you sure you won’t stay for a bite to eat, Lily?’ Raegan’s mum pressed.
Yet again I shook my head. ‘I really should be going. I don’t want to be searching for my accommodation in the dark. But thank you again for the tea.’ I got to my feet, giving Fletcher a meaningful look where he was lying in front of the fire. He rose reluctantly, about as enthusiastic as I was to leave the warmth of the lounge and go back out into the cold. But the house was rapidly filling with visiting relatives for tomorrow’s party, and it was time we said our farewells.
‘Remember, you’re more than welcome to join us tomorrow, lass,’ urged Raegan’s father kindly. ‘I’m sure the hotel will bend their rules about dogs,’ he added uncertainly.
‘No. It’s very kind of you, but I think Fletcher and I are going to do some exploring of the area, and maybe even cross the border into Scotland, who knows? But I hope you all have a wonderful time.’
The one-room annexe I’d booked for the night was surprisingly cosy.
‘Have you and your precious pup got everything you need?’ the owner asked kindly.
‘Everything looks great, thank you. If you could direct me to the nearest beach, I’d like to take him for a walk before it gets dark.’
‘I can, pet, but you’d better wrap up warm or that wind will cut straight through you.’
‘Everyone is paranoid we’re going to get hypothermia,’ I told an unconcerned Fletcher as I wrangled him into the fleecy coat I’d bought for him. It was like trying to put tights on an octopus, and by the time I’d done up the fasteners there was a thin film of perspiration on my upper lip. It almost made me think I didn’t need Adam’s warm coat after all, but I slipped it on nevertheless after clipping on Fletcher’s lead.
Armed with directions, Fletcher and I headed for the beach. No sooner had we descended the steep stone steps that led to the sand than I realised why everyone had warned me about the weather. Even coddled inside the oversized cashmere coat, I could still feel the wind taking crafty nips at my exposed flesh.
We walked close to the water’s edge, and I kept the pace brisk, for I was starting to lose all feeling in my cheeks as the North Sea wind blasted us relentlessly. I regretted not bringing gloves and thrust my hands deep into the pockets of Adam’s coat, withdrawing the right one almost immediately when my finger encountered something sharp lodged at the bottom. I sucked the tinybead of blood from a papercut on my fingertip before pulling out the culprit: a tightly folded square of paper. It was too dark to read whatever was on it, but the thought that I might have found one last note in Adam’s handwriting made me slide it back. Finding items like this was growing rarer as the months passed, and even if this was some long-forgotten shopping list or reminder, it was still worth saving.
It wasn’t a shopping list or a reminder. It wasn’t even something Adam had written himself, I realised with disappointment, as I sat down with a welcome hot drink in my annexe room and unfolded the sheet.
My first reaction was surprise. The page appeared to be one Adam had downloaded from the internet, but for the life of me I couldn’t work out why.
‘Wildwood Furniture,’ I murmured, causing an exhausted Fletcher to briefly open one eye to see if I was addressing him. I gave him a quick head scratch before returning my attention to the printout. Most of the page was taken up with photographs of handcrafted pieces of rustic furniture. They looked beautifully made, but they would have stuck out like a sore thumb among the modern décor of our flat. I had no idea why Adam had been thinking about buying one of these pieces, but he must have been considering it, for there was a big loopy tick scrawled on the top right-hand corner of the sheet.
I was on the point of setting my curious find aside, but something about the images on the page stopped me. I traced the outline of one photograph with my fingertip. There was something about the style and shape of the piece that reminded me of something. Itook a large mouthful of tea and then almost choked as the answer occurred to me mid-swallow.
‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ I said to absolutely no one as I jumped from the armchair and took the sheet to the table lamp. Ihadseen that dresser before – or one identical to it. It had been in Gordon’s room at the care home.
‘It’s just a coincidence,’ I said, peering closely at the photograph while trying to deny the evidence of my own eyes. But now there was a new thought buzzing insistently like a trapped wasp in my head. Hadn’t I seenanotherpiece of furniture like this somewhere?
Grateful for my last-minute decision to bring my laptop, I could feel my impatience ratcheting up with every sluggish minute it took to fire up.
It had been a while since I’d last checked out her Instagram page, and after our frosty encounter at the care home, there was every chance Claire had gone through her many followers and blocked me. My only hope was that she didn’t know my married name or that I’d be lost among the thousands of people who followed her fashion blog.
The question I probably should have been asking waswhyI’d ever looked her up online in the first place. Had it been just casual curiosity, or had I secretly been hoping that one day I’d see a face I recognised in one of her posts? A face I’d not seen in real life for six years.
Claire posted regularly, but it didn’t take long scrolling through the selfies to find what I was looking for. The airy hallway was one of her favourite locations for modelling outfits, and sure enough there she was, in a dress that showed off boobs a little too perfect to be a gift from nature. But it wasn’t Claire’s impressive cleavage that caught my attention; it was another kind of chest altogether: a large wooden one that she was perched on. I picked up the sheet of paper from Adam’s pocket and held it beside my laptop screen.The chest was a perfect match to one sold by Wildwood Furniture, just like the piece in Gordon’s room had been.
Why did Adam have the details of a handcrafted-furniture designer buried in his coat pocket? And why did my former neighbours both own pieces from the same company?
