‘Who?’
‘He’s a friend. Johnny Starling,’ she repeated, as Sunil still hadn’t moved. ‘Tall. Wearing chinos, a navy-blue shirt and a dark coat.’
‘But how will I know who he is?’
‘Oh for God’s sake, Sunil, have you always been this useless? Ask someone. Ask for Johnny Starling!’
‘What’s going on, Callie?’ It was Johnny. He came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. ‘You trying to find me?’
‘Thank God.’ Callie didn’t analyse the wave of relief washing over her. Johnny had been in far tougher situations than this. He’d know what to do. ‘Frida’s run off somewhere. We think down to the seafront. She’s upset,’ she flashed a glance at Sunil, ‘about something.’
He didn’t hesitate. ‘Let’s go.’
Callie dived into the office and grabbed her jacket. It was the short yellow waterproof she’d thrown on when leaving Sea Haven House and would be worse than useless, but it was better than nothing. They ran out into the car park. Callie was nearly blown over by a gust of wind. She stopped dead at the spacewhere her car should be. ‘It’s gone,’ she said stupidly. ‘Frida must have taken it.’
‘Come on, we’ll take mine. Don’t worry, my love, we’ll find her.’
By the time they’d run to the far end of the car park they were soaked through. Johnny unlocked the doors and Callie tried opening the passenger side. It slammed shut again in the wind nearly trapping her fingers. By this time Johnny had started the engine. Throwing back her soaked hair so she could see, she slid into the car and they negotiated the car park’s bumpy surface.
‘Can’t see a thing. Windscreen’s fogged up,’ Johnny complained. He switched on the heater, but only cold air blasted out. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll pick up speed when I’m on the road.’
All Callie wanted was for him to gun the engine but she couldn’t see much through the windscreen either. ‘I was in such a state when I got here tonight, I obviously didn’t lock my car. Frida’s found the spare key. I keep one taped to the sun visor.’
‘What’s gone on?’ He glanced over. ‘No, on second thoughts, it’s not important you tell me now. I need to concentrate on driving.’ A gout of rain thrashed at the roof of the little Fiat. ‘Bloody hell, this storm is something else.’ He wiped condensation off the inside of the windscreen with the back of his hand. ‘Not much better.’
The narrow steep lane leading down to the seafront was deserted. Johnny, hunched over the steering wheel, peered out through the driving rain. Callie kept a look out for her car, thinking at least if Frida had driven down she’d be reasonably dry and protected. But it was a horrible night for driving and her daughter hadn’t had all that much experience. It was hard to see, despite the wipers going at a manic speed.
Horizontal rain slashed off the sea. Wind buffeted the car making it judder and Callie swore its wheels left the road at one point. The palm trees waved frantically and the thunderand lightning were in overdrive. The storm seemed intent on unleashing its worst right over Lullbury Bay.
They found her car abandoned, empty, on the harbour end of the seafront, so parked the Fiat alongside and ran to the Sea Spray. Callie hoped Frida had sought refuge in the café. To her relief it was open, light from the interior cascading a beacon of hope across the wide space outside the yacht club. Blown along by the gale, she collided with the café’s door. Wrenching it open, she and Johnny tumbled in. Flicking back her drenched hair, she spotted Tracey emerging from the kitchen.
‘Is Frida here?’
Tracey ran to her, clasping her hands. ‘She was, maid. In a bit of a state, she was. I went to make her some hot chocolate but by the time I came out, she’d gone. Jan here says she’s gone to help with the beach huts.’
Callie gaped, wrong-footed. She didn’t understand. ‘The beach huts? What do you mean?’
‘The wind’s pulling at ’em. They’ll be wrecked by morning, I reckon. Frida’s gone to help folk get their stuff out. High summer see, people will have all sorts in there.’
‘My partner’s gone to help Jamie,’ a middle-aged woman with a silver pixie haircut, said. Callie turned to her blankly. ‘I’m Jan. Daisy’s mum. Daisy who runs the florists,’ she added. ‘It’s chaos down there by the beach huts,’ she went on. ‘Daisy and her boyfriend are there too, along with Bee from the bookshop. All hands to the deck. Everyone wants to retrieve their belongings. Tracey and me are getting the tea and hot soup ready. They’ll need something after being in that storm. The police and coastguard haven’t turned up yet so Jamie’s in charge.’
‘And Frida’s gone to help?’
Jan and Tracey nodded. ‘You two had an argument?’ Tracey asked.
‘Something like that.’ Callie felt ever so slightly relieved. Frida couldn’t be too upset if she’d thought to help others. Then fear for her daughter curled acidly inside again. With the beach huts collapsing, it sounded dangerous. ‘I need to find her.’
‘Well, I’m sure she’ll be all right, as long as she stays with Jamie. Let Johnny go and why don’t you wait here with us?’ Tracey suggested. ‘We could do with some help too. You could make sandwiches.’
Callie wrenched her hands free and ran back to the door. ‘I’m so sorry, Tracey. Happy to help later but now I really need to find Frida.’
With their backs to the harbour, they faced the wind head on. Pulling up the hood of her waterproof was useless. It simply blew down again, billowing out behind her, making the zipped-up neck pull painfully against her throat.
Johnny gathered her to him. ‘Two against the wind. Less chance of being blown over.’
‘It’s bloody fucking August for Christ’s sake,’ she swore as they jogged awkwardly along to the lower part of the promenade where the row of beach huts stood against a retaining wall. ‘Why is the weather so awful?’
It was difficult to see but ahead, blurred in the pelting rain, was a crowd of people. They were running around. A middle-aged couple hurried past, clutching one another. The man was battling to hold on to a deck chair, his face glowing white with strain in the dark. The woman, holding a large canvas picture to her chest, was sobbing. When she and Johnny got closer to the beach huts Callie saw why.
