Page 108 of Meet me at the Seaside Cottages

‘You don’t have to,’ says Janey. ‘It’s up to you. You don’t have to cuddle anyone you don’t want to. But I should say he would like it.’

Verity nods.

Then she stands up, the imperious little figure, like a tiny queen with her long hair, the noble dog never leaving her side, and walks up to her dad, who is extremely happy to be overwhelmed for the second time that day.

43

Essie’s phone rings one more time. She looks at it. It’s an incoming Zoom call.

It’s her interview. It was today, and she completely forgot.

She looks at it for one long moment, longingly, a little. But then she thinks of the scandals, the greed, the misery of where she’s been working. And she thinks of what it has done to Dwight and her community, and remembers the happy days they have had, building the place from nothing; looking after the pups, scraping the wallpaper, helping Verity choose the furniture. She stares at the phone for a long time. Then she closes her eyes very tightly, and presses ‘cancel’.

*

After twenty minutes of not hearing a thing outside, the longest twenty minutes of Essie’s life, desperately needing to catch the return flight, she creeps downstairs, through the opposite exit of the mews, tries to walk innocently, which is a very difficult thing to do if you haven’t had to do it before, and jumps on a tram straight back to the airport. Gertie is surprised to see her on the turnaround.

‘Hiya!’ she says. ‘That was fast!’

‘Gertie,’ says Essie, ‘do you think if anyone asks if they saw me today you could possibly say you didn’t?’ She has had enough quick thinking for one day. ‘I was organising a surprise for Mum. For her birthday.’

‘Oh, how lovely!’ says Gertie. ‘I should do something like that for my mum; she’s always complaining she doesn’t see enough of me because she only sees me three times a week.’

Essie smiles awkwardly.

‘What did you book?’

‘I . . . can’t . . . remember.’

Gertie frowns, but she is an understanding type of soul, so she leaves Essie be. Essie sits on the left-hand side of the tiny plane, near the back, and, unable to move right at this moment, her hand inside her handbag, holding tightly on to the letter, the adrenaline draining from her body, she instantly falls asleep as a tall man sits down beside her, pulling out his police file. Financial crime is not normally quite as interesting as this.

*

The End of the World pub is shut when Janey pulls up to it in the afternoon light. She can hear the shouting from the outside.

Shelby is comparing Dwight to their idiot dad, which is a terrible comparison. Janey remembers him; he made Colin look like Man of the Year. At least Colin had stayed till the kids left home. Kenny was a drifter, in and out of their lives, always with a guitar on his back, and a sad song. He would make huge promises to his children then never turn up at all. Or turn up out of the blue, arrive at the school with gifts and surprises that completely overwhelmed them. It was an awful thing to witness, Shelby trussing herself up every day with the eyelashes and the make-up, just in case that was the day her daddy came, even years after it was clear he wasn’t coming at all. Their mother dragging them to all those dances and competitions, in the hopes of once again catching the eye of the steel guitar player.

Janey feels the utter shame of her family doing this to their family, as if they hadn’t been in the same boat.

She knocks quietly at the back door. Shelby answers, her face murderous.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ she says. ‘I hear Little Miss Princess scuttled back to the city.’

Someone must have seen her at the airport. Janey looks past her. Dwight is sitting at a table, hat in front of him, whisky in front of him, head drooping. His normal cockiness has completely gone; instead, he is pale and shell-shocked by it all. He doesn’t even raise his head.

‘She didn’t even come to say sorry,’ spits Shelby. ‘Took our money, took our home, and waltzed off fancy as you please.’

‘Shelby,’ says Dwight. ‘This is all my fault. There’s no point in trying to pretend it isn’t.’

‘None of this would have happened if it hadn’t been for her!’

‘I had a choice,’ says Dwight. ‘I was greedy. It’s my fault. I had my shot, and I missed it.’

‘Um . . . ’ says Janey. This is obviously a conversation that has gone round and round the houses. ‘ . . . I’ve got a message.’

‘We don’t want to hear it.’

Shelby goes to shut the door in her face.

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