Page 51 of When We Were Friends
Morgan grinned. That was another thing about real friends – you knew their teasing was just playful banter. As for that high score, they all agreed it was almost certainly unattainable, but, back in their schooldays, the slightest possibility kept them playing. And the possibility of them all being friends, once more, had kept Morgan going during recent weeks, following the bad news she’d received. People said never look back, always move forwards, but what about if you’ve lost something – or someone – important along the way? When Olly was a boy, he’d lost a cuddly bunny once. They’d looked for it every day, in the park. Finally, they found it, under a bush. One eye was missing, a bicycle had ridden over it, and a paw had been torn. None of that mattered to her son, who said it was what was inside that mattered.
Life had changed the four school friends, but their characters were still there, if hidden within a story each had chosen to tell. The story Emily told was that the world was an ungrateful place that took advantage of kindness, yet her good nature still shone through. Tiff’s was that you had to be larger than life to be loved, yet her empathy still connected to the smaller things. Paige’s story was completely authentic, she’d embraced her intuition and chosen a career that revolved around reading body language. Her intuition had brought the four of them on this journey as she’d acted on it and persuaded the others.
That was why she and Paige had been especially close. Both were straight-talking and scrupulously honest. Emily might tell white lies to avoid hurting someone, Tiff might lie outright to save face or cover up embarrassment, but Paige always told it how it was. Morgan trusted her completely. Even now. Paige had changed the least and Morgan was as happy as Olly had been with his bunny, to have her back.
28
MORGAN
Morgan put her hand across her brow and squinted in the sun, an information leaflet from the B&B in her hand. Fistral Beach stretched in between two headlands. She stared into the distance, at the northern one and the iconic Headland Hotel on top; it was over one hundred and twenty years old. Here on the southern one, Ocean Activities Centre was smaller than she’d expected and did teach many water sports but not surfing. However, at the northern headland was a large complex on the beach that, as well as restaurants and shops, housed the bigger International Surfing Centre that the man who’d tried to recruit Hugo, in France, had mentioned. Morgan drank in the camel-coloured sand and denim waves giving seagulls rides, the rugged cliffs covered in grasses and gorse, and the sulphury seaweed smell in the air. Morgan was no longer in the more sophisticated Riviera, but a place with a coarser beauty.
The four of them stood outside the grey, square building, with its blue canopy and mural of fish. Paige hung back as they went in.
‘Good morning. I’m Sal. How can I help?’ A woman with short, grey hair stood behind a counter in turquoise jogging trousers and a matching hoodie. On the counter sat a bottle of hand gel and a large basket filled with any serious surfer’s essentials – sun cream, lip protection balm and Haribo fish. ‘If you’re interested in lessons, we currently have a special offer on paddleboarding, two sessions for the price of one. The weather’s due to be outstanding this weekend, for early April, so we’ve a barbecue event with a beach volleyball tournament. Summer can never come too early at Ocean Activities Centre.’ She briefed them about the staff’s qualifications and how they’d just had new changing rooms fitted, with state-of-the art power showers.
The four of them clearly didn’t look like water sports fans, Emily in furry ankle boots, jeans and jumper bearing a picture of a mug of coffee and pile of books. Tiff wore high heels and a sparkly blouse with a tight leather jacket, as if she were in New York and not Newquay. Paige hovered in linen trousers and an elegant jacket. Sofa-loving Morgan looked the sportiest in trainers, jeans and a sweat top. Olly would have laughed about that.
Olly. That’s who this was for. Morgan’s parents didn’t know she’d come looking for Hugo. They’d didn’t know he was the father. When she found out Hugo had left town, back in 2004, she was going to tell her mum and dad. But the night before she had it all planned, she’d overheard them talking in the lounge. Word had got around that Hugo and his family had disappeared. Dad talked about how he’d run into the father a couple of times in the pub, said the man was a complete tosser – Dad didn’t swear often – and never bought a round. Apparently, he came onto the female bar staff, too, even though he was married. Dad said, from what he’d heard, the son was no better, a bit of a player, and how glad they were Morgan had the sense to stay away from lads like that, because one day he’d probably end up being as rotten a father as his own dad.
So Morgan refused to tell. Her parents had reduced her to tears, pressing her for a name, saying that a baby needed its dad, that she was a fool not to chase child support money. It had made Morgan ill and she was hardly sleeping. The doctor was concerned and this brought her mum and dad to their senses. Morgan guessed they’d try again after the birth, but by then she was a mother and the strength it gave her took Morgan’s breath away. She didn’t want Hugo anywhere near her baby and had become sure of that after bumping into people from school, over the summer. Gossip was rife as to why he’d moved away and without him around, pupils who’d been in awe instead opened up about how they actually hated him. Morgan told her parents that if they kept asking, she’d move out as soon as she could, and they wouldn’t see their grandson again.
‘Thanks but we aren’t actually looking to do paddleboarding,’ said Morgan. ‘We’re looking for someone. We haven’t seen them in a very long time. Does a Hugo Black work here?’
The receptionist tilted her head. ‘No, sorry.’
‘Oh.’ Morgan looked at the others. But then it probably had been a long shot. The only evidence was Hugo’s French employer vaguely remembering a place that sounded like mistral.
‘It must be hard to retain staff names. I expect you have temporary workers in the summer, and quite a turnover for a job like this,’ said Tiff.
‘Yes, it is actually, and what with the customers, it’s bedlam here in the high season.’
‘Hugo would have started in 2014,’ said Emily. ‘Were you here then, Sal? Something tells me you must have been. You seem to know everything about this place.’
She gave a broad smile. ‘Thank you. I have been here more years than I care to remember but that name doesn’t sound familiar…’ She looked at the four of them. ‘Hold on, he’s busy but I’ll ask Rob to come out. He owns the place.’ She disappeared and came back a few minutes later, with a man in his forties in turquoise jogging pants like hers and a cap with a shark on it.
‘How can I help?’ he asked pleasantly, water bottle in his hand. He took a swig and put in on the counter.
‘We’re trying to trace a man called Hugo Black,’ said Morgan. ‘It’s possible he might have started working here, in 2014.’
His brow furrowed.
‘He’s… my son’s father.’
‘Right, No, sorry. The name isn’t familiar.’
Paige stood by the door, away from the others.
‘Wait, this might help…’ Morgan pulled out her phone and went into her photo gallery.
Rob’s eyes narrowed as he focused, and his face broke into a smile. Sal looked over his shoulder at the snap.
‘Ah, of course, he worked here, yes,’ said Rob. ‘Decent guy. Loved him. I spotted him working in a surf shop in Fréjus and offered him a job. To my surprise, he turned up a few weeks later, out of the blue and stressed. I didn’t ask many questions.’
‘Is he in today?’ From head to toe, nerves sprang to attention in Morgan, like they had done when she was a teen and her waters broke.
‘Even though he left his mark, he only stayed about a year, love, sorry,’ said Sal.
Morgan’s stomach dropped.
