Page 76 of The Flowers of Bay C
‘Oh, take no notice of him. He’s just messing around. He’s just being a bit of an idiot.’
‘He doesn’t deserve you,’ Kat says, picking up the hat and giving it back.
Jodie looks at her feet.
Kat helps me lift Barbara back into her wheelchair and we wrap her up again, tucking the blankets in around her slight body and her hat over her head, covering her ears from the bitterness of the mounting wind. I don’t mention the racking pain that roars through my body as I straighten up.
It’s then we hear an engine, cutting through the wind and shattering the quiet of the bay. Jodie whirls round quickly, her face an oh of horror. ‘He’s going. He’s going without us.’
We watch in disbelief as he reverses the minibus, knocking over the tatteredSea Baysign and skidding into an untidy turn, then swerving up the entry track towards the main road and out of sight.
He’s gone, and left us all alone.
Chapter 23
‘I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.’ Jodie stands there, her entire body shaking, wringing her hands, tears streaming down her cheeks. ‘I’m so sorry. We had an argument. He told me I looked fat, that suddenly he could see how fat I was, sat there in the sand in this stupid jumper. He told me I looked ugly and I kind of just told him he was no oil painting and then he grabbed me and said all this stuff to me, and then he was pushing me and it hurt, and… and I’m so sorry, he’s just gone.’
Kat lays a hand on her shoulder. ‘Jodie. You’ve done nothing wrong.’
Jodie’s eyes are wild. ‘But I have. He’s gone. If I’d not argued back, if I’d not said that stupid thing about the oil painting, he’d not’ve gone.’
Kat’s jaw is tight. ‘It’s him that’s the issue. Not you. It’s never been you, Jodie.’
I know that Jodie thinks it is her and that it’s going to take her a while to believe that it’s him, after all. Sometimes even now I still think everything that happened with Marcus is my fault. Even fifteen years later I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t led him to the edge of it all. Maybe he wouldn’t have hit me. Maybe he would have stayed, and Jake would have had afather. But it’s as if this beach, these women, this whole surreal afternoon, have all sparked a new clarity in the recesses of my mind. It’s as if I can suddenly see clearly. Half-truths I have told myself for years become downright lies, shame I have carried is starting to melt away, like so much slush after the snow melts. I hope it will pour down the drain and be gone forever.
Jodie drags her hands over her face, batting the tears away. ‘It’s my fault.’
Kat sighs. ‘No. It’s not. He’s a loser, lovely. But we’ve got other things to worry about now.’
‘What are we going to do?’ I say.
Violet shakes her head. ‘Never trusted him. Never should’ve come.’ She is clinging so tightly to her walker her knuckles strain against her skin.
Kat turns and snaps at her. ‘Look, will you stop being such a grumpy mare? We’re here, and Barbara’s felt the sand and the sea.’
Violet huffs. ‘Charming, I’m sure.’
Kat has no patience left for her grumblings. ‘Just stop it. Just stop being so up yourself you keep the rest of us down. It’s fine. I’ll call one of those wheelchair accessible taxis for us, the ones with enough seats. It’s fine.’ She digs her phone out of her pocket and stabs at it. ‘You have to be kidding.’
I go colder than the very cold I was already.
‘No damn reception,’ she says. ‘Not one bar. Nothing.’
‘I’ll check mine,’ Jodie says. ‘Might be a different network.’ She fishes in her jacket pockets, frowning. ‘Oh no, wait… Kane. The photo. He never gave me my phone back, did he?’
I stare at her.
She presses both hands to her forehead. ‘You couldn’t make this up. What about yours,Penny?’
I shake my head slowly. ‘My bag… it’s in the minibus. I didn’t think I’d need it and the sand was too wet and I had too much stuff. Has no one got a phone? Amina?’
I try not to worry too much about getting my handbag back.
‘I forgot it. It is in the hospital, on charge,’ Amina says slowly.
‘I don’t believe this,’ Kat says.
Violet doesn’t even have a phone. Those new-fangled things, she calls them, a look of distrust stamped on her face. You’ll never get her using one of those things. Except when she wants one of us to call Brian for her and tell him to bring her a clean nightie and decent food, that is.
