Page 96 of From Now On

Vulnerable.

Insignificant as she is shouldered out of the way by a man waving a twenty-pound note who demands a pintpronto, mate. Desolate, she wanders back outside. Everybody has somewhere to be. Dads that march with purpose back to their families, a clutch of cornets in their hands, ice cream dribbling onto their fingers. Parents rushing after toddlers grappling with inflatable balls, flamingos, dolphins that are almost larger than them. The group of teenagers heading into the arcade, change jangling in their pockets. Nina feels invisible as they stream past her, nobody giving her a second glance.

It is early evening. The weather has turned in an instant as though someone has switched off the sun. She hasn’t found him.

Stillhasn’t found him.

Her feet are sore from the miles she has walked. Her voice hoarse from the number of people she has asked about her dad, feeling the same sharp pang of missing him each time she described him.

She’s stuck. She hasn’t got enough money for a train and she doesn’t fancy hitch-hiking again. Without being able to access the contact list on her phone she can’t look up anybody’s phone number; besides, who could she ring? Who would care?

She should go home but home is where the heart is and Nina’s heart is broken. She curls onto her side on a wrought-iron bench on the promenade. The slats are uncomfortable but Nina is too tired to care. She tucks her rucksack under her head and drapes her jumper over her shoulders. A shadow falls across her and she sees an elderly couple clutching steaming fish and chips, grease soaking through white paper wrappings. Her stomach grumbles. Perhaps if she moves to make space for them to sit they’ll share their dinner with her but before she can move the lady complains it’s too cold and the man tells her they can eat in their car.

Nina shivers. The last chink of perfect blue sky has disappeared behind black clouds that scud across the sky.

The wind throws stray ice-lolly wrappers and scrunched-up plastic bottles across the beach; the ocean smashes waves against the sand. The donkeys are led up the ramp – no more rides today – hanging their tragic heads, the jangle of the bells on their brightly coloured harnesses barely audible over the upcoming storm.

The abrupt change in weather has scattered families back to their caravans and hotels.

Nina watches the angry sea. How frightening must it feel to be swept away by the current, how helpless and hopeless must her parents have felt as their mouths filled with freezing salt water, their lungs. What went through their minds? Each other? Her parents were the most devoted couple she’d ever known. She had found their public displays of affection embarrassing. The way they still held hands despite being married a zillion years. How the way Dad would kiss the tip of Mum’s nose told her that he couldn’t live without her each time she made him an unexpected cup of tea. Or were they perhaps thinking of her? Duke? Charlie?

It seems impossible that her dad would have left her mum and swam to shore to save himself and yet if Mum were alive too what was the chances of both of them having amnesia, really?

There are so many things Nina wants to know and she thought that coming here would give her the answers but now all she has are more questions.

Her lack of sleep last night forces her eyelids closed. She barely registers the first scatter of rain.

‘Nina?’ A hand on her shoulder, shaking-shaking-shaking. ‘Nina?’

She prises open her eyes. Bursts into tears at the sight of him.

‘You’re here. You’re really here.’ She touches her face, his face, to make sure she’s not dreaming.

She isn’t.

He is really, really here.

Chapter Forty-Five

Charlie

Charlie experiences an overwhelming onslaught of guilt and relief as Nina stares up at him, raindrops coating her lashes. He also feels something else.

Love.

‘You’re really, really here.’ She stands and throws her arms around his neck. She’s shivering. He doesn’t know if this is with cold or fear or relief but he takes off his jacket and wraps it around her shoulders, remembering the pink fleece blanket she’d be wrapped in as a baby, the weight of her in his arms.

He can’t drive her straight home – she’s soaked through and needs a hot bath and some dry clothes. He needs some food. He’s missed both breakfast and lunch. At the thought of lunch he remembers, with a jolt, that he was supposed to meet Pippa and, once more, feels torn in two. Instinctively he wants to call her and explain their missed date but right now his sad and bedraggled sister’s needs must come first. Should come first. There’s a sadness as he realizes that this perhaps is his answer. It isn’t the right time for him and Pippa.

Again.

But there is a sickness deep in his stomach at the thought of hurting her. As soon as he gets the chance he’ll talk to her properly. Honestly. It’s the least that she deserves. They’ll get through this, somehow. All love needs is to be believed in.

‘Let’s go and find a hotel.’

Nina nods, her face pale and worried. Charlie puts his arm around her, wishing he could have shielded her from whatever she has been through in these past twenty-four hours. There’s time later to ask how she got here, if anyone hurt her, and the thought that they might have done, that some scumbag might have laid a finger on her, squeezes Charlie’s stomach muscles, plays an ominous beat on his heart. He flexes his fingers, feeling the sting of his knuckles as he curls them into a fist. He’ll kill anyone that has hurt her. This he knows undoubtedly.

Charlie slings Nina’s rucksack over his shoulder. His own, with the few items he had hurriedly packed, is in the boot of the car. Despite the rain they walk at a slow pace. Nina’s exhaustion is apparent with every weary step. At least he got a scant few hours’ sleep last night.

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