It’s nothing… she tried to convince herself, staring at the small symbol scrawled in the grime above the number plate. But her heart still skipped in her chest as she tried to gather herself. It was most likely bored kids scribbling on random cars when she was last parked in town. She was being stupid, seeing things that weren’t there. She got into the car and started the engine. Someone opened the passenger door.
‘Are you sad, Mummy?’ Amy climbed in the front, not bothering with her car seat for the short drive down the track. She’d smeared some play lipstick across her mouth.
‘No, darling, I’m not sad.’ Claire smiled, marvelling how the sight of her daughter calmed her nerves. But before she drove off, she couldn’t help inspecting each of Amy’s fingers for dirt.
* * *
Trevellin Farm’s kitchen was the perfect gathering place for everyone. At nearly forty feet long, with a massive inglenook fireplace and comfy chairs at one end, a pine table capable of seating at least sixteen running up the middle and an Aga the size of a family car, Nick was quite at home preparing a meal in the place he’d spent many happy summers as a child.
He’d already got Amy setting out the cutlery, mats and glasses, which he thought would keep her amused for at least half an hour, the way she was perfecting her folded napkins. Plus, every time she counted how many people there were to set places for, someone either came into the room or went out again, confusing her completely. Claire stepped in to help and, for a few moments, Nick watched her too. She was leaning over the table, the loose cowl of her dress falling away at her neck, exposing an area of paler skin. He turned back to the food.
‘Marcus, mate. You have to take the brown stuff off the onions before you chop them.’ Nick ruffled the lad’s hair, laughing as he ducked away.
‘What can I do to help?’ Callum said, leaning on the other side of the worktop.
Nick wasn’t sure if the offer was genuine – not that there weren’t plenty of jobs to do. ‘How about you top and tail these green beans?’ He handed over several large paper bags. ‘Picked fresh today.’
Callum hesitated, his expression unchanging as the two men stared at each other for longer than was comfortable. Then he reached for a knife, drawing the largest one slowly from the block. ‘No problem,’ he said.
Claire pulled up a stool and sat beside them. She watched as Nick chopped the garlic with frightening speed. ‘Cal doesn’t usually cook, do you, darling?’ she said, touching his arm. ‘He prefers the eating part.’
‘Indeed,’ he replied, handing her the knife. ‘Why don’t you take over while I go down to the cellar to see what Patrick has in stock?’
When he’d gone, Nick let out the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. He was about to say something to Claire, but she lunged for the landline phone as it rang beside her. ‘That’s great news. Thanks so much for calling,’ she said, hanging up a moment later. ‘That was the hospital. Dad’s doing fine. He’s eaten a good meal and was even asking for a bottle of wine.’
‘Doesn’t surprise me,’ Shona said, rolling her eyes and looking relieved.
‘Patrick’s always been a fighter,’ Nick said, as he fried off the lamb in a rainbow of spices. Within seconds, the kitchen was filled with an exotic smell. ‘Remember when he got stuck out at sea?’
‘Don’t remind me,’ Shona said, wiping her hands on a tea towel.
‘What happened?’ Amy asked. She’d climbed up on a stool and was cupping her chin in her hands. ‘Was it an adventure?’
‘Granddad went out fishing,’ Claire said. ‘Everyone was here at the farm, just like now, only everyone was little like you. He promised we could cook fresh fish on a fire on the beach. It was so exciting.’
‘That sounds fun.’ Amy’s eyes were wide. ‘And I’m not little.’
‘Granddad went out in the dinghy but didn’t come back for ages,’ Shona said. ‘Do you remember the boat you helped him paint, Nick? It always leaked. Whatever he did, water would seep into the hull. He set out after lunch promising to come back with two dozen mackerel. When teatime came and went, we began to worry.’
Amy gasped as if it was the most exciting story she’d ever heard. ‘Why didn’t you phone him?’
‘Because there weren’t any mobile phones in those days,’ Claire said, giving her a squeeze. Nick watched them together, ignoring the pain in his heart. There was so much of Claire in the child, but also an undeniable look of Lenni with her little snub nose and dimpled chin.
‘We had to call the coastguard,’ Shona said, making Amy gasp. ‘They sent out a search party.’
‘It was Aunty Lenni who eventually spotted him though, Amy,’ Claire continued. ‘She’d climbed up onto the rocks and saw his flashlight giving out a Morse code SOS. Granddad had taught it to her. She saved his life.’
‘That’s a big adventure,’ Amy said, guzzling down a glass of juice. ‘But if Aunty Lenni saved Granddad, why did God let her die?’ She kicked her feet against the stool rung.
‘Like, duh, because he doesn’t exist?’ Rain sauntered into the kitchen just in time to hear what Amy said. She flicked back her hair. ‘I can’t believe they still teach little kids that stuff in school.’
‘Mrs Fry says that God could be a woman.’ Amy’s forehead crinkled with a frown.
‘Don’t tell me, Mrs Fry’s a vegan lesbian too, right?’ Rain’s reply went over Amy’s head as Maggie rang out a very stern warning. ‘But what do you actually think, Amy?’ Rain leant forward on the worktop. ‘What do you think God is?’
‘I think God is mean to take Aunty Lenni away. She didn’t do anything wrong. I think he should put her back because she saved Granddad.’
‘Maybe God showed Aunty Lenni where Granddad was,’ Shona suggested, trying to restore any faith her granddaughter may have. ‘The lifeboat was able to rescue him because of her. His motor had broken down and he’d lost an oar.’
Amy was chewing on her lip and looking very perplexed. ‘But Nana, I’ve never seen God and lots of people say he doesn’t exist.’ Amy bit on her fingernails, deep in thought. ‘And… and… I’ve never seen Aunty Lenni so maybe she wasn’t real either?’
‘Oh, Amy,’ Claire said, annoyed at Rain for starting this. ‘Of course Aunty Lenni was real.’
‘You have to admit,’ Rain said, helping herself to a raw bean. ‘She’s kind of got a point.’
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Callum was relieved to get out of the kitchen. It was no place for him. And he wasn’t keen on being part of the reunion either. He was counting down the days until they all went.
‘Hello, Mr Rodway. What’s down here?’
Callum stopped as he was going back up the stone cellar staircase, a bottle of Rioja in each hand. The girl was a couple of steps above him, peering down.
‘It looks spooky.’
‘It’s the cellar, Rain. Patrick’s cellar.’ He emphasised that it belonged to his father-in-law in the hope it might give her a hint to get lost.
‘Why are you down here, then?’ She folded her arms across her chest, blocking his way up as much as he was barricading hers down. Callum felt his heart rate rise. The girl was totally maddening, and he hoped she wasn’t giving Marcus a hard time. She was the type who’d be all over an unsuspecting boy like him.
‘I’m fetching wine for the meal.’
‘But Nick brought some wine back from the shop.’
‘Well, I wanted this wine, OK?’
‘But you said it was Patrick’s. Does he know?’
‘Patrick won’t mind.’ Callum forced out a sigh and took a step up. With Rain on the one immediately above, their faces were level.
‘But he’s in hospital. How do you know he won’t mind?’
‘Rain, you’re a sweet girl.’ Callum swallowed, keeping down his annoyance. ‘However, I don’t feel I have to explain myself to you. Please, let me past.’ He made to step around her, but she spread her arms and legs wide. ‘Rain… don’t do—’