Blinking back tears, I asked him whether he could suggest another place we could stay. He wrote down a few names on a piece of paper and then, at my insistence, rang them to see if they had rooms. The first two were full and despair was really beginning to nip at my ankles, but thankfully, the third, a place called Hope House, had a large room available. He called us a taxi and good job too. It is about as far away from the sea as you can get and I would never have found it.
We are sitting here now. The room is not what I had hoped for. It smells very doggy and there are visible extension cables for the bedside lamps. The glass shades of these are thickly embedded with sticky dust. I think someone has been smoking in this room too.
Still, we are here.
Amber is sleeping on the bed, worn out by the travelling.
I have managed not to think too far ahead yet. It’s amazing what you can put out of your mind if you really make the effort. But for some reason I keep hearing blasted Terry in my head today. I can just imagine what he would make of all this. ‘Oh Hester, what on earth have you gone and done?’ he’d say. Or, ‘Well this is a bit of a mess, old girl. You’re going to have your work cut out sorting this.’
Shut up, Terry, shut up. Wittering on inside my head all the time. Am I never to be free?
I hear a small sound and realize Amber is looking at me. She has her cheek pressed to the duvet, her mouth squished open. One eye regards me and for a horrible moment it feels as though she can see right into my soul. See all the things I’ve done.
I swallow nervously and then force a bright smile.
‘Shall we take Bertie to the beach?’
Bertie, who is curled up in a tatty tartan dog bed by the window looks up at his name. I can’t help thinking there is hope in his eyes that we will go home. I look away from him.
‘I’m hungry. I want Mummy,’ says Amber, as though the two phrases are intrinsically connected. Her voice has that low dangerous quality again, as though she is building herself up for another tantrum. I sag inside.
Why did I think this would be easy?
‘Let’s go and find something nice to eat, shall we?’ I say desperately, attempting to sound chipper. But it doesn’t really wash. This little girl may have special needs but she isn’t stupid. She knows something isn’t right about all this. She knows I’m flailing.
‘Want MUMMY, want MUMMY, want MUMMY,’ she begins to chant and my head feels like it is ballooning inside and I just want her to—
‘BE QUIET!’ I yell and she gasps.
I wrap my hands across my mouth, wishing I could pull the words back inside. I have frightened her.
I have a sense that things are spinning out of my control.
But there’s no going back now.
Things have gone too far. I won’t go back to my life the way it was before. I’ve done too much in these last few weeks to allow that.
I’m in this now and the only way is forward. And I won’t be alone again.
Wherever that takes me. And wherever it takes Amber.
MELISSA
Newquay airport was too small for a cab rank, Melissa found to her irritation. She had to search online for a local service, then wait ten interminable minutes for one to arrive.
The driver was a frowsy blonde woman, middle-aged, and squeezed into a bright red and white spotted top. Scarlet lips grinned wide over slightly yellowing horsey teeth.
She had attempted to engage Melissa in conversation for the first fifteen minutes of the drive before lapsing into humming along to a CD of country and western songs.
Melissa barely notices the scenery showcasing itself outside the car now. They travel
along stretches of coastal road; the sea sparkling like green-blue silk to the left when blades of sun occasionally spear from the heavy cloud.
She is only dimly aware of her surroundings. Instead she mentally replays scenes in her head. Jamie at her front door. Jamie in her bed.
Jamie dead.
And then she sees the look on Mark’s face when she finally passed on the burden she had been carrying for twenty years and told him about Thomas Pinkerton. Disgust. And a wariness that makes her insides shrivel with shame.
‘Hello?’
The driver is looking at her in the rear-view mirror and frowning.
‘Where is it in Carbis Bay that you’re wanting, Lover?’
Melissa swallows and blinks. She has been in a half-trance during this drive and now her eyes throb and her mouth feels stale and woolly.
‘Oh, I …’
Coming here suddenly seems monumentally stupid.
They are on a winding road through a village. Grey stone buildings would be touching distance away if she opened the window and reached out. She sees a sign saying Lelant.
She has no real plan.
‘Um, can you take me to where the hotels and B & Bs are?’ she says.
The driver flashes her a tolerant look and lets out a low laugh. ‘They’re spread out all over, my love,’ she says. ‘Is there a particular one you’re wanting?’
Hopelessness washes over Melissa now and she feels herself sag inwards.
‘Are you all right?’
She blinks hard and forces a weak smile at the woman, who is now turning round from the front to look at her in a rather reckless way.
‘I’m fine,’ says Melissa hurriedly. ‘Maybe you can drop me off in the centre of the town.’
The driver sighs. ‘Well, it isn’t Newquay you know. There isn’t really a centre of the town as you call it. Tell you what, I’ll drop you off by the big Tesco. There’s a few B & Bs along there. And you can walk into St Ives in no time if you keep going—’
‘Stop the car!’ Melissa’s voice is so shrill she shocks herself.
‘I can’t just stop here, it’s—’
‘Please!’ Melissa turns and cranes her neck to get another look at the distinctive helmet hair shape of the small woman just emerging onto the main road, a little girl with a sulky set to her shoulders being pulled along next to her, and a small dog on a lead trotting along behind.
Swearing, the driver indicates and then, with agonizing slowness, pulls to a stop at the side of the road. A car bibs its horn as it passes. Hester and Amber are now out of sight around the bend.
‘Look, I’m sure this is enough.’ Melissa has already torn off her seatbelt and throws five twenty pound notes into the front seat now. ‘I’m sorry!’ she says breathlessly. ‘And thank you!’
And then she is pounding along the pavement.
HESTER
It was the promise of seeing the ‘friendly wolves’ that got things moving in the end. I feel sluggish and a bit grubby as we make our endless way down towards the coast road. There’s a path here somewhere, which I have been promised will lead to the sea.
Amber is silent now and I wish I could coax one of her beautiful giggles. When I take her hand to cross the road, she shrinks from me in a way that breaks my heart. It’s as though she is a little frightened of me. I should never have shouted. But her ghastly mother seems to shout all the time and it’s apparently water off a duck’s back. One rule for me and one for everyone else, as usual.
The school holidays haven’t begun yet and the sky is grey and oppressive. But there are still a few individuals and families walking along the main road in wetsuits and sarongs, sandy feet in flip-flops and sandals. I scrunch my toes inside my tights and court shoes and think about treating myself to some pretty sandals. But the thought doesn’t feel as pleasurable as it did when I pictured it all from home. None of this is quite as I’d hoped it would be.
We find the entrance to the coastal path and my goodness it’s steep. We start to walk downwards and I almost have to jog in order to stay upright. Small stones skid under my feet. There is a wire fence separating us from the drop on the other side. A tunnel of dark green trees seems to enclose us and I can see patches of sea through gaps below.
When someone shouts my name, I half-imagine my silly Terry thoughts are getting out of hand, and I turn, in an almost dreamlike state.
I can’t believe what I see. I touch my cheek, just to be certain and then Melissa … Melissa … is running and stumbling down the path towards us. She almost trips, just managing to grab the wire fence to right herself. She is breathing hard; her cheeks bright with spots of colour and her eyes wide.
‘Hester! Oh thank God!’ she says and stops, placing a hand on her chest to get her breath back.