‘That was weird, right? Tell me it’s not my imagination.’
‘Davy and Jill definitely seemed to be hiding something.’
‘She’s always been more protective of him than the others, but—’
‘’Cos he’s thick like his dad.’
I nodded; it was cruel, but it was true. Jill had famously been the brains of her marriage. Everyone knew the store owner’s life story – it was too juicy ever to die away. Villagers had apparently been scandalised when sixteen-year-old Jill, the daughter of an alcoholic prostitute on Wapentake docks, had married a forty-five-year-old pig farmer. After ten years of marriage, Bill Young had keeled over from a massive heart attack. Jill had been pregnant with Davy at the time, and had three boys under the age of ten to look after. But that hadn’t slowed her; she’d sold the tiny farm and sunk the money into the Picky Person’s Pop In. To be honest, Beth, I’d always admired her tenacity and business brain – but Davy definitely hadn’t inherited those traits.
Glenn slipped his notebook out of his pocket and made a quick record of what had happened.
‘What possessed you to buy a pink pad? It doesn’t seem very you,’ I snapped.
My gesture took in the van, which, thanks to mud and general road grime, looked more brown than white. It had a large penis drawn on the back by some comedian, along with the words: I wish my girlfriend was this dirty. Then I took a glance at Glenn himself. Big brown workmen’s boots, dark jeans that were slightly tatty around the hem, a plain, dark blue sweatshirt with the cuff fraying lightly at the right wrist. Even the parka he barely ever wore was only just on the right side of grubby.
A myriad emotions flitted across Glenn’s face. His small eyes flashed with hurt as he shrank away from me slightly. Instantly I regretted my words. I had overstepped the mark, taking my mood out on him.
A second later he turned to me again, his round face as open as ever. He gave a heartfelt sigh.
‘Might as well tell you the truth. It’s my daughter’s notebook.’
‘You have a daughter? But… why have you never mentioned her?’
He shrugged an apology. ‘It’s complicated. Her mum and me, we didn’t exactly split amicably. Her mum – well, she uses my girl as a weapon against me. Basically, she’s banned me from seeing her.’
Fury raced through me. How dare someone use their child like that? Glenn had a healthy daughter who he could talk to, spend time with, make new memories with. Things I was desperate to do with you, Beth, but couldn’t. No one had the right to deprive a parent of their child.
‘Why the hell did she do that?’
‘Because she can, because she’s a vindictive—’ He bit off the retort and shrugged again. ‘It’s Marcie’s way. She’s spiteful, and she knows that the best way of hurting me is to keep me from my daughter.’
‘What’s her name?’
He was so upset that for a moment he couldn’t speak. He swallowed hard. ‘Katie. Her name is Katie. She’s twelve.’
‘Oh, Glenn, why didn’t you say something? You’ve listened so patiently to my troubles.’
‘Yeah, but what I’m going through is nothing compared to your situation. And it’s one of the reasons why I’m helping you. If anyone hurt my daughter, I wouldn’t be responsible for my actions.’
I felt dreadful for him, especially as I’d never asked him much about his life. I reached out and rubbed his arm, consoling.
‘Tell me about her.’ My words were gentle.
‘I don’t really want to talk about it. It hurts too much.’ Glenn stepped away, as if distancing himself from his pain. ‘Maybe I’ll tell you everything one day, Melanie.’
For his sake, I changed the subject; started yattering about shared childhood memories and what people had been up to while he’d been away. Soon, any tension had disappeared.
‘To be honest, not many people have moved away. It’s not terribly adventurous of us, is it?’
‘You been abroad much?’
I shook my head. ‘Nowhere more far-flung than Spain; the usual holiday destinations. We prefer to stay in this country, especially since we got Wiggins.’
The russet dog looked up at the sound of his name and wagged his tail, before being distracted by a scent trail and hurrying off busily into the long grasses.
‘I’ve been to a few places. Australia, Thailand, Borneo.’
‘Really? Wow, you make me look so parochial.’
He swelled at the compliment. ‘Yeah, when I split with Marcie in September I went to Australia for a month. It was good to get away. You should go some time.’
I raised an eyebrow and he blushed, clearly realising the mistake he’d made. No holidays for me until you woke up.
*
We walked past the stunted, twisted sycamore that marked your shrine, and the pond where you had floated. On we continued, towards the only other blip on the horizon: an old armed forces lookout tower, completely dwarfed by its vast surroundings. Anywhere else, the 1970s building would have looked massive and impressive, despite starting to look a little the worse for wear in places, having been battered for decades by the unforgiving wind.
‘Do the RAF still own the building?’ asked Glenn.
‘No, they sold it. It’s owned by Jill Young, actually,’ I added after laughing at Wiggins. He had been jumping through the undergrowth of the marsh beside the firmer path, and looked as if he had springs for legs. I gave him a cuddle as he came back over to me, panting, then darted off again, nose down, tail up.
‘Why the hell did she buy this place?’
‘Reckon she’d watched one too many episodes of Grand Designs and thought she could do it up and make a killing. She bought it back in 2005, immediately before the credit crunch. As far as I know, she’s done nothing with it since. Must be a bit of a millstone around her neck, really.’
‘Serves her right for being greedy,’ Glenn sniffed. ‘Why doesn’t she sell it? She might not make a killing now, but she’d get her money back, surely?’
‘Well,’ I leaned closer, simply gossiping now. And loving it. ‘She tried to sell it at auction—’
‘Probably hoping to get a sucker from down south to pay an overinflated price.’
‘Exactly. And because it’s such an unusual building the sale even got some national press mentions… but no bid met the reserve price, so that was that.’