‘I have some old jogging pants upstairs, and Isla will be here soon to take over. I think I’ll take you up on that,’ she said with a smile. She’d live to regret it later, she was certain, but her head was foggy from the night before, and a brisk walk along the promenade would help to clear her mind. She’d also use the opportunity to see where Daisy was up to with her family tree research. If she could put her off the scent, even better.
Charlotte took Daisy’s order, prepared it in the kitchen and made herself a bacon sandwich. She felt her stomach settling as she demolished the hot food, and she took a couple of aspirin to banish the thudding in her head. Conveniently, Isla was early, entering the kitchen well before eight o’clock.
‘Everything all right?’ Charlotte asked. Isla looked troubled.
‘Nothing I haven’t told you already,’ she replied. ‘Just George again. Last night, he couldn’t stop coughing, but he’s still insisting there’s nothing wrong. He just laughed it off as a chest infection. I know he’s lying, Charlotte. Please try and have a word with him. I’m out of my mind with worry.’
‘George is a tough one, Isla. He’ll be okay, I’m certain.’
Charlotte did her best to reassure Isla, but she could see that she’d failed.
‘I promise, next time I get him on his own, I’ll ask him. I’m sure it’s nothing serious; he’d have told you if it was. I’ll mention it to Will too. George might feel more comfortable talking to a man.’
‘I’m pleased to be in here cooking this morning,’ Isla continued. ‘It takes my mind off things. It always has. I don’t know what I’d do if I ever had to stop working.’
Charlotte shared Isla’s hopes that she’d be able to carry on for years. She wasn’t sure they’d ever find somebody to replace her if she left. It didn’t bear thinking about; the entire business seemed revolve around her.
Just before nine o’clock, Charlotte and Daisy were nearing the far end of the promenade where the run would start. The promenade was packed with joggers in all types of sports gear: children, adults and pensioners of all shapes and sizes readying themselves for the start.
‘I can’t believe I didn’t know about this,’ Charlotte said. ‘And it takes place every week?’
‘Every Saturday, in different places across the country,’ Daisy replied. ‘I’ve been doing it for years. Just take it at your own pace. It’s a run, not a race; there’s always someone slower than you.’
‘I don’t know why I agreed to do this,’ she said, panting already from their brisk walk. ‘I’m usually the last person to volunteer for sports.’
Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she was already sweating.
‘It’s a nice way to start the weekend,’ Daisy replied. ‘Besides, I wanted to be up early so I can take a look at the old holiday camp this morning. I hear it’s a building site at the moment, but I’m hoping I can get a walk around, perhaps speak to some local people about it. Maybe one of them knew Bruce.’
Charlotte hadn’t thought about that. Some of the catering staff were shipped in from Lancaster and Morecambe. Many came from Newcastle, Middlesbrough and Sunderland to work there over the summer. Charlotte knew there were also some local workers at the holiday camp too, people who came in from the surrounding villages. She’d never really got to know any of them. They were older and more mature than the youngsters who worked there. They also went home at night, rather than frequenting the bars and entertainments areas. Their knowledge might be dangerous.
‘It’s very rural around that area,’ she replied, trying to steer Daisy gently away from the idea. ‘The camp has been closed down so many years that I doubt many people will remember much about it. And it’ll be very difficult without a car.’
‘I’m picking up a hire car later,’ Daisy continued, barely out of breath. ‘I’m determined to find out everything I can about Bruce while I’m in the area. Something doesn’t feel right to me.’
They’d arrived at the start line, where there was a pack of runners listening to the briefing. Daisy suggested they work their way to the back, so they wouldn’t get in the way of the serious athletes.
Charlotte was grateful for the thinking time. Even Daisy was beginning to get a bad vibe about Bruce already; what did she know? She decided to tackle the issue head-on. They had to stay ahead of Daisy Bowker and prevent her from breaking into their circle of deceit.
‘What makes you say that?’ Charlotte asked. ‘Have you found out something already?’
‘It’s just a feeling I get. I’ve been researching my family tree for some time, and none of it has been as difficult as finding out what happened to Bruce. It’s almost like he disappeared into thin air. Nobody is talking about him, nobody remembers him. How does somebody just vanish like that? It’s almost as if somebody wanted him gone.’
Chapter Twenty-Six
The start of the run put a stop to the conversation. The crowd surged forward, and Charlotte started to jog alongside Daisy as the faster runners picked up speed and the slower participants hung back, waiting for the way ahead to clear.
‘Just go at your own pace,’ Daisy said, taking it all in her stride. ‘If you want me to slow down, just say.’
Charlotte had barely recovered from the walk along the length of the promenade, and here she was retracing her steps, albeit at an even faster pace. She didn’t say anything while she established a steady rhythm alongside Daisy. At least there were a lot of runners behind them. It had been her greatest fear that she might finish in last place, or even worse, not be able to make it to the end.
As she jogged, Charlotte thought about how Daisy had never even met her half-brother, yet already she’d caught the essence of him. Perhaps Steven Terry wasn’t the only person who could divine the truth out of thin air.
‘How far is it?’ she asked, struggling to pace her words with her breathing.
‘Five kilometres,’ Daisy replied, calm and in control. ‘It’ll be over in no time. It’s not that far.’
They were nearing the Midland Hotel. A snake of runners had forged ahead, and Charlotte could now see the extent of the run. They were circling round by the lighthouse on the stone jetty, then heading further along the promenade to the clock tower. It might be only five kilometres to Daisy, but to Charlotte it looked like a huge challenge. She wondered how she’d got so out of shape; there was a time when she’d have been able to complete a course like that without even thinking about it.
As they ran, volunteers and spectators shouted words of encouragement, and it spurred Charlotte on, inspiring her to push through her tightening chest and shallow breaths. She was pleased she’d followed Daisy’s lead by eating breakfast early; a full stomach would have been deadly.
As they passed the lighthouse at the end of the jetty, Charlotte began to understand why so many runners were keen to turn out on a Saturday morning. The bay looked splendid below the light blue sky and the hills across the water in Cumbria were sharp and crisp in the morning sunshine. There was a wonderful sense of camaraderie among the participants, and the mindlessness of it was soothing to her. The small, sea bird sculptures that punctuated the jetty fencing never failed to catch her out; as she neared them, she almost flinched, half expecting them to fly off in front of her. She didn’t often get to see Morecambe through the eyes of a tourist, but running along the sea front like that made her grateful to be living there, in spite of everything.
As they circled back along the jetty, something purple caught Charlotte’s eye in the distance. She couldn’t make out what it was. She wiped her eyes to get rid of the sweat running from her brow and to sharpen her vision. As she neared the road end of the jetty, she figured out what it was. It was a young man, lithe and heavily tattooed, with a bright, purple Mohican haircut.
She thought back to what Olli had told her about his altercation with Lucia. He’d mentioned his sister speaking to somebody who looked like that. Surely there couldn’t be anyone else in the resort with such a distinctive hairstyle.
As she neared, she saw that the Mohican was styled in the shape of a dragon. It looked spectacular. This had to be her man.
As she got even closer to him, she considered her options. He was sitting on a wall, draining a high energy drink from a can and talking to a girl who was probably about Lucia’s age. Could she break away from the run? Would it matter? She had to remember that Daisy was a guest; she didn’t want to offend her. But she might never get to see this man again, and she wanted to ask him some questions. If Lucia wasn’t going to be forthcoming, perhaps he might be.
She was almost directly opposite him. It was now or never.
‘Run ahead,’ she said to Daisy. ‘I just have to stop for a few moments.’
‘It’s okay, I’ll wait for you,’ Daisy replied, slowing.
‘No, I’ll catch you up,’ Charlotte said, leaving the running route and heading towards the man. He was older than Lucia - much older. She felt her hackles rising. If this was her daughter’s boyfriend, he’d be getting the sharp end of her tongue. Lucia was still at school. It wasn’t an appropriate relationship; this man looked to be in his mid-twenties.
She slowed down, gasping to steady her breathing.
‘Excuse me… do… you… know… Lucia Grayson?’
‘Who’s asking?’ the man replied. She could see from his face that he knew Lucia all right.
‘Her mother,’ Charlotte began.
She’d barely finished speaking before the man was up on his feet and running off, following the route of the runners.
‘Wait!’ Charlotte cried after him, ‘I need to speak to you.’
The can of energy drink rolled to a stop at her feet; he’d just thrown it away so he could make a fast getaway.
Charlotte was angry. Who was this idiot, thinking he could have a relationship with her daughter and refuse to speak to her? What the hell was he up to?
Without thinking, she turned and began to run after him.
‘Whoa, hang on!’ came Daisy’s voice. ‘Wait for me.’
Charlotte gritted her teeth, ignoring Daisy’s pleas. She’d hung back for her, waiting for her to continue the run. All Charlotte could focus on was the bright, purple Mohican bobbing up and down straight ahead of her.
The man took a sudden turn at the lifeboat station, jumping off the concrete ramp and onto the shingly beach, stumbling on the stones as he looked behind him to see where his pursuer was.
Charlotte considered following him for a moment, but he’d already realised that he’d made a bad decision heading onto the beach and was running to the edge of the lifeboat station. He’d only have one choice when he got there, and that was to climb back on to the promenade as fast as he could.
‘Follow him down the ramp!’ Charlotte shouted back to Daisy, who was still on her trail. She pointed, just to be clear. The other runners darted around her, visibly annoyed that she’d stopped dead in their path and had created an unwelcome distraction.
Daisy pushed ahead, ready to cut off the man as he climbed back onto the promenade.
There were no steps down to the beach at that point and, as Charlotte had anticipated, the Mohican guy had run around the lifeboat building and was now pulling himself up with the help of the white fencing which ran the length of the promenade.
‘Stop!’ she shouted, running towards him as fast as she could. Seeing her, he climbed up and swung over the fence, stepping out into the path of two runners who were deep in conversation and had failed to spot him. They tripped over him, shouting angrily, warning him to look where he was going.
‘Got you,’ Charlotte said, rushing forward, intent on physically restraining him if she had to. But he was fast. In a moment, he was up on his feet and running around the curve of the promenade. He ducked into the small car park, and Charlotte lost him for a moment.
She scanned the area adjacent to the main road; he hadn’t made it that far. He had to be in the car park. She walked wide, so that if he darted out suddenly, she’d be able to get to him before he reached the road. If he got that far, he’d be off down a side street, on the lookout for her. One thing was certain; she had to get Lucia to tell her who this man was. He was up to something, she was sure of it.
As Charlotte approached a white Ford car, she saw his feet through the gap between the chassis and the asphalt.
‘Wait, I want to speak to you!’ she shouted.
The man was away again, darting towards the promenade and in the direction of the town’s famous Eric Morecambe statue. This was a place that attracted the crowds; Charlotte knew that if she couldn’t keep up with him, he’d easily shake her off there. She’d lost track of Daisy now. She would just have to hope that she’d run on without her.
If it wasn’t for his distinctive hairstyle, she’d have lost him in the crowds of runners and early-to-rise tourists long ago. He was nearing the Eric Morecambe statue, veering towards it as if intent on running through the seated area. He must be planning to cross the road again.
Pushing through the sharp pains in her chest, Charlotte veered off through the parking area and out towards the roadside. As she emerged, he was standing at the edge of the road. He jumped, not expecting her to have anticipated his move.
‘Jesus!’ he cursed, turning sharply and heading back through the gardens, past the statue and back onto the promenade. Charlotte heard the shouts before she came over the steps and realised what was happening. The fastest runners were now circling back along the promenade and heading back to the start line. The man with the Mohican had run out directly in front of them, sending three of them flying. One of the runners had fallen badly on his arm, another had grazed her knees and the third runner was getting aggressive towards the fool who’d sent them all crashing to the ground. Curses rang out among the other runners.
The man with the Mohican looked up to see Charlotte still pursuing him and dashed off again. Her lungs felt as if they were about to burst, but she was determined to keep up with him if she could. Once past the statue, it was a straight run as far as the second jetty. She’d be able to follow him all the way down; she’d catch him sooner or later.
Desperately snatching small breaths and almost paralysed with pain, Charlotte ran past the children’s playground and towards the clock tower. There were people sitting outside at the tables already, enjoying an early morning coffee.
‘Stop that man!’ she shouted. ‘He’s stolen my purse.’
She knew she was chancing her luck, but she had to try something to slow him down. He was fast and fit; for some reason, she hadn’t expected that.
Two men had stood up from their tables and were looking for the source of the shouting, trying to figure out what was going on. The man with the Mohican suddenly veered off the promenade, cutting across the now steady stream of returning runners, prompting more swearing from those whose path he had crossed. Charlotte knew that she would lose him here if she couldn’t follow him across the road.
Not checking her path properly, she darted suddenly across the stream of oncoming runners. There were instant shouts of Watch what you’re doing! and Get out of the way you stupid cow!
Spooked by all the cursing, a collie dog which had been sitting patiently at its owner’s feet jumped up and began to bark. Its lead was attached to the foot of one of the metal chairs. As the dog jumped up, the lead tightened, creating a tripwire for Charlotte who had been too slow to react. She crashed into the table, sending the hot teas and coffees splashing over the small party that were sitting there, then watched as the man with the Mohican stopped, turned back, gave her the finger, then crossed calmly to the other side, where he swiftly disappeared down a shady side street.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ Daisy asked, helping Charlotte over to one of the spare tables. ‘You bolted; what on earth was going on?’
Charlotte felt embarrassed and humiliated by the whole affair. Thanks to Daisy having some money tucked away in a concealed pocket in her jogging pants, sh
e was able to placate the group of people who’d had their table of drinks thrown across the ground when she tripped over the dog’s lead and sent everything flying into the air.
Daisy had thrown in some cakes to the group as compensation, and that seemed to settle them down after the shock. She had also apologised profusely to the owner for the disturbance. Charlotte was grateful, since it meant the police wouldn’t be summoned. That was all she needed.
‘Here, have a coffee and a cake,’ said Daisy. ‘You look shaken.’
‘I’m sorry to wreck your run,’ Charlotte said, sipping her drink and giving her leg a rub where it had struck the table. ‘That guy with the purple hair is involved with my daughter in some way. At least, I think he is. He matches the description that my son gave. I just wanted to have a word with him, but you saw how fast he ran away. He must have something to hide.’
‘Well, he was too fast for either of us to catch. And I’d say you got your morning exercise chasing after him. I’ll bet that’s the fastest you’ve run for a long time.’
Charlotte smiled at her. Although it was against every instinct of self-preservation, she liked Daisy. This woman could destroy her family, yet other than being related through blood to Bruce Craven, she couldn’t find a single reason to dislike her.
‘At least he’s easy to spot with that purple dragon shaved into his hair. I’m certain I’ll see him in a small town like this. Next time I’ll creep up on him, rather than challenging him to a race. That probably wasn’t such a good idea for a woman who hasn’t been out for a run since leaving school.’
Having finished their drinks, Daisy and Charlotte began the walk back down the promenade towards the guest house. The runners were all gone, and the dog walkers, pram pushers and resort visitors had now reclaimed the space.
‘Teenagers can be a struggle; I know all about that,’ Daisy said as they walked past the boathouse. ‘My daughter was a little devil when she reached sixteen. She’s married and got a family of her own now. What goes around comes around. She’ll be fighting the same battles with her own daughter soon enough.’
Circle of Lies Page 14
