‘Rosie!’ Liz called, and, ‘Darling!’ but it was too late, because the girl was already out of earshot. She could move fast when she wanted to, despite her disability.
‘What eez the matter? Is she sick?’
It was Rafael who spoke. He had left the floor to the other dancers, who were beginning to stream back now that the music had started again, and he’d clearly spotted Rosie racing off.
Liz was too angry with him to reply. Turning instead to Tabitha, she said, ‘I have to go after Rosie. Would you mind dropping Lowenna off on your way back?’
Tabitha nodded. She’d seen what had happened, too.
‘I don’t think we’ll be long after you. I won’t let Lowie out of my sight.’
As Liz bent down to explain to her youngest where she was going, she was distracted by an angry voice. Glancing up, she saw that Loveday was standing right in front of Jesse, alternately jabbing a finger in his direction and shoving him in the chest with the palm of her hand.
‘You tart!’ she was shouting. ‘You fucking bastard!’
Liz winced. You could see the spit spraying from Loveday’s mouth and she was bright red in the face.
She was a couple of inches taller than Jesse in her heels, and he looked thoroughly intimidated. He didn’t even attempt to retaliate but just stood there with his head bowed and shoulders hunched, his arms hanging limply at his sides.
‘Now, look here—’
Rick stepped forward to intervene, but Audrey grabbed his shoulder.
‘Don’t you dare get involved!’ she hissed. ‘You’ve caused quite enough trouble as it is.’
Rick muttered something but Liz didn’t wait for Audrey’s reply.
‘I have to go!’ she whispered to Tabitha, before jogging across the field in the direction of Rosie, hoping that she wouldn’t be too late to catch her up.
Whatever else was going on, Rosie took priority. Liz could never bear to see her daughter upset and felt right now that if given the chance, she would gladly strangle Rafael with her two bare hands.
The gate that led into the field was wide open and the road outside was clear. Turning right, she was hoping to spot Rosie heading down Fore Street towards home. Liz was concerned, however, that instead of making for Bag End, her daughter might go up onto the cliffs, or into the woods outside Tremarnock, where she could stumble and fall on her wonky leg and it would be difficult to find her.
Even if she didn’t hurt herself physically, isolation wasn’t good for anyone and bottling up her feelings wouldn’t help either; she needed to talk and Liz wanted to be there to listen.
The car park was still packed with vehicles. She could see them through gaps in the laurel hedge, stuffed together like sardines with barely enough space to open the doors and climb inside.
Feeling out of breath, Liz slowed to a fast walk for a few moments, intending to pick up the pace again once she’d recovered. As she passed the entrance, however, something made her turn and she caught sight of Max, on his own on the other side of a bright blue hire car, preparing to climb into the driver’s seat.
Her guts turned to mush and her brain swam. His head was bent and he mightn’t notice her. Should she tiptoe by? But then he glanced up and she knew that all was lost.
‘Liz!’ he said once more in a hollow voice, as if they’d been separated for years. ‘What are you doing?’
Never before had she felt so torn, between going after her daughter and staying with this man who seemed to hold such power over her. Should she try – yet again – to resolve once and for all this conundrum that she found herself in with him? If she didn’t do it now, he’d have gone back to Germany and it would be too late.
Then she pictured her daughter’s distressed face and imagined her running for the woods.
‘Rosie,’ she said. ‘I must—’
‘Where is she? Is she all right?’
Max’s concern sounded genuine. He seemed to have switched in an instant into a different mode and at that moment, Liz forgot all about their differences and found herself gabbling about what had happened. It was a relief to share her worry and she felt instinctively that he, being a father himself, would understand.
‘She was really upset… she was crying… I must find her…’
Liz was crying a little herself now, too.
‘Where d’you think she’s gone?’
In seconds, they’d hatched a plan. He would run down to the beach and if Rosie wasn’t there, he’d take the path up to the cliffs. Meanwhile, Liz would check the house first, then call Rosie’s mobile before picking up the car and making for the woods.
‘Text if you find her,’ Max said. ‘I’ll do the same.’
Without more ado, he sprinted off down Fore Street. Liz hurried back home, thinking only that she was profoundly grateful he’d been there to help and it was lucky that she’d stumbled across him in the car park after all.
*
It was strange, Liz thought, how you could often sense that a house was empty even without looking around. The moment that she entered Bag End, she just knew that Rosie wasn’t here.
It was true that her shoes weren’t lying abandoned in the hallway and she hadn’t slung her jacket or sweatshirt across the banisters, as usual, instead of hanging them neatly on the coat rack.
The carpet runner was still firmly in place, not scuffed at the edges, there were no sounds of music coming from upstairs and the kettle wasn’t boiling in the kitchen.
Mitzi the tortoiseshell cat slunk out of the room next door, yawning, and draped herself around Liz’s feet, a sure sign that she hadn’t been fed.
But none of these clues would have totally persuaded Liz of her daughter’s absence. Rather, it was the stillness in the air, as if the atoms and molecules, the protons, electrons and neutrons that were in a state of constant agitation when the house was occupied, were enjoying a well-earned rest.
Even so, Liz called out her daughter’s name and checked each room to be absolutely sure, and no one was present. When she tried Rosie’s mobile, no one answered, and it was then that her imagination really began to run riot.
Disturbing images flashed before her eyes: Rosie lying in the forest at the roots of a tree with a broken leg; Rosie at the foot of a cliff, with the tide lapping over her.
Liz told herself not to be silly, but it didn’t work too well. There really was no need for her to watch scary films or TV drama series; her mind was quite capable of conjuring up terrifying scenarios all by itself.
Next, she tried Robert’s phone, but he didn’t pick up either. Then she remembered that he’d told her he’d be running the Secret Shack single-handed for a few hours before closing, as the temporary staff weren’t able to stay on that long. No doubt his mobile would be off or on silent. She sent him a quick text, asking him to get in touch, but had little hope of a speedy answer.
Sitting on the end of their bed, she could hear the seagulls stomping overhead, probably preparing to roost, and she found herself gnawing at the corner of a fingernail and frowning. Where was he when she needed him most? Not here, that was for sure.
She had phoned the local council about the gulls the morning after Robert claimed he’d almost been attacked by them outside the house. Unfortunately, an officious-sounding man from the Environmental Health department had confirmed that anyone killing or otherwise harming the birds could pick up a £5,000 fine or a six month prison sentence.
As neither Liz nor Robert wished to fork out or go to jail, the birds, it seemed, were sitting pretty. It would have been comforting to have Robert around right now, however, even if only to bang a broom handle against the ceiling and shout at them.
A loud buzzing brought her back to the here and now. Max’s name flashed up on her phone and she quickly swiped to answer.
‘I’ve got her,’ came his voice and she exhaled deeply.
‘Oh thank God. Is she OK? Where was she?’
‘She’s fine, yes. She was on the beach – right at the oth
er end, beyond the rocks.’
There was a pause when he offered the phone to Rosie and Liz could hear the two of them talking. Rosie sounded upset still. Her voice was cracking and she let out a sob, so he came back on the line.
‘She can’t really speak.’ His tone was apologetic, as if it was somehow his fault, which of course it wasn’t. ‘I’ll bring her back now. We won’t be long.’
Liz went downstairs to fill the kettle and it was only then that she began to feel nervous about seeing Max again. As she fetched three mugs and a half-eaten walnut cake from a tin in the cupboard and set them on the kitchen table, she gave herself a stiff talking-to.
Whatever had happened in the past, she must put her own unease to one side and show Max how thankful she was for his help. Also, it was crucial to act normal around him in front of Rosie. She had taken a strange dislike to the German the last time he’d visited. Liz never had discovered why, but feared that her daughter was no fool and might have suspected that something was going on between him and her mother.
The mere thought that Rosie might be suspicious made Liz feel sick and when someone knocked on the door, she was so on edge that she almost cried out. After quickly smoothing her fringe and straightening her skirt, she hurried to answer. On opening the door, Rosie ran into her arms and buried herself in Liz’s chest.
It was a long time since she’d wanted a hug like this and Liz held her daughter tight. Rosie felt thin and vulnerable, she was crying softly and her tears started to soak through Liz’s dress, leaving a damp patch on her breastbone.
‘There, there,’ she was saying, ‘it’s all right,’ all the time stroking her daughter’s hair while her chin rested lightly on Rosie’s head.
Some moments passed before Liz even looked at Max, standing right behind, and when she did, she was struck by the softness in his eyes and the gentleness of his expression. He seemed quite different from the tense, hard, inscrutable man of earlier in the day.
‘Thank you so much,’ Liz managed to say, with a steady gaze. She wanted to convey her heartfelt gratitude.
‘Glad I found her,’ he replied, with a small smile.
There was a slight pause when Liz opened her lips to speak. She noticed his brows lift, as if he were hoping for an answer to a question that had long been troubling him, but then she closed her mouth again. She hadn’t known what she wanted to say anyway.
‘I’d better go,’ he said with a sigh. ‘My flight leaves early tomorrow.’
‘Won’t you have a cup of tea first? I’ve just boiled the kettle.’
He glanced down the hallway and seemed to hesitate before shaking his head.
‘You two need to be alone. I don’t want to get in the way.’
Rosie made a snuffling noise and Liz couldn’t argue with him; she really did need to talk to her daughter.
She was about to thank him again but he stopped her.
‘Liz?’
His tone was urgent and she felt herself stiffen. Rosie did, too.
‘Will you write and tell me how she is? I’d like to know everything’s OK.’
Liz’s heart seemed to sink and rise simultaneously because she knew that she couldn’t refuse. Now, she had a perfectly good reason to be in touch, which was both negative and positive at the same time.
She shouldn’t be in contact, of course, she should ask someone else to do it for her. But she’d be kidding herself if she didn’t admit that she dreaded the thought of never seeing or hearing from him again, and even more so now that she’d set eyes on him once more.
‘Of course,’ she said, attempting a polite smile, but she must have given something more away because the corners of his lips seemed to curl up like the fronds of a young fern or the scroll of a violin handle.
‘Good,’ he said, nodding slowly, as if he needed time to absorb the information.
They were still at the open door and Rosie had scarcely moved, but she shuffled now and broke the spell.
‘I guess it’s goodbye then,’ said Liz. ‘Safe flight tomorrow.’
Max turned his back and raised his right hand high above his shoulder – perhaps in thanks or recognition or simply to say goodbye, she wasn’t sure. He kept it raised, with all five fingers spread wide, as he walked down the garden path, then when he reached the gate, he waved it from side to side a few times without looking back, as if he knew that she’d still be watching.
She smiled, because the gesture was funny and a bit flirty at the same time, a moment shared between just the two of them.
‘Mum!’ Rosie’s voice brought her crashing back to reality.
‘Come on, you,’ Liz said, closing the door and leading her daughter towards the kitchen. ‘I’ll put the kettle back on. There’s no problem in the world that can’t be solved with a cuppa, a cuddle and a good old chat.’
Chapter Fourteen
Chabela was anxious to get away from the playground, the field and, suddenly, the village itself. As she hurried from the makeshift dance floor she felt guilty, as if she’d done something wrong, but she wasn’t sure what.
It had been ages since she’d danced like that at a gathering, and she’d enjoyed it so much; it had felt wonderfully freeing, and the fact that she’d been joined by someone who, like her, really knew how to salsa, had made it all the more entertaining. She’d always loved dancing, ever since she was a little girl, and could never understand people who didn’t.
To her, it hadn’t mattered who Rafael was, only that he clearly adored music and movement just as much as she did. But when the song had stopped she’d suddenly become aware of a peculiar atmosphere and when she’d glanced around, she’d realised that some people were staring at her in a not entirely friendly way.
This wasn’t unusual. She’d attracted attention, good and bad, all her life, or ever since she’d grown up, anyway, and had managed to ignore it most of the time. However, she’d felt so safe and comfortable in Tremarnock up to now, so welcomed by the whole village, that it was a shock to think she might have upset anyone, male or female. It was the very last thing that she would have wanted.
It crossed her mind that it might be considered bad manners in Tremarnock to dance with a younger person, or maybe people had a problem with the fact that Rafael and Rosie were boyfriend and girlfriend. But Chabela hadn’t meant anything by it; it had just been a bit of fun.
She bit her lip and swore that from now on, she’d do her best to steer well clear of all the local boys and men, including Rick; she wouldn’t even look at them if she could possibly avoid it.
It was still only five thirty and she wondered what to do with herself until bedtime. She’d seen Bramble and Matt by the playground, with drinks in hand, chatting to friends, and it didn’t seem as if they’d be going home any time soon.
Chabela didn’t fancy rattling around Polgarry Manor on her own with just painful feelings for company. As the weather was still beautiful – warm and sunny – she decided to go for a stroll along the cliff top. Hopefully, she’d wear herself out and be ready for a long sleep when the time came. She had work tomorrow and wanted to wake up fresh.
Strolling along Fore Street towards the seafront, she passed the Hole in the Wall, which belonged to Tabitha’s partner, Danny. The door was open and there was a young woman standing behind the bar, but otherwise the place was silent and empty.
She had to walk carefully on the uneven cobbles, and just a little way past the steeps steps that she’d taken to reach Simon’s house, a small, sharp stone slipped into her espadrille.
‘Ay!’ she squealed, limping a couple of paces before she had to stop.
Leaning back against the wall for support, she crooked one knee, resting her foot against the other leg, and tried to tease out the stone from beneath her instep with a little finger.
When she put the foot back down, however, the pebble was still there. It was only tiny but it hurt a lot. Damn! There was nothing for it; she’d have to take off the whole shoe.
Bending over, sh
e started to untie the laces around her ankle. She was aware that she didn’t look exactly ladylike with her bottom in the air, but fortunately the street was deserted. Or so she thought. It was a bit of a surprise, therefore, when she was startled by a noise nearby, like someone clearing their throat, and then a man spoke.
‘Er, can I help?’
The sound of the voice made Chabela jump. The shoe was off by now and there wasn’t time to put it back on, so she hopped around clumsily on one foot to find out who it was.
‘Oh!’ she said, when she saw Simon hovering just behind. He would have been subjected to the sight of her prominent posterior, all the more obvious in the red skirt, of course, and she could feel her face heat up. ‘What are you doing here?’
She instantly regretted her words because his palm shot up and he slapped his forehead several times, before shrugging his shoulder and jerking his chin in that nervous way of his.
‘Sorry,’ she said quickly, hoping to calm him down. ‘That sounded rude. It’s just that you made me jump. I had a stone in my shoe.’
As she pointed unnecessarily to the red espadrille lying on the cobbles, he followed her gaze. For a moment the two of them just stood there, gawping, as if neither had ever come across such an extraordinary sight before.
She was pretty good at standing on one leg, flamingo-like, but after a while, her balance started to go. Wobbling precariously, she grabbed with both hands onto the nearest thing that she could find – which happened to be Simon’s shoulder.
Her sudden weight made him lurch to one side and it seemed likely that they might both tumble like dominoes into a heap on the ground, but he managed to save himself in the nick of time.
Now that she had support again, she, too, returned to an upright position, with both feet firmly on the cobbles. The only problem was that with just one sandal she was lopsided, listing like a drunken sailor.
Simon didn’t seem to notice. ‘Here,’ he said, bending down to retrieve the other espadrille, which he turned upside down and shook vigorously, to get rid of the stone. Then he gave the sole one final slap to be absolutely sure, before passing the shoe over.
The Girl Who Came Home to Cornwall Page 18
