Single Mother

by Samantha Hayes

  Kate gets down off the stool, grumbling about being hungry, trailing Mel outside.

  ‘This is where Joyce wanted the extension to be, on the north side,’ Mel says, surveying the area. ‘Which is silly, look, as it would have completely blocked the car park entrance, which clearly can’t be moved.’

  In the file, the architect, and indeed the council, had stated that the only viable place for an extension was directly off the back of the main building and, because the building wasn’t listed, they’d given the go-ahead. Mel could see it would bring light flooding into the restaurant through the new orangery and open out on to what could be a lovely garden, if only it were tamed.

  ‘You know what, love?’ Mel says, ushering Kate over to the patio area. ‘With the extension here, we could host wedding receptions.’ She glances over at the overgrown area of lawn, spotting what looks like a raised stone pond and fountain among the brambles. ‘Needs a bit of imagination, obviously,’ she says, laughing. ‘And weeding.’

  Kate stands there, her hands shoved in her jeans pockets, her freckled nose slightly wrinkled, her eyes narrowing as she looks about.

  ‘Right. You stand here and hold this while I measure ten metres.’ Mel hands Kate the end of the builder’s tape measure she’d found in a pile of tools left in the back hallway. She wants to get an idea of the size of the new extension, conscious of getting the garden into shape for the height of summer – only a month or so away. There’s no point in landscaping areas that will be dug up.

  ‘OK, don’t move,’ Mel says, banging a piece of wood into the ground. One by one, she marks out the four corners of the extension. ‘We need a big terrace here, don’t you think?’ she says, glancing at Kate, who’s texting with one thumb, the tape measure still in her other hand.

  ‘Yeah…’ Kate replies, staring at her phone.

  ‘Oh, hello,’ Mel says under her breath, distracted by a figure walking through the car park. ‘Hi, Tom,’ she calls out. She’s not seen him since their first night here. Quickly, she smooths down her T-shirt and runs her fingers through her hair.

  ‘Hi, Mel. Nice to see you’re a “Badass” today, rather than a “Nah”.’ He stops, standing with his hands on his hips, spotting the pegs and string. ‘Is this the new extension Joyce had in mind? Or not in mind, I should say.’ He laughs. ‘And who might this young lady be?’ he adds, looking at Kate while sweeping an errant strand of blond hair off his forehead.

  ‘This is Kate, my daughter. Tom does a few odd jobs around the hotel, Kate,’ she explains, suddenly aware of how sweaty and dusty she feels, mainly from rummaging around in store cupboards earlier.

  ‘Hi,’ Kate says, still without looking up from her phone. Mel catches her breath as she spots what appears to be the outline of another phone in Kate’s front jeans pocket. She knows she’s going to have to ask her about it – where it came from, how she’s afforded it. It was probably what she heard ringing in the flat that night. But Mel is wary of rocking the boat – especially as part of her isn’t sure she wants to know the truth. And especially not in front of Tom.

  ‘What do you mean, Joyce didn’t have it in mind?’ Mel asks Tom, catching the scent of his body wash or shampoo on the breeze. He’s in work gear – torn jeans, heavy boots and a thick workman’s top – and he’s holding a pair of builder’s gloves.

  Tom smiles, dimples puckering his cheeks behind the smattering of stubble. ‘Joyce wanted to extend the hotel, but only if it was done her way.’ Tom points to the car park entrance. ‘She insisted the architect put in for works here, and even though he knew it was futile, he told Joyce that she could maybe appeal. But she never did.’

  ‘I see,’ Mel says, shielding her face from the sun, wondering if Joyce was the stubborn type. ‘The extension is the only major building work I’m going to tackle this year. I’ll redecorate downstairs, and maybe revamp a few of the bedrooms so they’re ready to let. But I want to focus on drawing in locals to the beer garden and get them eating our food first. I was awake most of the night concocting new menus, though I’m hardly a chef, plus I’ve got so many plans for how to promote the place, not to mention the things I’ve got in mind for the garden overhaul.’ Mel takes a deep breath, feeling excited by all her plans.

  Tom folds his arms, a small smile creeping across his face, an appreciative look in his eyes. ‘Badass indeed,’ he says, flicking a look at her T-shirt again.

  Nineteen

  ‘That man fancies you,’ Kate says as she and Mel walk arm in arm down the hill from the hotel a couple of days later. The lane is narrow, widening only when they reach the outskirts of the village. It’s a pleasant fifteen-minute stroll to the sea but will be a harder walk on the way back. The afternoon sun hangs directly ahead of them and Mel is glad she brought her sunglasses.

  ‘We could run a shuttle service several times a day for guests,’ she says, thinking out loud. ‘So they can get to the beach and explore the shops and sights easily. I could buy a six- or eight-seater, perhaps do outings to Lyme Regis, too.’ Mel taps a reminder note into her phone, which is already bursting with new ideas she’s had over the last few days.

  ‘Don’t ignore me, Mum,’ Kate goes on, giving Mel a poke in the ribs. Mel turns suddenly, letting out a squeak and lunging at Kate for a tickle. They both laugh, stumbling and giggling. ‘That guy, Tom. He definitely fancies you. I could tell the other day when we were measuring up the site. And he’s come around a couple of times since, asking if you were about. I told him you were out.’

  ‘He has?’ Mel says quickly as their steps fall back into rhythm. Then she adds, ‘Nonsense. It was just a joke we’d had about T-shirt slogans. He doesn’t know yet that I’m queen of them.’ She winks across at Kate.

  ‘You want to put that sweary one on next time. That’ll freak him out.’

  The pair laugh, feeling the warm, late-spring breeze on their faces as they head down towards the sea. Kate had kept busy earlier, researching local schools and checking out doctors and dentists online, making a list of where they needed to register. But by the afternoon of their sixth day, they both decided they needed to escape the walls of Moreton Inn.

  Mel had been woken early by the sound of gulls swooping low over the hotel, their cries reminding her how close to the sea they were. She was exhausted and felt overwhelmed by everything she’d taken on. Plus she still hadn’t tackled the issue about Kate having what seemed to be a secret second phone.

  Logic told her it was probably just an old one she was using to chat to her online gaming friends, to save giving out her real number. But at only twelve, Mel was uncomfortable with that too.

  ‘And anyway, you’re being ridiculous. Tom is definitely not interested in me. I’m sure I’ve already put him off,’ Mel says, smiling and shaking her head as they arrive in the village centre. ‘Wow, this is so pretty,’ she adds, looking around the small square with its neatly cut grass and tubs of flowers.

  ‘Which means you fancy him back, right? Ooh, Mum’s in love,’ Kate teases, chanting the last bit over and over.

  ‘Stop it, young lady, or it’s no dinner and bed by seven for you,’ Mel jokes.

  ‘But I’ve got a gaming session booked tonight,’ Kate retorts, a concerned look on her face. It gives Mel a way to bring up what’s on her mind as they head past a little row of shops – a baker, a butcher and a hardware store. Around the corner there’s a greengrocer’s.

  ‘I’m waiting to spot the candlestick maker next,’ Mel says, laughing, conscious she’s still stalling mentioning the phone. ‘How cute is this place?’ she says, spotting the ice cream shop just as Kate does.

  ‘Oh my God. Want,’ Kate squeaks, dashing up to the window. A young couple sit outside with two waffle cones topped with pastel-coloured ices.

  ‘Then you shall have,’ Mel replies, coming up beside her daughter, who is ogling all the different flavours. ‘But let me just dash into the newsagent next door to grab a paper first. Wait here a second.’

  Mel leaves Kate to
choose a flavour and goes into the small shop, looking around for the newspapers and magazines.

  ‘Excuse me,’ she says to a man, probably in his sixties or even seventies, judging by the gnarled and worn look on his face. He’s tall with a gut hanging over his trousers, a stained shirt above, and it’s not long before Mel catches a whiff of him. He stares at her, making no attempt to move out of her way as he blocks the small gap between the shelves. She notices his tattooed knuckles when he reaches out for something – LOVE and HATE written in faded, bruise-coloured ink.

  ‘Can I get past, please?’ she says, trying again.

  He turns slowly, leering down at her with a grim expression that reminds Mel of a knotty old tree stump. Then he takes a step sideways, blocking her way even more.

  ‘I just want to grab a newspaper,’ she adds, not liking the look of him at all, nor the way he’s sizing her up. His cheek twitches under one eye.

  For a second, Mel wonders if she should forget the paper and leave, but she refuses to be intimidated by the rude man, so attempts to squeeze through the small gap, even if it means brushing against him. But when she tries, he shoves into her.

  ‘Oww…’ Mel cries as she stumbles, trying to keep her balance. But as he turns to leave, he pushes her again and Mel falls against the shelves, knocking some tins of food onto the floor.

  The man glares back over his shoulder at her as he goes out of the door, with Mel rubbing her shoulder, stunned by what just happened.

  ‘Are you OK?’ someone says.

  Mel turns and sees the shop assistant: a woman about her own age.

  ‘Yeah, yeah, I’m fine thanks. Sorry about the mess.’ She bends down to pick up the cans. The woman helps her then goes over to the shop door, staring out.

  ‘He’s a menace,’ she says, glancing up and down the street. ‘Comes in most days for his tobacco.’

  ‘Who is he?’ Mel asks, grabbing her newspaper and taking some coins from her purse.

  ‘One of those local characters who’s been around for ever,’ she says, ringing up the amount on the till. ‘His name is Don,’ she says. ‘Dirty Don, they call him,’ she adds with a laugh. ‘All the women try to avoid him.’

  ‘I can see why,’ Mel says, making a mental note to do the same. ‘Thanks for the tip-off,’ she adds, saying a quick goodbye before going back out to Kate, who’s still drooling over the ice creams.

  ‘Did you see a man just now?’ Mel asks, hoping he didn’t approach Kate.

  ‘No,’ she says vaguely, peering at all the flavours through the window.

  ‘Good. Look, going back to what we were talking about, love. The gaming,’ Mel adds, slipping her arm around Kate’s shoulders.

  ‘Mmm, definitely coconut and chocolate chip for me.’

  ‘That other phone you have. Is that what you use to talk to your online friends with? I was wondering where it came from.’

  Without answering, Kate slides away from under Mel’s arm, heading into the shop and taking her little coin purse from her jacket pocket. Mel stands watching on, her mouth slowly dropping open as she pulls out a folded £20 note.

  ‘Double coconut choc chip, please,’ she hears her daughter say. Kate turns back to the door, calling out, ‘Mum, what do you want?’

  ‘Umm…’ Mel says, stepping inside, feeling the cool air conditioning on her face. She quickly scans the flavours on offer. ‘Passion fruit would be lovely, thanks, darling,’ she says as if it’s the most normal thing in the world for her daughter to have that much money in her purse. She racks her brain, trying to work out how much Michael paid for her last shift, how much Kate said she’d spent on that new game. It was only a few days before they’d left Birmingham that Kate was grumbling she’d used up all her pocket money.

  Ice cream cones in hand, the pair wander down to the seafront, Mel aware that Kate still hasn’t answered her question. They stand beside a small harbour nestled in the natural arc of the headland, various boats bobbing about at high tide. A man-made jetty forms the southernmost boundary, jutting out into the sea to protect the harbour from incoming waves. It’s littered with fishermen casting long rods into the water, some standing high up on the white-painted breaker built on top of the quay.

  ‘Oh my God, look!’ Kate squeals, running up to the edge of the harbour, only a couple of painted bollards marking the drop into the water. One step forward and Kate would be on the deck of a small craft that looked as though it belonged to a weekend fisherman. ‘Is that a seal, Mum?’

  Mel strains her eyes, putting a flattened hand over her brow and tracking out to where Kate is pointing. Sure enough, Mel makes out the whiskery, shiny grey dome of a seal’s head.

  ‘Yes, it is!’ she replies, delighted to hear her daughter so excited. A far cry from the sights of Birmingham and the horrors of her old school. She never thought she’d witness the day that Kate would be standing, ice cream in hand, her hair blowing in the sea breeze, spotting a seal.

  ‘Quick, take a photo,’ Mel says, offering to hold her cone. Kate plunges her hand into her pocket and retrieves her phone – not her usual phone. She waits until Kate has snapped a few photos before saying anything, until they’re walking down onto the little beach a hundred metres further along the seafront. It’s only when their shoes are kicked off and the cool, wet sand exposed by the tide is between their toes that Mel tries again.

  ‘I couldn’t help noticing you’ve got a new phone, love,’ Mel says, knowing it’s ridiculous to tiptoe around a twelve-year-old about such a thing. But this isn’t any twelve-year-old. It’s Kate. And Kate has been through too much to risk upsetting her. ‘Do you want to tell me where it came from?’

  Kate looks up at her, scuffing a groove in the pebble-littered sand with her toes. She uncovers a pretty scallop shell and bends down to pick it up, crunching the last of her cone.

  ‘Think I’ll start a shell collection,’ she says, holding it up. ‘And I read that there are loads of fossils in this area, too. Maybe I’ll collect those as well. Perhaps I’ll even become an archaeologist. How cool would that be? I could go to uni, and—’

  ‘Kate, love,’ Mel says, placing a hand on her daughter’s arm. ‘The phone – where did it come from?’

  Kate avoids her mum’s eyes, staring out to sea instead, raising her hand to point to a boat on the horizon. But Mel gently places a finger under her chin to turn her face towards her, tilting it up so she has no option but to look at her. Mel raises her eyebrows.

  There’s a moment’s silence before Kate speaks, and later Mel almost imagines that she didn’t hear the word, that her daughter’s timid voice was carried away on the breeze and lost out at sea.

  ‘Dad,’ she says breathily, finally turning her head away.

  Twenty

  Mel’s heart is still thumping as they begin the walk back up the hill. With the hotel nestled near the top of a dead-end lane that seems to narrow down to a hair’s breadth at the top, the route is tree- and hedge-lined, with the odd break in the foliage giving way to stunning views across the bay.

  She’d had no idea what to say when Kate blurted out that single, shocking word: Dad. Instead, she’d chosen silence, perhaps giving an imperceptible nod in acknowledgment – she can’t remember. But she knew if she showed her fear, her anger, then Kate would be upset. And she didn’t want that, not now. Not in their new life. It was inevitable that Billy had come sniffing about after his release, and she prayed he wouldn’t find them here.

  ‘Weren’t you going to get some fresh bread on the way back, Mum?’ Kate says as they plod past a row of small terraced cottages staggered up the steep hillside – the last of the built-up part of the village, all but for a couple of larger, detached properties before they reach the hotel. The brightly coloured front doors of the terraced row, several of which have pots of geraniums and pansies outside, open directly on to the lane. An old woman sits outside one of the doors, perched on a fold-up stool, a cup of tea to hand. There is a telephone directory under two of the stoo
l’s legs to compensate for the steep incline.

  ‘’Ello, mi ducks,’ the woman says with a nod and a smile as Kate and Mel walk past.

  Mel returns the greeting with a quick wave. If she wasn’t feeling unsettled, she’d stop for a quick chat, introduce herself. They’re near neighbours, after all, and she wants nothing more than to fit in with the community. But that single word – Dad – is still reverberating around her head, making the inside of her skull buzz, feeling like a migraine brewing. Not to mention the run-in with that vile man in the shop.

  After they’ve walked out of earshot, just as Mel is about to broach the subject of the phone again, she suddenly stops, grabbing hold of Kate’s arm. She freezes in the middle of the lane, her body rigid and her nerves on fire. There’s a man walking down the hill towards them, about a hundred yards up ahead. He’s swaying and staggering, making him appear almost intoxicated.

  Shit.

  Mel’s heart bangs in her chest, her eyes flicking left then right, searching for gateways or turnings between the houses – any kind of quick escape route. She can’t yet make out who the man is – he’s got his cap pulled low over his face – but she knows from experience that instinct doesn’t work like that. Fight or flight is raw, it’s immediate and doesn’t bother with logic.

  Billy.

  ‘Mum?’ Mel hears Kate say… then more words – asking if she’s OK, does she need to sit down? ‘Mum, you’ve gone white. Why have we stopped?’

  ‘I… I…’ Mel tries to speak but the words won’t come. ‘Quick,’ she says. ‘Down here.’ Having spotted a narrow passageway to the side of the final terraced cottage – a tiny pale blue place with window boxes – Mel pulls Kate by the arm and heads towards it, her legs feeling like they’re filled with jelly and lead at the same time.

  ‘Why are we going into someone’s garden, Mum? Are we allowed down here?’