‘Sorry, boy,’ he says as he heads out of the bedroom and into the lounge area. ‘You’ll have to stay here for now.’ Scout’s tail goes down and he takes himself off to his basket in the corner, sinking into it with a heavy grunt.
Hooking a baseball cap off the corner of a dining chair and ramming it onto his head, he checks that Scout’s water bowl is full, then leaves via the front door. His battered Citroën is parked around the side and he gets in, the interior already warm from the rising August sun.
The back roads are quiet, and he doesn’t pass anyone he recognises, just a couple of caravans and a cyclist. He parks in an off-road layby behind the woods, having decided to approach the cliffs via a woodland path rather than alongside the castle.
Beneath the trees it’s cool and fresh, the damp scent of loamy soil in his nostrils, reminding him of another forest in another place. Scout would have enjoyed this run. After a few minutes of steady jogging, the path opens onto an area of tinder-dry heathland. A few minutes more and he’s on the cliff path, the deep, foaming sea below him. He takes in a lungful of briny air, scans left to right and back again. There’s no sign of human activity.
Perfect.
Ten
‘Are you okay?’ I ask Lainy.
She nods, but her eyes are filmy and her face closes down. She takes the girls’ hands from my own and starts walking down the road with them. ‘Right, little misses, who’s going to help me build the biggest sandcastle in the universe?’ she cries, pretending to be cheerful for her daughters.
‘Me!’
‘Me as well!’
They put their hands up in the air and dance around her.
I glance at Tom, walking by my side laden down with carrier bags, but he just shrugs and shakes his head. I don’t want to make things worse, so I decide not to ask about the altercation with Kayla. It doesn’t look like he knows anyway. Instead, I take one of the bags from him and we walk in silence.
Poor Tom. He’s been fairly upbeat until this moment, but now his whole body sags. As a paramedic, Tom’s used to facing uncomfortable and stressful situations. I’ve never really seen anything faze him. But he worships Lainy and I can see how much her distress is upsetting him. I’m beginning to feel like some kind of holiday-camp leader, trying to keep everybody happy. It’s exhausting.
After a few moments, we round the corner. Before us lies Swanage Bay – a beautiful beach that none of us is truly able to appreciate today. It has a wide promenade, a curved strip of golden sand, a long, low jetty and an azure sea, framed by a lush, green headland on each side. The beach itself is traditional, with striped deckchairs, windbreaks and an ice-cream kiosk, like a scene from a 1950s postcard. Families and couples have already started to stake out their spots on the beach. It’s busier than I thought it would be.
‘Looks like we should have got here earlier,’ Tom says.
‘Let’s keep walking,’ I reply. ‘I’m sure we’ll find a spare bit of sand somewhere.’
We quicken our pace to keep up with Lainy, who’s being dragged down onto the beach by Poppy and Annabel. Eventually we come to a less crowded part, near to some colourful beach huts and a striped Punch and Judy tent with a sign that says the next show is at 2 p.m. We spend the next few minutes spreading out the rug, putting up the parasol and getting the girls into their swimming costumes. I text Jake to let him know whereabouts on the beach we’re sitting.
Tom glances down at my phone. ‘Any idea what time Jake and Dylan will be back?’ he asks.
‘I just texted, but they haven’t replied yet.’
‘Phone signal’s non-existent up there,’ Lainy says. ‘They won’t get your message until they leave the headland.’
‘Hopefully, they’ll be back in time for lunch.’ Tom rubs his belly. ‘I’m starving, I could probably dig into that picnic right away.’
‘Let’s at least wait until twelve,’ Lainy says, her voice steadier now.
I give her arm a squeeze, pleased she seems to be recovering from her recent encounter.
‘Right!’ Tom cries, stripping off his T-shirt. ‘If we can’t eat yet, who’s coming into the sea with me? Last one in is a rotten banana!’
The girls squeal and run the short distance to the shoreline with their dad. He loses the race on purpose and they splash at him with glee, taking great delight in calling him a rotten banana.
While Tom and the girls swim, Lainy puts on her sunglasses and starts reading on her phone. I don’t try to make conversation. I know what it’s like when you don’t want to talk. Instead, I sit cross-legged on the rug and stare at the sea, beyond the holidaymakers splashing in the shallows and out to the horizon. My gaze shifts round to the headland, to the green hills that give the illusion of having been created just for us, to provide a pretty backdrop. But the truth is that whatever is going on in our lives here today, the sea and the hills will just keep on existing. They will watch all this human drama without opinion or judgement. All our trivialities mean nothing to the landscape. Our hopes and fears, our holidays and night terrors. None of it will endure. But that isn’t of any comfort.
‘You okay?’ Lainy asks, easing me from my thoughts.
‘Me? Yeah. How about you?’
‘I haven’t seen Kayla for years,’ Lainy says. ‘She was so angry.’ She massages her forehead with her fingertips. ‘It shook me up a bit.’
‘I can imagine. She didn’t seem very happy to see you.’
‘Well, you know what she—’
‘Mummy! Aunty Faye! I did a handstand in the sea for ten seconds.’ Poppy comes racing up to us, her eyes bright, hair dripping. ‘Do you want to see?’
‘Definitely!’ Lainy says, standing up and wriggling out of her shorts.
‘I’ll keep an eye on everything. You go,’ I volunteer.
While they swim, I call my husband. My call goes straight through to his voicemail, so I leave a message:
‘Hey. Just calling to see how you’re getting on. Did you spot any dolphins? Send me photos. Anyway, we’re going to have lunch in about an hour. We’re at the beach, about halfway along by the Punch and Judy tent. See you in a bit. Love you guys!’
The sun has moved round, so I shift further under the parasol. Even though I’m wearing a long-sleeved shirt and linen trousers, I’m paranoid about sun exposure. My mum died from skin cancer not much older than I am now, so I always make sure Dylan and I cover up well in the summer. Jake is a sun worshipper and never listens to me when I ask him to put sunscreen on, so I’ve given up trying.
Eventually, the others return from the sea, grab towels from Tom’s rucksack and begin drying off, spraying sand everywhere and chattering excitedly about what fun it was.
‘Was the water warm?’ I ask.
‘Refreshing,’ Tom replies.
‘Is that a nice way of saying freezing?’
‘No, honestly, it was a nice temperature,’ he says with a pretend shiver. ‘Are you going in?’
I rub at my arms self-consciously. ‘Maybe later.’
‘Aren’t you hot?’ Tom asks. ‘You should go in. Cool down.’
‘Leave her be, Tom,’ Lainy says, trying to dry off a squirming, wriggling Annabel. ‘Faye said she doesn’t want to go in. Poppy, lay your towel flat and it will dry out quicker.’
‘Sorry,’ Tom replies. ‘Just trying to help.’
‘I know.’ Lainy leans over, kisses his cheek and they smile at one another.
I stand abruptly. ‘Maybe I will have a little paddle.’
‘See,’ Tom says to Lainy.
She gives him a gentle shove.
‘Any news from the boys?’ Tom asks.
‘Not yet. I left a voicemail letting them know where we are, so keep an eye out.’
‘Will do.’
I pick my way across the sand, past other families and a group of laughing teens. Was I ever that young and bright-eyed? It seems a world away from the person I am now. At the shoreline, I hitch up my trousers and let the waves roll over my toes
. There’s more of a breeze here and it’s pleasant to stand and let the water cool me, to let my mind go blank for a few minutes. The lapping of the ocean is soothing. I can see how people enjoy living by the beach, but I’ve become a city girl. I like the hustle and bustle. The sense of purpose everyone has in London. If I lived here, I would have too much time to think. I would feel adrift. Wouldn’t I? I try to imagine what it might be like – the slower pace, the countryside and ocean – but I can’t seem to picture it. Not as my everyday life. It’s too far removed from what I know. But maybe that’s not such a bad thing.
Lunchtime rolls around, and there’s still no word from Jake or Dylan. We decide to eat without them, figuring that they must have decided to grab something in the castle café. After lunch, the area around us starts to become even more crowded.
‘The Punch and Judy show is starting in a few minutes,’ Tom says. ‘Shall we stay and watch, or should we head back and start packing?’
‘Stay and watch! Stay and watch!’ the girls cry.
‘Okay.’ Tom closes the parasol and we shuffle around to face the brightly painted puppet theatre, feeling quite smug that we managed to bag a spot so close to the entertainment.
After what feels like an interminable wait, the show finally opens with Judy asking where the baby is and Punch replying that she accidentally fell out of the window. At this, Judy starts bashing Punch over the head with a wooden spoon. The children all start laughing their little heads off.
‘Have you seen one of these shows before?’ Lainy asks me.
‘When I was a kid. Can’t remember much about it though.’ I turn back to the puppet show, where Punch is now telling Judy he’s going to teach her a lesson. He hits her repeatedly with a stick, crying, ‘That’s the way to do it!’ Judy is whacking him back with the spoon. The children in the audience are laughing so hard, they can barely breathe.
‘Er, okay, girls,’ Lainy says quietly, ‘I don’t think this is appropriate, let’s start packing our things away.’
‘Noooo, we want to stay,’ Annabel cries, through squeals of laughter. ‘It’s funny!’
‘Mr Punch isn’t very nice.’ Poppy’s eyes are wide.
‘It’s just a bit of fun,’ Tom says, ‘and anyway, Judy’s giving as good as she’s getting.’
Lainy glares at him with her best cross-teacher look. ‘Really?’
Tom drops his smile and nods. ‘Fine, you’re right. It’s probably a bit, er, sixteenth century.’
We gather our belongings and leave the puppet show and the beach, making our way back along the promenade, Mr Punch’s squeaky words reverberating in my ears.
‘Any word from Jake?’ Tom asks as we walk.
I check my phone, but there are no texts and no voice messages. ‘Not yet.’
‘What time did they leave this morning?’ he asks.
‘Not sure. I was still asleep. I think Jake said they were going to leave at six.’
‘That was eight hours ago,’ Tom says with a frown.
‘No, it’s not that long ago; it’s only…’ I do a quick calculation on my fingers, but realise Tom’s right. ‘That’s too long, isn’t it? Something must have happened.’
‘Not necessarily,’ Tom backtracks. ‘Maybe they’re just enjoying themselves. Lost track of time…’
‘Do you think so?’
‘Yeah, of course. Could be any number of reasons why they’re late back.’
But I note Tom’s grim expression, and I wonder if he thinks something’s happened. Something bad.
Eleven
Then
Lainy takes the clear glass bottle from her brother’s friend and takes a swig of the vodka. It tastes bitter and disgusting, and it burns her throat, but he’s watching her closely so she’s trying not to grimace. It’s the last day of the summer term today, and tonight is the Year Eleven leavers’ party at Smugglers’ Cove. After repeated begging, her parents had let her come. But, honestly, she now wishes she hadn’t bothered.
She thought that once she was here she would finally get to talk to Owen Pearson. If she’s honest, she’s thought of nothing else since she knew this party was happening. Imagining what they might say to one another. She pictured herself playing it cool, and then Owen would make her laugh, and they would talk all night. Maybe even kiss. But she hasn’t managed to speak one word to him all evening. He’s been hanging out with his mates by the shoreline, mucking about and laughing. He hasn’t paid her any attention. And she doesn’t have anywhere near enough courage to go over there and make the first move. Instead, creepy Mark Tamworth has been following her around all evening. It’s obvious he fancies her, but she wouldn’t go out with him if you paid her, even though her brother keeps trying to set the two of them up.
Talking of her brother, he hasn’t spoken to her all night either. She glances over to where he’s sitting on the rocks talking to Rose. Lainy catches his eye and he smiles approvingly at her, tilting his head in Mark’s direction. She scowls at Jake and shakes her head, turning her back on him, wondering how she can evade Mark without annoying or upsetting either of them. She’s fed up with her brother trying to meddle in her life. She’ll be pleased when he leaves home and goes off to uni. But that won’t be for another couple of years. Until then, she’ll just have to make the best of things.
Lainy went to Jen’s house before the party and they spent hours getting ready, trying on clothes, doing each other’s hair and make-up. It was probably the most fun part of the whole evening. Listening to music and having a laugh, gossiping about how the evening would pan out. So far it looks like Jen’s evening is turning out just the way she imagined.
She and Jen were supposed to look out for one another tonight, but right at this moment Jen is snogging the face off her crush, Luke Bayswater, and she isn’t looking out for anyone other than herself. Not that Lainy blames her. Jen has fancied Luke for ages. If Owen had shown Lainy the slightest bit of interest, she’d probably have ditched her friend too. No, Lainy’s just jealous that Jen has snared the boy she likes, yet here Lainy is, stuck with Mark flipping Tamworth. And now her best friend has moved into a different league.
Lainy sighs. She must be the only girl left in her year who’s never kissed a boy. How humiliating. For a moment she wonders whether she should kiss Mark, just to say she’s done it. But then she looks at him, with his arrogant expression and self-satisfied smile, and she knows she could never let him touch her. The thought of it makes her shudder.
Twelve
Now
Back at the house, Poppy and Annabel thunder up the stairs to their room, repeating Mr Punch’s words with abandoned glee: ‘That’s the way to do it!’ while Tom, Lainy and I head into the kitchen. Lainy puts the kettle on, but we’re all so warm and sticky, I can’t imagine any of us will actually drink boiling hot tea. I fan myself with a local takeaway flyer while checking my phone for messages. The knot of anxiety in my chest is tightening.
‘Still no word?’ Tom asks.
I shake my head.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll go out and have a look for them.’ He stands abruptly, his chair making a loud scrape across the floor.
‘Thanks. I think I’ll come too.’ My voice sounds far away.
‘Lainy –’ Tom picks his keys up off the table – ‘are you okay to stay with the girls while Faye and I go up to the clifftop?’
She turns and leans back against the countertop. ‘Of course. I’ll text if they show up here while you’re out, although the signal’s pretty ropey up there, isn’t it? Do you want tea before you go?’
‘No thanks.’ I get to my feet and slide my phone back into my handbag.
‘We’ll have tea when we get back,’ Tom replies.
‘Or maybe we’ll need a shot of that brandy – if there’s any left.’ I pour myself a large glass of water and down a couple of paracetamol.
‘You okay?’ Lainy asks.
‘Bit too much sun. Just having some tablets to take the edge off.’
‘You should have said. We could have come home earlier. Your cheeks do look a bit pink. Are you going to be okay to go back out? Do you want to stay here with the girls?’ She straightens up. ‘I can go instead…’
‘No, it’s okay, I want to go. I’ll wear a hat and drink lots of water.’
She gives me a quick hug. ‘Don’t worry. Dylan will be fine.’
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Panic bubbling up, threatening to spill over.
‘Yeah, we’ll find them,’ Tom says. ‘In an hour, we’ll all be back here wondering what we were getting so stressed about.’ He kisses Lainy and follows me back down the cool hall and out into the blazing afternoon.
‘I’ll drive,’ he offers. ‘We can go slowly while you keep a look out, in case they’re wandering back.’
‘Okay. Good idea.’
His car unlocks with a beep, and we get in, the seat leather hot even through my trousers. I’m glad I’m not wearing shorts like Tom.
‘Air con!’ he says, turning the dial up. He drives slowly up the hill while I scan the street. There are plenty of people walking down towards the town, laden with beach bags, cool boxes and other seaside paraphernalia. I’m glad we’re going in this direction, as there’s a never-ending line of cars snaking down the hill, all trying to get to the seafront.
‘They’ll be lucky to get a parking space down there,’ Tom observes.
We reach Durlston Head car park without spotting Jake or Dylan and manage to nab a space as someone is just leaving. I get us a ticket and Tom takes a large green bag out of the boot.
‘What’s that?’ I ask.
‘My medical kit.’
‘What! Why?’
‘Don’t worry. I’m sure I won’t need it. But it’s better to bring it with me, just in case.’ He slings it over his shoulder and we make our way down to the castle.
‘I suppose we should take a look inside,’ Tom says.
‘Good idea. I’ll scout around the café, you check the loos.’
The Marriage Betrayal Page 5