The Little B & B at Cove End

by Linda Mitchelmore

  ‘Mae, what’s happened? Your frock and …’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Mae said. ‘Really. I can’t believe you went out leaving the front door open and unlocked. Where have you been?’

  ‘To the corner shop,’ Cara said. She held up her bag of provisions to show Mae. ‘I’m sure I shut the door behind me. We’ve got guests. Can you believe that? We could be on our way to making money, Mae. But your knee … Did you fall? I think …’

  ‘You don’t want to know, Mum,’ Mae interrupted. ‘But what guests?’

  ‘Pam and Eddie Hine,’ Cara told her. ‘I think you’d better wash that bloody knee off even if you don’t want to tell me how you did it. There’s Savlon in the cabinet in my bathroom. And then I’ll introduce you to our guests. Okay?’

  She ought not to be standing here talking to Mae with guests to see to, but she had an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach that something had gone badly wrong on her date with Josh. Cara made to walk past Mae, but Mae grabbed her arm.

  ‘Eh?’ she said. ‘What guests? I’ve been in every single room in this house looking for you and there’s no one here.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ Cara shrugged off Mae’s hand and stumbled into her hallway. She leaned against the newel post at the bottom of the stairs for support. Perhaps Eddie and Pam Hine had changed their minds about stopping and had simply left? Mae had followed her in, so Cara put down her bag of shopping and put an arm around Mae’s shoulders. ‘They said they wanted a full English, but I didn’t have the things for it so I went to shop. I was only gone a few minutes. Fifteen minutes at the most. I made them a pot of tea before I left and I ran all the way there and back. Perhaps they changed their minds?’

  And then Cara realised that there had been no car parked outside when she’d left to go to the shop, and they’d had no luggage with them to speak of, only a tartan old-fashioned holdall thing. And she knew, beyond doubt, that if she hadn’t given them the opportunity so recently to steal stuff, she would have found things missing in the morning.

  ‘Just wait until you see what they’ve done to my room!’ Mae yelled at her, running up the stairs.

  Cara followed, her legs feeling like lead and her head pounding.

  ‘Great idea not, Mum,’ Mae said as Cara walked around the room as if on some sort of automatic pilot picking up Mae’s clothes, which had been strewn all over the bedroom floor in haste by Pam and Eddie Hine – if that was what they were called – as they ransacked it.

  Cara felt hot with rage one second and then cold with horror the next, just thinking about the Hines and how they’d touched all Mae’s personal belongings.

  ‘Your room’s the same, Mum,’ Mae said, as though reading her mind. ‘All the drawers pulled open or tipped out completely on the bed, like they do in TV dramas.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Cara said. ‘I’d give anything for this not to have happened.’

  She smoothed and folded Mae’s clothes as carefully as she would had they been freshly laundered, with the scent of lavender fabric conditioner mixed with fresh sea air clinging to them. Although she knew, as she methodically piled Mae’s school blouses and skirts and cardigans, that she would have to wash everything – everything! – because it was as if she could smell the Hines and the badness that was in them to have done such a thing.

  ‘They looked perfectly respectable. Middle-aged,’ Cara said.

  Mae stared angrily at her.

  ‘Huh!’ Mae said. ‘How stupid was that, to go out and leave strangers in the house?’

  ‘Very stupid,’ Cara admitted.

  But this was a small place. There was hardly ever any crime and what there was only revolved around the pub when a bit of overdrinking got out of hand and a window got smashed, or someone’s wing mirrors got trashed. Burglary just didn’t happen in a place like Larracombe. Until now.

  ‘It seems I no longer have a laptop,’ Mae said. ‘So perhaps you could tell me how I’m going to do my homework? We have to do it online, you know.’

  ‘I know,’ Cara said.

  She thought fast. Perhaps Rosie would loan her the money? Or buy one in advance of Mae’s birthday as her birthday present? Rosie was a good and generous present-giver to her goddaughter.

  ‘That was the last thing Dad ever got me,’ Mae said. ‘I was the last in my class to get a laptop. And he only got it for me then because he wanted to use the computer at night when I wanted to use it for homework. And now you’ve let someone steal it.’

  So, Dad good, me bad, Cara thought. She knew she would have to tell Mae about Mark’s gambling soon, but now didn’t quite seem to be the time. While the robbery was making Cara feel uncomfortable, it was by no means as bad as Mark dying within hours of her asking him to leave the family home. Would she have the courage to tell Mae that?

  ‘I’ll get you a new laptop just as soon as I can,’ Cara said. ‘But perhaps Josh could loan you his in the meantime?’

  ‘That waster,’ Mae sniffed.

  It was then that Cara noticed pins down one side of the skirt of Mae’s dress, and that the netting petticoat was more than hanging off. Mae’s knees had stopped bleeding – more bad grazes than deep cuts.

  ‘What happened tonight, Mae? Your frock? Your knees?’ Cara asked, suddenly cool and calm, her thoughts sharper and more focused. Whatever the Hines might have done was nothing compared to what she thought Josh might have done to Mae to get her into such a state. ‘Between you and Josh?’

  ‘You can’t ask stuff like that,’ Mae said. ‘Not even because you’re my mother.’

  Yes, I bloody can if he’s hurt you, Cara thought. She reached for Mae’s hand.

  ‘Let’s sit down for a moment, Mae. On your bed. We’ve both had a bit of a shock.’

  Much to Cara’s surprise, Mae allowed herself to be led.

  ‘He drank too much,’ Mae said, still with her hand in Cara’s. ‘I’m certain he’d been drinking before then, although …’

  ‘Meg Smythson told me he’d bought wine. And that you were with him.’

  ‘Do you want to know what happened or not?’ Mae said. ‘Not that I think she had any right to tell you anything.’

  ‘No, she didn’t. Sorry. That wasn’t meant to sound as though Josh shouldn’t have been buying wine if he wanted to, or that I’m cross that he did. I let you drink wine sometimes. But I need to know, Mae … did Josh attack you?’

  Did he try to rape you? was what she meant but couldn’t bring herself to say the words.

  ‘No. Not exactly. I only had one glass or maybe a bit more, but Josh had drunk the rest of the bottle and I knew he shouldn’t drive so I tried to get his car keys off him. I wanted him to walk back with me and tell his sister the car had broken down or something, but he didn’t want to. And my frock got ripped when he tried to stop me getting out of the car and … it’s the last frock Dad ever bought me and it’s special and …’

  And then Mae dissolved into tears. Cara was full of questions, questions she couldn’t ask like, where were you when this happened, were there no other people around, did you have sex?

  ‘Time for a hug?’ Cara said, opening her arms wide to her daughter.

  ‘Not at the moment,’ Mae said, her tears drying up rapidly as she reached for a corner of her quilt and swiped it across her eyes. ‘I’ve been to hell and back, Mum, wondering what had happened to you when you weren’t here and stuff was missing. Did you ever think of that?’

  It was as though, in that moment, Mae was the adult, and she, Cara, the child.

  ‘No, no I didn’t,’ Cara said. Whatever had she been thinking of going out and leaving people she didn’t know in the house? Yes, she’d been desperate to start making some money for them both but, well … ‘We’d better phone the police.’

  ‘I’ve already done it. I said I’d get you to ring when you got back.’

  ‘In a minute,’ Cara said. ‘I’ll tidy up a bit here first.’

  She only had two vague descriptions of the Hines. Their accents could have been
false, and there was no vehicle that she’d seen that could be traced.

  ‘No, don’t do that. The police will want to take fingerprints, won’t they? Honestly, Mum, sometimes I wonder what planet you’re on.’

  ‘Of course. It’s the shock. I won’t touch another thing. Let’s go downstairs. I’ll make that call to the police to let them know I’m back and then make a cup of tea. And a bacon sandwich, now I’ve got the things to make one.’

  The last thing Mae would want now was for her to bang on about washing her knees and putting antiseptic on, wasn’t it?

  ‘Surprising as it may seem,’ Mae said, ‘I seem to have lost my appetite.’

  ‘Make that two of us,’ Cara said. ‘And your frock, Mae. I can mend it.’

  ‘Whatever,’ Mae said.

  They stood up and together, mother and daughter went down the stairs.

  In the kitchen, Cara rang the police to tell them she was home and then busied herself putting bacon and eggs in the fridge, and the bread in the breadbin. Mae sat and watched every movement her mother made around the kitchen as though she was afraid she might disappear again if she took her eyes off her, even for a second. Cara checked the time on the kitchen clock, wondering how long it would be before the police turned up. There was no resident policeman in the village and the nearest manned station about thirty miles away although, she supposed, there might be police nearer than that in a patrol car somewhere.

  ‘Can I have that hug now?’ Mae asked.

  ‘Of course.’ Cara opened her arms wide and Mae snuggled into them. Cara hugged her tight.

  ‘I thought I was beginning to handle losing Dad,’ Mae sniffed against Cara’s shoulder.

  ‘But now you find you can’t?’

  ‘It seems to be getting worse as I get older, not better. He keeps coming back to me in dreams and it’s only in dreams I can remember his voice. And he’s only been gone two years. Oh, Mum …’

  ‘Me, too,’ Cara said.

  And the tears came for them both. They stood hugging and crying with loud and wracking sobs for ages, until Cara’s arms ached with holding Mae to her. But for Cara, none of those tears were cleansing.

  And then Cara became aware of someone watching her – that uneasy sort of feeling you get that makes you turn around.

  ‘Evening, ladies.’ A policeman with a policewoman standing beside him gave Cara and Mae a rather embarrassed, if kindly smile. ‘We did knock, but …’

  ‘We were making too much racket,’ Cara said. ‘Sorry …’

  ‘Don’t be,’ the WPC said. ‘A break in, is that right?’

  ‘No,’ Cara said. ‘I very stupidly went out and left two people who came wanting B&B for a couple of nights alone while I went to get a few bits from Meg Smythson at the corner shop. Mae came home earlier than expected and found her room trashed – and mine, although I’ve not looked in there yet—…’ Her throat began to close over with emotion again, and she couldn’t get any more words out.

  ‘Shall I make tea?’ the WPC said.

  Cara nodded. The evening was beginning to feel more surreal than ever, watching a strange woman – albeit a policewoman – searching for things in Cara’s cupboards and drawers, filling the kettle at Cara’s kitchen tap, while she felt herself unravel a bit emotionally, like a dropped stitch in knitting, she knew she could recover with patience and the right tool but couldn’t at that moment.

  ‘Have you touched anything?’ the policeman asked when they were all seated around Cara’s kitchen table.

  ‘I haven’t,’ Cara said. ‘Well, only the clothes strewn all over the place in Mae’s room. Mae met me at the door and we went straight upstairs. ‘I looked in the sitting room but didn’t go in. There’s silver missing. I could see that straight away.’

  Silver that had been in my family for generations, she wanted to add, but didn’t because it would add nothing to the investigation. But it was the void that was hurting most – the family heirloom silver, which had had a grounding effect, anchoring her to her past in some way, had been snatched away.

  ‘And you, Mae?’ the policeman asked. ‘Have you touched much?’

  ‘Doors. I opened and closed every door. So my fingerprints will be on there, right?’

  ‘They will,’ the policewoman said. ‘But we can eliminate all of yours in seconds once forensics get here. I’ve set that in motion. They shouldn’t be long. It’s a quiet night, apart from this.’

  ‘How long will it take?’ Cara asked.

  ‘Forensics?’ The policeman checked his mobile. ‘ETA about ten minutes and then an hour or so.’

  ‘Oh,’ Cara said, unable to stifle a yawn.

  ‘It’s best done now,’ the policewoman said. ‘And it if helps, I know what this feels like because my mother’s bungalow was burgled when she was in A&E having a broken wrist seen to. There was a feeling of …’

  ‘Don’t!’ Mae interrupted. ‘You were going to say evil, I know it. Miasma or something. We did a tutorial on it in psychology. Evil leaves a tangible presence, far more than good does. And these people were pure evil to do this.’

  Mae shivered, hunched her shoulders up around her ears, and a lightning rod of guilt shot through Cara for putting her daughter through this. She struggled to find words of comfort or remorse or regret – apology even – but nothing would come. But Mae filled the gap.

  ‘I just knew something bad had happened because the air wasn’t right. I was afraid something had happened to Mum.’

  ‘Oh, darling,’ Cara managed to croak out. ‘But perhaps we should be answering questions about the Hines?’ She looked from one officer to the other.

  ‘In a moment,’ the policewoman said. ‘Anything else, Mae?’

  How kind this very young policewoman was being, how understanding; to allow Mae to talk about how the shock of the burglary had affected her.

  ‘No, that’s about it,’ Mae said.

  Cara told the police officers everything she could remember of Pam and Eddie Hine – what they’d been wearing, hair colour, accents, the small bag they’d brought in with them – from the few moments she’d spent in their company. She knew now she’d gifted them the opportunity to steal when she’d gone to the shop, but she had no doubt they’d have more than likely done a moonlight flit, and left without paying, taking stuff with them anyway.

  ‘They can’t have got much in the small bag they had,’ she finished.

  ‘Duh, Mum!’ Mae said, slapping a hand to her forehead, cartoon comedy-style. ‘They’d have had something else in that bag, like a roll of black sacks or something. They probably had a car parked around the corner as well.’

  ‘Really?’ Cara said, wondering how her daughter had become so streetwise all of a sudden.

  ‘Really,’ the policeman said, ‘we need you to check where you kept jewellery, money, anything like family heirloom medals, that sort of thing. Small, portable things. To check what’s missing. If you have photos of any valuables, that would be more than helpful. Ah, here’s forensics now. Shall I let them in?’

  ‘Do,’ Cara said. ‘I’ll make a list of what I think is missing.’

  And then the house became noisy with the organised bustle of people moving about and voices and the beep of phones as the police contacted colleagues at the station. Mae was practically glued to Cara’s side as she went from room to room jotting things down, still afraid she’d find her mother missing again if she lost sight of her.

  ‘All done,’ the policewoman said, coming into the sitting room where there was still the evidence of forensics testing on all the furniture, and where Cara was sitting on the couch, with Mae beside her, snuggling in. They’d been at loggerheads more than a bit of late and Cara was finding it monumentally sad that a difficult moment with Josh and then the burglary had been the catalyst to the change in their relationship.

  ‘Thank you,’ Cara said. ‘For being so kind and everything. I expect this is an everyday occurrence for you, but it’s a whole new experience – and a salutar
y lesson not to leave strangers in my home – for me. For us.’ She turned and smiled, somewhat guiltily, at Mae. ‘Isn’t it, darling?’

  ‘Mmm,’ Mae said and yawned.

  ‘We’ll leave you to get to bed, then,’ the policeman laughed. ‘We’ll be in touch. We’ll see ourselves out.’

  Cara heard them talking in the hall. And then another voice joining them.

  ‘Josh,’ Mae said, with the hint of a question. ‘That can’t be Josh’s voice.’

  Cara got up to investigate. She heard the policewoman say ‘Goodnight, Josh,’ and then the door banged quite noisily in the frame, the wind getting up and blowing in from the east.

  ‘What’s he doing here?’ Mae called after her mother.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Cara said.

  And then Josh was in the doorway. Cara hadn’t met him before, although she knew who he was and had seen him about. Up close he looked well-built, muscled, with thick straw-coloured hair, and a fringe that looked as though he’d cut it himself with a Swiss Army knife. He looked every inch a man who worked physically for a living. He had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, and Cara noticed he was wearing trainers but no socks, and that his T-shirt stretched across a broad chest. He practically filled the doorway with his presence – rather the worse for drink – and Cara shuddered to think Mae had had to challenge him like this. Mae would have stood no chance against Josh had he pushed his case for whatever it was he’d had on his mind.

  ‘What do you want, Josh?’ Cara asked. She folded her arms across her chest, doing her best to block Josh’s view of Mae, although she realised she was being totally ineffective.

  ‘I saw the police car outside. What’ve you been saying, Mae?’ he asked.

  ‘Nothing about you,’ Mae said. ‘Why would I waste my breath?’

  ‘Some guests I thought were bona fide B&B guests were anything but,’ Cara explained.

  ‘Ah, right,’ Josh said, sounding relieved that Mae hadn’t called them to report him, although why he hadn’t thought the police would have arrested him if she had, Cara couldn’t think. The drink, probably, clouding his thinking.