by Lesley Kara
When we reach the greensward his tail starts to wag and he picks up his pace. I unclip his lead and he circles the grass a few times, nose to the ground, before depositing a large brown turd. Alfie watches with his usual fascination as I get two black bags out of my pocket and dispose of the warm, smelly offering as fast as I can. This has to be the worst part of taking a dog for a walk. I should be used to it by now. I’ve been picking up dog poo on and off for most of my life.
‘Grandma only uses one bag,’ Alfie says.
‘Well, I use two.’
‘Grandma says it’s because you’re a fusspot,’ he says.
‘Oh, does she now?’
The tide is out as far as it can go and, after a brief game of chase with Alfie, Sol lumbers off towards the drift line. He doesn’t have the stamina for too much running these days and prefers to plod along with Alfie and me, pausing every so often to sniff at the tide’s offerings: slimy clumps of brown sea kelp and bladderwrack; black skate pods, or ‘mermaid’s purses’, as I used to call them; the shells of whelks and scallops, limpets and mussels; upturned razor clams, their pearlescent sheen gleaming in the late-October sun; and frothy suds of sea foam trembling and scudding across the wet sand.
Alfie tries to catch them but every time he approaches they blow away and he groans with laughter.
I’m laughing at this, laughing with him, and pulling my woollen hat out of my pocket because my ears are getting cold, when Maddie bobs into my sight line. She’s walking fast, chin parallel to the sand, her slightly bent arms swinging rhythmically, almost mechanically, at her sides. She’s powerwalking. I’ve seen her do this before. She’s so in the zone she almost mows me down.
‘Oh hi, I didn’t even see you there,’ she says. Her face is pink from exertion and a fine sheen of sweat coats her forehead and upper lip. She crouches down to retie the laces of her trainers and I can’t help noticing how fit she looks. It comes to something when a woman in her late fifties looks in better condition than I do. I really must start doing some proper exercise.
When she straightens up, she laughs. ‘Look at you, all wrapped up, and here’s me, sweating like a pig.’ She pulls the collar of her sweatshirt away from her and lets it ping back to create a draught on her neck. ‘Actually, I’m glad I’ve bumped into you. There’s something I wanted to tell you.’
I brace myself for what’s coming. If it’s more of the same about Sonia Martins from Stones and Crones, I’m not sure I want to hear it. I glance over at Alfie and Sol, who are examining what looks from here like a large dead crab. At least I hope it’s dead, because Alfie has just lifted it up with his fingers and, if it isn’t, he’s about to get a nasty pinch.
‘It’s about my friend, from Pilates.’
‘The probation officer?’
‘No, another one.’
Oh God. What’s she going to come out with this time? If only I’d swerved out of her way and let her power-walk past me.
‘She’s buying my neighbour’s house. It’s being sold by Pegton’s, so you probably know it. In fact, it was me who first told her it was up for sale.’
‘Whereabouts?’
‘Maple Drive. Number 24.’
So Anne Wilson is one of Maddie’s friends. ‘I’d forgotten you lived there,’ I say.
‘Yes, I’m right next door at number 22. The thing is …’ She sighs. ‘I wish I hadn’t said anything now. I mean, she might have found the place on Rightmove, of course. But if I’d kept my mouth shut, chances are someone else would have put an offer in before she got round to viewing it.’
‘You don’t want her living next door to you?’
‘Not really. Not now. I’ve found something out about her, you see. Something that’s made me – how can I put it? – re-evaluate our friendship.’
I don’t ask what, because I know she’s going to tell me anyway.
‘I’ve known her for ages. We used to work in the same office – that’s how we first met. Then Martin did some accountancy work for her husband, Graham, and we started going out for meals together, the four of us. We even went away together once. To Malta. Not the most successful of holidays, but that’s another story. Then Anne discovered Graham was having an affair and they split up. I didn’t see much of her for ages because she went a bit funny. You know how some women get when their husbands leave them for someone else. Really bitter and vindictive. I mean, I’m not saying I wouldn’t be absolutely furious if Martin had an affair, but I wouldn’t stalk the other woman and make her life a misery. I wouldn’t become completely obsessed with her, to the point of making myself miserable. At least, I hope I wouldn’t. I hope I’d have more self-respect.’ She sniffs. ‘I can’t vouch for what I would or wouldn’t do to Martin, of course.’
I glance over Maddie’s shoulder. Alfie is now throwing a stick into the shallows and Sol is lumbering dutifully after it.
‘But then I started seeing her again at Pilates and she’d stopped going on about it. She really seemed to have turned a corner and put it all behind her. I’d got my old friend back at last. And she’s got a new chap now. A lawyer. Although, between you and me, he’s got a bit of history too.’
She mimes someone taking a swig of drink. ‘Another sort of weakness altogether, but he’s sober now, thank God.’
‘Yes, she was with a man the first time she viewed the house. Tall, silver-haired.’
‘That’s him. New man. New house.’ Maddie giggles. ‘New face, too. She’s always been vain.’
‘So why don’t you want her moving in next door to you?’
‘Because one of our mutual acquaintances has just told me that the woman Graham left her for is the woman who owns that New Age shop I was telling you about. Sonia Martins.’
I stare at her, my brain racing with this new information.
‘The woman you thought might be Sally McGowan,’ I say.
Maddie blushes. ‘It isn’t her. Sonia Martins was born in Flinstead. Her mother’s lived here for ages. I didn’t realize that when I told you. I didn’t know.’ She shakes her head. ‘The thing is, now that I know it’s her that Graham had the affair with, I’m convinced that Anne is behind this horrible vendetta against her and, worse still, that it’s all my fault. Because I was the one who told her about the rumour. It’s exactly the kind of thing she’d do. I thought she’d moved on from all that vindictiveness but, clearly, she hasn’t.’
Maddie twists her fingers in front of her and stares out to sea. ‘I can’t prove it was her, but I’m certain it was, and I really don’t want her living next door to me. Not now I know what she’s done.’
She turns to face me. ‘You know the shop window got smashed last night?’
‘Oh my God! No!’
‘It was being boarded up when I walked past just now. Oh, I’m not saying it was Anne who did that. But these things take on a life of their own, don’t they? She just lit the touch paper and stood back.’ Maddie sighs. ‘I shouldn’t really say this, not with you working at Pegton’s, but I really hope the sale falls through. Whenever I see Susan Marchant now, I keep telling her she must be mad to want to sell such a beautiful house, but she just looks at me as if I’m the madwoman. I can’t blame her, of course. She’ll want the money, won’t she?’
‘Well, actually, no, she doesn’t. She’s going to give it to …’ I clear my throat. I’ve no right to start blabbing about Susan Marchant’s charitable intentions. I’ve already caused enough trouble by passing on the rumour about McGowan – none of this would have happened if I’d kept my mouth shut.
Maddie gives me a questioning look but, luckily, Sol starts barking – the perfect excuse to turn away and see what he and Alfie are up to. But Sol is standing on his own at the water’s edge and Alfie is nowhere to be seen. My heart skips a beat. I scan the beach. He must be here somewhere. I only just saw him throwing a stick.
‘What’s the matter?’ Maddie asks.
‘I can’t see Alfie. I can’t see him anywhere.’ My chest tightens with fear.
‘Don’t panic. He won’t have gone far.’
We both turn towards the sea at the same time, but there’s no sign of him. Alfie wouldn’t have gone in the sea. Not in this chilly weather. I just know he wouldn’t, and even if he had, he’d have come running back the minute the cold water reached his knees. Besides, it’s so shallow on this stretch of beach.
A memory from the news ages ago comes back to me. Two little children arriving for their holiday on a Norfolk beach. Running into the sea excitedly, never to be seen again. Not alive, anyway. But Alfie wouldn’t do that. Not on a day like this.
‘Alfie? Alfie?’ I shout as loud as I can, but my voice is lost on the wind. Now I’m running. Running towards the wooden breakwaters and the next section of beach, but there’s no one else down here. No one except Maddie and Sol and me.
‘I’ll go the other way,’ Maddie shouts, and she jogs off in the direction of Mistden Pier, calling Alfie’s name as she goes.
Sol is still barking. ‘Where is he, Sol? Where’s Alfie?’
I follow the direction of his gaze and see a woman in a pale blue jacket striding purposefully along the promenade. She appears to be holding on to something with her hand.
And then I see it. A little shock of hair, bobbing in and out of view behind the sea wall, and my stomach falls away. It’s the top of Alfie’s head.
25
It’s like one of those nightmares when you’re being chased and you can’t run fast enough. Except this is no dream. This is really happening, and I’m the one who’s chasing. My feet sink into the wet sand and the muscles on my calves pull with the effort. I have to reach the steps up to the promenade, but the sand gets drier the nearer to them I get and it’s harder and harder to run. It feels like I’m moving in slow motion.
Whoever has Alfie could be halfway up the cliff path by now. If I don’t catch up with her, she could be across the greensward and into a car in minutes. My heart pounds in my chest. What was I thinking, taking my eyes off him? Standing around listening to more of Maddie’s silly gossip.
At last, I reach the wooden steps and take them two at a time, using the metal handrail to haul myself up. I can just about see them up ahead, following the line of the beach huts. The woman in the blue jacket and Alfie, trotting along beside her. I can’t believe he’s doing that. I’ve told him a million times not to go with strangers. I scream his name, but the noise that reaches my ears is reed-thin. A whisper on the wind.
Now I’m running on the hard concrete. Sprinting, or trying to, the colours of the huts whizzing past in my peripheral vision. For one terrifying second, I almost lose my balance and topple over face first but, somehow, I keep going. I haven’t run like this for years, and it hurts. It really hurts.
The distance between me and Alfie shrinks. I’ve almost caught up with them, but still he can’t hear me shouting his name. This wind, it’s impossible. The woman in the blue jacket is tall and slender. I’m sure I’ve seen that straight black hair before. It’s someone about my age. I can tell from her clothes and the way she’s moving. The occasional blurred flash of her profile as she glances down at Alfie. Who is she? How dare she take my son? And is it my imagination, or has she just started walking even faster?
‘Alfie!’ I scream and, this time, thank God, his head turns and his tear-stained face breaks into a massive smile. He drops the woman’s hand and charges towards me, barrelling into my legs and almost toppling me.
I sink to a crouching position and wrap my arms around his body, hugging him tight. When I look up, Karen is standing in front of me, her face etched with concern. She looks different somehow.
‘I found him all alone on the sand,’ she says. ‘He was crying his eyes out.’
‘He wasn’t all alone! He was with me, and Sol. Where were you taking him?’
Her jaw tightens. ‘To the school. I don’t know your phone number and I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t want to call the police … I …’
‘But didn’t you see me talking to Maddie?’ My voice is ragged from all the running, not to mention blind panic. ‘We were right there. You must have seen us.’ I hold Alfie by the shoulders and peer into his face. ‘Alfie, darling, couldn’t you see Mummy? I was right there the whole time. You were playing with Sol, weren’t you?’
His lower lip trembles. ‘I threw his ball and another dog took it so I ran after it.’ His face crumples and his chest shakes. ‘I couldn’t see you any more. I couldn’t see Sol either. The beach looked all different.’
He starts to wail and I hug him to my chest again. He’s still so small and vulnerable, and the beach is huge when the tide’s out. How much bigger must it seem to someone Alfie’s size?
‘Oh, Alfie. What have I told you about running off?’
‘We looked for you everywhere,’ Karen says. Her face is stricken. ‘You didn’t tell me Mummy was wearing a hat, did you, Alfie?’
‘She wasn’t,’ he says, his voice muffled by my coat.
‘Oh, darling. I put my hat on when my ears got cold.’ I look up at Karen. ‘It’s new. He’s probably never seen me wearing it before. I didn’t think.’
Now that Alfie is safe in my arms and my breathing’s returned to normal, I start to cry. How could I have let this happen? I was so engrossed in what Maddie was telling me about Anne Wilson, I must have forgotten to keep checking on Alfie and Sol. In fact, where the hell is Sol? He’ll be going berserk by now. Mum’ll never forgive me if I’ve lost him. She dotes on that dog almost as much as she dotes on Alfie. I run to the sea wall and scan the beach from left to right.
Then I see him, plodding along next to Maddie – they’re some way in the distance still, but I recognize Sol’s lumbering gait and Maddie’s lithe, Lycra-clad figure. I didn’t realize quite how far I’d run. Now Maddie’s waving at me. She’s bringing Sol up to meet us. My chest heaves with emotion and Karen touches me gently on the arm.
‘I lost Hayley once. In Marks and Spencers. I only took my eye off her for a moment and, when I turned round, she was gone. A sales assistant found her by one of the checkouts, looking for Percy Pig sweets.’ She sighs. ‘Joanna, I’m so sorry I didn’t see you, but I’ve broken my glasses. They’re being repaired and I haven’t got a spare pair.’
That’s why she looks different. She’s almost crying now. ‘We tramped up and down for ages. I should have waited for longer, but I’m supposed to be taking my mum to a doctor’s appointment in ten minutes. I didn’t know what else to do. If it was summer, there’d have been a beach patrol, but …’
‘It’s all right, Karen. Honestly. I’m just grateful you looked after him.’
She squeezes my hands and for a couple of seconds we look into each other’s eyes. Two women united by the common bond of motherhood and the terror of losing the only thing in the world that really matters. Our children.
26
Mrs Haynes is all sweetness and light when I take Alfie back to school. She must be worried I’m going to make a complaint about that photo. To be honest, I haven’t entirely ruled it out. Just thinking about it makes me nauseous. Who would have done such a thing?
But Mr Matthews has already apologized and it’s been removed from the noticeboard. Besides, I’m not sure what good it would do to lodge a complaint now. I might just end up with a reputation as a troublesome parent. One who needs to be handled with kid gloves.
Or maybe it’s the presence of Sol that’s softened her up. Dogs have that effect on people, and Flinstead is a dog-lovers’ paradise. When Alfie went to school in London, dogs weren’t allowed anywhere on school premises.
‘I’ve seen this lovely fella before,’ she says, fondling Sol’s ears. ‘He’s a big old sweetie, aren’t you, you gorgeous boy?’
Eugh. Now she’s letting him lick her face. I’ve never understood how people can do that. Don’t they know where those noses and tongues have been? Once, when I took Sol out for a walk, I had to stop him eating another dog’s poo.
Mum just laughed whe
n I told her and proceeded to give me a mini-lecture on the different types of coprophagia, as it’s called. Autocoprophagia is when they eat their own poo; intraspecific coprophagia is when they eat another dog’s poo; and interspecific coprophagia is when they eat poo from another species of animal altogether. Funny the things that stick in your mind. I wouldn’t mind betting Sol would indulge in all three if he had his way.
‘Right then, Alfie. Shall we say goodbye to Mummy now?’ Mrs Haynes says.
I give him a hug and kiss the top of his head. ‘See you this afternoon, darling.’
‘Mummy, remember it’s Liam’s birthday party!’ he calls over his shoulder as Mrs Haynes leads him away.
I give him a wave. ‘Of course.’ The incident at the beach earlier had wiped it clean out of my mind. Still, at least he’s not upset any more.
I watch until he and Mrs Haynes disappear through the door that leads from the hall to the playground and the prefabricated hut where his classroom is. I don’t like leaving him after what’s just happened, but this is a good school. A safe school. I don’t need the latest Ofsted report to tell me that. And of course they wouldn’t let someone like McGowan work in a school. What Kay said makes perfect sense. There’ll be systems in place to prevent something like that happening.
Mum’s still poorly when I take Sol back. She looks as white as her bed sheets and the tip of her nose is all red from where she’s been blowing it.
‘Keep away from me,’ she says in a croaky voice. ‘I don’t want you and Alfie coming down with this too. It’s horrible. I was feeling fine yesterday.’
She reaches for her glass of water and takes a long draught of it.
‘Here, let me get you some more,’ I say. ‘Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat?’