‘It was the other arm,’ said Max, returning the sneer.
‘Thanks for helping …’ Daisy paused. Max seemed to have grown up to be an okay sort of person despite her previous impression. ‘Let me buy you a pint.’
‘So I don’t put in a claim via a personal injury lawyer?’ said Max, looking serious.
Daisy’s eyebrows knitted together. ‘You’d better be joking.’
‘I am. Come on, I’m dying for a pint.’ Max bent down, put the box with the railway items under his arm, picked up the toolbox and headed off across the platform. Daisy wasn’t keen on being dictated to but she was intrigued by Max and right now he was walking off with her stuff so she pulled herself together and followed.
Chapter Four
The Mariner’s Arms was very much a local pub and virtually everyone greeted Max by name as he walked through the bar.
‘You don’t come in here much then,’ remarked Daisy.
‘Nah, almost never,’ he said putting down the boxes when the barman approached.
‘Usual Max? You’re early tonight,’ said the barman, with a cursory nod in Daisy’s direction.
‘Please Monty, and I’ll have a whisky chaser seeing as the lady’s paying.’
Daisy thrust her hands into her jeans pocket and was thankful to find her last two notes there and some change – it was all she had.
‘Everyone calls me Monty on account of my surname being Python,’ said Monty, offering his hand across the bar, which Daisy dutifully shook. ‘What can I get you?’ he asked.
She would have liked a large gin and tonic but she needed to ration her cash and it looked like they only served the standard green bottled offering anyway. ‘Small Diet Coke, please.’
Daisy paid for the drinks and they moved to the end of the bar with Max nudging the boxes along with his foot because both his hands were full.
‘I knew old Reg liked trains, not as much as Jason mind, but I knew they were an interest of his. He never mentioned owning the railway though, the dark horse.’
‘It’s not exactly something to shout about though, is it? You’ve seen inside it now. It’s a tip.’
Max tilted his head. ‘Yeah, it’s been neglected but it’s not a wreck. It mainly needs repairing, cleaning and fitting out if you’re planning on living in it.’
‘Living in it?’ Daisy nearly spat her drink out. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Why not?’ Max appeared genuinely puzzled, which made Daisy consider her answer.
‘It’s basically three rooms and two toilets in a rubble-strewn car park. The only plus sides are it’s in a good location.’
‘Bedroom, kitchen cum living room and bathroom. What else do you need?’
Annoyingly he had a point. ‘I guess,’ said Daisy. ‘I’m not sure the council would be keen.’
‘Then ask. It’s only a phone call to the planning office, they’ll soon tell you what they will and won’t be happy with. Is it listed?’
Daisy shrugged. The thought hadn’t crossed her mind. ‘Don’t know.’
‘You’d need to investigate first to know what restrictions are on it. If you didn’t fancy living there yourself holiday lets do well around here. Or there’s commercial use.’
‘Not many trains now though,’ said Daisy, before taking a swig of her drink.
‘Huh, you’re funny. I mean turning it into a business. People love olde worlde venues for parties, and cafés always thrive in seaside resorts. It’d make a really quirky bar. You could have loads of railway memorabilia up on the walls.’ He brushed his wayward dark hair off his forehead.
Daisy reached down to the box at her feet. ‘Like this?’ she said pulling out the almost bald brush.
‘Yeah, exactly, people go crazy for that sort of thing.’
Max made her smile. She wasn’t entirely sure why, maybe it was because he was uncomplicated and easy to read. She liked that.
‘Look I’d better make a move,’ said Daisy. ‘Aunt Coral will be expecting me back.’
‘But you’re a big girl now.’
She paused, there was nothing to rush back for. ‘Okay, I’ll text her while you get another round in.’
Max checked his pockets. ‘Diet Cokes all round then.’
Daisy went to the loo. She noted the lack of graffiti as she entered the cubicle, but when she pulled down her jeans she felt something scratch her bum. The surprise made her leap forward and bump herself on the cubicle door. ‘Ow,’ she cried.
‘You all right in there?’ came a thick accented voice from the cubicle next door.
‘Yeah, sorry. I just … actually, never mind. I’m fine thanks.’ Daisy tugged her trousers back up and pulled the offending thing from her back pocket – it was the letter the solicitor had given her.
Daisy roughly opened the envelope and pulled out the thick folded sheet inside, Great Uncle Reg’s words dancing in front of her eyes.
My Dearest Daisy,
I am sorry to think that I will not see you again. One of my greatest regrets in life was not being blessed with a child of my own. However, as my great niece, you have more than filled that gap in my life. From the moment your dear mother handed you to me at a week old I knew my heart was lost. As humans we are capable of love on many different levels and I am happy to say I have loved you your whole life as if you were my own. I have seen life strike its blows and watched you stand up and fight back and I am immensely proud of the rounded adult you have become.
I would have loved you to make your life here in Ottercombe Bay, but I understand your reasons for not doing so. I have enjoyed following your travels but it was always bittersweet to see you start to settle somewhere only to uproot yourself and move on again. I believe you are a restless soul, Daisy, and it troubles me. I am the first to encourage young people to explore this amazing world but that needs to be done from a solid base – a firm and secure home. The nest to return to in times of storm if you like.
This is why I want you to spend one year in Ottercombe Bay. I do not wish to restrain you but to help you mend your wings in order to fly higher next time. A stay here will help you to finally lay to rest the ghosts of your past, something your father never managed to do.
The railway station was left to me by your grandfather but I always felt I was only minding it until a time it should pass to you. You have great flair Daisy and the cheek of the devil so I’m sure you will make good use of this to fund what I hope will be a very happy and healthy future. Until we meet again, I remain your ever-loving
Great Uncle Reg
She folded the paper and blinked back the tears before opening it again and rereading it. She knew Reg had loved her and had to admit he had been a worthy stand-in for her grandparents who had seemed to die in quick succession when she’d been in her teens. Sadly people dying had not shocked Daisy at the time – she expected people to die, her mother had and if the most important of all people could be wrenched from you then nobody was safe. She had spent her life cocooning herself, keeping a safe barrier from other people to save herself from future heartache as best she could.
When she rejoined Max at the bar he was playing with a beer mat.
‘I thought you’d gone out the window,’ he joked.
‘Not my style,’ she said, although as she uttered the words she realised exiting tricky situations via the quickest route possible was exactly her style but Max didn’t need to know that.
‘What is your style?’ asked Max looking interested. ‘I’ve no idea what you do for a living.’
Daisy hated questions like this because they made her think about her career path to date, which was uncoordinated, some might say haphazard. ‘I’ve got quite a few strings to my bow,’ she said. But Max appeared to be expecting a more detailed answer. She thought back. ‘I studied Film Production and Design for a while at uni where I did some part-time bar work but quit early to be an extra on a film set in Ireland. I got on a ferry and basically worked my way around half of Europe. I did some work in a
call centre before travelling through the Netherlands, Germany and Italy waitressing mainly.
‘Then I went to stay with Dad in Goa for a few months and worked in a hotel for a while but it wasn’t for me. I decided to go back to uni to study Environmental Management but it was the wrong decision. A few months later I set off to do the other half of Europe, starting with Spain where there was more waitressing and bar work then went to France and met this guy …’ As soon as she’d said it she wished she hadn’t, she could see the look in Max’s eyes. She focused on the table and continued. ‘He had big ideas, mainly get rich quick schemes, all of which failed but we set up a mobile food van. It wasn’t glamorous but it was a steady business we could grow. Then he bought into another stupid scheme and we lost everything.’ She took a deep breath. ‘So I came back to good old Blighty and I’ve been working around the South East for the past few months.’
Max blew out his cheeks. ‘Quite varied then.’ Daisy agreed and they both fell silent. Perhaps she had over shared.
Daisy took a sip of her drink. She held her locket between her thumb and forefinger and gave it a little rub. ‘Reg left me a letter. There’s a condition attached to me having the railway station. I have to stay here for a whole year.’
She thought for a moment and then tugged the letter from her back pocket and pushed it across the table. She studied Max as his eyes slowly made their way down the paper. He had dark intense eyes, ridiculously long eyelashes and a warm even tan. She didn’t really remember him at primary school but she did remember the gangly youth who used to hang around the beach when she visited. She recalled a row with her father about him too and she racked her brains to try to remember the reason. It was rare for her to fight with her dad.
‘What happens when the year’s up?’ said Max at long last, folding the letter back up and returning it.
‘I’d sell it and go travelling.’
Max sniffed. ‘But he wants you to settle down.’
‘It’s blackmail from beyond the grave, though, isn’t it?’
Max chuckled. ‘Not at all. We talked about you sometimes, me and Reg,’ he said. He sipped his drink. ‘He cared a lot about you.’
‘I felt the same about him,’ said Daisy, sounding defensive. She carried the guilt of not visiting often enough but she’d tried to keep in touch through regular phone calls and postcards.
‘He worried about you.’
‘He had no need to,’ said Daisy, her voice flat. She felt uncomfortable that Max knew things about her, it put her at a distinct disadvantage.
Max lifted his shoulders languidly. ‘Maybe not, but he worried all the same. Sounds to me like he thinks you need to stop globetrotting and make a life for yourself here.’
‘But I don’t want to.’
‘But maybe it’s what you need.’
Daisy was taken aback and it showed on her face. ‘What gives him the right to make me?’ She was starting to feel irritated and Great Uncle Reg wasn’t here to debate this with, but unfortunately for Max he was.
‘He was a close relative and he cared. It’s not a crime.’
‘But you can’t just decide things for other people and then try to make them do it. That’s like slavery.’
Max laughed and Daisy’s irritation hitched up a notch.
‘Do you think maybe you’re overreacting to someone trying to help you?’ Max leaned forward and watched her closely.
‘No. It’s not helping if it’s manipulation.’
Max pulled a face. ‘Reg’s intention was good. By my reckoning that makes it okay to offer you some help.’
‘I don’t need help. I need people to mind their own business!’ Daisy got up and almost tripped over the toolbox and box of railway items. Cock, she thought. She was never going to manage to carry them both all the way back to Aunt Coral’s on her own. Max turned and followed her gaze and a wry smile formed on his lips.
‘Do you, er, need me to help you with those?’
Daisy plonked the railway box on top of the toolbox and lifted them into her arms in one awkward movement as her muscles tried to cope with the weight. She turned and glared at Max who was looking annoyingly smug. ‘No, thanks,’ she said, walking unsteadily out of the pub.
Her anger propelled her quite some distance before the heaviness of the boxes weighed her down and her arms longed for her to stop, but she knew if she did it would be even harder to set off again. She tried not to think about the letter or the railway or Reg for that matter, but it was impossible because they were all swirling around in her head and overwhelming her.
Chapter Five
Back in the pub, Max was just finishing his Diet Coke and still chuckling about Daisy when Jason came in wearing tailored shorts and a neatly ironed polo shirt.
‘Perfect timing, it’s your round,’ said Max meeting his friend at the bar.
Jason glanced skywards. ‘I doubt it but what are you having?’
‘A pint please.’ Monty was already on the case without the order having to be relayed. ‘You won’t believe who just bought me a drink,’ said Max raising one of his eyebrows.
‘I like quizzes,’ said Jason. ‘How many questions can I ask?’
Max rolled his eyes. ‘Bloody hell, Jason, just give me some names.’
‘Okay, okay. Is it someone famous?’
‘No, and it’s not twenty questions, just guess already.’
‘Someone who looks like the photofit of the bloke who stole the gnome from the garden centre?’ Jason was a police officer who was keen to work his way up the ranks.
Max was shaking his head in despair. ‘No, and that was just someone who left it on the bottom of the trolley and forgot to pay.’
‘This is what happens. Common crimes start to become acceptable and before you know it you have a crime wave on your hands. It’s like insurance fraud. Years ago nobody would have dreamed of putting in a false claim but nowadays practically everyone falsely claims for a new camera and sunglasses on their holiday insurance.’
‘You included.’ Max gave him a knowing glance.
Jason looked outraged. ‘Good God, how many times have we had this conversation? I left my Ray Bans on the bus in Tenby and nobody handed them in.’
‘Yeah, that’s what they all say. But you, an officer of the law. Tut, tut, tut,’ said Max loving every minute of winding up his friend. ‘One last guess, I’m getting bored now.’
Jason’s expression changed to one of serious concentration. ‘Right. I’m going to say … my mother?’
‘No. Daisy Wickens.’ Max leaned back on the wooden chair and put his pint to his lips all the while watching Jason’s reaction. Jason’s face lit up and he searched the pub, his eyes darting about before they came back to Max.
‘Really, where is she now?’
‘Dunno, she got the hump and left.’
Jason frowned. ‘Did you upset her?’
Max took a long slow sip from his pint and then placed it back on the table.
‘Not intentionally,’ said Max, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
‘Bloody hell, Max, do you get some sort of kick out of upsetting people?’
‘No, she’s always been a stroppy mare. She used to swan about for a couple of weeks each year like she owned the place. One minute she’d be hanging around with us, the next she’d ignore us. I can’t cope with that.’ He knew too well what sort of person she was. She was fickle and never lasted anywhere more than five minutes and those sorts of people were always going to hurt you eventually. He’d had it happen too many times – first his mother, then his father and more recently a now ex-girlfriend. If someone wasn’t likely to be a permanent feature in his life then he’d learnt, for his own self-preservation, to keep them at a distance.
‘I always liked her,’ said Jason his gaze drifting to his shandy. ‘She went through a lot with her mum and everything. She was only a kid.’
‘We all have stuff in our past that could mess us up, Jay. It’s no excuse.’
> ‘Agreed. But she was nice to me, you know, she’d show an interest. Didn’t mock like some.’ He regarded Max.
‘What? I’ve never mocked you,’ said Max. Jason tilted his head to one side. ‘Okay, maybe once or twice but it’s only banter.’
Jason sipped his pint. ‘Shame I missed her though. I expect she’s off on her travels again soon.’
‘Yeah, I guess but Reg has left her the old railway station if she stays.’ He sat back in his seat and watched Jason’s reaction. Jason sat up straight. ‘I thought that might interest you.’
‘Like I said I always liked her. It would be lovely if she moved back here permanently.’
Max grinned. ‘I meant I thought the old railway station might interest you.’
Jason went a bit pink round the edges. ‘Oh, well, yes. You know I’m an enthusiast, that goes without saying.’
‘She’s got a box of old train stuff, heavy old metal signs, that sort of thing. If you run you’ll catch her up. I doubt she’s got far lugging that lot and a full toolbox.’
Jason looked concerned. ‘You left her to carry it all?’
‘Like I said she’s a stroppy mare.’
Jason took a couple of large glugs of his half pint of shandy and stood up. ‘You amaze me sometimes, Max.’ He shook his head as he left.
‘Two stroppy mares in one night,’ he muttered to himself. He finished the last of Jason’s drink and pulled a face. ‘How does he drink this crap?’
Daisy was grateful for having the lamppost to rest the boxes against but she knew she had to press on. She’d calmed down now; the boxes were unbelievably heavy and she was regretting getting cross with Max. She could have done with a hand lugging them back to Aunt Coral’s. She wished she’d arranged for Tamsyn’s dad to come back and collect his toolbox – hindsight was a wonderfully annoying thing.
She took a deep breath and lifted up the load again and set off with a purposeful stride; the sooner she got back the sooner her arms would stop aching. She heard a car coming and expected it to zoom past, but she could tell it was slowing alongside her. All I need now is some pervy kerb crawler or the police, she thought. Daisy had to admit she probably looked an odd sight, and more than a little suspicious. She wasn’t sure whether to keep going or stand her ground. She heard the car stop, a door slam and then footsteps behind her.
Ottercombe Bay, Part 1 Page 4