Chapter Fifteen
I’m slowly getting used to my new routine at Mia’s. Each morning, I wake with my little girl in my arms and together, we get ready for the day ahead. If it’s a school day - like today - I serve Penny a hearty breakfast of porridge and fruit before we say goodbye to Mia and Hettie and walk the short distance to the primary school. It’s not all that different to my old routine back at our family home, and yet at the same time, it’s a whole world away.
Back from dropping off Penny, I decide to fix myself a little something to nibble on. Humming a tuneless ditty, I switch on the kettle and skip around the kitchen while Hettie zig-zags through my legs. Listlessly, I pour cereal into a speckled bowl as I gaze out of the bay window. I wonder if Noah has made any more headway in uncovering Henry’s story. It must be frustrating for him, having such interesting ancestry but there’s a huge chunk of the story missing, which is a big problem since he’s writing a book about it all. I wish I could help him somehow.
‘Whoa, whoa!’ Mia’s cry shatters my daydream. ‘You’re getting cereal everywhere!’
I glance down to find cornflakes scattered all over the table like a pattern on the cloth. ‘Whoops, sorry.’ With an apologetic shrug, I scoop them into my bowl, though it’s now far too full.
‘Are you okay?’ Mia peers at me. ‘You look sort of flushed and glassy-eyed. I hope you’re not coming down with something.’
I touch my cheek and surprise, surprise, it’s burning hot. I’m coming down with something, alright, but it’s not a fever …
‘I’m fine!’ I flick my wrist nonchalantly, hoping my awkward performance will be enough to convince her. ‘Although, maybe I ought to get some fresh air. I’ll see you later, okay?’
The sun beats down on the back of my neck as I amble aimlessly through town, and I’m beginning to wish I’d bothered to slap on some sunscreen. Summer is most definitely on its way, and if things with Jerry hadn’t gone south, we’d probably be planning a holiday right about now.
Our holidays were always incredible, at least, the locations were. Jerry would only book hotels that boasted the works - an on-site spa and pool, saunas, gym facilities and a five-star restaurant too. We’d travel to all these wonderful places, soaking up so many rich cultures, and yet, we’d still be unhappy. Deep down, behind the false smiles and sun-baked tans, we were constantly disagreeing about something. It was exhausting being around him, and I have to assume he felt the same way about me too. I can only hope that when Penny looks back on her childhood trips, she remembers the amazing experiences, and not Mummy and Daddy sniping at each other.
Window shopping sounded fun in my head, but after a few minutes of yearning over things I can’t afford, I realise it’s not for me. I plant myself down on a bench, my head in my hands. What do I do now?
I look around for inspiration, and my eyes settle upon an unlikely sight. The town library stands alone, right at the end of the high street on a small hill, past all the shops. It’s a tiny building with a thatched roof, and to be honest, it’s a little out of place amongst the boutiques and salons. I pause, nibbling at my lip in thought. They must have books about the town’s history, locally written articles and that sort of thing? Perhaps I can help Noah after all.
I can’t remember the last time I walked through these doors, I’ve never really been much of a bookworm, but as I step inside and the dusty, comforting smell of old books washes over me, I feel weirdly nostalgic.
I’m greeted quietly by a friendly librarian, and then I get straight to browsing. Sure enough, I come across a shelf stocked with books by local authors, ranging from fiction to factual. As I scan the spines for titles and writer’s names, I almost expect to see Noah Gills up there. One day he will be for sure, if he can get to the bottom of what happened to Henry, that is.
After leafing through several books, I discover a likely-looking one, Legends and Lore of Sunny Shore Bay, and promptly pull it down from the shelf. Settling down in a cracked, squashy leather armchair, I flick through the pages, scanning each line for vital information.
One of the chapter titles catches my eye - The Siren Of Sunny Shore Bay.
As I read through the story origins and supposed eye-witnesses accounts, I’m absorbed into the myth, utterly entranced by the story woven throughout the pages.
It is said that the Siren only sang her song in darkness, often past midnight. The song lasted less than a minute, but testifiers claim her voice carried clear across the ocean and could be heard for miles around.
Though no one has ever come forward with evidence of the mythical maiden’s existence, a few have sworn that on occasion the likeness of a beautiful young woman could be seen flitting about the promenade, unchaperoned and alone, late into the night. It is the belief of many that this mysterious figure may in fact be the fabled siren of Sunny Shore Bay.
A ghostly cold quiver beetles over my skin. Noah said that the old lighthouse keeper just disappeared without a trace … what if he was taken by the siren?
I want to laugh at how ridiculous that sounds, but the giggle gets caught in my throat. I should have grown out of ghost stories and fairy tales decades ago, and yet, it all fits. The disappearance, the voice he wrote about in his log, it slots together like pieces of a phantom puzzle. I fidget in place as a second shiver slides down my spine like melting ice.
Could there actually be something supernatural going on here?