2. Cassian
TWO
Cassian
M y father taught me that the quickest way to settle into a new place was to go to the local pub and sit at the bar with a pint. By the time you’d ordered your second, at least three people would’ve spoken to you, and today had proved him right.
He was a straightforward man who’d worked in factories for most of his life, living the same routine for nearly forty years. Up early, get the paper, have breakfast, go to work, home by half four, dinner at quarter to six before a trip to the pub for a game of darts or crib, or to watch a crown green bowling game. It’d been a simple, straightforward life that’d ended too soon and too quickly when he’d been killed by a drunk driver on his way home one night. He hadn’t suffered. Death had been instantaneous and quick.
The grief had been none of those things.
It was my first week in a new job as headteacher of the small community school serving Puffin Bay and three other small towns nearby, and my first week of living there in the house let to the headteacher as part of the package.
It was the house that had made the job a no brainer to accept. My marriage had ended rather savagely, my soon to be ex-wife was caught having an affair with my boss, the headteacher of the school where I was deputy. She was also a teacher at the school, which made the whole thing really fucking shitty and far too messy to stick around and make something from it. The head had been married as well, so the gossip was alive and flourishing with salacious details, and I came to a fast conclusion that I couldn’t handle it. I wasn’t good at sharing to start with, so finding the two of them on the backseat of the car hadn’t been the calmest of scenarios. The gossip about the head teacher ending up in hospital hadn’t been entirely mythical.
The job in Puffin Bay had come up due to the sudden retirement of the head who’d been there for a gazillion or so years, and the governors wanted a quick start. Somehow, despite still being an emotional wreck, I’d been the successful candidate and was now here living next to the sea where everyone really did know your name, but they thankfully didn’t know my ex.
“How’ve you found your first week, sugar?”
The landlady looked like a small pixie and gave off the vibe of a potentially dangerous fairy, rather like Tinkerbell with a bottle of absinthe. The tips of her hair were either blue or pink and the skin on her nose was peeling, as if she’d just come back from holiday somewhere hot.
“Good. First week as head. I’m sure I’ve made a few thousand mistakes. Just a few million more to make.” I didn’t have an over-inflated sense of my capabilities. I was sure I could be a good school leader here, but that wouldn’t happen overnight.
“That’s the same for us all. You’re in the head teacher’s house, aren’t you?” She put another pint in front of me. “That’s from Dafydd over there. A welcome gift. When Morris buys you one, it’s a bribe to join the lifeboat crew.”
“Thanks for the head’s up; I might need to develop some sea-legs first. You’re right, I’m in the head teacher’s house. I needed somewhere to live and somewhere new to work, so this place was ideal for many reasons.” I didn’t want to go into the ins and outs of my failed marriage right now. Maybe not ever.
She nodded. “Where have you moved from?”
“Just outside of Wrexham. Not too far.” Possibly not far enough. “Where are you from?” She wasn’t Welsh, that was clear.
“Oxfordshire originally. Then London for my adult life until I came here seven years ago. I’m Amelie, by the way.”
“Cassian, but it gets shortened to Cas.”
“Good to meet you – finally.” She looked over my shoulder. “The person coming up behind you is Roman. He’s responsible for the building site just up the road.”
I turned my head and saw a tall, dark-haired man in his early forties, his eyes on the landlady rather than me.
“I’m also Amelie’s fiancé.” He took the bar stool next to me. “Just so you know.”
I laughed. “Point made. Just waiting for my divorce to come through. Still in the scarred stage.”
“In that case, can I get you a whisky?”
I looked down at what was left of my first pint and then at my second. “Maybe later. I need to work out how many parents come in here so how responsible I need to seem.”
“You’re the new headteacher. Makes sense.” He nodded, Amelie putting a drink in front of Roman. “I heard some of the mums talking about you this week in here. They were complimentary.”
“I bet they were. About my skills as an educator or something else?”
He just laughed.
I didn’t. As a teenager, I’d done a bit of modelling, but my face hadn’t been enough to make it a career, which was fine, as it probably wasn’t for me anyway. I liked teaching – whether that had been football coaching to kids’ teams or tutoring kids while I was doing my A-Levels. What my face had meant was that some parents – not always just the mothers – liked to find a reason to spend a little extra time with me. A couple of times it had ended up being more of a problem when they’d found out where I’d lived and made a point to come by.
That had been more than awkward.
“There’s enough gossiping around here to keep people in check.”
I didn’t hear what he said next as I noticed a woman with dark hair the colour of mahogany reach the bar, her expression looking somewhere between panicked and forced calm.
“Amelie, can the girls have fish and chips – and do you have the phone number for Cara Brice’s aunt?” Her words were rushed. “Cara’s not home.”
Amelie frowned, putting down the pint pot she was about to fill. “Roman, can you take over?”
Roman didn’t say anything, just slid off his barstool and headed behind the bar.
“I’m so sorry,” the woman said. “I found Mia crying on her doorstep because she said her mum has left her for the weekend – one major problem, but she’d also not left a key to get in the house.”
I turned around. “Mia Brice? She’s in year one.”
The woman nodded. “Yes.” She frowned. “Are you the new head teacher?”
I nodded, trying not to stare at her. She was possibly one of the most attractive women I’d ever seen in real life. That deep brown hair curled over her shoulders, her skin the sort of pale that would never tan, only freckle and looked so smooth that I wanted to reach out and stroke her cheek, the sort of thing that would have a restraining order and a career loss happening concurrently.
“Started this week.” I glanced over where Mia was sitting with Heidi, the pair of them pouring over a book. I’d spent an hour in their classroom today, facilitating an art lesson and then reading the class a story so the teacher could have some extra time to catch up on paperwork. Mia had been quiet, her smile not quite beaming like Heidi’s had, and there had been discussion this week about whether we needed to put a referral through to the early help team at the local authority, as Mia seemed to be in the same, unwashed clothes all week and had been stealing food at lunch probably to take home for dinner. Her teacher had noticed this, but hadn’t challenged her, wanting to piece a few more bits of information together. “We wanted to speak to Mia’s mum today but she didn’t come to collect her.”
Heidi’s mum ran a hand through her hair and looked really worried. “Is there somewhere we can talk – I don’t really know what to do. I’m Romy – parent of that one over there with the hair like mine.”
I’d been told earlier this week about Heidi’s father, that he’d not made it back after being part of a lifeboat rescue crew. The boy he’d rescued had survived, but Joel McAllister hadn’t made it out of the sea that night, leaving his wife a widow and his baby fatherless. I was surprised – although I shouldn’t have been – that Heidi was such a happy child; I’d seen her play with the children who were shy in the playground and interact confidently with the older kids.
“She’s a very good reader.” That seemed like the most appropriate comment.
“She’s obsessed with books, which I’m not going to complain about.” Her smile was fleeting.
Amelie put two bottles of fruit juice on the bar. “The room at the back is free for you to talk for ten minutes. I’ll keep an eye on the girls.”
“Thank you.” Romy gave Amelie a brief smile and looked at me. “Shall we? I really need some advice on this.”
I nodded and slid off my bar stool, following her behind the bar. “Will Heidi wonder where you are?”
She shook her head. “Not if Amelie’s here. I’m just sorry I’m interrupting your evening.”
“Don’t be. This is part of the job.” It was. As head, or even as deputy, we dealt with safeguarding concerns out of hours, making the right phone calls to get other agencies involved where needed. Education was the fourth emergency service, often filling in when the police or health were struggling with the volume of issues that were considered more urgent.
We headed into a small room with staff lockers and an array of coats hung up. It was obviously the staff room, although no one was in it at the moment. It would do for a confidential conversation, or so I hoped.
“What do you know about Mia’s mother?” She sat down on a chair, bending forward enough so I glimpsed the creamy skin underneath the shirt that she wore.
“I know she’s finding things difficult. Mia’s teacher passed on what had happened, or what she thought was happening.” I knew from experience with safeguarding that parents were often fearful of social workers and the social care system. They were worried that their children would be taken into care when this was unlikely to happen unless it was an extreme case and parents were unable to keep their children safe even with support from professionals. “Mia’s dad wasn’t around and mum had signs of post-natal depression. Is that right?”
Romy nodded, looking a little less fraught. “She struggled after having Mia. Cara’s aunt lived in for a few weeks to help out, but she had to go back to her own family. After Cara had Mia she would barely leave the house at first, but then she got involved with someone else and she seemed happier. We were actually in labour at the same time, so I always felt a bit of a bond, but I don’t think Cara felt the same. I remember coming by to see if Mia wanted to come to the butterfly palace for a day and I found all the curtains closed and heard Cara crying, or I think it was Cara. Mia answered the door when she knew it was me and said her mum had been in bed for two days. The poor kid had been trying to cook for herself and look after her mum.”
“What did you do?”
She shrugged slight shoulders that looked like they were used to carrying a heavy load.
“I went in. Cleaned up as much as I could. Put some washing on and sent Mia outside to play with Heidi. Woke Cara and pretty much forced her to get up and shower and eat. She made an appointment with the doctor because I told her if she didn’t, I’d call social care, and then she called her aunt who did come to stay for a bit. That was about a year ago. I’m not angry about Cara – I know exactly how hard it is to be on your own with a small child and to have limited support. When my husband died the village was there for us. Dinners were made, the house was kept tidy and repairs done for me, but even with all that I felt so alone. Cara was too proud and too scared to ask or accept help, or at least I figured that was the reason.” She shook her head as if she was trying to persuade herself this was the case. “What do we do? She’s abandoned her child who’s too young to be on her own.”
“Have you tried calling her?” It was probably a stupid question.
“Her phone’s off. I’ve messaged. I don’t know her well enough to know where she might’ve gone apart from the aunt’s. Do we need to call the police?”
There was a quiet resolve to her voice that told me this woman was mostly made of steel.
“We should and they can give us advice. Unless we can safely say where Cara is and she’s okay, we need to assume she’s possibly at risk of harm.” This wasn’t what I expected at the end of my first week as head, but these things did happen. You were never completely off the job. “I’ll log into the school’s systems and see who’s down for the emergency contact. We might find she’s gone to stay with them.”
“I didn’t think of that. It’ll be a relief if she’s gone to stay with her aunt. I’m so sorry to have spoilt your evening – I bet you thought you were done with work for the week.”
“Don’t be sorry; it’s why they kind of pay me the small bucks. Will you be here for another half an hour?”
Romy nodded. “We’ll have dinner – which will take at least an hour, and then I’ll take the girls down to the beach. Is it okay if Mia stays with us? She has done before.”
“Honestly, there’s no way social services would be able to find an emergency foster place quickly. If we can’t find where Cara is by tomorrow, they may decide that she has to go into emergency care, or they may say it’s fine for her to stay with you – which will probably be the case. Is it okay if I take your number? I’ll come back here when I’ve made a few phone calls, but just in case you’ve gone to the beach by then.” It felt off, asking for her number like this.
Romy McAllister was the sort of woman whose number I’d be hoping to get, if I hadn’t just gotten out of an unhealthy marriage and she wasn’t the parent of a child at my school, not that that was forbidden.
And not in circumstances like this.
“If you give me your phone, I’ll type it in.” She held out her hand.
“Phone yourself from it then you have my number. If Cara turns up then call me, or if you think of somewhere else she might be, let me know.” I heard her phone start to vibrate already.
“I will do. See you in a bit.”
There was only the one emergency contact number for Mia Brice, someone who was named as Mia’s great-aunt, held on our system. I rang the deputy head to see if she had any other information anywhere, but that wasn’t the case. The emergency number was for Cara Brice’s aunt, as Romy suspected, and the phone was switched off, but there was an address on the island that we could direct the police to check, or social care – whichever one had capacity on a Friday evening.
I made the call to the out of hours emergency social care team, who took the details and mine, asking for Romy’s address and number, which I gave, sending her a quick text afterwards to let her know I’d passed on her information.
By the time I got back to the Puffin Inn, the duty social worker had already called her, Romy texting me back to let me know that the social worker would be round later to visit. The police also called me back, taking the same details and sending someone round to visit the aunt to see if Cara was there. She wasn’t classed as vulnerable, so it would be another couple of days before we could say she’d been missing for seventy-two hours, which was the time required for the police to take it seriously. I imagined that in another few hours, the town would be buzzing with the gossip – I just hoped it wouldn’t put Cara off coming home.
Apart from keeping Mia happy, there wasn’t much more we could do, which was what I said to Romy when I sat down next to her in the beer garden at the inn while Heidi and Mia played on the climbing frame there.
“I think what worries me most is that Cara forgot to leave the key. I know Mia can let herself in – the lock’s low so she could reach it apparently. That makes me think she left in a hurry.” Romy checked her phone for the second time since I’d sat down, a pint of lime and soda in front of me, just in case I needed to drive anywhere.
“I know. But if she’s not well, she may have just forgotten, or she’s left it somewhere else – or Mia might have gotten it wrong. Try not to overthink it.” Which would be easier said than done for both of us.
Romy nodded, smiling at me and looking brighter than she had done since she’d first come to the bar. “You’re right. Time to just focus on the now. How are you going to spend the rest of today – and the weekend? Do you still need to unpack?”
“Kind of. I don’t have any plans yet. I need to buy some furniture – I didn’t exactly bring much.” Barely anything. I was sleeping on the couch that had already been in the house and was approximately thirty years old.
“Is your partner joining you out here?” She looked at me curiously.
I was going to work on the assumption that she was genuinely interested rather than fishing for gossip.
“No partner. My wife is in the process of becoming my ex-wife.” I gave her a wry smile. “I’m literally in a place where I don’t know anyone or where anything is – apart from the Puffin Inn and the corner shop – and the school.”
She laughed, a sound that made me want to do everything I could to hear it again, even if it was at my expense.
“Give it another week and everyone will know you. Promise.” She glanced over at where the girls were playing. “Although there are some people who’ve lived here for a while, and we don’t know them any better than when they first moved in. Cara’s one of them.”
“I’m sure she’s just taken a breather.” The words were empty and we both knew it.
“Maybe. I’m not sure it’s possible when you’ve got a kid though. Have you any – kids, I mean?”
“No. That’s a good thing, given how things ended.” I sounded too fucking sorry for myself. “Don’t get me wrong – it’s probably a good thing it’s over. It wasn’t working, it just didn’t need to end how it did.”
“How did it end? Sorry, I don’t mean to pry.”
I laughed, the sound hollow. “She was a teacher at the school where I was deputy – I found her and the head teacher together in the back of the car when I was walking the dog. We hadn’t been working out, arguing when we were together, which wasn’t often.” I shrugged. It hurt less now, the dent in my male pride had been smoothed out. “They’re together now – he’s moved into our old house and he’s taking the dog for a walk, which is the bit I hate the most. It was an interesting last half term working together.”
“I can imagine. How long were you married for?” A quick glance at the girls and her attention was back on me.
“Five years. We were together ten. How about you and your husband – that’s if you don’t mind talking about him.” It was a brazen question, I knew, but sometimes it was harder not to talk about things.
She swallowed and smiled at me. “Thank you for asking about him. People usually avoid it in case it upsets me. We were together nearly ten years. I met him when I came on holiday here when I was eighteen. I met him in a pub in Beaumaris where he was working behind the bar. After that, every weekend I drove here. As soon as I graduated, we moved in together. We had a good relationship and I know it ended too soon, but I can enjoy the happy memories.”
“How did you get to that point?”
“Heidi. She doesn’t remember Joel, but she asks about him, and we talk about him. I pass on all the good memories to her so the things that weren’t perfect – and there were many, like in most relationships – become less important.” Her smile was sunny and genuinely happy. “I’ve found peace with it.”
“Credit to you.” I meant it. “Will you let me know what the social worker says when they visit?”
“Sure. Will you call me if you hear anything about where Cara is?” She stood up, the early June breeze pushing the material of her shirt against her skin, making every curve stand out.
“Definitely. Are you off to the beach?”
“A good run-around and they’ll hopefully sleep in. I’m not sure if Mia will be okay, but I can try to help her as best I can. I’ll try Cara again later although I’ve sent about twenty text messages.”
There was a shout from Heidi about the beach, and Romy headed over to her, giving me one last wave before the three of them headed towards the sands, the tide out.
I finished my drink and headed back to the empty house with barely any useable furniture.