3. Romy
THREE
Romy
“ M ummy, why were you talking to Mr Caddick?”
Was there no question my child thought it wrong to ask? “He was asking me about Puffin Bay.”
“Does he like Puffin Bay?” Heidi bounced on the sofa next to me. “Did you tell him about the cakery?”
“I didn’t, but I’m sure he’ll find it.” Or he’d have a line of parents queuing up to give him a slice of their cake, pun intended, by Wednesday. The man was candy for the eyes, tall, broad shouldered, dark hair that was almost black and a shadow of scruff that I doubted could ever be shaved completely smooth. He was stupidly handsome and I wasn’t surprised that I’d been a nervous wreck talking to him.
He was also kind and nice and had a sense of humour, which made me wonder whether he was secretly a psychopath given his ex-wife had cheated on him, or maybe he wasn’t very good in bed, although it had been that long for me, I wouldn’t know the difference anyway.
“Mummy, why are you looking like that?”
“Like what?” Oh lord, what face had I been pulling?
“Were you thinking about eating cake?”
I exhaled. That would do. “I was. I was thinking about Amelie’s chocolate fudge cake with the strawberries on the top. Do you think Mia might want to go there tomorrow?”
Back to the matter in hand.
Mia.
We’d had tea and played on the beach, then it was home and baths as promised. Heidi had been in and out as quickly as she could, promising me she’d washed properly. I still ran her bath and made sure everything was ready for her when she got out, warm towel, hairbrush, clean underwear and her pyjamas, but she was old enough – nearly six – to have some independence however much I’d been reluctant to give it.
I’d done the same for Mia. Running the bath, adding bubbles which Heidi didn’t care for, laying out clean PJ’s again and opening a new pack of knickers. She’d been spellbound by the bath and the bubbles and then looked shy.
“What if I get the towels dirty? Will you be cross?”
I’d smiled and shaken my head, realising once again that something was very not right. “You’ll be shiny clean when you’ve had a bath so you won’t get the towels dirty.” I rummaged in the bathroom cabinet for the antibac wipes. “If you want to help me, you can give the bath a very quick wipe with these afterwards, but don’t spend too long on it because it’s bathroom cleaning day tomorrow.” I doubted my own daughter ever gave a single thought to how she left the bathroom – in fact, I had evidence that she didn’t give many thoughts about it, which was fine because she was five. Five-year-olds shouldn’t worry about making messes or dirtying towels. They should be doing both those things.
“I think Mia would love cake at Amelie’s,” I said as I exited the bathroom. “Has Mia been there before?” I was fishing now, which I felt slightly guilty about, mining my daughter for information.
Heidi shrugged. “I don’t know. She said her mum doesn’t have much money to spend.” She squirmed on the sofa. “She takes food home at lunch to have for her tea and she feels bad because she knows it’s stealing.”
“You know, I’m sure the cook would make-up an extra plate for her to take home. She won’t mind.” I knew the school cook; she’d told me several times how she used to baby sit Joel when he was a kid and how she’d cleaned him up once when he’d had an accident in his pants. She’d told me that in front of Joel, who hadn’t been embarrassed in the slightest and had acknowledged it all with his usual laid back good humour.
I missed him.
I missed that humour every day, usually when I least expected to remember it.
“Maybe you could ask Cook for Mia. Mia’s really shy.” Heidi cuddled into me, which would probably last about three minutes because she was currently considering herself too old and grown up for cuddles most of the time.
“What else has Mia said about her mum? Is Mia’s mum out a lot?” I was pretty sure I shouldn’t be trying to find out more information from my daughter.
Heidi kicked the cushion which for some reason was annoying her. “She’s never home when Mia gets home from school. Mia has to wait in the garden for her, sometimes until it’s dark. And Mia’s mum doesn’t wake up in the morning to help Mia get ready for school, so Mia doesn’t have any breakfast.” My daughter looked at me with guilty eyes.
“Is that why you’ve been asking me every morning for a cereal bar after breakfast and an apple?” It made sense now, the insistence she’d had for a second breakfast or a snack at break.
Heidi pulled her face and refused to meet my eyes with hers.
“I don’t mind. You should’ve told me it was for Mia and I’d have gotten something better for her. Cereal bars taste like cardboard.” I wrinkled my nose and gave Heidi a squeeze. “And I’m not cross. You were doing a kind thing.”
She nodded solemnly. “She cried once because she was so hungry. I think she wakes up sometimes and her mum isn’t home yet too. She said she gets scared when she’s alone at home.”
I held Heidi a little tighter, tight enough that she wriggled away from me.
“Mum, that was hard.”
I laughed, releasing her. “I should go and check if Mia’s finished in the bath and then we can have cocoa.”
The mention of cocoa was enough to have Heidi smiling again, burrowing into a cushion instead of kicking one this time.
I left her to it, heading upstairs where I could hear the sound of water draining. I tapped on the bathroom door, hearing footsteps pattering.
“How are you doing, Mia? Need any help?” I slowly pushed the door open. Mia was in her PJs, pulling a hairbrush through wet hair.
She looked worried, freezing when she saw me. “My hair was dirty.”
I nodded, moving the short distance towards her. “Then it’s good you washed it. Does it feel better now?”
She nodded.
“Want me to brush it?”
Another nod.
I took the brush from her and started to run it through her hair, combing out any lugs, drying it off more with another towel. She hadn’t tried to dry it, and I figured it was because she hadn’t wanted to use anything else.
“How about I use the hair dryer on it? No one wants to go to bed with wet hair.” I nudged her into Heidi’s room and took the pink hairdryer off the shelf in there, plugging it in and drying off her mop of light brown hair, that needed a good trim. I reminded myself that it wasn’t my job, it was Cara’s and not for the first time I felt angry about the woman who’d never really been my friend, no matter how much I’d tried.
I was as gentle as I could be, not sure if Mia was used to having her hair dried or someone brushing it. Heidi hated me doing anything with her hair, preferring to do it herself, but then she chose to be Miss Independent.
Mia didn’t seem to have any choice.
We were sitting on the sofa when the doorbell rang. I’d been waiting for the call, the social worker I’d spoken to a couple of hours ago giving me an approximate time for when she’d be round. She’d sounded tired, busy, so I’d been as co-operative as possible, answering questions that could’ve been insensitive.
“Romy McAllister?” The social worker asked. She was in her mid-fifties and had a kind face and a warm smile. “I’m Sue Samuels, duty social worker.”
“I’m Romy. Mia’s in the lounge with my daughter, Heidi.” I opened the door to let her in, noticing how she evaluated the house straight away.
“Nice house. Have you lived here long?”
“Since I was twenty-one. My husband bought it when he was eighteen. He died five years ago so me and Heidi live here by ourselves now.” The explanation came easier now, especially when I knew there was no chance of Heidi overhearing.
“Any boyfriend or man friend who comes round?”
I knew why she was asking this. Another person here would be another person to check out.
“No. I believe Chris Hemsworth’s taken.”
Sue laughed, her shoulders relaxing. “You never know. We can hope. How’s Mia been since you found her?”
“Quiet. She’s looked like she wanted to cry a few times and she hasn’t said much. We’ve had tea at the Puffin Inn, so they’ve played together there and on the beach. She’s just had a bath and washed her hair, which I think’s made her feel better.” I went through the other events of the afternoon and evening, telling her what times I’d messaged Cara and how none of those messages had been read.
“Can I see Mia?” Sue asked, following me through to the hallway, the door to the lounge open a crack so she lowered her voice. “I’ve spoken to the head teacher at their school and the deputy there – I know the deputy but the head’s new, isn’t he? – and they’ve no concerns about Mia staying with you which is the better option than an emergency foster carer.”
“She’s fine to stay with me. Heidi has bunk beds in her room so there’s space enough.” I pushed open the door. The two girls were lounging on the sofa, watching cartoons, empty mugs of hot chocolate resting on the floor directly underneath a precariously hanging cushion.
I scooped them up before we had a catastrophe.
“Hi Mia and Heidi. I’m Sue and I’m a social worker. Do you know what a social worker is?”
My daughter shook her head, utterly oblivious because why wouldn’t she be, but Mia pushed herself into the corner, a frightened animal. She looked little and terrified, and I had no doubt that she did know what a social worker was, or had at least been scared with the threat of one.
Sue sat down on the chair and looked comfy. “So Heidi, social workers try to help look after people and children. I’m here to make sure that Mia’s okay and that she’s happy to be here and she feels safe. I’m not going to take her anywhere tonight unless she wants to go somewhere else.” She gave the girls a reassuring smile. “I’ve heard about how nice a time you’ve had. Fish and chips for supper – I wish I’d had that for my tea! And ice cream – it sounds like you’ve had a great time.”
Heidi nodded, wriggling around. “We’re having cake at Amelie’s Cakery tomorrow and if it’s nice, we’ll play on the beach.”
“That sounds good. Are you looking forward to that too, Mia?” The social worker’s focus landed on Mia.
Mia nodded, looking a little bit less nervous. “Yes. I like staying with Heidi and Romy.”
“Do you feel safe here?”
Mia nodded, this time with a ferocity that made me even more worried about what was going on back at home.
“That’s good. Do you know when you’re mum’s coming back?”
Mia shook her head. “She said she’d leave me the key, but she forgot it.”
“Does she go away a lot?”
Mia looked at me, unsure of what to say. I gave her a smile that I hoped reassured her. We needed some truth here if we were to be able to look after her more.
“Sometimes. She told me not to tell.” She shook her head vehemently.
Sue looked over at me, letting me see the concern there. “Okay, I’m sure your mum will be happy you’re here with Romy though. Do you want to show me where you’re sleeping?”
Mia looked at me again, uncertain. “Why don’t you show Sue the bunk beds? Me and Heidi will wait down here.”
My daughter was looking confused now, if not a little worried too. I sent her a smile over.
“It’s okay, Mia. Sue’s a safe person. She’s just making sure I’m looking after you okay and that means checking where you're sleeping’s okay.” I also knew Sue would want to speak to Mia on her own, knowing a little about what social workers did. My housemate from university had gone into social work for a few years. It was a hard job and she’d burnt out eventually, changing careers and becoming a vet nurse instead.
Mia slowly pushed herself off the sofa and traipsed out of the room with Sue, who was being as reassuring as possible. I waited until I heard them walking up the stairs and sat down next to Heidi.
“Is Mia in trouble?”
“Not at all. We’re just worried because her mum’s left her and parents aren’t meant to leave children on their own.” That seemed like an okay explanation.
“Ever?”
“Well, maybe when you’re about fourteen I’ll be able to leave you for a couple of hours. If you’re not likely to set the house on fire.” I frowned, not sure what state I’d return to if Hurricane Heidi was left unsupervised. Her father had been impossibly untidy and she’d inherited that gene.
Heidi fiddled with her fingernails, a nervous habit. “Can I go and see if Mia’s okay. She doesn’t like new people.”
Which was telling. “Sure. But knock first and if Sue tells you to wait, you do that.”
She bounded off and I wasn’t sure if she heard me or not.
It was another hour and a half before Sue had gone and we’d had a snack and some warm milk with cinnamon in it because Heidi insisted. Bedtime followed, with a closer supervision of brushing teeth and washing hands and faces, then combing hair – I got the girls to do each other’s.
I heard them giggling with each other while I sat outside Heidi’s bedroom door, wondering if Mia would say anything to Heidi that we hadn’t already found out. Both the social worker and I were convinced there was more going on that Mia hadn’t disclosed. If Cara didn’t reappear tomorrow, she’d be registered as a missing person and a strategy meeting would be called with the police on Monday. In the meantime, Mia would stay with me. There would be checks that needed to be carried out which weren’t a problem, and Sue would need to speak to other members of Cara’s family to see if it’d be more suitable for Mia to stay with them if Cara didn’t come home soon.
Nothing was said by Mia. In fact, it didn’t take too long before there was silence, the gentle breaths of tired, sleeping children.
It was at these times when I missed Joel the most. We’d never really gotten to be parents together, apart from the first few months before Joel didn’t come back from a night time rescue.
I’d been on my own when Heidi teethed, when she had colic, when she was poorly with a virus that nearly had her hospitalised. But it was times like now when it was only me awake that I missed having a partner.
Cassian.
Why he should pop into my head I didn’t know, but I had promised him an update and we had an update of sorts. It was only nine, a late bedtime for Heidi and Mia, too early for me.
Not too late to drop Cassian a text. He could well be back in the Puffin Inn now, or maybe he’d met someone – there’d be no shortage of women hoping for some extra tutoring.
Me: Social worker has been. She’s called Sue and she was really lovely. Mia is staying with me for at least tonight.
Me: It’s Romy McAllister, by the way.
I didn’t expected to hear anything back from him, so I was surprised when my phone started to vibrate with an incoming call, the name ‘Cassian Head Teacher’ coming up on the screen.
I headed downstairs, not wanting to wake the girls, answering the call as I reached the kitchen.
“Hey.” How exactly did you greet a head teacher on a Friday night.
“I thought I’d check in and make sure you were okay.” His voice was soothing. I imagined he’d been a good classroom teacher before he became a head.
“All fine. The girls are asleep and I’m wondering what to do with myself.” Which was true. Usually I’d be having a glass of wine or two, watching something easy on TV or reading a book. Occasionally, one of the other mums from school would come round and we’d have a drink together.
That was how life was now. How it had been for the last half a decade.
“I’m kind of the same. I don’t even have a TV yet. One’s being delivered tomorrow.” His laugh was full of self-deprecation. “I can run a school but not my own life.”
“I’m sure you’ll be fine at that when you’ve got in the swing of things.” I took a glass out of the cupboard and half-filled it with red wine. “It just takes time to get used to a new normal.” Look at me sounding all wise. I almost laughed at myself.
“I’ll accept that given I think you know what you’re talking about.” He fell quiet, a pause. ““I don't mean to overstep – but with your history, you probably know a lot about adapting to unexpected circumstances. I don't know how I would have coped with a loss like that.”
It was times like these when I felt like Joel was still around, or maybe it was the idea of him, or me willing for it to be so. He felt so very far away some days, but what happened also felt like it was just yesterday when he didn’t come home.
“The whole island knows what happened to Joel. He saved a boy’s life but lost his own. They were never able to find his body.” Which was hard, although we had the statue that commemorated him as a place to go to mourn or remember. “He was a good man.”
“He must’ve been. I’ll change the topic – I shouldn’t have brought him up really. What did the social worker say about Mia’s mum?”
I updated him, talking through what we knew versus what I suspected.
“I know she’s had a couple of boyfriends who’ve been in trouble with the police, mainly for dealing drugs. That’s just the Puffin Bay gossip. I know Cara enough to talk to about Mia, but she never gives anything else away.” Which made me more curious now.
“Were you worried about Mia before?”
“A little. She was unkempt and I sometimes wanted to take her home for a bath and to wash her clothes. I knew she spent time on her own but I’d figured it was because Cara was sleeping or something like that, rather than her being totally on her own. What do you know?” I sipped on the wine, enjoying the taste, enjoying having someone to talk to of the male variety.
“The teachers had concerns at school, but I can’t go into any more detail.” He sounded regretful. “Not yet. Hopefully Cara comes back tomorrow and she can look after Mia properly.”
The sinking feeling in my stomach told me a few things. “I don’t think she will. I think Mia knows something too that she’s keeping hidden.” I couldn’t put my finger on what it was.
“I hope she does come home,” he said, the sound of something pouring in the background. “You’ve got a busy weekend otherwise.”
“It’s easier with two. They occupy each other. When it’s just me and Heidi she wants my company all the time which is nice, because when she’s a teenager I’ll be the equivalent of chopped liver, but being her sole companion is equally draining at the same time.”
“What are you doing with them tomorrow?”
I sensed he was talking now just to be polite.
“Breakfast. Beach. Amelie’s Cakery for a snack, and then the beach again. There’s usually a group running kids’ activities on the beach and if not, there’ll be something going on in the community centre.”
He asked about the town, the community centre and exactly how far Amelie’s influence spread through Puffin Bay, which meant the time ticked on until nearly ten, by which time my glass was empty and I had a decent buzz going on.
“So who owns the brewery?” he asked. “Which one of the brothers?”
“Finn. He’s the eldest. Roe codes apps and things like that, and does something involving cyber security but I don’t know exactly what, which is probably the point. Gully is a crime writer. His friend Ivy died a couple of years ago. One of the beaches nearby has an arch covered in ivy which is kind of a memorial for her.” It was times like this when I was reminded of how it was to be in a small town where everyone really did know your business, your life story and how you buttered your toast.
It was both comforting and scary.
“I think I need a list of characters to understand who’s who,” he said, sounding like he was lying down.
“You’ll know them soon enough. They’ll already know you – trust me.” I sighed, thinking of those jungle drums. “They’ll know soon enough about Cara too. That might be how we find where she’s gone.”
“If she doesn’t turn up tomorrow, which she might. She might just be having a wild night out somewhere.”
“I don’t think that’s happened. I just have a feeling- that makes me sound nuts. I think there’s something Mia’s not telling us.” Something didn’t sit right at all the more I thought about it.
“Like what? She’s a quiet pupil from what I saw today, and quiet kids go unnoticed which is why they often see things.”
“That’s true. Heidi’s only quiet if she’s asleep.” If she didn’t say anything for more than five minutes I assumed I’d either gone deaf or she’d been kidnapped.
I shivered even though it wasn’t cold.
“Romy, you’re making me nervous. Have you locked the doors? I know people leave the doors round here unlocked all the time - ”
“They’re both locked and bolted. City girl. And I learned early on that neighbours would come walking in whenever they felt like it, so locking your door was the first line of defence.”
He was chuckling, a deep melodic sound that was far too pleasant.
“Do you sing?” It felt odd, asking him that, as if it was deeply personal given we’d only met today and he was my daughter’s head teacher.
“I have done when I was a kid. I’m pretty good on karaoke.”
“What’s your go to song?”
“That’s a tricky one. If it’s early in the evening then something by the Stereophonics. If it’s late on, Tom Jones.”
I laughed, somehow seeing how both of those performances would look. “I bet you have a few pairs of knickers thrown on stage.” I only realised what I’d said when the pause was too long. “Shit, that was totally inappropriate, I’m so sorry. That was really wrong - ”
His laughter shut me up.
“That’s probably the best compliment I’ve had since I found out my wife was sleeping with my boss.”
“Really? I’m glad I could be of help then.” Which seemed like a good time to end the conversation before I could say anything else to totally embarrass myself.