4. Cassian
FOUR
Cassian
T he small order from a large and well-known company came first thing. I’d expected that I’d have been sat in for most of the morning, probably the last delivery on the list, but as it turned out, the driver, who’d come from Chester, had a wedding to get to that afternoon, so he’d wrangled it so he left early.
It was great: I now had a bed, wardrobe, TV stand and TV, plus a small pile of bedding, towels, crockery and cutlery, the first time I’d made such purchases as a single man and not as a boyfriend being dragged round a big shopping centre.
I felt like an adult and it was unsurprisingly sobering.
By just after ten, I’d set the bed up, sorted out the TV and satellite, made the bed and ran the pots and stuff through the dishwasher, showered and sat down, staring at a blank TV screen because I wasn’t sure what the fuck to do with myself.
For the first time since it’d all happened with Bryony, I felt it.
My marriage was over. My job as deputy, working alongside my best mate, had gone. I was hundreds of miles away from my friends and even further from my family, and worse, my dog had stayed with Bryony and Jason.
I was most gutted about the dog.
I also needed something to do for the day so I didn’t sit there being maudlin and feeling sorry for myself. Getting to know the town should be the top of my list, although I’d never been one for the word should . Applying for the job here had been a knee-jerk reaction, and possibly a bit dramatic, but I was going to make the most of it. I didn’t think anyone would comment if I had dinner at Puffin Inn again for a second night running, and I might find out if there was a local football team I could sign up for because I was probably too late for cricket, although you never knew.
And I might get a dog from the local rescue.
With something that felt like energy sent from the patron saint of new beginnings, I left the sofa and headed out, locking up just like I’d told Romy to last night.
Which made me think about Romy some more.
It’d been years since I’d spent so long on the phone to a woman, probably way before Bryony and I had moved in together and were in the early days when everything was exciting and new.
That felt like a different lifetime ago.
Plus, speaking to Romy had been different. We weren’t talking about feelings or anything like that, although I’d heard her embarrassment when she’d mentioned women throwing knickers a la Tom Jones.
She thought I was attractive, which was nice to know. I’d thought she was stunning, probably a thought I shouldn’t have given she was the parent of a child in my school, and while relationships between parents and teachers or school staff could happen, at this moment I knew I’d be unwise to even consider getting involved with anyone.
Which lead onto another thought, this one about Mia and her mum. I hadn’t heard from Romy this morning, which suggested there were no new developments. I hadn’t heard from the social worker or the police either, which was who it now lay with to investigate.
The tide was out when I got down to the beach, the car park just before it packed with cars, some families struggling out carrying buckets and windbreakers at the same time from trying to wrangle their children.
I saw a couple of the kids from school with their parents, waving back to them, their parents asking the kids who I was if they hadn’t met me already. Tim Lawson’s mum waved a little too enthusiastically and then looked really embarrassed before moving away quickly. Another family looked over as if they expected me to be dressed up in a clown’s costume or something. I suspect I disappointed them.
I took a short walk on the beach, envious of the people with dogs, determined to get one of my own, knowing that watching the dogs was my way of not admitting that I was hoping to see Romy.
I didn’t have to pretend to not be hoping for that for long.
“Mr Caddick! Mr Caddick!” The voice was clearly Heidi’s and it was getting closer.
I spun round, pleased to see Mia running over to me with her, both carrying buckets and spades.
Romy was behind them, her feet bare, cropped pants showing off the start of tanned legs and her mahogany hair tied up in a messy bun thing. She was smiling at me, her cheeks flushed and I noticed that she was carrying a bucket too, along with a backpack.
“Let me guess, have you been building sandcastles?” I crouched down so I was at their level. The school ran from reception to year six, so four to eleven-year-olds. As a teacher, I’d only taught from year four and up, most of my career spent teaching year six, preparing them for secondary school, but I’d always wished I’d had chance to teach the younger ones too.
“We built a huge one with a moat and then we demoli-sed it at the end,” Heidi said.
“Demolished. With a sh in it. It’s a good word.”
Heidi repeated it, correctly this time. “My mum helped demolish it too. And Mia.”
I looked at Mia, aware that Romy was on her way over, not wanting to stare at her or see if she was studying me. I focused on Mia instead, who was smiling, her eyes shining and her hair wind-blown.
“How are you this morning, Mia? Did you sleep well?” I crouched down so I was at her level.
Mia nodded, not seeming as shy as she had before. “I didn’t wake up until late.”
“Mia had a long lie in,” Heidi said, bending down to pick up a shell. “We didn’t want to wake her because she’d been so tired.”
One of the things Romy had said on the phone was that Mia had seemed suddenly exhausted before she’d gone to bed. Romy had asked her how she was sleeping at home, if she was waking up a lot, and Mia had said she’d not slept much.
We’d figured she’d been kept awake either because she was worried or because something was going on in her house that was scaring her.
“So Heidi had to practice being quiet this morning.”
I looked up and saw Romy standing with us, her bucket on the sand next to Heidi. I stood back up, noticing how she was bare of any make-up, her skin-tinged pink from the breeze and the sunshine.
“Morning.” I wasn’t sure if there was a less-awkward greeting. “The beach is busier than I thought it would be.” Nothing like small talk. I was pretty good at small talk, I had to be, given my job. Finding things to say to small people and parents could sometimes be like scraping a very empty barrel, especially when your own barrel was empty after the end of a long week.
“Day trippers and weekenders. It’ll be like this every weekend now until the end of September. Then you’ll get to experience an island autumn.” She ruffled Mia’s hair. “Every season on this beach feels different, doesn’t it, girls?”
There were nods, some chatter about favourite seasons and then they saw someone they knew and trotted over to them, Romy watching them carefully.
“Has Mia said any more about her mother?” I was really concerned about Mia. The signs were there for a child who was being neglected, and reports had been made to social services from the school’s deputy head, who was also the safeguarding lead. There was also the local gossip about what Cara did or didn’t do: irregular work, a couple of boyfriends who had reputations for criminal activity – which didn’t mean it was true, but experience had taught me that there was definitely no smoke without fire. There had been a couple of concerns raised about Cara not collecting Mia, and Mia’s attendance was low enough to have caused a formal letter to be sent to Cara saying that she was at risk of being fined if Mia’s attendance didn’t improve.
“Nothing. She went very quiet the two times I mentioned her mum. I think she’s been told to not talk about something.”
We walked along the beach, the girls’ and Romy’s buckets now carried by us as they were busy hunting shells with their friends.
“Have you heard from the social worker?” I knew it wasn’t guaranteed.
“I had a phone call this morning just to say they were still liaising with the police to find Cara. They’ve been in touch with Cara’s aunt, who hasn’t heard from her in weeks. She would be the next of kin to look after Mia, but she’s not able to. She’s got chronic COPD and is on oxygen most of the day.” Romy handed a bucket to Heidi. “Five minutes and we’re going to the cakery.”
Heidi’s eyes lit up. “Can Mr Caddick come with us?”
Thankfully Romy smiled rather than looking put out at the suggestion. “Why not, unless he’s something better to do than spend his Saturday lunch time with two wild children.”
She looked at me, still smiling. I shouldn’t like her smile so much; it really was none of my business.
“You’re welcome to join us. The girls would like it and I wouldn’t mind a bit of adult company. I think we’re spending the afternoon making shell pictures which might kill off whatever brain cells I have left.” Another smile. “Although I get it if you have other places to be or there’s some code that stops you from sitting at the same table as your pupils when it’s not school time.”
I knew if I went to the cakery with Romy there would be gossip. I did know something about small towns because they weren’t that much different from bigger cities, where you had a community based around a primary school. But when I’d been interviewed for the post here, the school governors had said becoming part of the community was a major aspect of the role. I could have dinner with families and it would be expected that I’d see some of the parents socially because I was living in a small town. The governors however expected me to be fair and professional, not showing favouritism or getting involved in any scandal.
Scandal was the last thing I wanted. That was what I was trying to escape.
“I’d like to see this cakery. Today’s list includes finding out more about Puffin Bay.” Maybe Romy was the right person to help with that. She’d been new to town too, but clearly belonged here now.
“You won’t be disappointed. It’s owned by Amelie, who’s also the landlady of the Puffin Inn. She’s really talented at cake making and decorating them, although it’s not just her who works there. Her fiancé, Roman, bought the building the cakery’s in and gifted it to her to run as the community centre for the town. He’s got some big job in development and it’s his company that built and still run the hotel just down the road. His son lives here too – Caleb – so you’ll see him knocking about, usually followed by a mob of girls trying to get his attention.” She smiled, shaking her head. “He reminds me of Joel; he was like that when I first met him.”
“Is there a town football team?” I liked sport, playing and watching it, and this would be a good way to meet people and give me some routine.
Romy nodded, her focus on Mia and Heidi who were running back to her after darting off to look for shells. “There’s at least one. Finn Holland organises it now. I think they train Tuesday and Thursday nights and play Sundays or Saturdays. Joel was on the team so I remember his schedule – it could’ve changed.”
I saw a flicker of pain on her face and I wondered how much it still hurt. I’d lost Bryony, but not in the same way. Not in any way comparable.
It was a different sort of hurt.
“Is Mr Caddick coming to the cakery with us?” Heidi’s enthusiasm could only be owned by a child of her age. In a few years, when she was a teenager, she’d probably hide at the sight of me. It would be very uncool to acknowledge the existence of one of your teachers.
Romy nodded. “He is. Don’t pester him though and don’t be over-excited.” She smoothed her daughter’s hair. “We’ll take our buckets home first though.”
The buckets were half full of shells and looked heavy for a small girl. “Want me to carry those.” I pointed to them.
Heidi looked at Romy.
Romy shook her head. “No thank you, Mr Caddick. Heidi knows that she should only collect what she can carry back.”
Mia’s bucket was less full. I wondered if Heidi had picked up more shells so she’d have more to share with Mia.
“Shall I meet you at the cakery or walk with you?” I wasn’t sure where I was standing here. A couple of other parents from the school waved over. I lifted a hand back and smiled, wondering what they were thinking.
“You can walk with us – it’s kind of on the way. We’ll take a short cut off the beach.” She carried on walking with her sandals in her hand until we were back where the sand turned into grass, a sandy path leading away from the beach, a steep incline leading up to a higher pathway.
After a couple of minutes, the trees thinned out and I was standing in front of five small cottages, most of them painted white, small tidy gardens filled with colour at the front.
“This is where I live and where Mia’s staying,” Heidi said enthusiastically. “That’s my bedroom window up there.”
“I have the top bunk!” Mia chirped in. “Heidi let me swap.”
“That’s kind of you, Heidi.” Given that she was used to it being just her and her mum she was doing a good job of sharing.
Heidi just nodded and shot off into the garden, followed by Mia, depositing their buckets of shells near the front door.
“Heidi seems to like having her friend stay.” It was an observation, but also a test to find out if there would be any difficulties with their friendship.
Romy nodded, watching them rinse their hands under the outside tap. “Heidi’s told me lots of times she wants to be a sister. She’s a really friendly kid and likes having company. Just like her dad in so many ways.”
“Did you want more children?” It was a question I shouldn’t have asked, and the shadow that flickered over Romy’s face made me regret saying it straightaway.
“Yes. Joel definitely wanted a boy as well. He used to joke that we’d end up with five girls when he found out we were having Heidi.” The shadow was replaced with a smile. “Looks like I’ve just got the one. She’s a good one to have.”
“There’s still time if you want to meet someone else.” Again, I wanted to swallow the words back up.
Romy shrugged, not looking the least bit offended at my clumsy words. “There is. I don’t know what will happen. I know everyone in Puffin Bay and this side of the island and having a kid means you can’t get out and meet people in the same way.” Her smile wasn’t as strong. “And I’m not sure I’m ready yet. They don’t have a manual for widows, unfortunately.”
I was walking in unfamiliar territory. I had friends who’d been divorced and separated, seen some horrible decapitations of relationships that’d once flourished and been the source of envy, but I hadn’t known someone of a similar age to me whose spouse had died.
“Maybe you could write one.” It felt a lame thing to say, but unfamiliar territory.
Romy smiled, this time I could tell she was amused. “I could. If I could write anything. And I think everyone’s journey's different. I went to a grief support group a few months after Joel died and I still keep in touch with some of the people from it. I went to the wedding of one of them last year; her husband had died the same day as Joel so we kind of bonded. She met someone three years ago, and now they’re married and she has a baby on the way, which is great; I wouldn’t have been able to work that timeline.”
I nodded, searching for the right words to say, and coming up empty.
“I’m not looking for sympathy.” She shook her head slightly. “Ready, girls?”
Heidi nodded, Mia running behind her. “I think I need more shells.”
“Really?” Romy frowned. “I’m not sure there are any left on the beach.”
“Don’t be silly, Mummy, there are lots more on the beach.” Heidi shook her head in disgust at her mother’s lack of knowledge.
“Where’s the best beach, Heidi?” I might as well plunder her for more information.
She looked serious as she thought about it. “Buchan is good and I like Red Wharf Bay. But I like Newborough best.”
“Newborough has wild horses on it.” Mia spoke up, taking hold of Romy’s hand. “I’ve only been once.”
Romy frowned at her. “You’ve only been once?”
Mia nodded. “With school.”
“Oh, okay,” Romy gave a nod. “Maybe we can go tomorrow morning if the tide’s out and you can hunt for any more shells that you need.”
“What are you doing with the shells?” I braved what the answers would be. Kids this age liked to give you the finer details of everything usually.
They did. Between them, in the five minutes it took us to walk into the town, I was given an extensive description as to what they were going to do, which was make a shell mural.
“Mummy’s going to draw a mermaid and a fish and an octopus and we’re going to stick the shells on.” Heidi added more information than I probably needed to know.
Romy looked entertained with what I’d gotten myself into. Fortunately, we were at the cakery, and Heidi’s focus went to what was in the window.
“What is this place apart from where you buy cakes?” I studied the building. It was an old pub, a large one at that, three storeys in total and looked recently renovated.
“It's a community centre where some of the local crafters and businesses sell their wares. The book club and the stitch and bit – talking. Talking.” She suppressed a laugh, her eyes glinting at nearly swearing in front of the girls. “There’s a bigger community centre next to the hotel where the scouts and guides meet, and the local amateur dramatics group – you could get involved with them, if you liked that sort of thing.” That teasing tone was back.
“I do enough am-dram at work in assemblies.” I wasn’t a good actor. I could sing okay, but anything else like that wasn’t a strength.
Romy headed for a table with a reserved sign on it and her name, the other tables all full. Another couple of kids waved at me, looking excited to see me although that effect would wear off at some point. The novelty of the new head teacher being seen in the town would fade away.
“What do you recommend?” I sat down next to Romy, the two girls opposite us, children's menus snapped up from the holder in the middle. “What should I choose?”
“Death by chocolate,” Heidi grinned, looking so much like her mother. “Can I have that, Mummy?”
“You can this time.” She glanced at me. “Don’t judge me; it’s the most sugar-filled thing on the menu and it’s so unhealthy, but it’s so nice.”
“Is that what you’re having too?”
She shook her head. “I want something with strawberries and cream. Mia, what do you want?”
Mia shook her head. “Nothing, thank you.”
Romy gave me another quick glance. No child would turn down anything in here, and probably few adults too.
“You can choose whatever you’d like, Mia. It’s my treat. If you don’t want to fill yourself up with chocolate like Heidi then why don’t you try a cupcake or ice cream.” Romy looked at me. “Amelie makes her own ice cream as well and it’s delicious. You should definitely try that.”
“I haven’t had ice cream for ages.” It’d been a long time ago, probably on a weekend away with Bryony that I’d last eaten ice cream, back when my marriage had still been healthy.
A teenager whose Saturday job was waiting on came over to take our order, Romy encouraging Mia to pick what she wanted from the pictures in the kids’ menu. Heidi had no problems ordering her death by chocolate and a strawberry milkshake that was apparently made with ice cream and fruit; Romy chose a strawberry sundae, and I opted for honeycomb cake and coffee ice cream, taking the uproar about the weird combination with a grin. There was coffee and tea as well, and more talk about beaches and horses and then school.
For the next hour I was introduced to people in my new town as they came over, wanting to see Mia and check if Romy needed anything.
Word had gotten round already that Cara was missing, although it was obvious that no one was surprised in the way they acted.
Heidi was scraping her bowl clean and looking at her mum as if she was weighing up her chances of being allowed to lick the sides when two other girls from her class came over.
“Do you want to play out with us?” one of them who I remembered was called Jessamyn looked at Mia and Heidi hopefully.
“You can play for fifteen minutes,” Romy said, looking out of the window we were sitting by. Outside was a small children’s play area, swings and some bars and seats. “No going upside down.”
Heidi looked pleased, pulling Mia off the seats with her and escaping outside, leaving me alone with their mother.
“How worried are you about Cara?” I asked, conscious that there were a lot of people around who might be listening in.
Romy sighed, stirring her second cup of coffee. “I don’t know. I’m worried about Mia, because I can’t see social care letting her go back home with Cara if she comes back.”
“She could face charges for leaving her.” I’d seen similar circumstances before when I first started teaching.
“Which is why I wonder if something’s happened, or she’s poorly somewhere.” Romy shrugged, looking out of the window where Mia and Heidi were on the swings. “What are your thoughts of Puffin Bay so far?”
I took the hint for a change of subject. “I like it. Good thing really, since I’m living here now.”
“Do you think you’ll be here a while?” She relaxed some in her seat. “It’s going to be a change moving here from a city.”
“I’ve not got plans for anywhere after here. I’m making things up as they go right now.” Nothing in the last few months had been planned.
“What’s happened with where you were living with your wife?” Romy said, waving at Mia who was smiling properly now. “Tell me if I’m being too personal.”
“It’s not too personal. My ex is buying me out and my ex-friend’s moving in there with her. I brought everything I wanted to take with me, so I’m pretty much starting from scratch.”
“If you mention that loudly enough, you’ll be donated all the kitchen and house chintz you could wish for.” Her smile was broad now, different to any before. “People will be dropping round offering all sorts in exchange for some dirty details about you.”
“I’m really not that interesting.”
This time she laughed. “Oh, in a small town anyone new is always interesting.”
I paid for my food and left Romy with the girls in the cakery, choosing something to take home for tomorrow. I would’ve paid for Romy too, only it would definitely go round town and neither of us needed to be gossiped about.
I found Finn Holland in the beer garden in the Puffin Inn, having lunch with his wife and infant daughter, asking him about the football team and securing an invite to the next training session.
Then I headed off, another task I wanted to tick off that afternoon about to be carried out.