11. Cassian
ELEVEN
Cassian
W hat a difference a day could make. I was here against my better judgment, the rational voice I’d listened to when Romy had asked me out on a date had been louder then. Tonight when I’d seen her, on a Friday afternoon with a lazy sun hanging in the sky as if it was willing the weekend to ebb in, I’d had one of those fuck it moments.
I was lonely, if I was being honest. I would throw myself into Puffin Bay’s sports teams, I’d get involved in the community, I’d work every hour needed to make my school the best place to be, but I missed having that connection.
I’d been missing having that connection for a couple of years. Bryony and I were going through the motions and we both knew it, but carrying on with a dying relationship rather than humanely putting it down. There was a marriage and a mortgage that would be a pain in the arse to sort out, so there needed to be reason to dismantle it.
A reason was provided.
I wished we’d had a fight and we’d both given up at the same time rather than what happened. All that changed afterwards was that we weren’t in the same bed and I hated both of them for how it’d ended.
Moving to Puffin Bay, even though it’d only been a few weeks, hadn’t changed anything other than it was just me in the space. The connection with Bryony had long since gone, way before she started an affair.
There’d been something about talking to Romy at night, or texting with her. Something I hadn’t had for a while and I wasn’t sure whether it was a connection or chemistry. There were a dozen reasons why I should’ve gone to the Puffin Inn and lost at cards again to Roe or someone else who was there, but I hadn’t done that. I hadn’t wanted to.
“Why are you curious about me? Nothing very interesting here.” She looked a little flustered, which made me feel guilty. There were mixed messages going on here, my fault, and while I might be many things, I wasn’t a messer.
“I think you’re interesting. I like talking to you.” I took a mouthful of beer and remembered how hard it was to be honest sometimes. “I wasn’t sure if you were asking me out yesterday or feeling sorry for me.”
She blushed and looked away. “I was kind of asking you out but I didn’t think you’d say yes anyway. At least I did it.” She shook her head, tendrils of hair falling out of her ponytail, still not looking at me. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”
“You absolutely didn’t embarrass me. I wasn’t sure if you were taking pity on me, but my answer was honest – I have to get myself sorted out. I’m not even properly divorced yet so the additional baggage is a bit heavy.” I waited for her to look at me, when she did, she was smiling, as if it did make sense.
She stretched out a little and looked more relaxed, the evening shadows from the weeping willow dancing across her face.
“The baggage doesn’t go away, I think we just learn to carry it better. I have a house full of it and I can’t get rid of it. Joel wasn’t the perfect husband or lover, but he was a good man and we should’ve had longer, but we didn’t. His death was unexpected – I think I was in shock for a year – but everything that happened has made me who I am today, just like your marriage has helped shape you. I’ve tried for years to sort myself out, as you put it, and I know now I’m already sorted; there are just a few more chapters to my book.” She picked up the bottle of wine and topped up her glass by an inch. “And that’s okay.”
It was. It made sense. “So don’t wait for everything to be in the right place before you move on.”
“If there was a right place to begin with.” She shook her head, more hair falling out of the tie. She giggled and pulled it out, her thick hair tumbling down around her shoulders.
I’d never seen her with her hair down before. It suited her, and I couldn’t lie, I wanted to know how it felt, whether it was as silky as it looked.
“True. There’s something in us that makes us want towards an end goal, only the journey you end up being on to get there alters what that end goal is.” I looked up at the sky, a pinkish hue suggesting tomorrow would be another fine day. “Why has it taken you so long to half ask someone out on a date?”
She laughed, nodding. “I guess that’s what it was – I half asked you out. It’s fine you said no, by the way. I understand. I spent the first three or four years after Joel died trying to get used to everything and I didn’t want to meet someone else or try to. But now I think it would be good to meet someone; I think it would be good for Heidi to see me have a relationship that’s not just a friendship, even if it doesn’t work out. She’ll have to navigate heartbreak too at some point. But I didn’t think you’d say yes and I don’t know what I would’ve done if you had.”
“Why didn’t you think I’d say yes?”
She laughed and looked away, shaking her head slightly. “Why would you be interested in a single mum who’s first husband was the hero of the town you’re living in. I don’t have a perfect body, or a model’s face, and you’ll have women falling at your feet.”
I don’t know why her words shocked me, but they did, a bit like a bucket of tepid dirty water being tipped over you.
“You’re doing yourself a disservice.” I didn’t take my eyes off her. “And you’re really overrating the idea of perfection.”
She shrugged, not really believing me.
“I’m not sure whether I’m ready to start something yet.” Although I was realising I might be more ready than I thought. “I don’t know how over my divorce I am, given it hasn’t even gone through yet.”
Her smile was sweet and understanding and I hated it.
“I get that. It’s taken me this long to even think I might be ready for something else. Thank you for helping nudge me on that journey.”
It sounded like she’d reached her conclusion and that was that. No persuading, no flirting, no strategies that Bryony had once tried to get my attention and that was a relief, kind of. I was disappointed and I had no fucking right to be at all.
Sometimes doing the right thing wasn’t the right thing to do.
I helped clear up, tidying up the barbecue and the garden while Romy put any leftovers in the fridge for tomorrow. It felt domesticated, especially when Mia woke up and ran downstairs, a bad nightmare disturbing her. I watched Romy comfort her, reassuring her and then being practical. Everything was safe. There was no one on the road in front of the house. We’re all okay .
It made me think about Bryony and whether we’d ever have had kids. We’d talked about it when we first got together and there was another conversation when we were on honeymoon, and that we’d leave it for a few years until we were more settled in our careers.
We didn’t talk about it again after that. I guessed we were both happy enough working, travelling and socialising. Kids were something still in the distant future, even though neither of us were getting any younger.
I spent my days with children, although the adults – staff and parents – were harder work than kids were, and I still pictured myself coaching a kids team for cricket or football, one of my own taking part in it.
Mia went back to bed, Romy tucking her in and looked bemused when she came back downstairs.
“There’s still something she’s not telling me. I don’t think that was a nightmare: I think it’s something that happened.” Romy leaned against the kitchen worktop, arms folded, glancing out at the garden which was bathed in evening colours.
All the professionals involved with Mia agreed that Mia had seen more than she’d disclosed, and had probably been told by Cara not to say anything. The safer Mia began to feel, the more chance there was of her making a disclosure.
“Is it worth you writing it down and talking to her about it in the morning? See if she tells you anything else.” It was what I would’ve said to anyone on my team at school – make a note if something niggles you, then you’ll remember if there’s a pattern or something more comes of it.
Romy reached for the kettle. “I’ll do that. It was a little too specific to be a nightmare.”
“Poor kid.” I meant that. It felt like we were rocketing towards summer, and Puffin Bay was the ideal place for an idyllic stretch of long sandy weeks spent building castles and hunting for crabs in rock pools. My summers had been spent on a housing estate, neither of my parents being able to afford any more than a few days out here and there to break up the monotony of the same day over and over again. I supposed school had been my refuge even though my parents had been good people. School gave me routine and regularity, which I thrived off. That was probably why I’d gone into a career in education, never quite wanting to leave that safe space.
“I feel really guilty for not realising more was going on.” Romy rubbed her shoulders. “All the wanting to spend time here with Mia and Heidi asking whether Mia could come for tea all the time – it makes sense now. I should’ve asked Cara more about what was going on - ”
“And you think she’d have told you? The chances are she’d have gotten defensive and stopped Mia from spending time with Heidi if she thought you were digging for info. It was probably better you didn’t. At least this way Mia kept coming to you.” I wasn’t a great believer in beating yourself up after the fact.
“True. And I didn’t want to judge Cara. I knew she found things difficult. She had shocking taste in men and she never had much money – or at least we didn’t think she had.”
“Who’s we?”
“The town in general. People would try to help her out with bits, if they had decent furniture that they didn’t want or they’d overbaked food, toys for Mia. We were both helped out by the town when we’d had the girls but that only lasts so long and you’re kind of expected to have gotten over it.” She shrugged and sighed. “Cara once said she felt like no one ever helped out.” Romy’s laugh was dry. “That was when I dropped off a load of washing at her house because her washing machine had broken. It stung.”
“Maybe she was expecting it to be ironed too.”
That got me a happier laugh.
“Maybe. You know, she could be dead. She might not be missing; she could be dead somewhere.” Her words sounded shaky. “I know they think they saw her on CCTV at a petrol station, but that hasn’t been confirmed.”
“We can only go off what we know and what we’re pretty sure of.” I opened the fridge and passed Romy the milk.
She offered me a mug of tea, but I declined. If I sat down to drink I wasn’t sure I’d leave anytime soon.
“I should head back to Beryl’s. I’ll do a quick perimeter check before I go in and send you a message to say it’s okay. I’m sure it will be.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that. And thanks for being so honest about, you know, everything.”
“No need to thank me. I’ll probably see you tomorrow. Neighbour.”
She shot me a grin as I stepped over to drop a kiss goodnight on her cheek, my hand resting on her hip, maybe for half a second too long or maybe not long enough.
“Goodnight. Phone me if you need anything.” I gave her a friendly wink, not suggestive, and disappeared towards the front door.
Before heading to Beryl’s, I did a circuit around the cottages as I’d promised, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. The cottages were picture perfect, the sort you’d see on a jigsaw, but they were very accessible. A single track road was at the front, the road leading to a field where there were bulls at the moment. Another road that was access only ran at the back, that leading to the farm where those said bulls belonged. But there were footpaths that were fed from those tracks, a couple that I already knew led to the beach, not the main beach at Puffin Bay, but Elderwood Sound, a small quiet bay that traffic couldn’t park near, meaning it was quiet. There were also a few huge rocks on the beach that would provide good cover to anyone hanging about. Another track led onto the coastal path, and from there it wouldn’t take long to get to a parking spot. Trees and bushes were dotted around, and there was an abandoned cowshed about four hundred metres away. Thinking about that made me thankful Roe Holland had installed really good security.
Nothing looked amiss, everything seemed the same as usual, a few fresh bits of litter which could’ve come from visitors or careless teenagers. I headed back home and sent Romy a message to say that everything had been alright.
It hadn’t been, but it wasn’t until the following morning I found that out.