Chapter 22 Bardy
BARDY
More sinned against than sinning.
He remembers the months, stretching into years, of Hana finding fault with things—and how he’d somehow felt responsible. But now looking back, was it aimed at him? Maybe he just took it that way, wedded as he is to this place.
The people were too narrow-minded.
The weather too this or that.
The landscape too flat.
Never the right light.
That glorious light that is as vital to Bardy as breathing.
He thought she was talking about the light for her painting.
Increasingly, she spoke of wanting to get away.
He worried about the holidays they couldn’t afford.
Now his world has been flipped. Reflected to reveal what Hana was really telling him.
This was not a criticism of his home, the place Hana had ended up.
She was showing him she wanted to be with her people, with the weather she knew, the landscape she loved.
She wanted a world with a different light.
Why hadn’t she just come out and said it?
Was it because she knew him for what he is—a home bird of the marshes? She knew there really was no solution. So she became closed down, knotted tighter and tighter in her discontent. Increasingly distant from him.
And now, out of the blue, Hana has contacted him. Sent a text. Wants to meet. Not the normal periodic popping in to visit the area. This had been more pointed. What is that all about?
And Kate! That had freaked him out. Not the Pia thing. He’d seen the wink. Understood. Felt like a fool. But then he was used to that.
Curlew. Amber bright. In plain sight.
He’s such an idiot. That is what Tay had said to him and Lou. Did she know?
Bazza. Nice guy. Sub by day, dom by night. Bardy’s not going to order anything from anytime soon. Couldn’t look him in the face. But was Bazza’s group so very different from this group? People with a shared interest getting together, making friends—just Bardy’s group used fewer whips and chains.
But Kate!
The moment he touched her shoulder. A glimpse like the flash of a fish tail breaking the surface.
Gleaming. Pure shimmering silver. Then he snatched his hand away, and it was gone.
That has never happened to him before. Was it a color or just light?
He has no idea. Didn’t dare put his hand back on her shoulder. However much he’d wanted to.
What the hell is going on?
Bardy does the only thing he can think of.
Bardy and Lou lower themselves into the plastic-latticed beach chairs.
They are hidden by the reeds from the path.
Not that anyone is going to be here this early.
It is 4:23 a.m. In front of them is a pool of water, a film of mist lying low, from which emerge clumps of cattails.
They look like islands hovering above the water.
The moon is partly obscured by clouds, adding to the otherworldliness of the scene.
Above the creaking of the beach chairs, there is the shriek of a solitary barn owl.
“Tea or beer?” Lou asks.
“Start with tea,” Bardy wraps the spare blanket Lou has brought over his knees. He wonders if the blankets have been used since their days as lockdown rebels. Rebels with comfy fleecy blankets.
“Do you know what Hana wants?” Lou asks, passing him a steaming thermos cup.
“No, and I didn’t think to ask.”
“Maybe she just wants to say goodbye. Ask if you want her to take anything to the boys.”
“Maybe.” But Bardy has a feeling it is more than that. Or is it that he wants to say something to her?
“Did you think Hana and I were suited?”
Not their normal chat. But needs must.
“Oh, mate . . .” is Lou’s helpless response.
“What did Tina think?” Bardy tries. “I know they weren’t close, but did she ever say anything?”
The silence tells Bardy that she did and that he’s not going to want to hear it.
There is a rustle in the grass just below them.
“Water vole?” Lou suggests.
“Maybe an otter,” Bardy responds.
They both know they are buying some time.
And that it is probably a rat.
Two romantics at heart.
Lou gives a deep sigh. More creaks from the chair. “She did think Hana wasn’t so happy living here.” He holds up a hand. “I know she threw herself into everything, her work, after-school clubs, painting, fostering, French classes. But Tina, well, she said nobody needed to be that busy.”
Was life with him that bad?
“And Hana and I?”
“Ah, sorry mate. Look, Hana was . . . is . . . amazing.”
Yep, too good for me.
“But Tina thought you could do better.”
“What?!”
“Look, don’t shoot the messenger. And Tina . . .”
Is already dead.
It’s Bardy’s turn to say, “Ah, sorry mate.”
They sit in silence for some time.
“She really thought that?” Bardy follows up quickly with, “She was wrong.”
Lou holds up both hands now, placating—spilling his tea in the process. “You asked.”
Bardy had known Tina and Hana hadn’t been particularly friendly. Was that it? Tina just not liking Hana? But then Tina was great. And what a color.
“Did she say why?”
“Just that you were a big softy and that Hana was kind of hard.”
“She’s not,” Bardy fires back. “My God, all those kids, and our boys, they love her.” He thinks of Tay walking into Hana’s embrace. Red ocher merging with golden yellow.
“Beer?” Lou asks. A diversion.
“Yeah, go on then.”
It may only be 5:04 a.m., but Bardy feels like he needs one.
Bardy has never been in so much demand. Hana is traveling back from Wales and has asked that they get together to eat at the pub. Linda has set up a WhatsApp group for the eight of them and has invited them all for supper at their house. And now Tay has messaged him. Wants to meet him.
All other thoughts are banished.
They meet in a coffee shop that looks out over the harbor.
The sign on the door reads: Barista is RNLI crew, so please be patient if he is missing.
No argument from anyone around here. Bardy is good enough with a boat but knows his limitations and sticks to that.
Most people know someone who has got into trouble.
So he does what he can for the RNLI. He once persuaded Lou to be Santa, arriving in the town on a lifeboat.
Tay is waiting for him at a table by the window. She already has her usual flat white in front of her. He nods at her from the counter—Finn is there, no callout today—and mouths, Cake? She shakes her head.
He budges onto the bench seat opposite. “Okay?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
It doesn’t carry much conviction.
“Work?” he asks, remembering what Lou had told him.
“Yeah.” This time, she sounds surprised. Good, he’s got something right.
“Want to tell me about it?”
“Yeah.” This time with an eye roll: Why do you think I messaged you?
Bardy waits.
Tay picks at the skin around her thumbnail. “I’ve got to go to this stupid disciplinary meeting at work. I mean, I could just leave, but then she will have won. And it’s not so bad there. The pay’s shit, but I like dealing with the people who come to me with problems.”
Before Bardy gets to who she is, he thinks he’d better find out exactly what Tay does. Wishes he’d asked before.
It transpires that in the customer service department of the insurance company where she works, she is now off the phones and deals with more complicated complaints and queries.
Mainly by email but some phone work and the occasional visit.
She is the newest member of a team of twelve women, and although she is not directly accountable to other members of the team—all of whom are much older than her—it seems they treat her like she is.
“And I understand the CRM system way better than they do. Some of them can’t even work their way round a basic spreadsheet. ”
“CRM?”
She widens her eyes at him, “Customer relationship management.”
“Who is your boss?” he wonders—if these women aren’t.
“A woman called Jan, but she’s often in London. She’s kind of doing two jobs at the moment as someone is off sick.”
“And who is she?”
“Karen. She’s a right bitch,” Tay says, cutting to the chase.
“To start with, you think she’s okay, she comes over all friendly.
Then you realize what she’s really like.
They’re all scared of her. She’s got these ratty little eyes, in fact, she reminds me of a rat, small with scraggy hair—except I quite like rats.
Anyway, what Karen says goes, and if you stand up to her well . . . then she starts.”
“What happened?”
“She just kept pushing my buttons.”
“And?”
“I told her to piss off.”
“Aah.”
“But she had just said that I was a piece of shit like my mom and wouldn’t ever get anywhere.
She was at school with Toni for a while.
But no one heard that, and of course, now she says she didn’t say it.
And she said that it’s not fair that I get time off for college.
But that’s a law thing because of my age. It has nothing to do with me or her.”
Bardy’s distracted. “What are you studying?”
“Project management. Which is okay.”
“Sorry, so what has this Karen done?”
“She made a complaint, and HR had to investigate, and the bloke we have to deal with, Jonathan, is useless. He just goes on and on, and no one has a clue what he’s talking about. He’s scared of Karen, too.”
“But surely she must do this to other people?” That was one thing Bardy knew about bullies. “It will all come out.”
Tay looks at him like he’s stupid. “Of course, she’s been getting them all on the side.
She’s been going on about how it’s unfair for me to go to college and that I’m just taking time out.
Taking the piss. And she’s even got them all listening in to my conversations, saying my work needs checking.
And I don’t know how she did it, but she’s now looking after Mrs. Willis. ”
“Who’s Mrs. Willis?”
But Tay hasn’t finished. “She said something about her not being happy. Which I don’t believe. But she says I can’t ring her because of bloody GDPR. I asked Jonathan if that was balls, and he just said that Karen was probably right.”
“He does sound useless,” Bardy comments.
“I told you.”
“And Mrs. Willis?”
“She’s done it because I like Mrs. Willis. Her dogs are smelly, but she’s not so bad, and I was helping her. We got on. And I don’t need her telling me what to do and checking my work like I’m thick . . .”
Bardy lets her speak. It seems Tay has a lot to get off her chest.
Eventually, he asks, “How long has this been going on, Tay?”
He thinks back to how preoccupied she has been.
She frowns. “Forever . . . well, months. To start with, she just threatened to make a complaint about me, and went on and on about it. Then I said I didn’t care.
Told her to piss off. Again. And then she did it, and HR stuck their noses in, and there’s some sort of process and .
. . I don’t know. Maybe I should just leave. ”
“No, don’t do that. What’s this disciplinary meeting?”
“That’s when they tell me about the investigation and rip into me about it all, well, that’s what Uzma said.”
“Who’s Uzma?”
He doesn’t think he’s ever taught an Uzma.
“She’s my mate. She’s okay. She said to just suck it up and pretend I don’t care. Everyone knows she’s a total bitch.”
Perhaps that is who she has been texting. He’d like to meet Uzma.
“Do you want to leave?”
“Yeah, obviously. But not like this. And if I leave now, they’ll give me a shit reference.
It will be on my record. I won’t get to finish college.
And anyway, I was thinking maybe I could move to one of their other offices.
Uzma’s from Leeds, she says that’s quite cool.
Maybe we could get a flat. Not that I could leave Toni.
Like she’s so utterly useless and shit.”
A razor wire of rust for the woman she stopped calling “Mom” some years ago. But Bardy knows whatever Tay may say to him, she will never repeat this stuff to Toni’s face. She is too worried it would break her.
He can see tears starting in Tay’s eyes.
She never cries.
“You can’t live all your life looking after Toni,” Bardy tells her.
“Yeah, and what happens when she’s so drunk she falls down the stairs and isn’t found for months and her head’s cracked open and there are maggots and flies and slime?”
Bardy has always thought Toni let Tay watch CSI way too young.
He picks his words carefully. “I know this is frightening, but you cannot be Toni’s full-time nurse and bodyguard. You have your own life. And something could be worked out, Tay.”
A tear trickles down her face. She does not wipe it away.
“Look, we could set up a system. I could check on her once a week and let you know.”
“But you won’t be here!” she hurls at him.
Her hurt, soaked rage forces him back into the seat. “What do you mean?”
“You’re leaving! You’re going to New Zealand. I saw the house details in your flat when I came over once.”
He instinctively reaches for her hands. She pulls them away, now scrubbing furiously at her face, grubby with mascara and tears.
“I thought if you did this group thing, you might remember you liked it here. And when you told that story and how the baker . . .” She fights a sob.
“He liked his home . . . and didn’t want to go.
I thought . . . maybe . . .” The sob wins, and Bardy wants to rip his heart from his chest. “But I get it. They win. They’re family. We’re not.”
Bardy’s insides twist with the anguish of her pain and his guilt. How could he have been so stupid? He knew something was wrong—but not this. He holds out one of his hands, palm upward. “I am not going to New Zealand.”
She stops, stock-still. Her hand inches toward his. “You’re not?”
“Look, I did think about it. I won’t deny that. But things change.” He is fighting his own tears now. “I am so sorry, Tay.”
She tentatively puts her fingertips near his. Not touching. But close.
“I am so sorry. I am going to be staying right here.” He stifles a gulp.
“Anyway, what would Lou do without me?” He says this to make her smile—which works.
But he is flooded with another wave of guilt.
He can’t believe he talked so blithely about leaving to his best friend.
That wonderful man had not shown him an ounce of the hurt he must have been feeling. Bardy is rocked by his shame.
“Yeah, he would be pretty lost without you.” Tay gives a watery sniff. “Two total idiots.”
“Pia?” Bardy asks.
“Couldn’t you see it? It was so obvious Kate stood more of a chance than you two did.”
Good call. Silver-bright Kate.
“Are you gay?” he asks conversationally. It couldn’t matter less.
“Oh, Bardy, we don’t think like that. You’re into who you’re into.”
Fair enough.
“So are we good?” he asks her.
She nods.
“Anything I can do?”
“Yeah, this disciplinary meeting . . .”
God, he’d forgotten about that.
“. . . I can take someone. Will you come with me?”
“Of course I will, Tay. Of course I will.”