Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
As Erica moved away from the shelter of the buildings on the high street, the wind grew stronger and she was grateful for the sweater she’d brought. Walking on the large pebbles was tricky, even in her trainers. They gave way under her feet so that extra effort was needed just to put one foot in front of the other. Glancing left and right along the shoreline, she tried to pull her mind back from imagining Mollie wading out to sea.
Andrew’s tears had rocked her fragile confidence in them finding Mollie: his rare display of fear infectious. When had she last seen him cry? It’d been so easy to see him as the bad guy since she’d left to live in the apartment with Ben. To ascribe her own interpretation – stubbornness, selfishness, control – on his relentless push towards respite care for Ben. Why had he never spoken to her like he did just now? All I ever wanted was to keep you all safe .
She took a left towards Thorpeness. At nearly nine o’clock, only a few brave souls were still on the beach in the dusk and it took longer to reach them than she’d thought it would. They shook their heads at the photograph of Mollie on her phone; they hadn’t seen anyone that looked like her. Regarding her with sympathy, they promised to keep their eyes peeled and to tell her daughter she was looking for her. One of the women, older but robust in a thick gilet and walking shoes, patted her hand. ‘They like to worry us, don’t they? I’m sure she’ll turn up soon with a story to tell.’
Erica thanked them and continued walking along the beach. How was it that some people could be so calm about parenting? So accepting of the fact that accidents happen and problems occur and dangers might cross their path? Anxiety had been her constant companion for so long, like an inflatable ball of stale fear which expanded and contracted inside her body. At all times, vague worries floated around her head like wisps or sprites. Sometimes intangible. Unclear. Yet filling her head with so much noise that – at its loudest – rational thought couldn’t fight its way through.
Her phone rang in her hand and she almost dropped it. Her heart soared in hope then fell when she saw the number. Her mother.
Fighting an irrational anger at the intrusion, she let it go to voicemail. For most people, she’d imagine, a call from a parent at a time like this would be a welcome comfort. But that had never been her experience with her own mother. Any communication between them turned Erica back into an unhappy teen, fighting to be understood, to be listened to. Talking to her now, when she would just be trying to put more pressure on her to come home, or to tell her the latest ‘amazing’ thing that her brother had done, was the last thing she needed.
The adrenaline of the last couple of hours was starting to seep away and her legs felt heavy as she continued to trudge up the beach. She’d been determined that she would have a better relationship with her daughter than she and her mother had had. When Mollie was tiny, she’d imagined being the one to listen to her news over a cup of milky British tea or wipe her tears when she’d had her heart broken. Not to be her best friend, but to be her best support. Hearing from Amelia about all the things Mollie had gone through in the last couple of weeks and knowing that she hadn’t chosen to confide in her…it had really stung. It didn’t help that Andrew had known nothing about the boyfriend or the failed school council application either. This wasn’t a competition. ‘Oh, Mollie. Where are you, baby? Please be okay.’
If she closed her eyes, she could picture a younger Mollie running down this beach towards the sea. Falling, laughing, picking herself up again and carrying on. She’d been such an easy child to look after, such an easy child to love. Is that why they’d missed this?
Still trudging through the pebbles, she scanned from the coastline to the road and back again. Ben had loved this beach, too. Even that awful day, he’d spent the morning happily selecting pebbles for his collection. She glanced at her watch. It’d been almost four hours since she’d left him at the school. Should she call again and check that he was okay? She could still keep looking for Mollie at the same time.
It wasn’t until she had her phone out of her bag and was about to find the school’s number that she spotted a figure sitting on the wall at the back of the beach, arms wrapped around herself, legs dangling over the side: she’d know her daughter anywhere. Her heart almost burst from her chest to get to her.
‘Mollie!’