Chapter Eight
T illy paused at the end of the dirt track and pulled her water bottle from her bag.
If she’d understood Teresa’s directions, then this track would lead up past the cottages in the photo to the farm beyond.
Unscrewing the cap, Tilly tilted her head back and drank.
Was she ready for this? Or should she shelve the whole idea of trying to find out anything about her dad?
After all, if she did go and take a look, what would it tell her? She still wouldn’t know whether he had actually lived there, but at least she might just get a feel of the place.
Yep, she needed to go now before she lost her nerve.
Placing the cap back on her bottle, she tucked it into her bag again and began walking, careful to avoid the large dips and rises in the dirt underfoot, which looked as though a tractor had churned it up during the wetter months and had now dried and preserved the tracks until the next downpour.
The further she walked down the track, the more it felt as though she were walking into a completely different world.
She’d left the tourists behind in the bay, and out here, the low rumble of cars driving along the road at the bottom of the track faded, hitting her senses with the noise of scurrying wildlife in the hedgerows and the flutter and chirping of birds from the branches overhead.
Turning the slight corner at the bottom of the track, she halted in front of a large rusty gate, with a sign reading Private Property hanging by a string from the top rung.
Gripping the top of the gate in her hands, the metal, heated all day from the sun, warmed her hands.
The track continued into an expanse of a field, but along the edge she could just make out the cottages.
A row of three, all whitewashed and thatched.
A lone car was parked in front of one of the cottages at the end of the row, the boarded-up windows and the deep grooves in the thatch of the other two looking very much as though they might have been abandoned years ago.
Unclasping her handbag, Tilly drew out the photo of her parents standing in front of the cottage.
She glanced from the photo to the cottage and back again.
It looked as though they were standing next to a small magnolia tree.
Shielding her eyes with her free hand, she squinted.
If she wasn’t mistaken, the magnolia tree, now a considerable few feet taller and bushier, was actually inside the front garden of the first cottage, not on the other side of the now overgrown hedge which fenced off the cottage garden from the dirt track out the front.
If that was the case, her dad may well have lived there.
At the very least, it suggested they’d known someone who had.
People didn’t just walk into a stranger’s garden and have a photograph taken.
She needed to get in there and take a closer look, make sure she wasn’t mistaken, make sure there wasn’t a different angle the photo could have been taken from which would have given the illusion that they’d been standing in the garden.
Slipping the photo away again, she took hold of the latch of the gate and went to open it, her shoulders slumping when she realised it was padlocked in place and not budging.
She quickly glanced down the track behind her to check no one was coming before clamping her trainer on the bottom rung of the gate and testing its strength.
Yep, it’d hold her weight. She knew she shouldn’t.
She knew it was trespassing. Even if the gate had been left unlocked, the Private Property sign hanging from it was pretty clear and to the point.
Still, she was here now, and with the cottage so close - and the small possibility that her dad may have lived there and whoever was inside might just have known him - she wasn’t ready to turn away and slink back to the bakery.
Nope. She was here and ready to find out a little bit about her past and to quite possibly discover a tiny piece of the puzzle that was her history.
Tilly kept her eyes locked on the cottage with the car in front as she clambered her way over the gate and dropped over the other side. Pulling at the hem of her t-shirt to straighten it back in place, Tilly gave a final glance down the track behind her before walking across to the cottage.
Taking the photo out of her handbag again, she held it up and tilted her head.
Shuffling from left to right and back again, she lined it up with the cottage.
Yep, this was where the photographer must have been standing to get the shot.
From this position, Tilly could see right through the open wrought-iron gate leading into the front garden, giving a clear view of the magnolia tree and the spot where her parents would have been standing.
She grinned as she felt a flutter of hope in her chest. Not only had she discovered the very spot her parents had been standing when the image had been taken, but she’d also learned that they must have had a connection to the owner or tenant of the cottage.
And with some luck, they might just still be living there!
Lowering the photo, she looked away from the magnolia tree with its large white blooms filling the gaps between its branches and spun slowly on the spot.
She took in the track, the expanse of field, bales of straw bunched together in groups, and the hedgerows hugging the field.
They had been here. They would have witnessed this sight, just as she was.
Would they have ever thought their own child would be returning to Penworth Bay, to this very field and row of cottages one day? She doubted it.
Hugging her middle, she smiled, as the back of her eyes stung with tears. What she would give to see them? Just once. To be able to ask all the questions burning inside her. Just to see them. To hear their voices. What would they...
‘Oi! Didn’t you see the sign? Can’t you read, girl?’
Pulled from her daydream, she gasped for air as though she’d been holding her breath the whole time. She jerked her head in the direction the yelling was coming from and met the gaze of a red-faced older man, flat cap pulled low over his eyes as he waved a fist towards her. ‘I...’
‘Get off my land, girl.’ The man made his way slowly down the garden path, pausing at the gate, his hand on the low wall.
‘S... sorry, I was just wondering if...’ Tilly stuttered and held up the photograph in a lame attempt to get him to stop yelling at her and listen.
‘I don’t care. Take your wondering elsewhere. You’re not welcome here. No one is.’ Taking his flat cap from his head, he scrunched it in his fist before throwing it towards her.
Jumping backwards, she watched as the flat cap landed at her feet.
She needed to go. This was clearly either terrible timing or else this man just didn’t like strangers.
Whatever the reason for his outburst, she wasn’t going to get a chance to talk to him.
Not now. Not like this. Still gripping the photo between her fingers, Tilly turned and ran towards the gate before climbing over it.
‘Good riddance.’ The man shouted after her. ‘If I see...’
Tilly ran down the narrow track, the man’s words getting quieter the further she got.
Turning, she looked over her shoulder as if expecting him to be racing towards her.
When she realised he wasn’t standing at the gate and hadn’t joined her on the track, relief flooded through her just as she stumbled over a tree root in the ground.
Flinging her arms to steady herself, she turned to face ahead again, just as she realised she was no longer alone on the track, and she felt someone grip her arm, stopping her from falling.
‘Tilly?’
Once she was sure she definitely wasn’t going to fall, she looked up at the man who had caught her. ‘Isaac.’
‘Are you okay? That could have been quite a tumble. It’s on my list of things to do, to sort out these tree roots and make the trackway more accessible.
’ Satisfied she was no longer in danger of landing face-first against the dry land, Isaac took his hand from her arm and kicked at the offending tree root.
Glancing down at her arm, which now felt quite cold without his touch, Tilly pushed her hair from her eyes. ‘Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.’
‘My pleasure.’ Isaac grinned. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I... umm...’ Tilly looked down. Where was the photo? She’d been holding it before she’d tripped and must have let go of it when she’d thought she was going to fall. Spinning on the spot, she searched the ground around her, but there was no sign of it. ‘My photo. Have you seen my photo?’
Frowning, Isaac shook his head. ‘No, I haven’t. When did you last have it?’
‘Just now, before I tripped. I was holding it.’ She could feel the panic surging through her now. It was the only photograph she had of her dad. If she’d lost it... ‘I need to find it.’
‘We will.’ Placing his hand on her arm again, he met her gaze. ‘I’ll help you, and we’ll find it.’
Nodding, Tilly hurried towards the overgrown hedgerows at the edge of the track. It must be here somewhere. Photographs didn’t just disappear, vanish into thin air. They’d find it.
‘Isaac, lad, is that you?’ The gruff voice from earlier filled the track.
Glancing up from her search, Tilly watched as the angry man from the cottage hobbled his way towards the gate.
She held her breath, expecting him to open it and barge his way towards her, but thankfully, he just leaned heavily against it, his arms crossed over the top rung.
There was no way she was leaving here without her photograph.
He’d have to walk down here and pick her up himself.
All she’d wanted to do was to speak to him.
She’d meant him no harm and had only wanted to talk.
‘Yes, it’s me, Dad. I’ll be up in a second, and I can make you some tea to go with the cookie I bought you from Elsie’s.’ Isaac called up the track as he ran his hand over the tall grasses on the other side of the track.
His dad? Tilly glanced between Isaac and his dad.
How could two people be so different? Isaac had easily shrugged off her hitting him with her car.
His dad, on the other hand, looked as though he was the sort who would have readily taken her to court and sued.
She gulped. She hoped Isaac hadn’t told him about her and the incident with the car and his foot.
Unless he already had, and his dad somehow knew who she was?
That would explain his behaviour towards her but wouldn’t explain how he knew it was her.
Perhaps Isaac was just very good with his descriptions?
‘Is that the girl? I thought I told you to leave?’ Isaac’s dad bellowed towards them as he fiddled with the lock on the gate.
Pausing in his search for the photograph, Isaac glanced at her. ‘ The girl ? What have you done to upset him?’
Feeling the heat rush to her face, Tilly placed her hand on her dad’s watch and pressed down hard, the metal edge digging into her skin.
How was she supposed to explain that, yes, she’d trespassed, but she’d had good reason to and had meant no harm?
She stubbed the toe of her trainer into the dusty earth before mumbling a response, ‘I only wanted to take a look and speak to the owner of the cottage.’
Dragging a hand across his face, Isaac shook his head slightly. ‘You climbed the gate?’
Tilly gave a tiny shrug, unsure of how to answer.
Widening his eyes, Isaac let out a long, drawn-out breath before nodding towards his dad. ‘Give me a minute and then I’ll come back and help you continue with the search.’
‘Sorry, I...’ She let her voice trail off as Isaac headed towards the gate.
She watched him as he unlocked it and ushered his dad back towards the cottage.
She needed to find that photograph and leave.
As soon as possible. Tearing her eyes from him, she felt an uneasy disappointment in the pit of her stomach.
What was she disappointed about? About the fact that she hadn’t even been able to talk to Isaac’s dad? Or because Isaac had now left?
Turning back to her search, she finally spotted the photo lying against the bottom of a tree trunk, hidden between grasses and other weeds.
At least she’d found it. Rushing forward, she grabbed it and slipped it back into her handbag.
With a final look towards the gate and the cottages beyond, Tilly hurried back down the track and out onto the road leading into Penworth Bay.
Now she had to figure out what to do next.
She’d had her hopes pinned on getting answers from whoever now lived in the cottage, but that wasn’t going to happen now.
She didn’t think Isaac’s dad would ever let her step foot into the field again.
And she wasn’t sure she wanted to either.