Chapter 62
‘I can see the sea,’ shouts Josh. ‘I see it, I see it, I see it.’
‘Ah, well done, mate,’ answers Tim, giving their son a high-five and then turning to Lottie with a private, indulgent smile.
She was unsure about coming back down here for another holiday.
It had felt like returning to the scene of a crime.
Though in fact, no case was ever found to answer for, as she had read in the online updates of local news.
She had followed them feverishly for months while they were back in London, as their old lives had continued and they had sunk back into the well-worn grooves of their previous existence.
After a lengthy investigation and a long drawn-out tussle between the police, the fire service, the insurance company and the Woolfs’ legal team, a verdict of death by misadventure was pronounced for Petras.
Lottie imagines that while it would never quite feel satisfactory for his widow, Mila, it is probably a relief to draw a line underneath it all and let him rest in peace.
Tobias Woolf, on the other hand, was posthumously declared bankrupt.
The insurance company failed to pay out due to negligence and his legal fees plus the subsequent compensation lawsuits ran into hundreds of thousands of pounds, devouring the proceeds from the sale of the London house and any residual savings.
It’s a small win, she concedes, as she takes up Josh’s hand, before he immediately shakes it off and runs in the direction of the beach.
A year has made such a difference. Gone is the soft roundness and plumpness of her son, the fine, flyaway hair and instead are strong, sturdy legs, a wilful independence, shorter, thicker hair which is darkening to eventually match her own.
Lottie is glad they decided to come back at this time of the year.
The October half-term break still brings a few visitors to the coast but not nearly as many as come in summer.
But she likes the cooler, harder edge to the weather.
The sea is darker, colder but still beautiful.
The beach is only for the braver, hardier souls and she loves how desolate and quiet it is.
Even the buildings look less chocolate-box without the sun to warm them, and most of the plants and trees have taken on a windswept barren appearance.
Like the locals, they are in survival mode as the year turns slowly to its end.
On the way back from the beach, they find themselves traversing familiar cobbled side streets and it is hard not to feel a sudden swoop of anxiety – or even her old nemesis, anger – threaten to overtake her, but a few, deep steadying gulps of sea air and the sight of her husband and son placate her.
She would hardly recognise the old fishmonger’s shop were it not for the fact that she spies Olivia Woolf inside, moving around what looks to be a calm, inviting interior where stylish works of art are arranged on walls and tables.
And, with a double take, Lottie sees Mila standing at the till point, parcelling up ceramics in bubble wrap and cardboard, ready to be shipped to who knows where.
Wow, she thinks, taken aback. That is certainly not a partnership she had ever imagined.
After everything that happened at the renovation property, they seem to be the most unlikely of duos.
They both look happy, though, contented in their work.
‘Look,’ she calls to Tim as he brings up the rear with Josh clamped to his leg. ‘She’s obviously made a go of it.’
Tim appears dumbfounded, looking around trying to assimilate what she’s talking about.
Lottie resists the urge to sigh. She has been working on her patience, her anger management, for the last year and, though it can be a challenge at times, she tries to only see the good in everyone, especially her husband.
‘The shop,’ she says, nodding towards the smartly painted wooden exterior and its designer fittings within, which is glowing softly on this dour October day.
Tim still looks momentarily lost but then he reads the discreet signage above the window. ‘Olivia Saunders. Art he never forgets!’
Lottie takes one last lingering look at the gallery and then turns to follow her husband and son up the street.