Читать книгу Coming Home: An uplifting feel good novel with family secrets at its heart - Fern Britton, Fern Britton - Страница 15

Down the narrow lane she ran. Down to the bus shelter. It was empty. Her pulse was thumping at the base of her throat. She looked at her watch – eleven forty-five – and checked all around her again.

‘Hiya,’ said a voice in the shadows.

Sennen jumped. ‘You scared me.’

‘My dad took ages going to bed!’

Sennen shrugged. ‘Are you nervous?’

‘A bit.’ Rosemary was Sennen’s oldest school friend. She was shivering. ‘A bit cold, too.’

Sennen checked to see if anyone had spotted them. The coast was clear.

‘Let’s do it,’ she said. ‘Come on.’

They walked up the hill and out of the village, leaving Trevay and its sleeping inhabitants behind.

At the top of the hill the two girls stopped and looked around. The moon was streaked across the low tide and the black silhouettes of the roofs and church spire were geometric and inky against the horizon.

Sennen blew out a long stream of breath.

‘You sure you’re cool about this?’ asked Rosemary.

‘Yeah.’

‘Henry and Ella will be all right?’

‘Yeah.’

The main road out of Cornwall was ahead of them. ‘Listen,’ said Sennen. ‘Car.’

A set of headlights came into view and Sennen stuck her thumb out. ‘It’s now or never.’

The car slowed and stopped. ‘Where are you going?’ asked the lone, middle-aged woman driver.

‘Plymouth, please,’ said Sennen.

‘Both of you?’ asked the woman, clocking their appearance and their rucksacks. ‘Running away?’

‘No,’ said Sennen, ‘it’s my parents. They’re in France, on holiday. Our dad’s been taken ill so we’re catching the overnight ferry to see him. Mum said to hitch. We haven’t got much money, you see.’

‘Roscoff?’ asked the woman.

Rosemary couldn’t speak but Sennen said, ‘Yeah.’

‘You’re lucky it was me who stopped, then,’ said the woman, reaching round to unlock the door to the back seat. ‘There are a lot of funny people about. Hop in.’

Sennen got into the front seat, leaving Rosemary to get in the back.

‘Thank you very much,’ said Sennen. ‘My sister and I are ever so grateful, aren’t we, Sally?’

Sennen looked around at ‘Sally’ with a cheeky grin. ‘Aren’t we?’

‘Yes. V-very,’ stammered Rosemary. ‘Thank you.’

‘Hello, Sally and …?’ said the woman looking in her wing mirror and pulling away.

‘Oh, I’m Carrie,’ said Sennen with conviction. ‘What are you doing out so late tonight?’

‘I’m a midwife. Just delivered twins. Two little boys. Identical. I’m on my way home now.’

‘That’s nice,’ said Sennen. ‘Sally and I are twins too. Not identical though.’

The journey was remarkable only for the number of stories Sennen could weave about her bond with her twin, their father’s weak heart and their mother’s enormous worry about them all. Finally, the illuminated gates of the ferry terminal were in front of them.

‘We’ll jump out here, please,’ said Sennen, feeling a fresh thrust of nerves and adrenalin.

‘Sure? I can take you to the ticket office if you like?’

Sennen and Rosemary were already climbing out of the car. ‘No, this is fine. We’ve got our tickets. Bye.’ They shut the doors and waved at the woman who was doubtful about leaving them but she was tired and ready for bed and the girls seemed nice and sensible so she waved to them and headed for home.

The girls shouldered their rucksacks and headed off to the ticket office. ‘Two tickets for Spain, please,’ said Sennen as she delved into her bag for her wallet and passport.

‘Santander return?’ asked the tired man behind the glass.

‘We’re not sure when we’re coming back,’ said Rosemary, finding her courage.

‘Two singles, then.’ The man didn’t look up as he printed out the tickets and took the cash. ‘Follow the signs to the ferry. Sails in twenty-five minutes.’

The two girls spotted the signs and ran to the boat. They clattered onto the gangway, laughing and breathless. Stepping on to the deck, Sennen dropped her rucksack and hugged Rosemary. ‘We’ve only bloody done it! We’re on our way to Spain.’

In Trevay, Ella woke and began screaming from her cot. Adela woke too. She listened. Would Sennen get up and see to her? After a couple of minutes, with Ella’s crying becoming more agitated, the answer was clearly, no.

Adela didn’t want Bill to be disturbed. He would stop her from helping, so she got out of bed as quietly as she could and padded onto the landing. Sennen’s door was closed. Sighing with frustration and irritation at her daughter’s lack of commitment to her children, she crept into the children’s room.

Ella had managed to pull herself up by the cot rails, her tear-streaked face scarlet with the effort of crying.

The crying stopped when she saw her grandmother, to be replaced with shuddering gulps.

‘Come on, you,’ said Adela, lifting Ella into her arms. She put her hand under Ella’s bottom and felt the damp creeping through her baby-gro. ‘Got a wet bum, have you? Let’s get you comfortable.’

Adela changed Ella’s nappy and Baby-gro then walked around the small room with her granddaughter on her shoulder, cooing soft words until the precious baby rubbed her eyes and grew limp. Back in her cot with teddy close by, Adela left Ella sleeping. On her way back to her own bed she glanced at her daughter’s closed door and forgave her her selfishness. What seventeen-year-old, with A levels looming, wouldn’t be asleep?

At six fifty the next morning, Henry shook Bill awake. ‘Poppa?’

‘Yes?’ rumbled Bill, emerging from deep sleep.

‘Where’s Mummy?’

Bill stretched his arms above his head. ‘If she’s not in her bed she’s maybe downstairs.’

He turned over and put an arm around the sleeping form of Adela.

Henry shook him again. ‘She’s not, and Ella done poo.’

Bill lay still for a moment reluctantly allowing the realisation that he had to get up seep into his muscles. He turned round to face Henry.

‘All right, old chap. Tell you what, you wake Granny and I’ll make tea.’

Bill stood on the landing and glowered at Sennen’s closed door. She really hadn’t been pulling her weight recently. Yes, she had exams, but he and Adela were bending over backwards to help her through school while doing all they could to support her and Ella and Henry. He tucked his cotton sarong a little more tightly around his waist and headed downstairs. He would have words with Sennen later. She had to stop leaning on her mother so much.

Adela, woken by Henry, changed Ella’s nappy. ‘Shall we wake Mummy up now? She might give you a nice cuddle in bed.’

Henry said crossly, ‘Mummy not in room.’

‘Well, let’s go and look for her,’ said Adela smiling at both children.

‘Where the bloody hell is she?’ demanded Bill, having searched the house and garden.

‘Shh. You’ll frighten the children,’ said Adela, full of fear herself. She closed the door to the lounge where Henry and Ella were watching Bananas in Pyjamas.

‘Maybe she’s gone over to Rosemary’s for breakfast. Or to do revision,’ she said, trying to keep the wobble from her voice.

They called Rosemary’s family who told them that Sennen was not with them and that Rosemary was still asleep.

Five minutes later they called back.

Bill rang the police.

The church bells were ringing five in the afternoon when Sennen and Rosemary disembarked in Spain.

The sun still warmed the day and the girls were hungry.

They found a small pavement café and ordered coffee and eggs. Cheerfully, they raised their cups to freedom.

Adela and Bill ushered the uniformed officers into the kitchen, and offered coffee and biscuits as a way of making things appear normal. The disembodied crackle of speech from their radios was unsettling and the gleam of the badges on their hats, which now lay on the table, were alien and officious.

The officers sat on one side of the table, Bill and Adela on the other. One was broad-chested and ruddy-faced. The other reminded Adela of a vole, long-nosed with prominent teeth and sandy hair.

Adela told them all she knew since she’d last seen Sennen the night before.

Officer Vole was hovering his sharp pencil above his notebook.

‘So, the last time you saw or spoke to her was when she went up to bed?

Adela squeezed the tissue in her hand. ‘Yes.’

‘Did she seem upset at all? Last night or in the past few days?’

‘No.’

The sharp pencil scratched a note.

‘Did she take any money with her?’

‘Oh,’ Adela looked at Bill puzzled, ‘I don’t know. She didn’t have much.’

Bill was glad to be able to do something. ‘I’ll go and look.’ He stood up, scraping the kitchen chair on the floor.

‘I’ll come too,’ said the other policeman, cramming the rest of a digestive biscuit into his mouth and followed Bill out of the kitchen.

Adela swallowed the rising lump in her throat. Left alone with Vole she said, ‘She’s never done anything like this before.’

‘A lot of youngsters do this sort of thing. They usually come home when the money runs out.’

He looked up as Bill and his colleague returned.

‘Darling,’ asked Bill, putting his hand on Adela’s shoulder, ‘do you still keep the housekeeping in your dressing-table drawer?’

‘Yes?’ answered Adela with fresh anxiety.

‘How much?’ Bill asked gently.

‘Almost three hundred pounds.’

Bill sat down heavily. ‘It’s gone.’

Adela let her tears flow.

The broad-chested constable coughed uncomfortably. ‘How was she coping with the children?’ he asked, reaching for another biscuit. ‘To have two kids before you’re seventeen is pretty tough.’

Bill raised his voice. ‘My daughter is a very good mother and, as a family, we have pulled together. My wife and I have given her every support. She loves Ella and Henry. There’s no way she would abandon them.’

The police officers gave each other a sceptical glance.

The vole said, ‘But she has.’

Bill felt his anger rising. ‘No.’

‘Can you give us the name and address of the children’s father?’ asked his colleague.

‘No,’ Bill spat.

Adela put a cool hand on his arm and said, ‘We never knew who the father was. Sennen wouldn’t tell us.’

‘I see,’ said Vole, jotting this down in his notebook. ‘So it’s possible there could be two different fathers?’

‘Look,’ said Bill, ‘my daughter—’ Adela looked at him sharply and he corrected himself, ‘Our daughter …’ He took Adela’s hand. ‘Is missing. We want you to find her.’

The policemen left, promising to keep them in touch with any developments but repeated that most runaways turned up pretty quickly.

The next three days passed in a turmoil of worry, grief, anger and disbelief. Rosemary’s parents came round and the four of them tried to think if there had been any clues to their daughters’ disappearances.

Henry and Ella were fractious and naughty. More than once either Adela or Bill would raise their voices at them which only brought more tears and tantrums.

At the end of the week, the police began to take the idea that the girls may have come to harm, seriously.

Photos of Sennen and Rosemary were given to the newspapers and the local television station.

Witnesses came forward.

A psychic said she had spoken to them in the spirit world and their bodies would be found in a disused tin mine.

A taxi driver said he’d given them a lift to a party out in Newquay until the genuine passengers came forward.

A midwife turned up at Plymouth police station to say she had given two girls answering the description, but not the names, a lift to the Plymouth Ferry Terminal. They were going to Roscoff, France to see their sick father.

A man who had been working in the ticket office that night thought he might have seen them and that they had bought two tickets to Santander, Spain.

Slowly the police put the runaways journey together and got in touch with the Spanish police.

‘They’ll be back before you know it,’ Tracey, the family liaison officer, told Bill and Adela. ‘With their tails between their legs.’

Sennen woke up cold and stiff and with a hangover. Next to her Rosemary twitched in her sleep and murmured something unintelligible. ‘Hey,’ said Sennen shaking her. ‘What’s the time?’

Rosemary turned away irritably. ‘Dunno.’

Sennen gave up and crawled out of the makeshift bed in the basement apartment. She rubbed her face and gave herself a scratch. Last night the room had looked okay, but this morning she saw it for what it was. A shaft of sunshine from a narrow window illuminated the mattress on the floor and the worn blankets on top of it. She needed a pee. Stepping over her abandoned shoes she opened the bedroom door onto a corridor. She smelt coffee coming from a room at the end. ‘Ola!’ a cheery female voice with a Mancunian accent called from what Sennen assumed was the kitchen.

‘Hi. Which door is the loo?’ asked Sennen.

‘The one with Che Guevara on it,’ the voice replied.

The mouldy smelling bathroom housed a shower, a loo with a wobbly seat, and a small basin with a dripping tap.

She had her pee then swilled her mouth with cold water and splashed her face. A speckled mirror told her she had a spot on her chin. ‘Shit.’ She gave it a squeeze, rinsed her face again, retreated and followed the smell of coffee.

‘Surprised to see you up so early.’ The girl was in her early twenties. She wore short dungarees, with a bright cotton scarf tied round her head. She handed Sennen a cup. ‘Get this down you.’

‘Thank you,’ said Sennen.

‘I remember my first night here,’ the girl said. ‘I’d got the train from Manchester to Portsmouth, then hitched a ride with a long-distance lorry driver all the way through France and Spain. Decent bloke. Had a daughter my age. Want a bread roll?’ She picked up a brown paper bag and pulled out a small baguette. ‘Got no marmalade or owt, though.’

Sennen took it gratefully, breaking it into small pieces, hoping she could keep them down. Her hangover was pretty fierce.

There was the sound of the bedroom door opening. Rosemary wandered out wearing a Snoopy T-shirt and tiny knickers. She sat down on a vinyl-covered stool. ‘I feel shit,’ she said bleakly. ‘Morning.’

‘Morning. Bread roll?’ said her hostess brightly.

Rosemary reached for one and started eating.

‘So,’ said the girl putting her tanned legs on the table and sipping her coffee, ‘what’s the real reason you’re here? Tell your Auntie Rachel.’

Rosemary looked at Sennen who was thoughtfully chewing her bread.

‘Our parents chucked us out,’ Sennen said.

Rachel’s eyes narrowed. ‘Really?’

Sennen pulled her lips down at the corners and nodded. ‘Yeah. Apparently, I am a bad influence on Rosemary.’

‘Well, I know you two can drink.’ Rachel got up and opened a kitchen drawer. She rooted around then grabbed a brown pill bottle. ‘This should help your hangovers.’

Rosemary, round-eyed, shot a frightened look at Sennen.

Rachel laughed. ‘I’m not a dealer. It’s aspirin.’

Twisting the lid off, Sennen downed two tablets. ‘Thanks, Rachel. For last night. I don’t know what we’d have done.’

‘Yeah well,’ Rachel shrugged, ‘I know those people who were buying you drinks and you looked as if you needed rescuing, so …’

Sennen’s hazy memories of last night were of a group of three handsome young Spaniards who’d found them wandering from the docks into the town and offered them dinner.

‘They seemed nice,’ said Rosemary. ‘I liked them.’

‘Yeah, they’re okay, but you need your wits about you. Mateo is a player.’

Sennen thought back. ‘Mateo in the white jeans?’

‘The one and only. Not the type to take home to your mother.’ Rachel sighed. ‘I know from personal experience.’ She retied the scarf in her hair. ‘Moving on, what’s next for you two? You need a job. Somewhere to live.’

Rosemary, who was feeling rather homesick and would have done anything to catch the next ferry home, looked pleadingly at Sennnen – who ignored her.

‘We were thinking of bar work or chambermaiding, perhaps,’ Sennen shrugged. ‘Anything.’

Rachel got to her feet and put her mug in the sink. ‘You can stay here for a week or two. After that you’re on your own. I’ve got to go to work in an hour, so get dressed and I’ll take you into town with me. We’ll ask around.’

Rachel’s apartment was underneath an old and ugly residential building which had many windows broken. As the three girls climbed the dark and smelly concrete stairs to ground level, Rachel explained that the building was due to be demolished. ‘I’ve been here for three months now. One of the better squats I’ve known.’ She pushed a heavy door and they found themselves on the street.

Sennen and Rosemary squinted at the sudden sharp light. Rachel found some sunglasses and perched them on her nose, sniffing. ‘Gonna be hot today.’

As they walked, they passed small parks with ladies walking dogs and men sitting in the shade watching the ladies walking the dogs.

Café tables and umbrellas spilt out on to the pavement, the smell of the lunchtime tapas reminding Sennen that she could do with some breakfast.

They walked for about fifteen minutes, turned a corner, and saw the sea sparkling ahead of them with a long stretch of beach running to their left and right.

Sennen caught her breath. ‘Wow.’ She put her arm around Rosemary’s shoulder. ‘Fancy a swim?’

Rachel pulled them along. ‘You can have a swim once we’ve found you a job.’

They walked for another mile or so, the heat building all the time. Sennen was hot and uncomfortable, Rosemary was thirsty and tired. ‘Where are we going?’ she bleated.

‘Right here,’ said Rachel.

They had stopped outside a busy café bar sitting in the shade of several trees opposite the beach.

‘Come and meet my boss.’ She shouted to a small man with a big belly who was working at a coffee machine. ‘Ola, Tomas!’

He looked over at her and lifted his chin in greeting. He glanced at Sennen and Rosemary.

‘Not more of your street urchins, Rachel?.’

‘Tomas, these are friends of mine, just arrived from England. I was at school with them.’

Tomas turned away from her and shot a jet of hot steam through a pipe. ‘You think I was born yesterday. You have been at school with all the girls in the UK?’

‘I am very popular.’ Rachel laughed, then putting her head on one side and blinking coquettishly said, ‘Please, Tomas? Sennen and Rosemary just need a little tiny job.’

He gave a guttural throaty snort. ‘Experience?’

Rachel nudged Sennen.

‘Oh yes,’ Sennen answered convincingly, ‘I’ve worked in lots of cafés and pubs at home. I love it. Meeting so many interesting people.’

‘Don’t overdo it,’ Tomas replied, smiling, ‘I can tell bullshit when I hear it.’

‘And I’m very good at that too,’ said Sennen.

Tomas laughed. A deep laugh that wobbled his belly. ‘Okay. I give you girls aprons and Rachel will show you what to do. By tonight I will see if you are good.’

It was a long day. The café was popular with tourists and locals and whatever language barrier there may have been the girls got over with sign language and a smatter of O-level Spanish.

Tomas watched them all day, shouting disapproval and orders or nodding silently.

It was gone midnight before the last customer left.

‘Clear the tables and I will tell you my decision,’ he told them.

At last the place was tidy, bar and glasses cleaned, chairs upturned on all the tables except one, where Tomas sat reading a newspaper.

He gestured for them to join him.

Rosemary sat down yawning. ‘Tired, eh?’ Tomas asked.

‘Yes.’

‘You work hard today. You were good with the customers.’ He looked at Sennen. ‘You are cheeky. Too much chat, but I think they liked you.’

Rachel clapped her hands. ‘Told you they were good.’

He slid a sideways look at her. ‘I tell you before, I was not born yesterday. These two have no experience. All bullshit.’

He put his newspaper on the table. ‘No more lies. I will give you the job but bring me no trouble. No boyfriends, no police. Understood?’

Rosemary nodded. ‘Thank you.’ She looked at Sennen who was looking at Tomas’s newspaper. ‘Sennen,’ she said. ‘What do you say?’

Sennen tore her eyes from the paper. ‘What?’

‘We’ve got a job. Tomas has given us the job.’

‘Oh … right. That’s great.’ She turned to Tomas. ‘May I have your paper?’

In bed that night, Sennen looked at the newspaper again, at the photo of a young man in a sequined black biker jacket, swirling a magician’s wand and a wolfish smile. He was here. He had told her he would be. He had laughed when she said she would follow him. She couldn’t wait to surprise him. She read the article. Amongst the Spanish words she managed to translate were ‘Senor A’Mayze seria en el Teatro Arriaga hasta el 30 do Septiembre.’ So now she knew he was at Arriaga Theatre until 30th September. She had six days in which to surprise him.

The work at Tomas’s Café was hard but as the days passed her feet got less sore and the heat more bearable. They were earning good tips and Tomas was pleased with them. On the night of 29 September, Sennen asked Tomas if she could have the next night off.

‘Por qué?’ he asked suspiciously.

‘I have to go to the dentist.’

He laughed. ‘No, you don’t. You are meeting someone? A boy, perhaps? Not the dentist, anyway.’

She decided to tell – almost – the truth. ‘Tomas, I want to see the magic show at the theatre in town. I have always loved magic and one of my favourite magicians from England is in the show and … Don’t tell Rachel or Rosemary. They will laugh at me.’

Tomas looked right into her eyes. ‘I smell the bullshit,’ he said. ‘But, I will give you one night off … to see the dentist … and then you will be back. Si?’

She flung her arms around him. ‘Si, si. Gracias, Tomas.’

He peeled her off him. ‘But you still have to work tonight and tomorrow.’

‘Of course.’ She hesitated before asking, ‘May I have my wages?’

He shook his head. ‘Not until the day after tomorrow.’

With no money she couldn’t buy a ticket, but it didn’t matter. She left work early and went back to the squat to shower and change. Looking in the small, speckled mirror she saw a slightly thinner, now-freckled, face. Her sun-lightened hair gleamed as it hung over her tanned shoulders. She looked really pretty. What a surprise he was going to get.

She walked into town, soaking up the evening sun. People were promenading, hand in hand, or sitting on the pavements under coloured umbrellas sipping cold wine or beer. A tapas bar was playing a pop song. Sennen relaxed. The music put a bounce in her step and confidence in her heart. Tonight was going to be the best night of her life.

Outside the theatre, an excited crowd was milling around, laughing and calling to each other. Sennen looked closely at the photographs of the performers hanging in the glass cases of the outer walls of the building.

There were names and faces of famous magicians from all over the world but she couldn’t find Ali’s. At last the crowd thinned as they went inside to find their seats and she could get a closer look. In a group photo of the cast, she saw him. Fourth from the end, next to the cabaret dancers in rhinestoned leotards with feathers in their hair and fake eyelashes. He was looking straight out to the camera, his dazzling smile lighting his face, his eyes looking right at her. She put her hand to the glass and touched him. It suddenly all seemed worth it. ‘Ali. I’m here to surprise you. Not long now. I have missed you.’

She had two hours to wait. She sat in a side-street café next to the stage door and ordered a coke, her eyes glued to the theatre’s exit. She could hear the band through the back wall and the applause from the audience as the last curtain call was taken.

She finished the coke and, leaving the money by the empty glass, she walked to the stage door. She was the first person there. Soon the fans would have escaped the theatre and be here, jostling with their programmes for autographs. She stood her ground as they started to arrive.

The stage door opened and a gaggle of the girl dancers appeared in leggings and warm cardigans, still with their showgirl make-up on. Their boyfriends swiftly escorted them away. Next came some men carrying musical instruments, then two glamorous women, a double act, Sennen supposed, who signed a few autographs and then … there he was.

Her heart missed a beat. His dark hair was even longer, hanging sexily in his eyes and tumbling over his shoulders. He beamed at the autograph hunters as they pressed forward.

She held back, wanting to freeze this moment for as long as she could. He signed a woman’s ticket and, giving her pen back, looked around for the next person who wanted his attention. And saw her. At least, she thought he did. He reached for another pen, signed another programme, posed for another photograph then reached his hand out to her. She took it. ‘Hello,’ she said smiling at him. ‘Surprise.’

He smiled back in confused recognition, then froze. He dropped her hand.

‘Ali. It’s me,’ she said, suddenly fearful.

Another woman’s hand reached to grasp his. He smiled now, but not at Sennen. He was looking at someone behind her. ‘Darling,’ he said.

Sennen turned. A pretty blonde with long legs was pulling him from the crowd. ‘Ali, come on. I promised the babysitter we’d be back.’

Sennen stood between them. ‘Ali? It’s me, Sennen.’

He knew who she was. His eyes told her that. For a second he stared back at her with what, fear? Panic? The woman pushed Sennen out of the way. ‘Excuse me, love. He needs to get out of here.’

Sennen fell back as Ali swept past, looking anywhere but at her.

When Rosemary and Rachel got home later that evening, Sennen was already packed.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Rosemary, puzzled.

‘You’re going back,’ she said, struggling with the straps of her rucksack.

‘What?’ asked Rosemary.

Sennen looked at her, as though she were a halfwit. ‘It’s what you want isn’t it?

‘Well, yes, but … not right now. I’m sort of enjoying it now.’

Rachel, leaning against the bedroom door, held her hands up. ‘I know Spanish dentists can be bad, but this is ridiculous.’

Sennen turned on her. ‘It’s nothing to do with a dentist, I just … I just want to go. Okay?’

Rachel shrugged. ‘No skin off my nose. I’m going to make a cuppa if anyone’s interested.’

Alone in their room, Rosemary sat on the bed and watched as Sennen gathered up her passport and make-up.

‘What’s happened?’ she asked gently. ‘Is it Henry and Ella? Are they okay? Are you missing them?’

Sennen sat down and burst into tears. ‘I don’t know. I just … It’s me.’

‘What’s you?’

‘I just want to leave here, okay?’

‘Henry and Ella will be pleased to see you.’

‘Stop talking about them!’ Sennen rubbed her tears away ferociously.

‘But you’re their mum.’

‘Shut up! I don’t want Rachel to hear. Forget about them. I have.’

‘Have you?’

Sennen dissolved into tears again. ‘No,’ she sobbed. ‘But I want freedom. I don’t want to be judged any more. I don’t want my sainted parents looking at me in their disappointed way any more. I don’t want to be woken up at all hours of the night. I want to sleep, and lie in – and be me again.’

‘I’d love to have a baby,’ said Rosemary quietly.

Sennen pulled herself together and wiped her nose. ‘That’s what I thought, too.’

‘But I’ll have their dad to help me,’ said Rosemary.

‘Ha,’ Sennen scoffed, stuffing a pair of socks from the floor into her rucksack, ‘assuming he’ll want to hang around.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Rosemary passed Sennen a clean tissue. ‘I shouldn’t have said that.’ She watched as Sennen rubbed the smeared mascara from her face. ‘Any chance that their dad would help you?’

Sennen laughed bitterly. ‘Oh no. Absolutely not.’

Through the long night Sennen and Rosemary talked. Eventually Rosemary persuaded Sennen to return to Cornwall with her in the morning. ‘We’ll get the earliest ferry. We’ll go to your parents first and explain. I’ll be with you. By tomorrow night you will be in your own bed and Ella and Henry will be so happy to have their mummy home.’

They got up and left the squat before Rachel woke up. Sennen left a note saying thank you and to tell Tomas that they were sorry, and Rosemary left half of her tip money next to it.

The sun was coming up as they walked towards the docks. The first boat from England had just come in and the cars with their shiny GB stickers were disembarking. The girls had to cross the road to the ferry terminal to buy their tickets and waited as the cars went by. A man driving an estate car full to the gunnels with luggage, two children in the back and his wife in the front, slowed to wave them over.

Rosemary lifted her hand in a wave of thanks. The wife stared at them. She nudged her husband, then lifted a newspaper from her lap. Sennen saw the photos of herself and Rosemary on the front page.

‘Run!’ she said sharply to Rosemary. ‘Hide your face and run.’

In the terminal they dashed into the ladies loo, out of breath and panicking. ‘They saw us,’ gulped Sennen. ‘Shit. We’re in the papers.’

Rosemary went white. ‘We must be in so much trouble!’

Sennen searched for her purse. ‘Here.’ She shoved what money she had into Rosemary’s hand. ‘Take it and go. I’m not coming with you.’

‘But you must! You said you would,’ Rosemary pleaded. ‘We’ll go together. It’ll be okay.’

‘Go and buy a ticket and get on that boat,’ ordered Sennen.

‘I’m not going without you,’ Rosemary sobbed.

Sennen rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand. A bad headache was setting in. ‘Okay, okay.’

Sennen checked around her. The building was quiet. A handful of foot passengers were waiting to buy their tickets but the cars were already embarking. Sennen could hear the metallic thump and rattle as each vehicle drove over the gangplank into the bowels of the ship.

There were no police and nobody waving copies of British newspapers about. ‘You get your ticket. I’ll just get a drink from the shop over there. Do you want anything?’

‘No, I’ll be fine.’ Rosemary had calmed down and was looking much happier. ‘See you at the ticket office.’

In the small shop Sennen went to a display of cuddly toys. She picked up a pink pony with a white fluffy tail and a green dragon with silvery wings. She stuffed them in her pockets while the lady shopkeeper had her back turned then marched to where Rosemary was waiting. She took the toys from her pocket and handed them over. ‘Give these to the kids, will you? Tell them they’re from me.’