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  Adjacent to the marina was the public slipway known as Kerridge Hard. This area was also home to a yacht chandlery business which doubled up as a general store and newsagent, and a café/bar, The Jolly Jack Tar. There was an area of public seating and car parking. Pearl had said the Hard was the ‘hub’ of Kerridge, although in my book, one café, one shop, and an ice-cream van hardly constituted a hub in terms of what I’d been used to in Battersea.

  As soon as we arrived on the marina, JJ strode out to greet us, almost as if we’d contaminate his domain if we stepped foot inside the door of his plush sales office.

  ‘Rebecca,’ he said, giving me a cursory nod.

  ‘It’s Becca,’ I corrected him.

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  Apart from our first meeting, our paths hadn’t crossed at Rivermede.

  He gave Freddy a look of pure disdain. ‘You’ve done this sort of work before, right?’

  ‘No, of course he hasn’t,’ I said on Freddy’s behalf.

  Freddy was like a rabbit caught in a headlight. The marina was a very alien environment. Both Freddy and I had been brought up in the city, the lake on Battersea Park the nearest we got to any waterborne activities. I was slightly concerned at the close proximity of heavy lifting equipment, forklifts, and yacht hoists. Men were working underneath large vessels, sanding hulls and dismantling keels. Enormous cabin cruisers were propped up on little more than railway sleepers and metal joists. Two youths in blue overalls were hosing down a catamaran. They were muscular and tanned. Freddy looked like a teenage vampire in comparison.

  Out on the water, dinghies. Kayakers, and canoeists snaked their way between the larger yachts. Freddy’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when a shapely blonde teenager strode past us in the skimpiest of shorts, despite the chill of the spring day, effortlessly carrying a paddle-board under her arm.

  ‘All right, JJ,’ she called cheerfully.

  ‘Morning, Kimmi,’ JJ replied, forcing a smile onto his face. ‘Let me get one of the lads to help you with that.’

  ‘No need,’ the girl replied with a swing of her hips. ‘I can manage.’

  Freddy and I both watched in awe as Kimmi continued onto one of the pontoons, lowered her board and stepped onto the water. As JJ gave a brief run-down on health and safety in the yard, calling over one of his underlings to kit Freddy out in some appropriate workwear, Kimmi paddled away without so much as a life-jacket in sight. I promised to collect him at one.

  Chapter Ten

  I set off to explore. I asked the two lads washing the catamaran for confirmation that I was heading in the right direction to Chapman’s Wharf.

  ‘Go round past Sailor Gerry’s barge and follow the gravel track for a couple of hundred metres,’ the more sensible of the boys replied.

  ‘Sailor Gerry’s barge?’ I queried, wondering if he was referring to some sort of rum shack.

  ‘The old rust bucket over there,’ the less sensible one said.

  What could possibly have been an old frigate or coastguard vessel was tacked onto the very last pontoon of the marina. It was indeed a rust bucket, slate grey, and totally out of kilter with its swish shiny neighbours. I was surprised JJ allowed such a ramshackle vessel anywhere near his premises. The pontoon was in a state of disrepair, while on board, a grubby tarpaulin covered much of the deck, half exposing a pile of black bin bags. I could just make out the boat’s name – The Regatta Queen. She had clearly seen better days.

  The gravel track soon petered out into little more than a metre-wide path, bordered on one side by the river, and on the other by reed-beds. Up ahead in the distance, I could see a handful of boats moored in an inlet. The Solstice was a traditional barge painted in a delicate shade of New England blue. It looked quite deserted, but its location was the perfect writer’s retreat. I was actually quite jealous.

  If this was Nick’s hideout, what was he really up to in Kerridge? The idea that anyone in Kerridge warranted police surveillance seemed very far-fetched. Was Nick even still in the police force? He could be working for anybody. Perhaps he had befallen some fate that meant he’d had to adopt a whole new identity. Perhaps he was in witness protection. I’d inherited my mother’s vivid imagination. It came with the territory of being a writer; in fact, it was an essential skill. I was about to turn away, when the cabin door opened and Nick emerged onto the deck.

  ‘I thought I saw someone spying on me,’ he called. His greeting seemed friendly enough. ‘You’re still here then, you didn’t listen to me?’

  I shook my head. ‘I’m just visiting again. Freddy has a job interview on the marina.’

  ‘Freddy? Freddy is at Rivermede, too?’ Nick’s expression changed. He hopped off the deck and joined me on the path. He was dressed in a pair of baggy old jeans and an Arran sweater. The clean-cut Nick I used to know would never have dressed so casually, not even on his day off. ‘You are winding me up now, aren’t you?’

  I shook my head. ‘No, he needs a job. He got his girlfriend pregnant and he needs to earn some money.’ The words tumbled out before I could stop myself.

  ‘What? How old is he?’

  ‘Twenty-one going on sixteen. I shouldn’t have told you that. Sorry, forget I said anything.’

  ‘So, you’re going to be a…’ Nick faltered, as if struggling to find the right word.

  ‘An auntie, yes.’ I smiled. ‘He hasn’t told Pearl yet. That’s why I bought him here this weekend to break the news she’s about to become a grandma, but he chickened out. But he does need a job. Jack suggested JJ could find him something on the marina.’

  ‘So, will he be staying at the house, too?’

  I nodded. ‘I expect so. There’s more than enough room for him and he can’t afford to stay in London. Pearl’s decided to sell the Battersea flat. There’s every chance I’ll end up at Rivermede as well, unless I can find enough work to afford to rent somewhere in the city.’

  ‘Rivermede isn’t safe,’ Nick said again. ‘None of you should be there.’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, I won’t break your cover and Freddy certainly won’t remember who you are even if he does bump into you,’ I assured him. ‘As for Pearl, seriously, she never walks anywhere, she’s hardly likely to come this far down the river.’

  ‘That’s not the point.’ Nick’s face was set in a frown. ‘Christ, Freddy, here. How old was he at our wedding?’

  ‘We didn’t have a wedding,’ I reminded him. ‘Six.’

  ‘I can remember turning round and seeing him walking up the aisle behind you in that ridiculous sailor suit, picking his nose.’

  ‘Yep, sounds like Freddy, although he’s gone all Goth now. Pearl is kitting him out in another ridiculous outfit for when he gives her away. Let’s hope he won’t be picking his nose as he walks up the aisle this time.’

  Nick smiled. ‘You haven’t changed, Becca.’

  ‘Oh, yes I have,’ I assured him. ‘According to Pearl’s agent, Anita, I’m a bitter and twisted spinster who refuses to allow the scars of the past to heal. I enjoy picking at my scabs and using my oozing wounds as an excuse not to move on.’

  ‘That’s a very graphic analogy,’ Nick remarked.

  ‘And that’s a very big word for you. Okay, Anita didn’t actually say all that; she didn’t have to. I know exactly what I am and what I do, which is more than I can say about you. Nick, why are you in Kerridge?’

  For one moment he looked as if he was about to confess all, but then he shook his head. ‘I really can’t tell you,’ he said.

  ‘But you are here working?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, and as I said at the pub, it’s vital that my cover isn’t blown. But that’s not the reason I want you and Pearl, and now Freddy, out of Rivermede, Becca. I am genuinely concerned for your safety.’

  ‘You can’t expect me to believe that Jack Robshaw is about to bump us all off? The man’s an invalid.’

  ‘It’s not Jack Robshaw I’m worried about.’

  ‘JJ?’ It was a lot easier t
o believe JJ could be mixed up in criminal activities. Nick remained silent. ‘Rita, then? Do the fashion police want a few words with her?’

  ‘Listen, Becca, I’m trying to be serious here.’

  I was fed up with his riddles. ‘Why should I believe a word you say, Nick? Why should I trust you? You lied to me. You told me you weren’t sleeping with Saskia, and then you turned up reeking of her. I could still smell her on you when you stood at the altar. How do you think that felt? Why should I trust you? Why should I believe a word of this stupid, stupid game, or whatever it is you’re playing?’

  I turned to walk away, but he grabbed my arm to stall me. ‘I’m not playing any games, Becca. What happened between us happened fifteen years ago, when I was a different person – a very young, stupid person, I’ll admit it. But we’re in a totally unique situation here. I’m saying what I’m saying because I don’t want to see you or, believe it or not, your mother or Freddy hurt. I want you all out of harm’s way, and I’m sorry if you think I’m not telling you the truth, but the fact is I can’t tell you the truth. I can’t risk you knowing what is really going on.’

  I shook him off. ‘Stop playing secret squirrels, Nick.’

  ‘Secret squirrels? You think that’s what this is. Some sort of game of tit for tat?’

  ‘Tit for tat? Why would you say that?’

  ‘Well, you’re the one with all the secrets, aren’t you?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I was totally lost.

  ‘When were you planning to tell me about Freddy? On our wedding night, or when you moved him in to live with us.’

  ‘Freddy? What’s Freddy got to do with any of this?’

  ‘You go on about not trusting me, but you couldn’t even tell me you had a child. What sort of basis was that for a marriage?’

  I stared at him, speechless, churning over the implications of his words. He thought Freddy was mine? What on earth had given him that idea? Who had given him that idea? I certainly never had.

  I shook my head in exasperation. Nick could live with his fantasies; I wasn’t going to belittle myself with a reply. I turned away and began to head back along the uneven, rutted path, slipping and sliding in my haste to make a dignified retreat. I wished I was the one dressed casually in walking boots, old jeans, and comfortable sweater, my resentment brimming over as I stumbled along in my smart business trousers and two-inch heeled boots. Nick had so obviously managed to change his life and move on into a different world, while I hadn’t. It was so unfair.

  ‘Becca!’ he yelled after me. ‘Becca, we need to talk.’

  No, we didn’t. Freddy and I didn’t even look like each other. We both looked like our fathers, although sadly Pearl had very few photographs of mine to prove it. Neither of us bore a great deal of resemblance to our mother.

  If Nick was trying to drive another barrier between us to ensure I didn’t expose his cover, he was doing a very good job, but I was having serious doubts about his sanity. His intimation that he was on a top-secret surveillance mission was all starting to sound very dubious. Was he delusional? Had Nick suffered a major trauma whilst serving in the police force, and lost touch with reality? Was he suffering PTSD? For all I knew, he could be living in a fantasy world funded by social security.

  By the time I reached the comparative safety of The Regatta Queen, I decided that despite my better judgement, I might well take up Jack’s offer of the stable block flat. I didn’t want either Freddy or my mother running into Nick, who was quite clearly deranged. And if they did, I wanted to be close by to smooth over any repercussions.

  It was a relatively easy decision to make, and hardly my decision at all when Pearl called me on her brand-new iPhone at ten the following morning to announce she had accepted a cash offer on the flat. The open house had been an overriding success. The buyer was eager to take possession as soon as possible, and Magda Pepowski had promised to expedite the necessary legal formalities. With no mortgage on either side, she hoped to have the paperwork ready to complete within four weeks.

  ‘Four weeks?’ I had hoped for a longer reprieve.

  ‘Can you get some quotes for removal companies?’ Pearl enquired. ‘Jack says there’s space in one of the outbuildings for anything we can’t squeeze into the nursery for Freddy or the stable block for you.’

  I’d given the stable block flat a quick look over before driving back up to London. Poky was the word that sprang to mind, but then I was used to living in the light, airy space of Beech Mews. JJ had generously allowed Freddy seven days’ grace to finish his final art ‘installation’ before starting his new job as general dogsbody/marina assistant. Nev would drive to Newcross to transport the few personal belongings Freddy kept there down to Kerridge. Freddy would follow on his Lambretta.

  ‘Just got some re-recordings to do,’ Freddy had mumbled as I dropped him off at his flat-share on Sunday evening. We’d spent the majority of the journey up from the coast in silence when it transpired he’d decided there was no need to tell Pearl about her impending grandchild after all. ‘I mean, if me and Rubes aren’t together, what’s the point? It’s not as if she and the baby are ever going to meet.’

  ‘And do you have any intention of meeting this baby?’ I asked him. ‘Or are you just going to let this poor girl struggle with motherhood on her own?’

  He hadn’t answered, although he had looked pretty dejected throughout the journey. It was only after I had reached the rapidly evaporating sanctuary of Beech Mews that I wondered if Freddy actually wanted to be involved, and maybe it was Ruby who wasn’t letting him.

  Reluctantly, I hired a removal company and gave notice to all the utilities. Neighbours were informed. Many wished us well; others, I was sure, were glad to see the back of us. Pearl had been rather fond of throwing raucous parties. Several expressed regret that they would not have the chance to say goodbye to her personally. I suggested she might wish to come back up to Battersea to sort through the flat before everything was packed, but she was adamant it wasn’t necessary.

  ‘I can go through it here just as well as I can there,’ she argued. ‘Even better here, because Nev can take anything we don’t want to the local household recycling centre. We’d have to pay the council to take it away in London, wouldn’t we, or a hire a skip?’

  Pearl had immersed herself in country life, in Rivermede, and it seemed nothing could lure her back to London.

  With the flat cleared, I spent my last couple of nights in Battersea in a local hotel. I needed to supervise the contractor hired for the last-minute clean and be on hand to pass the keys over to Magda. It was impossible not to shed a tear. My mother might not have regrets and had cast off her old life with ease, but I had serious misgivings. I hadn’t chosen this move to the south coast; it was almost as if it had chosen me.

  I put on a brave face, aka a thick layer of make-up, and had a last lunch with Anita. I wanted to briefly touch on the subject of Stella’s memoirs and also sound her out about any potential future jobs. Pearl, now master of her own administration, had indeed sent Anita an email informing her that she fully intended to quit writing, and didn’t even wish to fulfil her contract for the two novellas I’d spent winter nights re-hashing while she’d been sitting up on the deck of the Majestic Oceans.

  ‘She said she couldn’t face the media circus surrounding the launches,’ Anita remarked with a sympathetic smile. ‘She does sound like a changed woman.’

  Changed beyond all recognition. I’d never felt so lost and alone.

  Chapter Eleven

  ‘How’s your diet coming along?’ Pearl asked when I arrived at Rivermede, ready to begin my new life. She regarded me sceptically. ‘There’s a Slimming World class in the church hall on a Monday evening. I think you should sign up. I don’t want you bursting out of your bridesmaid dress.’

  ‘I don’t need a Slimming World class,’ I told her, looking around for Nev to help with the bags. ‘I’m not overweight. You’re starting to sound like one of those obsessive bri
dezillas. Where is Nev, by the way?’

  ‘Oh, he and Jack are out somewhere,’ Pearl replied. ‘I suspect they’ll be gone all day. Leave the bags in your car, Nev can bring them up when he’s back.’

  I didn’t want to wait. I wanted to unpack straight away, to make my new flat seem like home. Pearl stood by and watched as I completed several journeys up and down the external staircase to the flat. I was pleased to see the items from Beech Mews I had marked ‘stable block’ for the removal company had been deposited in the right place, including one of Pearl’s big soft sofas, which took up most of the living area. I listened with half an ear as she chatted on about her new social life in the village.

  ‘Of course, I’m winging it with the bridge,’ she said. ‘But I thought if I got in with the jazz choir, they could do a couple of songs at the wedding on the cheap. I want Love Lifts Us Up Where We Belong and as Jack’s a big Andy Williams’ fan, a rendition of Moon River.’

  ‘On the cheap?’ I was surprised Pearl was concerned with saving the pennies.

  ‘Well, you know, as a favour. The bill is starting to add up, and we’re not made of money.’

  ‘You could scrap the whole thing and just have the registry office ceremony without all this palaver,’ I pointed out.

  Pearl raised an eyebrow. ‘Your father and I did that forty years ago,’ she said, ‘and I’ve regretted it all my life. Two years later, he was dead, and what mementoes have I got of our special day? A couple of snaps taken by relatives, that’s all. We didn’t have a proper photographer. I’ve hardly got any pictures of the guests, and only a couple of me and Tony. It was raining cats and dogs, so we had to run from the car to the registry office, and then back to the car and straight to the pub. It was a shambles. This time,’ she emphasised the words to make her point, ‘I’m having the whole works.’ She didn’t need to say any more. She’d planned the whole works for me and it hadn’t happened.