He had not expected it to be so busy. The village, he had assumed, would be deserted. One or two hardy tourists, perhaps; local dog-walkers moseying along the beach. But crowded cafes, packed-out pavements: they were not part of Leo’s plan.
They had stopped at the corner of the central green. Leo had, rather. Megan and Ellie were already several paces further on.
‘What?’ Megan said, turning.
‘All these people. It’s just… I thought the idea was to get away for the day.’
‘The idea was to have a day out. The three of us.’ Megan glanced at Ellie, who was staring anxiously at her father. ‘Leo,’ Megan said, when Leo did not answer. Her tone – her expression – was a warning.
Leo considered the crowds. He considered his daughter.
‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Let’s just stay together, that’s all. No wandering off.’
They wandered off.
Leo twisted, turned on tiptoe – and finally spotted them at the window of a clothes shop. He snapped and Megan scowled and proceeded, in retribution, to lead their daughter inside.
Leo made to follow but settled on waiting outside the door. He studied the people passing by. They were grouped in families mainly, just like theirs. But cheerier, less uptight. Some bore ice creams, others shopping bags, others just a flush on their cheeks from the winter wind. There were people by themselves, too: an older woman, a younger man, two black-clad teenagers in quick succession. None, though, seemed a threat. None seemed even to notice that Leo was there. It was just this breeze, that was all; the expanse of sea. He felt exposed because they were not locked away at home. Which was foolish too, in a way. Illogical, because if someone really wanted to find them – to watch them – their home was the obvious place to come looking. Here, amid the crowds, was about the safest place they could be.
By the sackload, Leo. Remember?
He was on edge but there was no need to be. Had he not already decided that? When Ellie and Meg came outside he would see about setting this day of theirs back on track.
‘Ready?’ he said as they emerged. He noticed they each held a bag. ‘You bought something.’ Naturally they had. Something, no doubt, they would never wear. But, ‘Great. What say we find somewhere to get ice cream?’ Somewhere quieter, he did not add, wondering in spite of himself how much of the day a day trip was supposed to take up.
Leo led and the girls trailed. Megan seemed cheered by her purchase and that was something. She did not speak directly to Leo but she attuned herself to his enthusiasm. She seemed, if nothing else, to remember the reason they had come.
‘Ellie.’ Megan nudged her daughter and pointed across the square towards the beach. The waves were storming the sea wall, breaking with the force of a battering ram and hurling up a spray that crackled, as it landed, like sparks. ‘Look at that. Look at those people!’ A crowd had gathered along the promenade but had ventured too close to the shore. Another wave broke and there was screaming, bodies diving for the dry.
Ellie watched but without any evident delight. ‘Will the train still be running?’ she said. ‘Will we still be able to get home?’
Their daughter, this time, had turned to Leo. He started to respond, to reassure – but his words, barely formed, withered. He cast his attention over the top of his daughter’s head.
Who was that?
A man, standing on his own in the square, watching them – was he? – when everyone around him was watching the waves. He seemed young but from Leo’s distance it was hard to be sure. The man was slight, and slightly stooped. He held his chin level with his shoulders, as though his overcoat was leaking the chill. There was something around his neck – a camera? – and a baseball cap covering his crown. Leo raised himself onto his toes to get a view of the man’s face but, as he did so, the man tucked himself into the crowd. Leo shifted but a hand on his wrist tugged him round.
‘Dad? Will they close the line? What’ll we do if we can’t get home?’
Leo stared at his daughter, conscious of the question but unable, at that moment, to associate it with an answer. He looked again towards the man but the man, this time, was gone.
‘They won’t close the line, darling.’ Megan slid an arm around Ellie’s shoulders. She coaxed her daughter towards her. ‘If they do, your father will just have to pay for a taxi.’ Megan led her daughter along the street. Leo, with a final glance behind, could only follow.
‘And marshmallows. Can I have marshmallows?’ Ellie looked left, right, and met assent on both sides. The lady behind the counter garnished the tub of ice cream and speared it with a plastic spoon. She offered it across the counter and returned Ellie’s smile.
‘And for you, madam?’
Megan drew a hand to her waistline. ‘Nothing for me. Thank you.’
‘Sir?’
Leo checked again through the glass door. There was a man in a windcheater blocking his view, moving one way, back again, so that Leo had to shift in unison to try to find a gap.
‘Sir?’
A tug on his sleeve. ‘Leo.’
‘Sorry? What?’ He turned and his wife was glaring.
‘This was your idea, Leo. Don’t you want one?’
‘Sorry. Yes. Just…’ He pointed at a tub of something yellow. ‘Just vanilla. Thanks.’ The man was still blocking the door.
‘That’s cheesecake, sir. This one’s vanilla: over here.’
‘What? Fine. Whichever.’
‘So… cheesecake then? Or vanilla?’
Move! Why would he not just move?
‘Sir? I… There are people waiting, sir.’
‘Leo!’
‘What?’ Leo snapped as he spun. The woman behind the counter was still waiting. ‘Cheesecake. Cheesecake’s fine.’ He dug out some change from his pocket and slapped it onto the counter. The woman handed over his cone and Leo ushered his frowning daughter from the shop. He heard, vaguely, Megan apologising to the owner in their wake.
There was no one out there. Just the same drifts of visitors parading around the square, groups here and there huddled beside the benches.
Leo trailed. Megan was up ahead and Ellie midway between them. Their daughter’s enthusiasm for her raspberry ripple seemed to have abated and she prodded half-heartedly at the contents of her tub. Leo, similarly, only licked his cone once in a while when he felt the cold slipping in tendrils across his fingers.
So much for ice cream.
There was a single bench unoccupied, damp and in the shade, and Megan seemed to be leading them towards it. They were in no hurry. When they got there they would poke some more at their ice cream and shiver for a moment in silence and then one of them – Megan – would suggest that they head back home. Which was something. Better that than any more of this. Better to be home, safe, warm at least, with their own corners of the house to inhabit and no obligation to pretend.
‘Hey!’
Leo’s hand drooped and the scoop of ice cream toppled from the cone.
‘Hey!’ he said again. ‘You!’ He lengthened his stride and bumped his daughter as he passed her. He heard her exclamation but did not turn to it. He focused on the man ahead and continued his march. ‘Stop right there!’
Leo expected the man to run and for an instant he seemed to consider it. He turned to his right but found his
