As April flattened her backside to the back door of her chalet, reaching desperately for the doorknob so she could pretend to be a grown-up, and not a gibbering idiot who seemed to thrive lately in social faux pas, she spotted her. The hen the woman was holding let out a ‘bawk’ as if to say ‘what the hell are you doing, woman?’
‘Hello again,’ the woman said jovially. ‘Settling in?’
‘Oh, hi!’ April tried to stage whisper across to her, while trying to appear like she was just hanging out on her land, casually leaning against her door. And not, as she was, trying to avoid making a total tit of herself in front of the man she had just hired to help the place stay afloat. While not crying over his family or offending his wife by basically being some kind of interior designer in a home that wasn’t hers to make. Although technically, it was her home. And now she was rambling in her own head, as the chicken woman looked at her with an amused half-smile on her face. Even the chicken looked like it had a better handle on the situation. ‘Yes, thanks. You know, busy busy!’
‘Yes.’ The woman smirked again as a noise from the front made April jump and her hand reach for the back doorknob ever more frantically. ‘Listen, I want you to come see me.’ She pointed towards the edge of April’s property, where in the distance a bright blue wooden gate could be seen. A goat was looking through it, bleating occasionally at them all as it peeked through the slats of wood.
‘Yes, Elvis! I’m coming; stop being pushy!’ the woman blurted, stepping forward and placing the egg box onto the grass in front of her. ‘That goat will be the death of me, I swear.’ April looked at her again, and then it clicked.
‘You’re the woman who was here the day I arrived!’ she exclaimed dumbly. The woman nodded at her, no expression on her face.
‘Yes that’s me. Congratulations for remembering what happened yesterday. More brains than a goldfish at least! There is hope after all. Judith Canter. Come see me, okay? Whenever you’re done here?’ April opened her mouth to say that she couldn’t, she had her first ‘guests’ coming and she needed to get things in some kind of order.
‘I don’t like people being late, so think on.’ She dipped her head towards the box. ‘The eggs are on me. Come along, Petunia.’
April could swear the chicken clucked back at Judith in agreement. The goat was still watching at the gate, his lip curling up at one side comically. April slid down the wall, throwing her legs out in front of her and wincing at the sharp pains that ran through her half-asleep limbs.
‘Mum,’ she half whispered to herself, the occasional muted thud and skitter of shale being heard behind her over the sound of the sea. ‘I know this is supposed to be an adventure, but I really could use you about now.’
She waited a few moments, not waiting for her mother to answer exactly, but just feeling better thinking of her. She remembered the summer they had spent here, and her mother had spoken of it so many times over the years. It had been just the two of them all summer. Her mother had collected her from school, early on the last day of term. April remembered feeling worried. Her mother never collected her early, but there she was. She’d bundled her and her school bag into the back of the car, where blankets, pillows, toys and clothes sat packaged up. They’d driven all the way down to Cornwall, arriving long after dark, not stopping once. She still remembered the sign she’d woken up to as they arrived at their destination. Her mother’s headlights bouncing back off the sign, showing little April where they were to spend their summer. Shady Pines Chalet Park.
April thought back to that night, when she’d sat swaddled on the back seat, wondering where Dad was, why Mum hadn’t mentioned him. And now here she was, back here again, and still feeling like the confused little slip of life in the back seat. The difference was, this time she really was alone, and she was still hiding. She clenched her fists, and dusting herself off, she got back up, picked up the egg box, and headed into her chalet to go and meet the new arrivals.
Coming out of her front door as though she was just hanging at home, she did a pretend double take at the van. Cillian, a box of food in his hand, turned and looked at her. For a moment, neither spoke.
‘Hi!’ April said shrilly. ‘Oops, sorry. I was a little loud then. I’ve been indoors cleaning.’
‘Really?’ a voice across the park called. ‘I thought I just saw you commando rolling between the chalets.’ April’s eyes flashed to Martha’s and she winked at her. ‘Must have been a trick of the light. You okay today, Cillian?’ Martha’s expression softened when she looked at Cillian. She almost smiled. The mere thought of Martha smiling was enough to unsettle April. She didn’t miss a trick, that one.
Cillian, box in hand, was looking from woman to woman, a half-smile playing on his own lips.
‘Good thanks, Martha – what are you working on?’ Martha was sitting on her porch, sketchpad in her hand. She pulled it closer to her chest, just a fraction.
‘I’m not sure yet, my dear. It’s still a bit raw.’
He nodded genially, but April heard him mutter ‘ain’t that the truth of it’ under his breath. She warmed to him instantly. Maybe he wasn’t so unapproachable.
‘So, everything okay with the chalet? I cleaned a little before you came.’
Saying that she had cleaned a bit before they came was like Mrs Hinch saying she ran the duster around once a fortnight, but April went with it.
Cillian nodded once, muttering his thanks before striding across to the chalet
