‘Okay, so I’ll just wait here then,’ she called to the door. ‘In case you need anything.’ She looked across at Martha, who was looking very amused, despite her apparent concentration on her work. ‘Afternoon, Martha.’
‘Stop trying so hard,’ Martha said softly. ‘Just let them settle in. There’re no surfaces left to polish in the place. It’s clean. Cillian’s a grown man; he and Orla will be fine. If you need something to do, the shop needs to be open again, the games room smells like something died in there, and the whole place needs people. Or are you planning on staying empty all season? My rent won’t keep you in Cornish boltholes for long.’ She gave her a stern ‘think on’ look and pointed a pencil-smudged finger towards the van. April whirled around and standing next to the van, staring at her with huge almond eyes, was a little girl. April felt her whole body freeze, her stomach dip. Please don’t pat her on the head, dear God. Please don’t let me pet this child on the head.
‘Hi!’ she said, at a high-pitched level only dogs could hear. A couple even barked in the distance. Possibly speaking dog for ‘shut that woman up!’
‘Hi,’ she tried again, cautiously taking a step towards the little girl. She was wearing a mustard-coloured top, with denim blue dungarees and a pair of little white trainers. She looked adorable, and April felt herself smile at her. ‘I’m April. I’m really happy that you’ve come to live here. Your daddy is helping me make Shady Pines a really nice place for people to come and have a lovely holiday.’ She sounded like an air hostess now, not herself at all. She took another half step and kneeled before her, getting down to her level. ‘What’s your name?’ she asked even though she already knew the answer.
Orla looked her up and down, but said nothing.
‘Her name’s Orla. She doesn’t speak much at the moment,’ a gruff voice said. Cillian was striding towards them, a concerned look on his face. He looked different, tense.
‘Oh,’ April said, nodding to Cillian and looking back at Orla. She didn’t get up from her kneeling position. ‘Hello, Orla. Nice to meet you.’ She held out her hand, offering the little girl a handshake. She didn’t take it, so April crossed her arms instead.
‘You know, Orla, your daddy and I are going to fix up the games room, and I was thinking that we could decorate the walls with some cool stuff. If you have any ideas, you let me know, okay?’ April could feel Cillian’s eyes on her, big almond eyes that matched the gaze of the little girl before her perfectly. ‘I’m really glad you came.’ She’d said it to Orla to try to make her feel at ease. Moving to a new place reminded her a little of how she had come here as a child, escaping their home life, bundled in a vehicle with possessions and promises of happy times. She found herself wanting to make Orla happy here, to make her feel at peace here. Just as she did, all those summers ago.
‘Orla, come on, darling.’ Cillian swooped in now, picking Orla up like she was a dried leaf in his broad arms. Broad, muscular arms, April noticed now as he effortlessly hoisted a box, holding Orla to his chest with his other arm. He nodded awkwardly at April.
‘She’s had a busy day. I’ll get in and settle her, if that’s okay. I know we have a lot on …’ He looked around him at the park.
April waved him away with a flick of her hand.
‘No no, it’s your time off; you make yourselves at home. You don’t start till tomorrow. What time is the other van arriving?’
Cillian blinked. ‘Other van?’
‘Yeah.’ She pointed to the box in his hand. ‘With your wife, and the rest of your stuff?’
Orla whimpered a little in his arms, and Cillian’s face darkened.
‘It’s just us,’ he half spat at her. ‘Everything we need is here. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to see to my daughter.’ He turned to go.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend. I just …’
‘It’s fine, thanks. See you in the morning.’ He cut her dead and left her flailing for words outside as he stomped off like a moody teenager. Orla’s huge eyes never left hers, following her as she held her dad’s arms, her little fingers curled round his T-shirt. She watched till they were out of sight, the front door banging closed just a fraction louder than was necessary. Great, now she’d annoyed the one man she had left in her life even more. She was starting to see a pattern occurring.
‘I told you so,’ Martha sang, and April felt irritation wash over her. Standing up straight, she turned and fixed the fiery retiree with what she hoped would come across as a hard, businesswoman of the year stare.
‘Well, thanks. I’m going to see Judith now, so if you know everything, do me a favour. Man the phones.’ She threw the keys to the office across the park. They landed on the grass just off Martha’s wooden porch. ‘We’re open for bookings from the end of the month, even if it kills me.’
‘Man the phones?’ Martha asked, incredulous. ‘I’m not a receptionist, I’m an artist!’
‘Yeah?’ April countered, feeling her rage spike to back-home levels. She could feel the anxiety well up in her, and she needed to get away. Then thinking of getting away made her remember her last yearning to do a bunk. The very bunk that had landed her here, hanging off the edge of the earth with people surrounding her who seemed to actively dislike her, just for existing.
