Last winter, things had gone badly wrong. She hadn’t meant for any of it to happen; she’d just been trying a help a mate. Not even a mate, really, just someone in trouble. But it meant she’d got on the wrong side of people she should have kept right away from, and she’d nearly ended up in jail, or worse. Some of the people she’d upset might still be around, though she didn’t know who they were or where they were. She thought about Jade, angry and upset about her kid, Lewis. The people she’d crossed were just the kind of people who’d sell drugs to kids, no question.
Were they back?
She didn’t want to think about it.
Her phone chimed, distracting her. A message on WhatsApp. She looked at it and smiled. Jared. Her first real boyfriend. He’d sent a photo – somewhere with blue skies and high, pointy mountains all around, and he was grinning at the camera. Cool or what? The message said. She smiled and texted back Cool. Jared had been part of what had happened last year. He was off somewhere doing what he did, leading a kind of random life. Becca could have gone with him when he left, but she had no money. Jared wouldn’t have minded supporting her – but she did.
She took care of herself. She didn’t take money from anyone, not even her foster-mother, Kay.
What happened last year was over, and what was happening to kids like Jade’s Lewis was none of her business.
The summer was long gone and most of the visitors had left, but even now, as winter was approaching, she could see people on the beach; dog walkers, kids digging in the sand, families wandering along the seafront in bright colours. Music from the funfairs and the smells of chips and candy floss floated through the air – the smells of a seaside town.
Last winter, Brid had been a dark place where bad things happened, but maybe this winter, things would be better.
Then she remembered, and found she was smiling again.
Tonight, Andy was back.
Chapter 4
Scarborough
Kay McKinnon pulled on her warm trousers, a wool jersey and a fleece. Despite getting up at five thirty, she was running late. She hated the commute from Scarborough to Hull. At least today would be the last time. Since a fire had more or less destroyed her cottage near Whitby, she’d been camping out in this bland box of a flat. It had been a roof over her head, but she had never felt at home here. Most of her possessions were in storage, and what little she’d brought with her was packed. Tonight, she was moving.
She grabbed her backpack and took thirty seconds to glance at her reflection. She sighed.
Her husband, Matt, used to say she always managed to look stylish. Not these days. What was the point? The deep well of grief inside her stirred and started to rise up. She rode it, let it wash over her and subside. In the early days, in the weeks and months after Matt’s death, the sheer magnitude of a pain she had no choice but to endure had the power to drive her to her knees. It was a beast she had learned to control, but not one that was ever diminished.
Matt. He was gone and this was her life now. She had no choice but to get on with it. ‘It doesn’t mean I’ve got to like it,’ she muttered under her breath, wrapping a scarf round her neck.
Milo watched her resignedly from his bed. He didn’t like these early morning starts, when she dropped him off with the dog-sitter on her way into work. She cast a quick eye over the flat, then clipped on Milo’s lead. He made a great show of reluctance as he climbed out of his basket, sighing and stretching. ‘Come on, Milo,’ she said, and grabbed her keys. It was time to go.
As she drove, she mulled over her move. She’d been looking for somewhere closer to Hull, but countrified, somewhere she could go for long walks with Milo, somewhere with birds and the sea…
Somewhere Matt would have liked.
A car cut across in front of her and she braked sharply. Pay attention, Kay!
It took almost an hour to drive to the outskirts of Hull where she dropped Milo off. Ten minutes later, she pulled up outside the offices of Tania’s House, the small charity she worked for that gave support to young drug users in Hull and the small towns up and down the East Yorkshire coast.
The road – as usual – was parked-up, so she stopped on the double yellows – she’d be out again in a few minutes – and went in to collect her files. She was on home visits all day today, which was the kind of work she liked best.
Her boss, Dev Johar, was already at his desk as she arrived. ‘Morning Kay. I wanted to discuss those budget changes you asked about, at the meeting this afternoon. Dave and Cath are coming in at—’
‘I have home visits all day today,’ Kay said, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice. This was the arrangement – she only worked three days a week, on a varying timetable that was agreed with Dev at the start of the month. She always scheduled her out-of-office appointments on Fridays, and he knew that. Or should know, as it was the system he’d suggested.
‘I posted the details of the meeting on Monday, Kay,’ he said. ‘You should have had plenty of time to rearrange things.’
‘I wasn’t working on Monday, Dev.’
