The Little B & B at Cove End

‘No, she didn’t. Sorry. That wasn’t meant to sound as though Josh shouldn’t have been buying wine if he wanted to, or that I’m cross that he did. I let you drink wine sometimes. But I need to know, Mae … did Josh attack you?’

Did he try to rape you? was what she meant but couldn’t bring herself to say the words.

‘No. Not exactly. I only had one glass or maybe a bit more, but Josh had drunk the rest of the bottle and I knew he shouldn’t drive so I tried to get his car keys off him. I wanted him to walk back with me and tell his sister the car had broken down or something, but he didn’t want to. And my frock got ripped when he tried to stop me getting out of the car and … it’s the last frock Dad ever bought me and it’s special and …’

And then Mae dissolved into tears. Cara was full of questions, questions she couldn’t ask like, where were you when this happened, were there no other people around, did you have sex?

‘Time for a hug?’ Cara said, opening her arms wide to her daughter.

‘Not at the moment,’ Mae said, her tears drying up rapidly as she reached for a corner of her quilt and swiped it across her eyes. ‘I’ve been to hell and back, Mum, wondering what had happened to you when you weren’t here and stuff was missing. Did you ever think of that?’

It was as though, in that moment, Mae was the adult, and she, Cara, the child.

‘No, no I didn’t,’ Cara said. Whatever had she been thinking of going out and leaving people she didn’t know in the house? Yes, she’d been desperate to start making some money for them both but, well … ‘We’d better phone the police.’

‘I’ve already done it. I said I’d get you to ring when you got back.’

‘In a minute,’ Cara said. ‘I’ll tidy up a bit here first.’

She only had two vague descriptions of the Hines. Their accents could have been false, and there was no vehicle that she’d seen that could be traced.

‘No, don’t do that. The police will want to take fingerprints, won’t they? Honestly, Mum, sometimes I wonder what planet you’re on.’

‘Of course. It’s the shock. I won’t touch another thing. Let’s go downstairs. I’ll make that call to the police to let them know I’m back and then make a cup of tea. And a bacon sandwich, now I’ve got the things to make one.’

The last thing Mae would want now was for her to bang on about washing her knees and putting antiseptic on, wasn’t it?

‘Surprising as it may seem,’ Mae said, ‘I seem to have lost my appetite.’

‘Make that two of us,’ Cara said. ‘And your frock, Mae. I can mend it.’

‘Whatever,’ Mae said.

They stood up and together, mother and daughter went down the stairs.

In the kitchen, Cara rang the police to tell them she was home and then busied herself putting bacon and eggs in the fridge, and the bread in the breadbin. Mae sat and watched every movement her mother made around the kitchen as though she was afraid she might disappear again if she took her eyes off her, even for a second. Cara checked the time on the kitchen clock, wondering how long it would be before the police turned up. There was no resident policeman in the village and the nearest manned station about thirty miles away although, she supposed, there might be police nearer than that in a patrol car somewhere.

‘Can I have that hug now?’ Mae asked.

‘Of course.’ Cara opened her arms wide and Mae snuggled into them. Cara hugged her tight.

‘I thought I was beginning to handle losing Dad,’ Mae sniffed against Cara’s shoulder.

‘But now you find you can’t?’

‘It seems to be getting worse as I get older, not better. He keeps coming back to me in dreams and it’s only in dreams I can remember his voice. And he’s only been gone two years. Oh, Mum …’

‘Me, too,’ Cara said.

And the tears came for them both. They stood hugging and crying with loud and wracking sobs for ages, until Cara’s arms ached with holding Mae to her. But for Cara, none of those tears were cleansing.

And then Cara became aware of someone watching her – that uneasy sort of feeling you get that makes you turn around.

‘Evening, ladies.’ A policeman with a policewoman standing beside him gave Cara and Mae a rather embarrassed, if kindly smile. ‘We did knock, but …’

‘We were making too much racket,’ Cara said. ‘Sorry …’

‘Don’t be,’ the WPC said. ‘A break in, is that right?’

‘No,’ Cara said. ‘I very stupidly went out and left two people who came wanting B&B for a couple of nights alone while I went to get a few bits from Meg Smythson at the corner shop. Mae came home earlier than expected and found her room trashed – and mine, although I’ve not looked in there yet—…’ Her throat began to close over with emotion again, and she couldn’t get any more words out.

‘Shall I make tea?’ the WPC said.

Cara nodded. The evening was beginning to feel more surreal than ever, watching a strange woman – albeit a policewoman – searching for things in Cara’s cupboards and drawers, filling the kettle at Cara’s kitchen tap, while she felt herself unravel a bit emotionally, like a dropped stitch in knitting, she knew she could recover with patience and the right tool but couldn’t at that moment.

‘Have you touched anything?’ the policeman asked when they were all seated around Cara’s kitchen table.

‘I haven’t,’ Cara said. ‘Well, only the clothes strewn all over the place in Mae’s room. Mae met me at the door and we went straight upstairs. ‘I looked in the sitting room but didn’t go in. There’s silver missing. I could see that straight away.’

Silver that had been in my family for generations, she wanted to add, but didn’t because it would add nothing to the investigation. But it was the void that was hurting most – the family heirloom silver, which had had a grounding effect, anchoring her to her past in some way, had been snatched away.

‘And you, Mae?’ the policeman asked. ‘Have you touched much?’

‘Doors. I opened and closed every door. So my fingerprints will be on there, right?’

‘They will,’ the policewoman said. ‘But we can eliminate all of yours in seconds once forensics get here. I’ve set that in motion. They shouldn’t be long. It’s a quiet night, apart from this.’

‘How long will it take?’ Cara asked.

‘Forensics?’ The policeman checked his mobile. ‘ETA about ten minutes and then an hour or so.’

‘Oh,’ Cara said, unable to stifle a yawn.

‘It’s best done now,’ the policewoman said. ‘And it if helps, I know what this feels like because my mother’s bungalow was burgled when she was in A&E having a broken wrist seen to. There was a feeling of …’

‘Don’t!’ Mae interrupted. ‘You were going to say evil, I know it. Miasma or something. We did a tutorial on it in psychology. Evil leaves a tangible presence, far more than good does. And these people were pure evil to do this.’

Mae shivered, hunched her shoulders up around her ears, and a lightning rod of guilt shot through Cara for putting her daughter through this. She struggled to find words of comfort or remorse or regret – apology even – but nothing would come. But Mae filled the gap.

‘I just knew something bad had happened because the air wasn’t right. I was afraid something had happened to Mum.’

‘Oh, darling,’ Cara managed to croak out. ‘But perhaps we should be answering questions about the Hines?’ She looked from one officer to the other.

‘In a moment,’ the policewoman said. ‘Anything else, Mae?’

How kind this very young policewoman was being, how understanding; to allow Mae to talk about how the shock of the burglary had affected her.

‘No, that’s about it,’ Mae said.