Posh Joanna sprang back into life, directing her through the town to where her sister lived, announcing excitedly, ‘You have reached your destination.’ Except there didn’t appear to be any houses along Dobbs Road, only shops.
She pulled over and checked the address. She was definitely in the right place. She got out of the car and rolled her shoulders, trying to shift the ache in her back.
According to the sign hanging above the entrance, number fifteen wasn’t a residential property but the Co-op supermarket. Lauren must live in the flat above. Not exactly what she’d expected.
It took a while to find the entrance. The door was concealed within a set of giant gates leading to the loading area behind. Things became more surreal when she spotted a sign with an arrow directing her up a wrought-iron staircase. Experiencing an instant flood of panic, she walked around to the back of the building, hoping to see a lift. No such luck. She was going to have to climb the staircase, wasn’t she?
The tremors in her legs began long before she took her first step. Her breathing grew shallow, and the dizziness caused black spots to appear in her peripheral vision. The gaps between the steps meant that there was daylight between her and the concrete below. If she’d known where Lauren lived, she might have reconsidered coming to stay. But then she remembered that she had nowhere else to go, and kept climbing, willing herself not to look down, hoping this holiday would prove to be a cure for acrophobia as well as anxiety.
By the time she reached the top, she was shaking. There was a gate, followed by two further steps down onto the rooftop. She looked around. There were large pots filled with flowers, and a table and chairs set up by a swing set. Ahead of her, a green door had the number 15a attached to the front. Trying to slow her breathing, she walked across and knocked on the door. Loud music emanated from inside. After a few minutes of knocking, she gave up and tried phoning Lauren, only to get her voicemail. Her sister probably couldn’t hear above the noise.
She tried the door handle, surprised to find it unlocked. When the door swung open, the music hit her with force, exacerbating the throbbing in her head. She stepped inside the small, dark flat. The hallway opened into the lounge-cum-diner. The walls were covered in mock-wooden cladding, the carpet brown and threadbare. A single bulb hung from the ceiling, shining a dim light on the orange and burgundy sofa. It looked like a set from a 1970s sitcom. But it wasn’t. It was where her sister lived.
She’d imagined Lauren’s life as being like something from Escape to the Country, where people moved to chocolate-box cottages with fishponds and surrounding fields … not dirty dishes in the sink, laundry scattered about the place, and a broken blind hanging from its hinges.
And then she heard voices. The sound of running, screaming and laughter. Her niece appeared first, wearing an electric-blue polyester dress, her long red hair plaited into bunches. Behind her, Freddie danced into the room wearing an equally cheap metallic outfit, his red hair disguised beneath a long white wig. They appeared to be dressed as characters from Frozen. Charlotte wasn’t sure which was more disturbing: their lack of fire-retardant clothing, or witnessing her nephew dressed as Elsa. Maybe cross-dressing was a requisite of living in Cornwall?
When the music cut off, she was about to alert them to her presence when a man wearing a white sheet jumped out from behind the sofa, making her scream. With her heart thumping erratically in her chest, she rounded on the man. At least, she assumed it was a man. ‘Who the hell are you?’
He removed the sheet from his head, revealing a shock of jet-black hair. Definitely a man. He couldn’t be more than late twenties. He was also extremely good-looking. But that was beside the point. He’d frightened the life out of her. ‘I could ask you the same question.’
She was saved from answering when both kids ran at her. ‘Auntie Charlie!’
Amongst hugs and kisses and jumping up and down, she was dragged further into the room. ‘Okay, okay, calm down. I’m pleased to see you too.’
The man ran a hand through his static-ridden hair, easing it back into shape. He looked like a big kid: his blue T-shirt tired and worn, his jeans ripped and low-slung.
She forced her gaze away from his shapely arms. ‘Where’s my sister?’ she asked, her tone pricklier than she’d intended, but she was still reeling from being startled.
His face was flushed, no doubt from the exertion of running. ‘She’s working at the café. I’m keeping the kids occupied until her shift finishes.’
Florence enveloped Charlotte in a hug, her tiny arms gripping her aunt’s waist. ‘Do you want to play Frozen with us, Auntie Charlie?’
Charlotte patted her niece’s head. ‘Not just now, Florence. Maybe later.’
The man extended his hand. ‘I’m Olaf,’ he said, making both kids squeal with laughter.
Charlotte looked at him quizzically. ‘Are you trying to be funny?’
He rolled his eyes. ‘And failing, obviously.’ His hand was still outstretched. ‘Barney.’
She accepted his offer of an introduction, ignoring the warmth in his grip. ‘Thank you for minding the children, but I’ll take it from here.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘I’d prefer to wait until Lauren gets back.’
She felt herself frown. ‘And I’d prefer it if you left.’ Again, she sounded rude, but she didn’t appreciate the way he was checking her out … at least, she was pretty certain she didn’t.
He let out a low whistle. ‘Are you sure you’re Lauren’s sister?’
Ignoring what she suspected was an insult, she removed herself from Florence’s grasp and unzipped her handbag. ‘How much?’
Barney, or whatever his name was, looked puzzled. ‘I’m sorry?’
She opened her purse. ‘I don’t know what the going rate is for childminding.’
He laughed, but it wasn’t a humorous sound. ‘Are you kidding me?’
Charlotte rubbed her temple. God, her head hurt. She should have stopped off to buy more painkillers. ‘Do I look like someone who kids?’
He shoved his bare feet into a pair of flip-flops. ‘Nope, can’t say that you do.’
She caught a glimpse of Calvin Klein boxers when he hoisted up his jeans.
He beckoned the kids over and gave them a hug. ‘See you soon, trouble-twins.’
‘Not if we see you first, Hubble-trouble,’ the children chorused in unison.
Charlotte couldn’t follow what they were saying. Were they speaking Cornish?
Amongst laughter and play-fighting, the children waved him off, his popularity evident. Hers, she suspected, was still in doubt.
When he was gone, she moved to unbutton her jacket … only to discover it was already unbuttoned. When had she done that?
Straightening her shoulders, she mentally ticked off all the jobs that needed doing in the flat. ‘Good, well, now he’s gone, why don’t we tidy up ready for when Mummy gets home?’
Both children swivelled to look at her, their mouths open, their foreheads creasing into frowns like something from The Exorcist.
What had she said …?
Monday, 30 May
Days like today reminded Barney why he was resisting a return to London. Penmullion beach