It was weird coming back. Weird and cold.
Berecombe looked at once comfortingly familiar and slightly distorted, as if seen through a special-effects lens. Alf the Taxi dropped Millie off on the promenade outside the café, helped her with her rucksack and drove off with a cheery wave.
Feeling desolate, she looked around her. The sea was churning a dull grey in Lyme Bay and the sky was threateningly low and of a similar hue. In fact, Millie decided, everywhere was grey. The town had lost its bright bunting and bedding plants and was shuttered up for the winter. It was home, but it all looked smaller, inward-looking. After the vibrant noise and colour of Thailand, Berecombe, in the first week of November, was depressing.
She shivered violently. She was freezing and bone-weary. Heaving her rucksack onto her back, she made her way to the flat. All she wanted to do was to crawl under a duvet.
‘The wanderer returns!’ Tessa threw her arms around her friend and ushered her inside. ‘Come inside, pet, it’s brass monkeys out there.’
As usual, the Tizzard family home was in a state of chaos. Several very male-smelling pairs of trainers littered the hall and Millie had to navigate around an airer over which hung a pile of school uniform. She followed Tessa into the kitchen, which was an oasis of calm in comparison and smelled comfortingly of freshly made bread.
‘Cup of tea and then you can tell me all about it. Oh bab, it’s so good to have you back.’
Before Millie could answer there was a frantic scrabbling at the kitchen door. ‘Think there’s someone a bit desperate to see you,’ Tessa said, as she grinned and opened it. A barking woolly blur hurled itself onto Millie’s lap.
‘Trevor!’ Millie surrendered to his ecstatic welcome. ‘Oh, how much have I missed you.’
While dog and mistress became reacquainted, Tessa made tea and, once everything had calmed down, perched herself on a stool. She shoved