had a heart of gold, and had been in and out of Belle Vue all through Kate’s childhood, offering various cures and remedies and dietary advice. Kate remembered the crumbly blocks of halva Sunny sometimes gave her, and the little biscuits made of sesame seeds that gave a snap when you bit into them.
‘Angel!’ Sunny had a list of endearments she varied. She threw her arms around Kate’s neck. Kate breathed in some sort of exotic essential oil that took her back. ‘You poor baby. Your poor mother. She didn’t suffer, though. You do know that?’
‘They said it was instant.’
‘Anything I can do, you know that.’
‘Of course.’
‘How are you?’ Sunny held her at arm’s length and surveyed her, a deep crease between her eyes.
‘Honestly? I’m not sure.’ This was true. Kate still felt as detached from the news as she had when she first heard it. Nothing had happened so far to make it seem true.
‘If you don’t want to stay in the house on your own, you can come and stay with me.’ Sunny lived in a yellow cottage that was full of cats and dream-catchers and the smell of curried lentils.
‘I’m fine – honestly. I’m quite happy. Anyway, listen – I’ve got to get to the doctor’s.’
‘Are you OK?’
‘Yes – I forgot my sleeping tablets, that’s all.’
Sunny frowned. ‘You shouldn’t be taking those.’
Kate shrugged. ‘I can’t sleep without them.’
‘I’ll bring you some Rescue Remedy from the shop.’
Kate smiled. She didn’t want to say that if Rescue Remedy worked on her, she’d be using it. Sunny meant well.
‘I must go or I’ll miss my appointment. I’ll see you at the church later.’
Sunny wrapped her in another hug. ‘Take care, lovely.’
Kate hurried on, up around the back of the town and along the road that led to Shoredown, where the warren of lanes containing the less salubrious houses of Pennfleet spilled out, with their jacked-up cars and overflowing bins and drawn curtains. It wasn’t always a picnic, living at the seaside. People forgot that behind the picturesque harbour and the bobbing boats and sense that life was one long holiday there were people struggling to make a living in a town that had little industry but for the tourists. And the winters were long for those who made their money from those tourists. If the permanent inhabitants of Pennfleet knew anything, it was how to make hay while the sun shone. And that sun would be dwindling even more in the next month or so, along with the number of visitors, until the long dark winter finally arrived.
Kate could remember only too clearly the hardship of some of her friends at school – the debt and the poverty. It was surprising there wasn’t more hostility towards the second-homers. They were seen as a necessary evil, propping up the economy, but also inflating the house prices.
‘Kate!’ A voice was calling after her. ‘Kate! It’s me.’
She turned to see a woman running down the hill carrying a small girl, waving at her with her spare arm. She recognised the voice rather than the slight figure with the long black hair, dressed in skinny jeans and a pink vest with silver glitter.
Debbie. Her best friend from school. Her partner in crime since they’d first set eyes on each other on arrival at Pennfleet High. It was probably ten years since they had last spoken.
‘Oh my God! Debbie!’ Kate beamed with pleasure.
‘I thought it was you!’ Debbie panted as she came to a stop. The child on her hip gazed solemnly at Kate while they spoke, her fine blonde hair tied up in a Pebbles ponytail on top of her head.
‘I’m so sorry about your mum.’ Debbie’s face was screwed up in anxiety. She was fully made up, even at this hour in the morning, heavy eyebrows and full lips drawn in and ridiculously long lashes.
‘Thank you.’
‘She was amazing, you know. She was brilliant to me just after I had Leanne.’ Debbie indicated her daughter, who was casually kicking her mum with a
‘Angel!’ Sunny had a list of endearments she varied. She threw her arms around Kate’s neck. Kate breathed in some sort of exotic essential oil that took her back. ‘You poor baby. Your poor mother. She didn’t suffer, though. You do know that?’
‘They said it was instant.’
‘Anything I can do, you know that.’
‘Of course.’
‘How are you?’ Sunny held her at arm’s length and surveyed her, a deep crease between her eyes.
‘Honestly? I’m not sure.’ This was true. Kate still felt as detached from the news as she had when she first heard it. Nothing had happened so far to make it seem true.
‘If you don’t want to stay in the house on your own, you can come and stay with me.’ Sunny lived in a yellow cottage that was full of cats and dream-catchers and the smell of curried lentils.
‘I’m fine – honestly. I’m quite happy. Anyway, listen – I’ve got to get to the doctor’s.’
‘Are you OK?’
‘Yes – I forgot my sleeping tablets, that’s all.’
Sunny frowned. ‘You shouldn’t be taking those.’
Kate shrugged. ‘I can’t sleep without them.’
‘I’ll bring you some Rescue Remedy from the shop.’
Kate smiled. She didn’t want to say that if Rescue Remedy worked on her, she’d be using it. Sunny meant well.
‘I must go or I’ll miss my appointment. I’ll see you at the church later.’
Sunny wrapped her in another hug. ‘Take care, lovely.’
Kate hurried on, up around the back of the town and along the road that led to Shoredown, where the warren of lanes containing the less salubrious houses of Pennfleet spilled out, with their jacked-up cars and overflowing bins and drawn curtains. It wasn’t always a picnic, living at the seaside. People forgot that behind the picturesque harbour and the bobbing boats and sense that life was one long holiday there were people struggling to make a living in a town that had little industry but for the tourists. And the winters were long for those who made their money from those tourists. If the permanent inhabitants of Pennfleet knew anything, it was how to make hay while the sun shone. And that sun would be dwindling even more in the next month or so, along with the number of visitors, until the long dark winter finally arrived.
Kate could remember only too clearly the hardship of some of her friends at school – the debt and the poverty. It was surprising there wasn’t more hostility towards the second-homers. They were seen as a necessary evil, propping up the economy, but also inflating the house prices.
‘Kate!’ A voice was calling after her. ‘Kate! It’s me.’
She turned to see a woman running down the hill carrying a small girl, waving at her with her spare arm. She recognised the voice rather than the slight figure with the long black hair, dressed in skinny jeans and a pink vest with silver glitter.
Debbie. Her best friend from school. Her partner in crime since they’d first set eyes on each other on arrival at Pennfleet High. It was probably ten years since they had last spoken.
‘Oh my God! Debbie!’ Kate beamed with pleasure.
‘I thought it was you!’ Debbie panted as she came to a stop. The child on her hip gazed solemnly at Kate while they spoke, her fine blonde hair tied up in a Pebbles ponytail on top of her head.
‘I’m so sorry about your mum.’ Debbie’s face was screwed up in anxiety. She was fully made up, even at this hour in the morning, heavy eyebrows and full lips drawn in and ridiculously long lashes.
‘Thank you.’
‘She was amazing, you know. She was brilliant to me just after I had Leanne.’ Debbie indicated her daughter, who was casually kicking her mum with a
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