Книга - The Summer We Loved

The Summer We Loved
Wendy Lou Jones


Forgiving yourself can be the hardest task of all.Dr Peter Florin is the sexy bad boy of St Steven’s hospital. Despite his love ‘em and leave ‘em attitude, every woman still wants him – and nurse Jenny White is no exception. For one night she thought she saw the real Pete, but ever since then he’s kept his distance and so she has kept hers…Only Pete is a man haunted by a dark childhood and a tragic loss, and as she watches him spiral down into despair, Jenny realises she might be the only one who can drag him back. So she does – at the risk of her own, already bruised and battered heart. For no matter what she tells herself, such a man is surely impossible to change – and even more impossible to resist.A brand new emotionally gripping love story from Wendy Lou Jones.









The Summer We Loved


WENDY LOU JONES






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www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)


HarperImpulse an imprint of

HarperCollinsPublishers

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First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2015

Copyright © Wendy Lou Jones 2015

Cover images © Shutterstock.com

Cover layout design © HarperColl‌insPublishers Ltd 2015

Cover design by Michelle Andrews

Wendy Lou Jones asserts the moral right

to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is

available from the British Library

This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are

the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to

actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is

entirely coincidental.

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and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

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Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.

Ebook Edition © July 2015 ISBN: 9780008124755

Version 2015-07-30




Praise for Wendy Lou Jones (#u7ab9b4e6-188a-512b-9934-dcff06ad3252)


'Powerful and emotional…and unlike so many other emotional romance novels.'

Reviewed the Book

'Both heartbreaking and at the same time an uplifting read…have a box of Kleenex at the ready.'

Rea Loves Books

'Wendy Lou Jones has done it again! She made my cry so badly it felt like my heart was being ripped to shreds.'

Romance Book Haven

'The perfect read if you like medical romance with strong, emotional characters and are prepared to open your mind to new possibilities.'

Jane Hunt Reviews

'A very moving and emotional book. I cried buckets and I'll say no more!'

Annie's Book Corner

'One of the best books I've read this year.'

Librarian Lavender


To my fellow guinea pig loving editor, Charlotte, whose refusal to let me off easy during the creation of By My Side meant I fell in love with Peter too.


Contents

Cover (#ue010d962-9e9a-5267-acb2-6d81c27b7642)

Title Page (#ueaf3a33e-dd56-5f20-9955-dba933b24c4e)

Copyright (#u92214953-1a25-58ac-9eed-bd283655168f)

Praise for Wendy Lou Jones (#u9c43179b-fd81-505b-bacd-8c48f1c2dc4d)

Dedication (#uc5c1f5c1-d3b0-5926-9f80-2e5b49f0a978)

Prologue (#u1c295778-e376-5c0a-bd65-75c85fbcf071)

Chapter 1 (#u4607a621-f535-59d4-b165-870deb239cdb)

Chapter 2 (#u6763578e-fe9b-5fb6-b354-9c938360689b)

Chapter 3 (#u7bfe8d29-1634-5784-94d9-43e42d89c30f)



Chapter 4 (#u72f0a6fa-e1a1-5e09-a825-23d1765295a0)



Chapter 5 (#ub5be8e51-88aa-5df8-bdf8-91eeea1ec968)



Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)



Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Also by Wendy Lou Jones … (#litres_trial_promo)



Wendy Lou Jones (#litres_trial_promo)



About HarperImpulse (#litres_trial_promo)



About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)




Prologue (#u7ab9b4e6-188a-512b-9934-dcff06ad3252)


So Adam had done it again. Twice now he had found love; binding himself to a woman ‘till death do us part’. He made it look so easy, stood up there in front of the congregation, eagerly saying ‘I do’. Peter Florin couldn’t think of anything worse. To have your own happiness bound so tightly to another’s that you had no choice but to feel their pain? No. That was not an option he was willing to pursue.

Still, a wedding was a wedding: plenty of women in fancy frocks, drinking merrily and expecting to be flirted with. You couldn’t knock it, really. His eyes scanned the guests at the church, rapidly surveying the offering. Had her. Had her. Ugh! Won’t be having her. His gaze came to rest on Kate’s friends a few rows ahead of him: Flis, Jenny and Soph.

From what he had heard, Soph was off the market now. Flis still held a torch for him, he had known that for a while, and although not exactly his type, he would keep her in mind just in case. But then there was Jen. Jenny Wren. He hadn’t had much to do with her yet, and looking at her now, he couldn’t imagine why. Her skin, where it rose up the back of her neck, was like cappuccino silk. He licked his lips. As he watched, she turned her head to whisper to the friend next to her and Pete could see the light dancing in her eyes. Yes, he was going to enjoy this.

Before he could deliberate much further, the organ started up, breaking his reverie, and the congregation began to stand. It was over.

Throughout the dullness of the small talk and speeches that followed, Pete kept Jen firmly on his radar. He smiled across at her when she caught his eye and relished the faint blush of crimson that appeared in his wake. Everything about this was wanton anticipation and, beat after beat, it was building.

Outside, it was a warm summer’s evening. Kate and Adam’s reception was being held in a marquee on the back lawn of an expensive hotel, and in the aftermath of the meal a disco was slowly warming up on one side of the tent, leaving the tables being cleared on the other. In the relaxed atmosphere of the early evening, when groups of guests were milling about, catching up with old friends and relatives and congratulating the bride and groom, Peter Florin could be found leaning up against the bar.

He stood there watching her and nursing a fresh pint of beer. She was dancing now – an observer’s sport, in his books. She had looked over at him once or twice and he had been busy studying her reaction. She liked him. This was good. Just being there that day, with Adam, had been hard for him; he would welcome a challenge, if only for distraction.

To amuse himself, Pete tried to determine her response as a lover just by looking at her. The big eyes, full lips and seductive moves spoke of a decadent sensuality and the sparkly earring in the top of her right ear screamed out ‘rebel’. Yes, she was just what the doctor ordered. His smile kicked in. It was time to make a move.

Greeting Adam briefly as he walked up to the edge of the dance floor, Pete kept his eyes on the prize. Jenny’s body was supple, and as it moved and swayed in time with the music, it was almost hypnotic. Her mysterious eyes caught him approaching and for a second he became aware of her, trapped, unmoving in his spotlight. His heart rate kicked up a gear in response, but his pace didn’t slow. Closer still, he continued his appraisal. The short choppy hairstyle gave her a pixie-like quality that echoed of mischief and fun. Yes, he had to have her. His skin was burning with desire, so much so that, for a moment, he wondered just who was dangling on the hook.

Jenny spoke to a friend whilst her eyes were fathoming him and then left the dance floor. She walked right past him and as she did, she smiled. Wham! Pete turned to watch her walking away from him and quickly recovered. Was he being seduced? It was a novelty for a woman to make him work for it, but it made a refreshing change and from the look of her, it would definitely be worth the play. He looked around him. He had better crank up his pitch.

From the far side of the dance floor, Pete waited for his cue. He wasn’t a fan of dancing, but on some occasions, he realised, needs must.

A minute later, the DJ tapped the mic. “Would a Jenny make her way to the centre of the dance floor, please, as her Prince Charming is currently waiting there to dance with her.”

Pete took a deep breath and loosened his tie a little as the message stirred through the crowd. All eyes were searching for someone called Jenny. It wasn’t a common name, so Pete was banking on her being the only one. Fingers started to point and nudge and then he spotted her, being escorted by some friends, warily winding her way back over in his direction. He moved into the centre and waited.

The three of them were egging her on and then, as she approached the dance floor, the crowd slowly parted, until there was nothing left between Jenny and him but air. Pete revelled in the surge of adrenaline coursing through him. He held out a hand and the crowd held its breath.

With her cheeks glowing, Jenny responded, moving slowly closer towards him. The proud set of her chin and determination to hold his gaze impressing him even more.

The onlookers sent up a cheer and after a moment or two, began to close ranks around them and then she was there, with him, her hand holding onto his.

She stood before him. “You could have just asked me,” she said.

“Now where would be the fun in that?” he replied. The song changed and a slow dance was calling them. “Shall we?” he asked.

Moving her into his arms, Pete felt the thrill of a new chase. He winked his thanks at the DJ over her shoulder and then looked down at her, smiling. He knew if he had gone about things in his usual style she would have likely sent him packing, but this way he had her, and he wasn’t about to apologise for that.

Slowly, he felt her body start to relax beneath his fingers. He could smell the warm spicy scent of her skin and her hair and took pleasure in the touch of her hand, still clasped gently in his. “Would you have said yes if I’d have asked you?” he asked her softly in her ear.

“Probably not,” she replied.

“Thought as much.” He left it hanging in his tone that he was feeling smug about this.

“You’re not as irresistible as you think you are, you know,” she told him, but her body was slowly yielding to his. He rejoiced at the sensation of her breasts pressing lightly against him, and the fact that her cheek was slowly falling towards his chest, but it was her eyes, now big and dark, that were calling her a liar.

Jenny jumped a little and pulled away from him. She picked her phone out of her pocket and looked at it. She paled. Looking around, Pete followed her gaze and spotted a man standing at the edge of the dance floor, staring shards of glass at them.

“I’ve got to go,” she said and Pete stood back and let her walk away.

At the edge of the dance floor he saw the man dragging Jenny outside by her wrist. The man’s frame was stiff, his shoulders hunched and his jaw was set firm. Pete was unsettled.

Pete walked over to a marquee window, watching them carefully. The man led Jenny out to a big oak tree in the grounds. The light outside was fading now, not black yet, but a dim, hazy glow.

An argument was happening. He couldn’t hear it, but their body language was saying enough. Jenny Wren must have a boyfriend too, he thought. And she was in trouble now, because of him. So much for his sensual evening. He wanted to turn away and head back to the bar, but something inside him said, ‘wait’. He noticed Jenny rubbing her wrist where the man had held onto it, as she tried to sort out the problem between them. He’d hurt her. Something distant was rising now, coiling up inside him like a viper ready to spring.

The man put his hand up to her hair and for a second Pete thought the worst must be over, but then he grabbed it hard in his fist and he could see Jenny buckling beneath him.

Charging outside, Pete’s head was in another place, in another time. Rage was coursing through his gut, along with fear and hate and so much pain it terrified him. He was on the man in seconds. Grabbing his other hand and twisting it back until it seemed as though it might break. “Leave her alone,” he hissed. Teeth bared, his eyes held the shadows of night. The man dropped his hold of Jenny, doubling over at Pete’s feet. He tried, unsuccessfully, to free himself and Pete wrenched at him all the harder. “Do you know this guy, Jen?” Pete asked, not taking his eyes off him for a second.

Jenny sounded shaken. “H-he’s my boyfriend.”

“Your boyfriend?” When would these women ever learn? “And you let him treat you like this?”

“No.”

“Has he ever hurt you before?” He still had the man whimpering in his grasp. Please let her not be a victim. He couldn’t bear it. He’d thought her stronger than that.

“No. Well. Yes. Only once, though.”

Shit.

From behind him, someone was calling his name. Daylight crept inside his darkened shell. He let his gaze sweep over Jenny to make sure she was okay. She was looking at him as she would a mad man. He had to get out of this, get himself away.

He turned to the man, busy struggling in his grip, the contemptible bully now squirming on his knees. “She doesn’t want to go out with you any more,” he said. “So leave. Now. And don’t ever think of coming back. She won’t be seeing you again.” He let the man go, pushing him away and then stood between him and Jen, who was by now busy picking herself up off the floor. Pete stood his ground as the man looked from one to the other. “Isn’t that right, Jen?” he called back.

Her voice was shaky, but adamant. “Yes.”

The man shot one last dirty look towards him and then, rubbing his hand and swearing under his breath, he turned and stomped away.

Pete turned around to Jen and noticed she was shaking. “Are you okay?” he asked. Her frightened eyes looked back at him, like a child’s. He quickly shrugged out of his suit jacket and placed it around her shoulders. It swamped her and something about that picture appealed to him, making his heart quiver. “Come with me.”

He walked with Jenny to a bench he spotted further down the lawn; it was tucked into a border of high flowers, partially obscuring it from view. He sat her down and then, sitting next to her, he tried to talk some sense into her. “Let me see your wrist.”

Jenny was reluctant, so he carefully reached down and took it. Pink marks were rising all around it, making Pete’s scalp prickle with anger. This girl loved attention. That much he did know about her. Surely she didn’t have to put up with scumbags like that just to get it? “Why did you go out with him?” he asked.

“He seemed like a nice guy… at first,” she told him. “Only yesterday he told me he thought he was falling in love with me.”

Pete pointed at her wrist, now cradled back in her lap. “This isn’t love, Jen,” he said. He was trying to sound calm, although every fibre in his body was screaming.

Her reply was a soft, barely audible, “No.”

He turned to face her, willing her to understand. “You’re a gorgeous woman, Jen. Why haven’t you found yourself a good man yet? You’re stunning and kind and fun. So what is it? Am I missing something? Because from where I’m sitting, I can’t see anything to complain about.”

Her expression was turning misty. Big, round, emotional eyes poured into him, penetrating deep into his guts. Adrenaline flared again. What did she want from him? No. He didn’t do this. He was no good at emotional. He wanted to run from the need he saw in her then. He had said too much. Damn, but how to get himself out of this now? He had only been trying to settle her, to reassure himself that she was all right. That was all. He could do fun, he could do pleasure; emotions were off limits for him.

Pete stood up and searched for some means of escape. With relief, he noticed Soph and her boyfriend hurrying towards them.

“Guys.”

“I know. We saw everything. How are you, Jen? Did that bastard hurt you?”

Pete remembered to breathe and gratefully seized the opportunity to get away. “You’ll be all right now?” he asked her.

Soph put her hand on Jen’s arm. “We’ll take care of her.”

“Great.” What else could he say? Those mysterious grey eyes, now pink-rimmed with tears, looked up at him from the bench. They were studying him, as if they could see inside his soul. Like they could read every thought in his head. He needed to run.

Pete did his best to smile and then made for the cover of the party. Now what he needed was a shag. He needed escape. Mindless sex to take him away from all that was closing in on him.

He searched the dance floor. Who was still available?

*

That was where it had all begun, according to Pete, anyway. Jenny sat at her writing desk and tried to remember the order of things. She wanted to tell the story exactly as it had happened and had interrogated Pete long and hard (or that was how he had seen it) to this effect. She wanted to show how it had really been, not just how people had seen it. It was important. She had to get this right.

Jenny looked up at the paperwork from the hospital, pinned to the notice board in front of her desk. She was on a tight schedule. If she was to get this all down in time, she was going to have to push herself.

She opened up her laptop and logged in. Listening to the hustle and bustle of life outside her window, Jenny let her mind wander back to a time when she had been less contented and she searched for a place to begin. In the end, she decided on five years later, after Pete’s return to her life. That was where her story would open, because that was when the pining had stopped and action had set in motion the storm that swept in…




Chapter 1 (#u7ab9b4e6-188a-512b-9934-dcff06ad3252)


I saw him again today, standing there, leaning against the wall. A set of notes hung casually in his hands, as he talked with the nurse whose patient he’d come to see. Did he see me? I don’t think so. He looked, but I don’t think he saw. His smile, as always, lit up the corners of my heart, but nothing was said, not to me. He must have asked out every nurse in the hospital at some point, either when he was here before, or since his return, but he never wanted me, not any more.

Am I that unattractive? Is it his reluctance to want me that’s making me think about him all the more? I hope not. I hope I’m not that shallow; maybe I am. Kate seems convinced there’s a decent guy lurking inside there, just waiting for someone to help him break out and I have to hope that she’s right. Because I saw something in his eyes the day of the wedding, just for a moment. It may be buried a long way down, but I can hear its voice.

Jenny’s brow crinkled as she let out a deep sigh and bit down on the end of her pen.

Whilst before he used to treat me like a little sister, now he barely acknowledges me. So here I remain, in limbo, waiting for him to notice me. And not in that wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am way he does with most women, but with something more, something deeper. I’m not a fool. I know that if he’d ever had any intentions romantically towards me he would have acted on them by now, but that is my hope, and for now, hope is all I have.

Putting her diary back in the drawer, Jenny slumped back down onto her bed. One of her friends had remarked once that her love life was rather akin to the rhyme for King Henry VIII’s wives: ‘Forgot to get divorced, should have been beheaded, lied, forgot to get divorced, should have been beheaded’ and now she was determined to survive. No more married men conveniently forgetting to tell her about their other halves; no more players. No one. She was through casting her net and coming up with jelly fish: all softness and beauty on the surface, but with barbs that stung you underneath. What she needed now was all or nothing. Love. Deep, meaningful, overwhelming love that took hold of you by the guts and dared you to feel the pain. Love that sucked you in and devoured you whole, while releasing you to evolve into something bigger, something… wonderful. Until that happened, she was not going to fall again.

Jenny hugged Mr Rochester, her old, worn, and much-loved teddy bear, to her chest. For now he was going to have to be enough. And she turned out the light and settled down to sleep.

At ten o’clock the next morning, Flis appeared at the kitchen door for breakfast. She was also on a late.

“Lover boy not eating with us this morning, then?” Jenny asked.

Flis shook her head. “He’s got a meeting in London today, so he didn’t stop over.”

“Anything important?”

“I’m not sure. He was a bit cagey last night, but I’ve got a feeling it might be a promotion.”

Jenny looked up from her cereal. “Do you think he might have to move there?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Would you go with him if he did?”

“In a heartbeat,” Flis said, excitement lighting up her eyes. “Of course. And be a kept woman in the big city? Sounds pretty good to me.”

“Sounds hideous, I’d say. Wouldn’t you miss work?” Jenny asked, not at all convinced she could give up her independence so easily.

“No way. Why, would you?”

Jenny thought for a second. “Sadly, I think I would,” she said. “I think I’d miss feeling like I belonged, that I mattered. I’d miss the people.”

“Some more than others.”

Jenny raised an eyebrow and Flis shot her a meaningful look.

“Oh, come on. You’re not still harping on about Peter Florin, are you? That was years ago, Flis. You’ve got Robert now.”

“I know, but Connie from Goodwood Ward got fooled by him the other day; it just reminded me. She’s only been in the hospital a few weeks. Someone should definitely warn them. It should be part of the welcome pack: “Welcome to St Steven’s Hospital. We hope you enjoy working as part of our team, but please, ladies, don’t let the seductive charms of Dr Peter Florin fool you.”

Jenny chuckled. “Look, forget about him, Flis. Pete was never going to be a keeper, you knew that. He’s a womaniser. You need to get over it.”

“I am, really.” Flis gave Jenny her best ‘sincere’ look and then rested her cheek back down on her hand. “I had hoped for more than one desperate shag, though.”

“Yeah, well, join the club. I’m sure there are a hundred nurses who all feel exactly the same way as you. And not just here, all over the place.”

“You’ve never got caught by him, though, have you?” Flis said.

Jenny winced inwardly, sore at having been reminded of her virtually leprotic allure. Was she the only one left out in the cold? “Nope.” She tried her hardest to sound smug. “He’ll have to be quicker than that to catch hold of me. I’ve gone man-vegan.”

Flis looked at her.

“Yes, I decided I’m done with manipulative, self-centred men.” Flis looked at her, with eyebrows almost on the ceiling. “And, no, that doesn’t mean I’ve gone the other way. I’m just not going to waste any more of my life dating losers.” She picked up her bowl, washed it and placed it on the rack to drain. “I’m going for a run,” she said. “See you in a bit.”

Under the clear, blue sky, Jenny stepped out into the garden and started to jog. She felt the sun warming her shoulders. It was going to be a good day, she thought.

Closing the back gate, she made her way along the alley and out into the sun. Houses passed by as she headed off along her well-trodden route. She picked up the pace, winding through the streets, until she found herself out in the countryside, quiet and alone.

Jenny sucked in deep breaths, filling her lungs with the fragrant air of the soft summer breeze as she let her mind wander. Her feet beat a rhythm on the ground and she wondered about a holiday. She had thought about going on a writers’ retreat in her time off at the end of the summer. It was something she had wanted to try for a long time, but had never quite found the courage to take the next step. Maybe one day, she thought. Probably just a pipe dream, anyway. Perhaps she’d just have a couple of weeks in the sun.

The daydream called out its want for a partner and Jenny remembered the look in Pete’s eyes the first time he had said hello and spoken to her on the wards, almost six years before. She had thought he liked her back then, maybe he had, but ever since that day at Adam and Kate’s wedding, things had changed. She should think herself lucky that he’d avoided her, having seen how little others got from him. But deep down she wanted to believe there was more to him, and to be honest, her vanity was smarting.

Her fondness for Pete had begun at the start. But in the early days Flis had been so besotted with him that she hadn’t felt able to try. With the disaster at the wedding, everything changed. Pete would check on her often, but his eyes never looked at her the same after that. At home, with Flis now feeling bitter, they had barely been allowed to mention his name, and then he had gone, off to other hospitals to gain experience in his job. And Jenny had thought that was that. Men had come and gone, but nothing remained.

But with Pete’s return had come a rekindling of an old ember and a yearning to be loved… by him. Sadly, the words ‘loved’ and ‘Pete’ seemed such a laughable contradiction that she was resigned to the fact that it was a lost cause and she would just have to wait it out until he was gone once more, which, if rumour was true, would only be a matter of months now.

As field merged with hedgerow, fence post with stream, she drifted into a world of fantasy, allowing herself to imagine scenarios still unexplored. A first date, a first kiss, an evening spent hand in hand, arm in arm, touching, holding, feeling… She tripped and stumbled on a root sticking out of the ground and looked up. Where was she? Realising she must have lost her way, Jenny headed back the way she had come and rectified her route, finally continuing on her trail, relieved to have been alone and unobserved.

With her new resolution echoing in her mind, she decided to clarify her plan with the hope of easing her pain. “He. Doesn’t. Want. Me. He. Doesn’t. Want. Me,” her thoughts sang back as her feet fell hard on the ground. And when the reality of that had finally hit home, she changed tack with a new voice. “I. Don’t. Need. Him. I. Don’t. Need. Him.” It was something she had to learn, however hard the bite, for it was in her power to determine the rest of her life and she was not willing to be a doormat for anyone.

Staggering back home from a pace a bit more ambitious than usual, Jenny hit the shower and got ready for work. It was a double-edged sword, working on a surgical ward and being smitten with an emotionally stunted anaesthetist. The upside was that she got to see him far more than if she had worked on any other ward, but the downside was the same. Agony and ecstasy in equal measure.

Jenny stood at the nurses’ station, listening to handover. All around her, work carried on as usual: trollies wheeled about, rattling cups and saucers, instruments and trays, and patients pressed their buzzers. Incessant demand. And then Dr Peter Florin breezed past and the world about her stopped. Jenny’s heart trembled and she forced herself to focus back on the job in hand, but not before noticing the heaviness of his gaze and the thin set of his lips.

She had seen him like this before, years ago, when he first came to work at St Steven’s. She had forgotten how his moods could flip like a light switch. Five long years he had been out of her life. But not any more. And now she had become one of those sad women who look at a man and think they can change him. Like she was so special that he would do anything just to be with her! She rolled her eyes at her own folly. Why was she always so weak when it came to him? Her heartbeat surged faster every time he was near. She had learned to be strong before, hadn’t she? But strength hadn’t brought her happiness. Could it eventually set her free?

The shift rolled by, mundane, nothing special, but that night Jenny felt uneasy. The fact that she was noticing little changes, subtle details about him, made it clear to her that her heart was still in peril. So to protect herself she made a solemn promise. Not until she was convinced he wanted her, really wanted her, not just her body, but all of her. Would she let him in? And she was determined to stick by this. She wobbled at the thought of a single night of unbridled passion with Pete, something so many others had known. No, she couldn’t. She had learned the consequences of that one a long time ago. For her it had to be different. She had to be sure… should ever the occasion arise.

He was looking as though that cloud was back over his head again today, she wrote in her diary that night. How I wish I could brush away those cobwebs. Take him in my arms and feel his weight against me.

Turmoil raged within her. Her romantic heart beating wildly against her mind. Be strong, Jen, she thought. You mustn’t forget. As Flis had found out, loss of hope would be far worse than this.

The next morning she was on an early and the ward was bedlam. The anaesthetist for Mr Hammond’s list had failed to turn up for work and so everyone had been delayed while the doctors shifted around to cover them. Jenny checked the chart. Friday – am - Dr Florin. Pete was meant to be gassing that morning; it was Pete who hadn’t turned up for work. Probably woken up in the wrong bed, she thought.

Jenny had hoped he’d have grown out of this behaviour by now, but it seemed not. She remembered he’d got into trouble more than once for having too many days ‘sick’ last time he was around. She wanted to be angry at him, shirking his responsibilities. It went against every principle she held to, but she couldn’t. She would get Kate to have a word with him again when she got back from her holiday. The two of them seemed to get on well together. Maybe she could do something to sort him out.

That evening a group of nurses were planning to meet up in town and then head over to Helix for Maisie’s hen night. Sadly, Jenny was starting to feel a little old to show her face in a nightclub, especially on a Friday night. She probably had ten years on the majority of those there, but she was happy enough to go for a drink beforehand.

Heather and Chloe, her two other housemates, knocked on her bedroom door. “Come on, Jen. We don’t want to be late. Flis’ll want to hear all the juicy gossip when she gets off work later. Hurry up,” they called.

Jenny opened her door and beamed. She scrubbed up pretty well, even if she did say so herself.

“Wow, you look great,” Heather said, just as a horn blared outside. The two young nurses squealed. “The taxi!” and they hurried out to get started on their evening.

Jenny stood in the doorway of the Swan Inn and looked around. She was wearing a short brown leather jacket, skinny blue jeans, heels and her diamond stud earring in the top of her ear. She spotted the group of nurses out celebrating the impending wedding and a cheer went up as the three of them joined in.

Jenny was enjoying the evening, having a laugh and a drink with the girls, and on the way to the toilets, she spotted a face she knew. It was Pete, but not the Pete she was used to. He was sitting in a dark corner, his eyes empty, lost somewhere in a world of his own. Gone were the smiles and charm of the daytime. His expression was dulled and his shoulders hunched. What could have happened? She had just decided to go over and talk to him when he looked up and spotted her. A look of defiance lifted his chin and he grabbed the woman clearing the table, hauling her onto his lap, and in the blink of an eye there he was again: the charmer, springing back into action. Jenny walked on. Of course, she thought. As if he would ever be lonely!

Later that evening, as the others made their way on to the nightclub, Jenny walked outside to catch a cab home, and standing on the pavement waiting for her ride, she looked back through the window and noticed Pete, still in the same place he’d been sitting all evening, his head, once again, hung over his pint.

It was a more sombre note she wrote in her diary that night.

Today his eyes were downcast and his features drawn, and yet still he had the power to turn my bones to jelly. I wonder what has happened. Why was he missing at work today and why was he all alone on such a lovely summer’s evening?

Maybe I’m just kidding myself, looking for a reason to feel sorry for him. He could easily have been meeting some beautiful woman a little later on, for a night of fabulous, raw, all-consuming passion. Passion… with Pete. I bet he’s good… He should be. He’s had enough practice!

But he didn’t look happy. Why wasn’t he happy? He’s gorgeous. He’s got a body to die for, beautiful eyes, handsome and clever. Everybody likes him. Why wasn’t he happy?

If only Kate was here, instead of halfway round the other side of the world, she could have spoken to her about it.

Jenny put the cap back on her pen, slumped against her pillow and stared at the ceiling. So many of her friends had been happily married off in the past few years. She’d lost track of the number of weddings she’d been to. Only a few of them remained single now - a dying breed. Even fickle old Flis had a steady boyfriend. She felt old.

The hospital was full of pretty young nurses now too. Of course they weren’t half so good at nursing, she thought, not like in her day. Training had been far better when she had come through, but they would learn.

Sharing a house with a couple of young nurses brought it home to her every day, the difference in mind-sets. If Pete was still single, if he was single, he was never going to look at her now. She thought back to all the stupid stunts she had pulled in her younger days, all in the pursuit of happiness. You couldn’t win love. She had learned that now. You just had to wait and hope that it was given.

Still, it was only a matter of time until he would be moving on again. Then maybe she could try and find love in other places, in men who didn’t make her stomach dance every time they walked in the room and who couldn’t make her fingers tremble at the sound of their voice.

Time. Time was a cruel thing. In the years since they had first met, Pete had only managed to look more and more attractive. But he was the complete opposite of what she needed. ‘Dependable’ and ‘committed’ were not words to be associated with the dashing Dr Florin. Caring of his patients, yes. Brilliant at his work, maybe. But not reliable. Not solid. But with all his faults, and she knew they were many, Jenny still longed to make him happy, to watch those eyes shining with delight, to see him smiling back at her like they had done once before, a long time ago, and to tell him how much his words had meant to her.

*

Pete walked in and looked over her shoulder. “Where have you got to?” he asked.

“Just about to start on you,” she said.

He winced. “Can I get you a cup of tea? I was just about to make one.”

Jenny turned around and looked at him. “Tea would be lovely, thank you,” she said. “Now push off. I can’t concentrate with you hovering around, looking over my shoulder.” She smiled.

“I’m going, I’m going,” he told her and winked before he closed the door, and then she was alone again.

*

Pete didn’t know what all the fuss was about. All he had done was offer to buy the girl a drink. There was no need to go all macho over it. Besides, she hadn’t exactly said no, had she? In fact, she seemed quite keen on the idea of the two of them getting it on, he’d thought. So she had a boyfriend, so what? It wasn’t like they were married, or anything.

Pete’s elbow slipped and his head fell forward onto the counter, knocking him in the eye. Maybe he had had enough. He rallied, only to find a complete bear of a guy standing before him. Pete hoisted himself up, his vision beginning to blur. “Come on, now. I don’ wanna figh’ you.” He attempted to pat the man on the shoulder, but his judgement was off and he only succeeded in shoving him in the chest, annoying him even further. The man stepped closer, snarling.

“I’n warnin yooou,” he slurred, swaying. “I know martial ahts an’ I’m a damn goo’ boxer too.” He reached over to take a swig of his drink, missed and managed to spill his pint along the bar, splashing the already angered man. The bear in front of him growled and from the beer-sodden haze, lights suddenly sparked all around him. Pain, like dynamite exploding in the side of his face, penetrated the cotton-wool cloak of his mind and he was wrapped in darkness.




Chapter 2 (#u7ab9b4e6-188a-512b-9934-dcff06ad3252)


“Come on, Pete. Pete?”

A slap brought Pete round and he stirred, disorientated.

“Wake up, mate.”

Pete squinted into the light and colours tore into him. A dark shape formed in front of what looked like… a ceiling. He struggled to pull the shape into focus and then realised it was a face he knew well. He beamed. “Jimmeeee! What’re you doing here?”

James Florin picked up his brother and apologised to the staff and customers around him. He dropped a couple of notes on the bar and hoisted him up to standing. “Come on, mate. Let’s get you home.”

Outside the pub, James managed to persuade a taxi driver to accept them (for a premium) and wrestled his brother inside.

Pete’s home was in an old Georgian building on the edge of town. It had been converted into flats at some stage, badly, without style or grandeur; a basic set of rooms, where doctors on various rotations stayed for the duration of their job.

At the front door, he rifled through Pete’s pockets to find his door key.

“Ooh, cheeky,” Pete teased, wobbling precariously against one arm while James struggled to open the door with the other.

He lugged him across to his bedroom and dropped him down onto the bed. With a lot of encouragement, he managed to get a pint of water down Pete, and on him for that matter, and then he pulled off his shoes and covered him with his duvet. It was going to be a long night.

James picked out his phone and rang home. “Rach, it’s me.”

“Jamie, did you find him?”

“Yeah.”

“Same again?”

“I think so. He’s out for the count at the moment, but I’ll speak to him in the morning.”

“Don’t forget to put him into the recovery position and then you really must try and get some sleep, sweetheart.”

“I might nod a bit. But I think maybe I should stay awake,” he said.

There was a pause on the other end of the phone.

“It’s not his fault, Rach,” he told her.

“It’s not yours either.”

“I know, but I have to help him. I owe him that much, at least.”

“Still?” She let out a long breath. “It was all such a long time ago, Jamie. Haven’t you done enough?”

“I’ll ring you tomorrow,” he told her.

“I love you,” she said.

“Love you too. Give the kids a kiss from me.”

“Will do.”

James made sure Pete was safe to go to sleep and then settled himself in a chair beside him, ready to keep vigil for the night.

At five-thirty the next morning, Pete’s body stirred to the chirruping song of a bird sat on the ledge outside of his window. A groan released the breath from his lungs and he pulled his hands to his head. James awoke from the brief, drowsy haze that had overtaken him just before dawn. He looked across. “Morning,” he said, and waited for the light of comprehension to take form behind Pete’s eyes.

“What day is it?” Pete asked.

“Saturday.”

Pete lifted his head and peered at the light stretching in around the curtains. Apart from the relentless chatter of the birds outside, there was silence all around them. “What time?”

“Early.”

Pete sucked in a deep breath and winced. “My head.”

“Is as much as you deserve. In fact you’re bloody lucky I showed up when I did.”

Pete was confused. He was usually grateful for the blur that followed one of these binges, but this time there was nothing.

“It seems you decided to hit on some poor young woman waiting for her boyfriend at the bar.”

Pete cringed and let out a sigh.

“Where are your pain-killers?” James asked him.

Pete pointed to his bedside drawer and James reached in, popped a couple out and handed them to his brother. He fetched some fresh water and then sat down again while Pete knocked back the tablets with practiced ease. There was a moment of silence between them.

“How long this time?” James asked him.

Pete looked up. His head sank back down again and he rested back. “Thursday night…”

James shook his head. “Why do you keep doing this to yourself, Pete?”

“I-”

“Had the dream?”

Pete opened his mouth to protest, but then closed it again. “Something like that.”

James looked at him, his head shaking slowly. “Why can’t you just let it go, mate? It’s been years. Even Adam’s managed to move on since then.”

“Adam didn’t kill anyone, though, did he?” Pete said, his tone flat.

James pierced his brother with a solemn look. “Neither did you.”

Pete shrugged. “Semantics.”

James rolled his eyes and let out a deep sigh. “The courts exonerated you of all responsibility, Pete. You weren’t the one to blame.”

“Wasn’t I?”

“It was an accident. Shit happens. You can’t carry on beating yourself up over this for the rest of your life. You’re just throwing it away. It wasn’t you killed in that car that night, you know?”

“Maybe it should have been.” Pete closed his eyes and the dream replayed inside his head. Desolation swept across his face as the turmoil of the memory evolved once again. He couldn’t get past it, try as he might. Sometimes he thought he had cracked it, but the dream just kept recurring, bringing it all back and refreshing the agony again.

His voice calmed, aware he had snapped at his brother and he shouldn’t have. If it wasn’t for Jimmy he would have nobody. “I’m not sure I can,” he admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m not even convinced I want to.”

“You need to get some counselling,” James told him. “I can’t keep driving around bailing you out all the time. You need to get yourself some proper help.”

Pete let out a puff of derision. “Nobody asked you to keep coming here.” He winced and held onto his head. “How did you know?”

“It was Shane’s stag night last night.”

“Shit! I’m sorry. I’ll call him. Tell him I was ill or something.”

“I’ve already told him. But you can ring and apologise. When you didn’t answer your mobile or your door, I started making my way around the pubs again. I got lucky. Third one this time. You’re getting more predictable, Bro.”

Pete let out a choke of unhappy laughter.

“Look, I don’t mind for me,” James told him. “But I think Rach would be happier if you stopped trying to drink yourself into oblivion.”

Pete smiled and shook his head. “Tell her I’m sorry, won’t you. And I am grateful. Really.”

“It’s your future I worry about,” James told him, after the moment had settled again. “You’ve got some big exams coming up soon and you seem determined to mess it all up again. All that work you’ve put in. Don’t throw it away like this.”

“I know, I know.”

“So you’ll get some help?”

Pete took the path of least resistance. Not in a million years was he planning on sitting down with some poxy counsellor and spilling his guts to a random stranger, but his brother was looking at him, desperately concerned and with such grave fear in his eyes, so he nodded.

“Good. We’d better get some food into you before I get back home to my long-suffering wife and then you can start getting your act together and get things straightened out. You might want to give your liver a break while you’re at it. And the female population, for that matter. There can’t be many women you haven’t been through left around here now, are there?”

Pete gave him a withering look and thought of the face that had pierced him with enigmatic eyes the night before, or was it the one before that? One of the few supposed to be ‘off limits’ (if Kate had anything to do with it). Jenny Wren: stunningly beautiful, bold and disapproving, devastatingly sexy and tantalising as hell. But she had witnessed the rage inside him. Her turbulent nature and mysterious, all-seeing eyes were unsettling to him. It would be dangerous to get too close to her. From the confines of his mind, however, the delicious taste of fantasy was a spectacular thing. “One or two,” he said.

Monday morning Pete was back in work and, on the surface of it, happy as a pig in mud. His consultant gave him a dressing down for his no-show the Friday before, but he apologised and managed to talk his way out of it, claiming a brief stomach bug, and all was forgiven (on the understanding that his lack of communication never happened again).

New faces appeared on the wards as a couple of young nurses joined the team and Pete was revived for the moment. He flicked his predator switch to “on”, cranked up the charm and watched as fresh eyes turned dreamy; he was back on form.

Pete gassed and consulted with patients for different lists for the following day, and then he went home to his flat, where he had no need of bravado, except for himself.

For some reason he felt out of sorts that evening. He couldn’t put his finger on why, but he was uneasy. He couldn’t settle and he needed to; he had exams coming up, even his brother had mentioned them. He looked at the great pile of books crouching ominously at the side of his desk and he had every intention of working. He had an ENT list in the morning, so it would have been an ideal time to recap on the problems particular to that and the different strategies for dealing with them. But instead, he shoved a shepherd’s pie in the microwave and flicked on the TV. Tomorrow night, he thought, when he was feeling better. It wasn’t worth trying to study when you weren’t on top form.

The following afternoon, Jenny was on a late, and the feeling on the ward, as she walked on, was seriously off. Red-rimmed eyes and softly spoken whispers crowded in on her on all sides. The new shift was quickly rounded up and taken into an empty room.

“I have some incredibly sad news to tell you all,” Debbie, the nurse in charge, said. “This morning, we were informed that two days ago, whilst on holiday in the Caribbean, Mr and Mrs Elliott, together with their daughter, were lost at sea when the yacht they were sailing capsized in a freak storm. Their bodies have been recovered and there will be a funeral when they’ve been returned home. I’m sure we’ll hear more nearer the time, but for now, that’s all we’ve got. I’m very sorry.”

Whatever was said after that, Jenny never heard it. What a way to hear about your friend’s death. Debbie wasn’t to know they’d been close, but… Kate was dead? No. Kate; her oldest friend and partner-in-crime. And Adam. Poor Adam, who had turned out to be such a lovely guy, surprising them all. And even little Selena… all gone. Maisie passed across a tissue. Jenny hadn’t even noticed the tears flowing down her face until then. She took the tissue and dabbed at her eyes numbly. She couldn’t process it, so she did all she could do; she worked.

Turning to the nurse in charge, her voice said, “Can we get on?” and she wandered out onto the ward.

The shift drifted by in a surreal daze, but that evening, when she walked in, Jenny found Flis sobbing her heart out on the settee. She walked over; they looked at each other and then folded up in each other’s arms and wept. “I know. I know. It’s so unfair,” she said, pulling back and plucking a tissue to wipe her face. She passed one to Flis. “After all the good they’ve done for others, and just when it was all starting to come together for them.”

“It just doesn’t seem real,” Flis sobbed, pulling another tissue clear to wipe her nose. “Adam had only just… And Kate… Our Kate.” She shook her head. “All gone. It’s just… It’s such a terrible waste!”

They talked for a while, gradually turning the tide and reminiscing about the fun times they’d shared and then, with neither of them having much appetite, they put on a late-night chat show and stared at the screen, before drifting off to bed.

Kate is dead, Jenny wrote in her diary that night. Kate and Adam and Selena. What can I say? It’s too tragic for words.

Jenny was off the following day, so she spent her time trying to keep her mind busy. She rang her aunt to see how she was doing. As her dearest relative, Jenny felt very protective of her. She had been the one who’d taken care of her since the age of 17, a time when she had needed so much and been granted so little.

Jenny got through all her laundry and stocked up on food and then, having no more chores left to do, she decided she would finally succumb and lose herself in Lorna Doone, a story she had always wanted to read but had never quite got around to. She didn’t want to face her inner thoughts that night, couldn’t bear to, so she just kept on reading until she fell asleep.

Thursday she was back in work and rumour was sweeping through the hospital that Dr Florin had disappeared again. This time Jenny was cross. At a time when everything seemed suddenly so vital, such a gift to be living, he had decided to bail out. He was probably skulking around somewhere with a bottle and a bad woman. It was as if he didn’t even care. She knew the three of them had been friends, but so had she. The man had no backbone. How was he ever going to make consultant carrying on like this? He certainly didn’t deserve to. Jenny was disappointed. There were Kate and Adam trying to do so much good with their lives and living life to the full, and they had been cut down in their prime and here he was just pouring it away.

Her mood got under her skin and she bristled at the thought of what he was up to, instead of what he should be doing, which was taking care of all those people on the wards waiting for him. The anaesthetist was the one they most relied on, the one whose very presence could easily calm their fears. “No good, womanising, beer-swilling…” She ran out of words, and it pained her to see him through different eyes.

But by Friday he was still nowhere to be found. Rumours were flying about. Some said he was lying dead in his flat, although Jenny noticed this was mostly put about by those whose hearts he’d broken. Had he suffered bereavement in the family Jenny wondered? Was he lying in a hospital miles away? Or had he finally been thumped hard enough by some boyfriend or husband and lost his memory? Wherever he was, and whatever he was doing, there wasn’t one scenario that looked good for him.

A shadow had been cast over the staff at the hospital. One missing, considered reckless, and two lost for good. Time dragged by on every shift as the light and ease of everyday mirth was suppressed by the weight of their loss.

The funeral was arranged for the following week, and luckily for Jenny, she was free that day. Flis was working and the other two in the house were so new they’d barely had time to get to know Kate, or Adam, so she was going on her own and she was daring Pete not to show.

The day arrived and it was bright and sunny. As one of Kate’s closest friends, Jenny found herself invited to Kate’s parents’ house before the service. As she approached, she sadly found no need to recheck the address. Curtains were drawn and flowers had begun to carpet the front lawn up the edge of the driveway. Jenny walked up to the front door, took a deep breath and rang the bell.

A gentleman introduced himself as Kate’s uncle and showed her inside and Jenny looked round for someone she might know. More flowers attempted to brighten the inside of the house, but the lost looks on the faces there overpowered them all. She met Gloria in the hallway, a nurse she knew from A&E and they hugged. It was one of those brief, stoical hugs that dared not linger in case it broke the fragile façade and brought on the tears.

“Hi, Jen. I just need to quickly check on Lena.” They walked the few steps to the living-room door and peered through. On the far side of the room was a young girl, about 18 or so, Jenny thought, sitting on her own among a selection of empty chairs, her eyes downcast. Gloria took a calming breath, paused for a second and then turned away. Jenny looked at her.

“She’s had a tough time recently. I just need to keep an eye on her,” she explained.

They walked further back, into the kitchen, where she was introduced to Kate’s mum and Rebecca, her sister-in-law. Jenny offered her condolences and gave Kate’s mother the same brief hug she had given Gloria. She stood back and tried to collect herself.

Another relative walked in and the family were distracted, so Jenny wandered over to the back window.

In the corner of the garden stood two men: the father and a brother, she assumed. They were standing, locked in a powerful embrace that almost broke her heart. It was too intimate a moment to pry on, so she turned back to face away again.

Gloria offered to make her a cup of tea, but just as she was about to pour, word filtered through that the cars had arrived. It was time to go.

Not a single eye was dry by the time the service had finished, but in all the sadness and tragedy of the day, Jenny had not missed the fact that there had been one face that hadn’t shown: Pete. And although she wanted to be angry at him, all she felt was pity. She didn’t know him that well, but she knew he had been friends with both of them and unless he had a solid reason for not being there, she felt sure that he would regret missing the goodbye… one day.

After the interment, the congregation began to split up and Jenny started looking around for the kind couple who had given her a lift. She was just starting to believe they had forgotten and gone without her, when from behind a large yew tree at the side of the church, she spotted a flash of blonde hair. She took a step back and then prowled across to investigate.

The graveyard was virtually empty now, apart from one elderly couple walking slower than the rest. It was just her and the blonde figure behind the tree.

Jenny stepped around the corner and was startled by a figure she barely recognised. Drawn and pale, like a frightened ghost, stood Peter Florin.




Chapter 3 (#u7ab9b4e6-188a-512b-9934-dcff06ad3252)


Jenny went to reach out to him, but he flinched away. “Pete? Whatever’s the matter?” she asked him. “You look awful. And why were you hiding back here? Why didn’t you come and pay your respects with the rest of us?” Her mouth moved again to scold him, but something in his demeanour made her hesitate. She looked into his eyes and saw the turmoil inside him. The guy was in torment and her voice fell to a whisper. “What is it, Pete?”

A woman appeared across the far side of the churchyard, calling and beckoning to her. “Jenny, dear, there you are. I’m so sorry. We got to the end of the road before we remembered we were meant to be giving you a lift. Hurry along! I’ve left Harold in the car with the engine running.”

Jenny waved. “I’ll be right there.” She turned back to Pete and put her hand on his chest and felt his heart beating wildly beneath her fingers. His stare widened at the contact and, afraid, she let her hand drop away. She pulled out an old till receipt from her bag and quickly wrote her number on it. “Call me,” she said. “Please. I want to help. You can trust me.” And she stuffed it into his hand and hurried away to catch up with her lift.

Two things were troubling Jenny more than everything else that night, twisting and clambering at the corners of her mind. First, the disturbing sight of Pete, looking lost and alone in the empty graveyard, and second… the tiny coffin. So much was going on inside Jenny’s mind, that the desperate loss of her good friend was getting overshadowed. She needed order, so she pulled out her diary and tried to make sense of it all.

The day was as awful as I’d expected, she wrote. Three coffins and almost 100 people mourning. It was both beautiful and terrible in one fell swoop.

And the tiny coffin. It was so small and sad. How I made it through that without falling to pieces, I will never know. After all this time. I thought I had buried it so far down that it was like a dream, but it still tore at my heart to think of it… of her.

I saw him there too – after. He showed up. His eyes hollowed out and his face drawn and grey. How could I be angry at such a sorry sight? I’m afraid for him, though. I think he might be losing it. I don’t know what it is that’s haunting him, but it’s eating him up inside. Maybe all that flash exterior is just a mask for something far deeper going on. I hope he calls me. He has to. I won’t be able to rest until I know he’s okay. What a state he was in. If this turns out to be just a guilty conscience after sleeping in with a serious hangover, I’m going to kill him. Where has he been?

Oh, Kate, I need you. Pete needs you. Your mum and dad need you. You should have seen them today. I hope you did, them and everyone else, because then you would have seen how very much you were loved.

She couldn’t go on. Words were swimming around the page, so she set down her pen and curled up in a tight ball, and wept… for them all.

Far across town, on a coach heading west, Pete sat looking at his reflection in the window. Barely recognising his features or the thoughts that lay behind them, he settled back in his seat, let his mind drift and was soon swallowed up by the memories that claimed him.

The next day on the ward, a sober turn of mood replaced the saddened one of before. No one had seen anything of Pete, and Jenny was starting to worry.

By Friday, whispers were circulating that he was going to lose his position. And when there was still no sign the Monday of the following week, Jenny made up her mind that she was going to hunt him down. She had already asked around to see if anyone knew what was going on. Flis seemed less than interested, preparing to head off for a fortnight on holiday with her man; none of the staff at work had seen him at all and now the scandal was starting to take on new excitement. Only Jenny seemed to actually care.

She sought out Laura Engelmann, another anaesthetist, in her lunch break and heard from her how little anyone in the department knew about what was going on. Pete hadn’t been answering his mobile and there had been no sign of him at his flat. She asked about his friends and Laura pointed her towards Dave Matthews, a surgical registrar, who seemed to know him better than most. At the end of her shift, Jenny went in search of Mr Matthews, but he was in theatre and wouldn’t be free for hours, so she left him a note and her number and went back home to wait.

He called her that evening, just as Jenny was finishing her tea. She answered. “Hello.”

“Is that Jenny White?” the voice asked.

“Yes.”

“Dave Matthews. You wanted to speak to me?”

“Yes, thank you. It’s about Pete. Peter Florin.”

“Yes, I know. What did you want to know? Your note was very cryptic.”

“I’m just worried about him.”

“Well, we all are.”

“But is anybody actually trying to find him?”

“He’s a grown man. I’m sure he’s got his reasons for disappearing like this. He’ll probably be with his family if something’s wrong.”

“But how do you know he’s okay?”

“Pete can handle himself just fine, I assure you,” he said.

“Look, I saw him,” Jenny said abruptly, the frustration of beating her head against a brick wall finally getting to her.

“You did? When?”

“After the funeral. And he looked awful.”

There was a pause at the other end of the line.

“He has… issues; don’t ask me what they are, I’ve no idea, he doesn’t say, but he does this now and again. Admittedly not for this long normally.”

He paused again and Jenny could think of nothing else to say that might persuade him to help. She heaved a deep sigh.

“He has a brother who seems to look out for him,” he said. “I met him once. If you’re really concerned, I’m sure he’d be the best person to talk to.”

“Do you have his number?” she asked, hope suddenly flickering to life inside her.

“Afraid not. But I think he said he lived in Teak. Yes, I remember, because it reminded me of the wood. It’s a little village, or something, outside Upper Conworth.”

Jenny wrote down the name and thanked him for his time. She had two days off before she had to be back in work and this was her mission: she was going to find Peter Florin, wherever he was, and try to sort out whatever mess he was in. She owed him that. He had been there for her once. He had seen her struggle and had given her the strength to pull through, to stand up for herself. It was he who had made her believe she was worth more. He had cared. And dear Kate had cared for him, and she had known him better than all of them. But it was down to her now, that much was clear, and she was going to find him.

That night she studied maps and timetables, working out her route, before finally searching directory inquiries for a Mr Florin in Teak. And it must have been a tiny place because she got lucky; there was only one: number six, Stoney Cross, and two minutes later, Google had him pinned. She printed out a map and wrote herself directions and then made a bag ready for the morning.

That night she had a sense of real hope when she wrote in her diary.

When I return, I will have found him. Someone has to care where he is. He needs a friend right now. He was a friend to me once, when I needed it. I don’t know why he’s like this, but whatever he is facing, he obviously can’t deal with it on his own. So I’m going to find him and I’m going to bring him back. Somehow. God, I hope I can do this. I hope I’m not too late. What if I am? What if he’s…? No, I can’t think like that. This has to work, because I just can’t lose him as well. I can’t. I won’t.

*

There was a knock at the door and two little faces huddled in cautiously. “It’s bedtime, Mummy,” they said.

Jenny stopped typing and turned around in her chair. She looked at her watch. “Oh my goodness, so it is!” she said. Holding her arms out wide, the two little girls ran over and cuddled in. She lifted them briefly on to her lap and kissed them. “Have you brushed your teeth?”

“Yes,” they chorused, showing her the tiny white pearls that she cherished.

“Absolutely dazzling! Would you like me to read you a bedtime story?”

Their dad appeared at the door and they looked at him. “Are you up to it?” he asked softly.

Jenny nodded.

“Just a quick one, then, and then your mum is going to have a rest before she sits her bottom down there and starts writing again.” He looked at her then, with such adoration, that Jenny had to agree. She knew he was only thinking about her and so she would let him care for her for a while, but not too long; the story was far from finished.

*

Jenny awoke with the birds. She was too excited to sleep. She wanted to be up and out of there. She wanted to find Pete, but the first bus didn’t leave for another three and a half hours, so she rechecked her bag, added a packet of chocolate Hobnobs for emergencies and went for a shower.

Still three hours to go. She began tapping her fingers. What could she do until then? She pulled everything out of her bedside drawer and plopped it down on the bed. Junk. It was all junk. She spent two minutes trying to sort it through and then lost all patience and shoved it back inside the drawer again, cramming it down and forcing it shut. She didn’t want to concentrate on something good in case she lost track of the time, so she couldn’t read a book, but she couldn’t think of how else to fill the time. Breakfast. She had to eat. Lord knows when she was going to get to eat again.

Pacing the floor with a muesli bar, she added her book and her MP3 player, in case the hours on the bus were long. She knew where she was going to start, but had no idea where the journey would end. Maps, purse, biscuits, bottle of water, wash kit and comb, spare pair of pants and an extra layer in case it turned chilly. All she needed now was a brass neck as wide as a mountain to go nosing into business she had no reason to be messing in. But this had never been a problem for Jenny; attitude and nerve were her speciality. She’d been an independent soul most of her adult life. She’d had to be, and they had helped her survive.

With two hours left to go, Jenny left the girls a note, checked her mobile, packed her charger and headed off to walk the three or four miles to the bus station. The weather was mild and the walk would do her good before a couple of hours cooped up in a stuffy old bus. So she’d be early; it didn’t matter; it was nice out.

As the journey drew on, Jenny became more and more determined in her venture. Mile after mile of countryside passed by outside the window, and then finally, the bus pulled to a stop in Upper Conworth.

Jenny stepped out and found herself in a quaint old market town bathed in sunshine. People in the street went about their business, happy and carefree, or so it seemed. She pulled out her sunglasses and slipped them on before retrieving the directions from her bag. She checked the bus route to take her to Teak: the number 24. She had 40 minutes before it left, so she decided to have a bit of a look around and maybe get something to eat.

Not far into town Jenny came across a café serving an all-day breakfast. By now she was starving and her anxieties allayed for the moment, she tucked in to a fry-up and a nice mug of tea and then, map in hand, she made her way back through the town to find her stop for the next leg of the journey.

It was a slower trundle through the outlying villages before Jenny spotted the sign she was looking for. The bus stopped and she checked with the woman on the seat next to her. “Is this Teak?” she asked.

The woman nodded and Jenny made her way down the bus and stepped off. And it was only then, as the bus pulled away and she was left on her own in a village she had never known, that she started to feel anxious. The weight of her mission had seemed so important that before arriving in Teak she had been confident in her intrusion, but now… here… possibly only yards away from where Pete might be, she began to question herself.

What if he was fine and had just had enough of his job? What then? What was she going to do if it was a woman who had tempted him? How would that make her feel? What if his brother turned her away? And how small and stupid would she feel if he appeared at the door, happy as a child at Christmas and totally bemused to see her?

Jenny stood watching as the bus disappeared around the bend, and then, hoisting her rucksack onto her shoulder, she fished the instructions out of her pocket. She had drawn a rough plan of the village on the back of the timetable and she turned it around in her hand until she had her bearings and then looked up. Over there, she thought, and blocking out all worries for the time being she made her way up the road in the direction of Stoney Cross.

A postman walked by. “Good day,” he said and Jenny smiled and greeted him warmly, but whether it was going to be a good day remained to be seen.

She passed a pub and took a left, then a right and followed the road to the end, to a small nook of houses tucked away around the back: Stoney Cross.

Nerves began to rise as she approached the front door of the house. She really hadn’t given much thought to what would happen next. All she had known was she needed to find him. The rest, she supposed, would take care of itself. There were no cars in the driveway now. Was nobody at home? She took a deep breath and knocked. There was no answer. She looked around for a doorbell and found it, camouflaged against the frame of the door. She pressed it once. Still nothing. What was she supposed to do now? There was little point in getting all this way and then turning back at the first hurdle, so she sat with her back to the garage door, her face to the sun, and waited.

After a while she became thirsty and drank some of her emergency bottle of water. Feeling bored, she put on her headphones and listened to some music, and after that, the next thing she knew, a car was pulling up in front of her and two feet were stepping out.




Chapter 4 (#ulink_b1334838-a27e-5939-adb2-c61659edb656)


Pulling off her headphones, Jenny scrambled to her feet. She shoved everything back into her bag and then, searching rapidly for the right words, she looked at the woman beside the car. For a moment she considered running, but she couldn’t, not when she had come so far, so she forced herself to stay calm and started by apologising.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, taking a hesitant step forward. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep on your driveway. But I’m looking for Mr Florin. Have I got the right address?”

The woman kept her children safely inside the car, out of the way of the stranger invading their privacy. She had obviously found little reassurance in Jenny’s explanation thus far, so she added, “It’s about his brother. He’s gone missing.”

The woman’s face fell. Reaching back inside the car, she undid the children’s straps and herded them towards the front door. “You’d better come in.”

Inside, the little children kept close to their mother while they assessed the stranger trespassing in their lives. “I’m Jenny White,” she told them. “I’m trying to find Dr Peter Florin. I work with him.”

“How did you find us?” the woman asked.

“Dr Matthews, one of his colleagues at the hospital, told me he had a brother who looked out for him.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “For his sins.”

“And he remembered Pete had mentioned the name of the village where you lived.”

“Ah.” She held out her hand. “I’m Rachel Florin, Jamie’s wife, and these two horrors are Joshua and Annabel.” The children were still looking at her cautiously. “Please, take a seat. Can I get you a drink? You look a bit flushed. I think you might have caught the sun there.”

Jenny felt her face. It was tight and hot. “A glass of water would be lovely, thank you,” she said.

Rachel ran her a glass of water and dropped in a couple of ice cubes. She handed it over and led her children away to settle them down to play. Jenny looked around the room. It was a nice, ordinary kitchen in a nice, ordinary house. The garden was smallish and littered with children’s toys and the fridge was covered with paintings. It was a home, and for a minute, Jenny recalled a similar scene in her early childhood with affection.

Rachel returned with a bottle of moisturiser in hand. She offered it up and Jenny took it gratefully and smoothed some on.

“It’s a lovely spot you’ve got here,” she said.

Rachel smiled. She was busy searching in a cupboard for something. She stood up again, with a toy in her hand, obviously relieved. “If you don’t mind, I’ll just…”

Jenny was very aware she had intruded. “No. Please,” she said, and she kept her silence while Rachel sorted out her children, leaving her own mind space to think. How had she got here? What was she doing? Doubt was champing at the bit for free rein and she had to battle hard to remember the reason she was there.

Rachel was soon back and the two women sat down with a drink. “So how did you say you knew Pete?” Rachel asked.

“I work at St Steven’s. I’m a nurse.”

Rachel looked at her and nodded. “And… are you his girlfriend?”

“Heavens, no!”

Rachel smiled. “Good. At least you’re not so likely to attack him with a carving knife when we do find him, then.”

Jenny smiled at her and held up her hands. “I’m unarmed, I promise.”

“So, how long has he been missing this time?”

Jenny was a little surprised.

“It’s not the first time,” Rachel elaborated. “A couple of days? Three perhaps?”

“It’s been well over a week. Almost two, in fact.”

Rachel looked a little more concerned now.

“I was hoping he was here with you. You haven’t seen or heard from him, have you?”

“Not for a couple of weeks, no. Not since the last time.”

Jenny quickly joined the dots. “The Friday before?”

“Did he not go back to work after that?”

“Yes, he did. For one day, maybe two. I’m not sure. And then he was gone again.”

Rachel frowned. “I’d better ring Jamie.” She picked up the phone on the table near by and pressed a button. It rang several times and must have gone through to an answerphone. “Jamie, it’s Rachel, please ring home when you get this. Don’t worry, we’re all fine, it’s Pete. I think he needs you.” She put down the phone again and turned back to Jenny. She looked at her watch. “Have you eaten lunch? Can I get you anything?”

“No, I’m fine, thanks. I had a big breakfast in town.”

“You don’t mind if I get the children theirs?” Rachel asked, getting up to have a rummage about the kitchen for something to feed them.

“Of course not,” Jenny said. “Go ahead.”

Rachel pulled out some cheese and grapes from the fridge and reached for the bread on the side. “What made you think he’d come here?” she asked, continuing to make the sandwich. “He usually stays in Duxley.”

“Nobody’s seen him,” Jenny told her. “I’ve asked everyone I can think of.”

Rachel was quiet for a long while after that and Jenny wondered if she was going to say any more. She took the children their lunches and returned to the kitchen.

“He’s not really as bad as he makes out, you know,” she said, sitting back down at the table, opposite her. “Pete… He used to be such a sweet guy: a steady, good-tempered, respectful lad. This isn’t the real him… At least, I hope it’s not.”

Jenny looked at her, eager to learn more.

“He lost someone a few years ago and he blames himself. It’s changed him. And not for the better, I’m afraid.”

Rachel asked Jenny a little about herself and then they talked about the kids, and after Rachel had settled the children in front of the TV and cleared up the plates, she began to look pensive. “They had a tough childhood, you have to understand. It’s made them very close. James doesn’t talk much about it, but I’ve picked things up over the years. As a family it’s never discussed at all, but I know some of what went on and I think Peter took the brunt of it, being the eldest.”

Just then James walked in and strode straight up to his wife, he kissed her and then asked her what she had heard. Rachel introduced him to Jenny and he turned round and apologised for not having noticed her before. He was shorter and darker than his brother, Jenny observed. The years didn’t show as clearly, but there was a lot about them that was alike. James’s eyes were darker, but still bright and striking and he was attractive in a quiet, more reserved, way. He had that same dependable calm that seemed to radiate from him; like you could tell him the worst and he would still find a way to help you, but no hint of the edgy flirtation of his brother’s style.

Rachel suggested the two of them go into the kitchen to talk and she would keep the kids busy in the living room.

“Has something happened to Pete?” James asked, the moment they were alone and Jenny recounted all that she knew and waited for James to decipher. “Well, a funeral would probably be hard for him, especially so soon after one of his bouts, but…”

“Do you mind me asking what these ‘bouts’ actually are?” she said, hoping to finally understand what they were dealing with.

“He gets recurrent nightmares about the night he was involved in a car crash. It’s something he finds hard to deal with, still, after all this time. Did he know the person whose funeral it was well? Or was it perhaps a car crash that killed them?”

“It was three people, actually,” she told him. “One of my friends died on holiday… with her husband… and their little girl.”

“I’m so sorry.” He automatically reached out and touched Jenny’s hand. He seemed so kind and sincere and Jenny felt immediately comfortable with him.

“I think Pete was friends with both of them too: Adam and Kate. Did he ever mention them?”

James’s face became ashen. “Adam? Not Adam Elliott?”

“Yes. Did you know him?”

James pulled out a chair and called for his wife, who came hurrying in. She took one look at her husband, pale and concerned, and looked across at Jenny.

“What is it?”

James reached out for his wife’s hand and squeezed it hard. “Adam’s dead,” he said. “He was killed on holiday with his new family. Poor Jenny here was friends with them.”

Rachel turned to Jenny. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Then this can’t be an easy time for you, either. It’s very kind of you to think of Pete.”

“He might well have done the same for me, once,” she told them.

James looked curious.

“Look, is there something I’m missing here?” Jenny continued after a minute of watching their expressions.

“You’re certain he’s not been at his flat?” James asked.

“Certain. The caretaker checked and his phone was still there too.”

“And he’s not languishing in some pub or other?”

“Duxley’s not a big town. I’m sure someone would have seen or heard something by now if he was. Please tell me whatever it is that’s so significant about Adam. I may be able to help, or at least, if not, it might give me a clue as to his state of mind.”

James indicated that she should sit down too and she did as she was asked.

“The night of the crash, the thing that started this whole crazy rollercoaster off, Pete was the one who was driving. It was Ali, Adam’s first wife who died. He blames himself for her death – which he shouldn’t – but if Adam has died, and you said he was friends with his new wife too, he’s going to take that pretty hard. We need to find him. I need to find him.”

So that had been the pain he had been hiding. Old conversations came flitting through her head. Something Kate had said about blame all made sense now. He needed her, and she hadn’t come all this way to be pushed to the sidelines now. “We,” said Jenny.

“No, you stay here. I wouldn’t feel comfortable dragging you around a load of pubs and gutters in a foreign town.”

Jenny thought she was quite capable of handling herself these days. She’d taken self-defence classes and tried hard to keep herself fit. That was part of why she ran. But she didn’t want to get his brother off side already. “You think he’ll be here?” Jenny asked him.

James shook his head. “No, but I’ve got to start somewhere if he’s not at home… I’ll get going. Should be easier to find him at this time of day.”

Reluctantly Jenny stayed at the house and tried to distract herself, playing with the children, while they waited for news. She wasn’t happy being left behind when she’d been the one to set the ball rolling, but he was James’ brother, so this once, she would let him try and find him alone. But if that didn’t work, she was determined not to be pushed aside again.

At a quarter to eight James returned. He looked tired and Jenny knew at once that his search had been fruitless. Rachel crept downstairs, whispering that the children were finally asleep and he softly headed up to kiss them goodnight.

They tried to eat that evening, but none of them were hungry. They picked at what Rachel had prepared for them, but when even she pushed the last of it away, they all adjourned to the living room to regroup and plan their next move.

“I’ll go back out in an hour or so,” James said as they settled down to rest. “See if I can find him in a nightclub. He might not show his face until it goes dark.” Rachel squeezed his hand.

“What if he isn’t here?” Jenny asked.

James looked thoughtful. “Have you rung home to make sure he hasn’t shown up there yet?”

“No. Good idea. Excuse me.” Jenny got up and made her way out into the hallway. Who could she ring? It had to be someone who would know, but wouldn’t ask too many questions. Dave Matthews; he should know. She rang his number. “Hello, Dave, it’s Jenny. I’m with Pete’s brother, in Teak. There’s no sign of him here so far. Has he turned up with you yet?”

“Um, no. Not as far as I know. But if you find him, you’d better let him know that it’s not looking good around here. According to Laura, he needs to come up with at least a phone call and a doctor’s note soon or he’ll be out on his ear.”

“Okay. Thanks, Dave.”

“Good luck.”

She walked back and stood in the living room doorway. She shook her head and then sighed. “I should be making tracks, actually. The last bus leaves in 20 minutes and I haven’t booked a bed for the night yet.” She smiled and walked out towards the front of the house to gather her things.

Rachel appeared in the doorway. “We haven’t got a spare room, I’m afraid, but you’re welcome to crash on the couch if you’d like. I’ve got some spare bedding.”

Jenny hesitated. “Are you sure it’s no bother? I’m quite happy to get the bus. I wasn’t expecting to stay.”

James walked over to stand next to his wife. “No bother at all.”

“Well, if you’re offering? Thank you; I’d like that.”

James returned before the night was through, but once again there had been no sign of Pete and before they made up Jenny’s bed for the night, the three of them made plans for the morning.

Rachel was going to hunt down a photo of Pete on the family computer and then James would take it in to work, print off a load of copies and drop them back home as soon as he could so that Jenny could spend the day asking around Upper Conworth, and only then, if she had no luck, would they call the police.

That night, as Jenny tried to get some rest, wondering how she had ended up sleeping on the settee in Dr Florin’s brother’s house, she started to fear the worst. Pete had looked so awful the last time she’d seen him. She should have done more. She shouldn’t have left him on his own like that, in a graveyard, of all places. What if he had taken his own life? Her blood ran cold as the possibility of this hit home. She wriggled around, trying to get comfortable and thumped the pillow next to her head. Where the hell was he?

Pete woke up in a room he didn’t recognise. His brain graunched slowly into life. Home. Yes, he was going home. Travelling around the country trying to run from his past had been no help at all. All he felt now was an overwhelming urge to go home, but not to his childhood house, to somewhere safe.

Swinging his legs off the bed, he rubbed his face, took a swig of water and swallowed a handful of tablets to ease the lightning in his head. His throat was raw. He hauled himself up on shaky legs and looked out of the window.

He was nearly there now. He didn’t want to eat, he just needed to get there, and so he splashed some water on his face and got ready to check out. Weary, so very weary. It was time to stop running.

As the bus brought him closer to his old life, anxiety pierced him like an arrow through his heart. He told himself no one lived there any more, that it was just a memory of what had been, but he struggled to contain it quickly enough. His stomach wrenched, threatening to humiliate him, but he gritted his teeth and, breathing slowly, he managed to suppress his nerves and loosely regain some semblance of control.

At his stop, Pete alighted and stood there, rigid and still. Others got off the bus and circled around him, their expressions enquiring, wondering what he was doing. A tabby cat purred at his feet and curled around him and as he became aware, he was distracted from his dream world. He reached down to smooth its fur, tickling the creature behind the ear. A dog barked in the distance and the cat startled and scuttled away.

Pete took a deep breath and looked up. If there was any other way to do this he would not be within a million miles of this house, but he need to get to his sanctuary and the only way he knew was from his home.

He began to walk up the road, his breathing controlled, but his mind was drifting further and further away from him. He turned the last corner and there it was. A shiver coursed through him, even though the day was warm, and flashbacks of rows and fights flickered through his mind. His mother crying. His father leading with his fists. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the pain. He was a grown man now; his dad couldn’t hurt him any more. His mother was safe and far away from here. He had protected Jim and fought for them all. But there had been nobody left to fight for him. Nobody, except Ali.

The door of his old house opened and his heart forgot to beat. A chill slithered around him and then a woman with a little toddler walked out into the garden. Blinking, he realised he had to move on. He didn’t want to alarm them. But the woman spotted him and walked over.

“Can I help you?” she asked, with concern in her eyes.

“No. I’m sorry. I was just looking. I… I used to live here.”

“Would you like to have a look around?” she offered, but her voice shook at the end, as if she was suddenly afraid of his reply. She let her hand reach up, protectively cradling the child in her arms and her body weight shifted.

He had frightened her. Pete shook his head. “No, thank you.” He smiled wearily and walked away. He was as much of a curse as his father had been. He would remove himself from her happy home. At least it was a happy home now, he thought. Or was it? Who knows? Most people had thought his home had been a happy one.

Two doors along there was a path that lead back between the houses to a street on the other side. And there, right in front of him, was Ali’s house. He wondered if her family still lived there. Sadly she never would again, but she was close by.

At the end of the road was a gateway and through this was his release. He could almost taste it. With more energy than he had known in days, he climbed over the gate marked ‘PRIVATE, NO ENTRY’ and headed up the lane into the woods. Familiar trees and bracken showed him the way, as his memory led him home.

It was the place where they had hidden when life became too frightening, when his mum had begged them to run and hide. Torn in two, he had desperately wanted to stay and help her, but he had run and protected Jimmy instead.

Brambles snagged at his calves as he tramped further and further into the wilderness. Unseeing eyes caused him to trip and he fell, face down in the mud, winded and confused. With no power to move, he lay there for a long while, until the cold of the ground came calling and he heaved at his bones to stand up. His face was sore and he noticed a trickle of blood collecting beside a stone on the ground. He wiped at it and tried to move, stumbling again with the pain. His ankle. It was pounding with a fury usually reserved for his head.

Pete looked around, searching for where he thought it should be. Although familiar, nothing was quite the same any more and, spotting a fallen branch, he lifted it, broke the rotten twigs away and used it as a crutch. He limped on and finally he found it: the den.

It was a little fort they’d made when he was about eight or nine, stealing a hammer and nails from his father’s shed to build themselves an escape. It had been their secret - their second home - something they had needed to block out the threat and the fear. Some days he had left Jimmy there alone for hours, as he crept back home to check on his mother. But it only seemed to make matters worse. If it was bad, the images would torment him and plague him with guilt and if he was caught, as he occasionally was, he would pay the price and Jimmy would be left by himself even longer. So, as the years went by, he learned to spend more and more time out in the woods, blocking out what might be happening in the house.

The den was worn down by time now, but still it was standing there. Tattered remains of bin liners peeped out, nailed around the inside to protect from the wind and the rain. It had been added to as they’d grown bigger and more able. They did their homework inside it and made plans and alibis, excuses for bruises on school days and a code to let each other know when to run. They would never have survived without it, or… perhaps… perhaps if they had faced the music, if he had faced the music, his mother would have left the man earlier? He thought about this. Had she, in trying to protect them, only prolonged the agony? Who could say?

He ducked his head and stepped inside, crouching to look around him and see what remained. Nobody had touched it. It was on private land. Whoever it belonged to either didn’t know or didn’t care. Gingerly he rested on an old wooden box they had dragged inside many years before. It held his weight. Scratches from their knives, writing words in the wood, still remained to be seen and he ran his fingers across them and remembered.

Shivering in the dank shelter of the moss-covered hideaway, thrown back in time to a place he had tried to forget, Pete rested his head back and tried hard to picture the happier times: him and his brother playing make-believe in their fort… with Ali. His body ached. He was so tired. Life was tiring, and it was cold.




Chapter 5 (#ulink_eee81b5b-2f53-50ed-af51-c043efa4fe44)


Jenny walked around the streets of Upper Conworth, stopping anyone who would talk to her, to ask them if they had seen this man. She showed them the picture of Pete and willed each one of them to recognise him. She left her number on the back of the ones she’d placed in the pubs around town, but it was useless. She had been at it for hours and nobody had seen a thing. He could be anywhere by now. Hell, for all she knew he might even have his passport on him.

With a sigh she sat down on a wall, knowing time was fast running out for both of them. She had to be back in work the following day and Pete might have already lost his job. Jenny had to get back that night and they still hadn’t found him. People were looking out for him at home and she was sure someone would have rung her if he had turned up. She had to think. If she was upset and she wanted to get away, where would she go? Home? Not likely. A friend? She had tried all the contacts she knew. So it was back to first principles. He had left his phone behind, but he would still need a place to stay. He probably had his wallet and since he wasn’t at home and he wasn’t with James… Maybe she should have been checking hotels? Jenny jumped up and looked around her. Hotels and B&Bs. Where should she start?

She walked around, calling in on any establishments renting rooms. Door after door was opened and shut, with nothing new to report. She grabbed a pasty from a baker's she passed on her way, as the day was slipping past her and her body needed fuel. She had almost given up when she finally hit on some luck. In a small B&B on the edge of the town centre, at last, a lady remembered him.

“Quiet guy. Yes, I think it was him. He didn’t look well, though. He checked out this morning.”

Bingo! Well… almost. So he had been there. Now she just had to find where he had gone. “Did he give you any idea which way he was heading?” she asked.

“I’m afraid not, dear. He didn’t say much at all. Looked like he had the worries of the world on his shoulders. Is he going to be all right?”

Jenny looked at her for a second. “I hope so,” she said and then, smiling weakly, she thanked the woman and left.

Standing outside on the pavement, she rang Rachel. “He’s here,” she said.

“You’ve found him?”

“No. But he stayed in town last night. I found a B&B owner who thinks she recognises him from the photo.”

“Well, good, at least we know we’re on the right track.”

“Can you think of anywhere else I can try? I’ve done around town, hotels, pubs; James did clubs, er…”

“Have you looked around the park? It’s just a thought, but he did hang around there a bit when he was a teenager.”

“No, I’ll take a look, but if he’s not there, I really don’t know what to try next.”

“Jamie will be home in an hour. If you haven’t found him by then, come back here and we’ll reconvene over tea.”

“Right-oh.”

Jenny put her phone back in her pocket and looked for the town plan on a billboard she had spotted close by, to find her way to the park. There were two, on opposite sides, but she had to make a choice, so she headed off in the direction of the largest one and kept her fingers crossed for a result, but on the bus back to Teak, Jenny’s hope was fading. The last bus from Upper Conworth was leaving at nine o’clock that night and it was already past four. Three hours was all the time she had left to find him before she would have to start making her way back home, defeated, having failed him.

James and Rachel met her at the door as she walked up to the house, her stride slowing with her approach. She looked up at them, deflated. “I’m sorry,” she said and they hugged her. They brought her in to sit down and within minutes she had a hot cup of tea in her hand and a couple of Jammy Dodgers in her lap. Jenny looked at them and made a small smile.

“I’m sorry; they’re all I had,” Rachel told her.

“No, they’re great. I haven’t had a Jammy Dodger in years. I’d forgotten how nice they were.”

At tea, they sat together, trying to come up with an idea of where Pete could be.

“What about any other family?” Jenny asked, very aware that this might be a difficult subject.

James answered. “Well we used to live around here when we were little, but Mum moved away not long after Dad left. She’s in Oxford now. She works at the university. She’s a lecturer in Classics.”

Jenny could see the sun rising in James’s eyes as his pride in his mother shone through. She smiled. “She sounds like a clever woman.”

“She is.”

“And your dad?”

His expression faded. “I wouldn’t know.”

Silence weighed heavily on them as Jenny regretted her last words. She tried to think of something else to say. “Was there someone who would look out for him living near your old home? Somewhere else he would want to go?”

“No. We generally kept ourselves to ourselves. There were friends, but they’re all grown up and gone now.”

And then Rachel had an idea. “Didn’t you tell me there was a place you used to go to when you wanted to get away?” she asked quietly.

“Yes, but… that was just a den, really. A hut in the woods where we hid when…”

Rachel looked at him and then at Jenny.

“You don’t think…?” he asked. “It probably fell down years ago.”

“But it’s worth a try.”

Twenty minutes later Jenny and James were in the car driving towards his old neighbourhood. Anticipation held their thoughts as they approached the house that had been the family home.

He pulled up by the kerb and they got out. As Jenny watched, James just stood on the pavement, saying nothing, his eyes empty, like a door leading nowhere. She touched him on the arm. “I’ll go and ask if anyone’s seen him, shall I?”

Jenny walked up the garden path to the front door and knocked. A minute later a woman appeared carrying a toddler covered in food. “Can I help you?” she asked.

Jenny grinned and the woman noticed the state of her child.

“I’m sorry. We were just finishing tea.”

“I won’t keep you a second,” she said and pulled out a photo. “Could you tell me if you’ve seen this man around recently?” The woman looked concerned. “Don’t worry; he isn’t dangerous. We just need to find him.”

The woman reached for the photo. “Yes. I have. Or at least I think I have. It looks like him, but he was in a bit of a state. Frightened me a little, if I’m honest, but I’m pretty sure it was him. He stopped by here earlier today. He said he used to live here.”

“Yes, he did. Do you know where he is now?”

The woman’s face fell. “I’m afraid not. But he walked off in that direction, if it’s any help.” The woman pointed off to one side.

Jenny thanked her and returned to James, still standing on the pavement.

“Well?”

“He was here. Today. He went that way,” she said, pointing down the road.

James nodded. “He’s there.”

At this revelation, Jenny was expecting a sudden burst of energy, but instead they walked sedately down to a pathway and into another street. From there they walked out until they came across a gate. “We can’t go in there,” Jenny said as she noticed James beginning to climb over.

“You can stay here if you want,” he said. “I need to find Pete.”

Jenny didn’t need too many seconds to decide on her course of action and quickly hopped over the gate to catch up with James. The pace was picking up now and Jenny clambered over fallen trees and past deep fern gullies until they came upon an old tumbledown wooden shack.

A few paces off, James stopped and stared. He seemed miles away. Jenny arrived beside him and cautiously moved ahead. James reached out and held her back. “No. I need to do this,” he said. His words were soft, but full of warning, and suddenly Jenny was afraid. What was she about to see? What could be so bad that she needed to prepare herself to see it? She held her breath as James approached the decaying cabin and carefully leant in.





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