Autumn Dreams at Mermaids Point, page 4
‘Hey!’ Emily protested. ‘What are you doing? Give me that.’
Taking her outstretched hand, Tom folded it into his as he sat back on the edge of the bed. ‘I’m going to hang onto it until the morning.’
She pulled against his grip, forcing him to let go because the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.
‘You can’t do that! It’s mine, give it back!’ she shouted.
‘Enough.’ He hadn’t raised his voice to match hers, but it was a tone he’d very rarely used around the children since they’d been old enough to be reasoned with.
Emily lowered herself against her pillows, arms folded once more across her chest. ‘I hate you.’
Lord, give me strength.
‘No, you don’t. Lashing out at me isn’t going to change the situation any more than blaming Max is. Your friends are upset, just like you are now, so they’re saying things they don’t mean as well. Give them a day or two to calm down.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘You don’t have a clue, do you? I only took those stupid photos in the first place because they wouldn’t be friends with me otherwise. Now they’re never going to want to hang out with me.’
‘If that’s the kind of people they are, then you don’t need them as friends.’
Emily snorted, an ugly, derisive sound. ‘You say that like I have any choice. I’m not exactly inundated with people who want to be friends with me.’
Tom frowned, taken aback at her words. When she wasn’t angry and upset like she was now, Emily was the soul of sweetness and good humour. As easy with people as Anna had been. The house had always been full of giggly girls, dancing around the lounge to pop videos, sneaking down to raid the snack cupboard during sleepovers. Those had stopped when Anna had grown too tired, too sick to cope with them. And afterwards? The last thing Tom had wanted was a house filled with laughter.
Trying to ignore another wave of guilt battering at him, he recalled the smiley little brunette who had been the instigator of much of the mischief. ‘What about Becca? You two were always so close.’
‘Her dad got a new job and they moved to Manchester just after Christmas. You really have no idea, do you?’
Shit. How on earth had he missed that?
Because you’ve been sleepwalking through your life for the past three years.
‘Oh, Em, I’m so sorry.’
Snatching up a pillow, Emily clutched it to her and buried her face in the top of it. ‘Just go away.’
Feeling useless and defeated, Tom rose to his feet. He stared down, willing her to look up at him, but Emily kept her face buried resolutely in the pillow. The lace edging on the pillowcase caught his eye. He remembered Anna buying it a few years ago when Emily had decided pink bears, rainbows and unicorns were too babyish.
His eyes shifted to the framed photo of Emily and Anna on the bedside table, laughing as they clutched a pair of melting ice cream cones. The bond of love between mother and daughter radiated from the cheap seashell-covered frame they’d picked out on the same holiday. Anna was everywhere, in everything. She haunted every corner of the house as completely as if she were a manifested ghost.
At first, it had been a comfort to keep everything the same. The kids had enough to deal with and it was important they remembered their mother, and Tom had sure as hell needed it. Somewhere along the line, though, it had stopped being a comfort blanket and was now threatening to smother them all. He had to stop living for the past, stop wishing for things to be as they had been when there was no way to turn back the clock.
Placing his hand on the top of Emily’s head, he stroked the tangled strands so like her mother’s and smiled sadly. He didn’t need to keep the house as a shrine to Anna’s memory when she lived and breathed in the two beautiful children they’d made together. It was time to move on, make a fresh start.
‘Look at me, Em.’
It took a few moments before she raised her red face. She might have her mother’s hair, but those shattered hazel eyes were all his, as was the pain and anger he recognised in them.
’I’ve let you and Max down when you needed me most, I see that now. I’m sorry it has taken me so long to realise it.’ Tom bent, pressed a kiss to her cheek and stepped back from the bed. ‘Things are going to change from now on. I promise.’
5
Mid-August
It had been one of those mornings in the surgery when the phone didn’t stop ringing thanks to a series of random minor accidents and incidents in the village. Coupled with a full appointment book, due in large part to a mystery stomach bug sweeping through the local teenagers, it was nearing two in the afternoon before Nerissa managed to escape from the reception desk into the peace and quiet of the kitchen to fix a bite to eat for her and Doc Gadd.
Neither of them were feeling very hungry thanks to the unwelcome display of symptoms one of the young lads had deposited on the carpet in Doc’s office. ‘Impressive projection,’ Doc had said with a wry laugh as he’d escorted the hapless teen to the spare treatment room, leaving Nerissa to tackle the mess with a bucket of hot soapy water. They’d decided to leave the windows open and transfer the rest of Doc’s appointments to the temporary space for the afternoon, and Nerissa had gone through the appointment book and cancelled two emergency appointments with worried parents. They’d seen enough similar cases to know there had to be a common cause, and the treatment advice was a watch-and-wait brief – plenty of rest, plenty of fluids and call any time day or night if the symptoms worsened. And so Nerissa had this small window to rustle up something to keep her, and particularly Doc, going through to the end of the day.
She’d just put on a pair of oven gloves to remove the tray covered in bubbling slices of cheese on toast when the back door swung open.
Toby, Doc’s – or more accurately these days as she took care of him – her golden retriever bounded from his basket in the corner and took up guard in front of the open door. A low growl rumbled, warning Nerissa of the identity of the visitor before the two men had taken a single step over the threshold. There was only one person the normally placid dog had taken an active dislike to – Doc’s great-nephew, Michael.
‘Get out of it,’ Michael snapped, aiming a foot at, and thankfully for his sake, missing Toby’s flank.
‘Toby. Bed.’ Nerissa pointed to the corner and the dog slunk away, casting her a look of reproach. She didn’t blame him. It wasn’t in Nerissa’s nature to be mean any more than it was Toby’s, but she’d happily bite Michael herself most of the time.
The smell of almost-burnt cheese filled her nostrils and she swung back to the grill just in time to turn it off and catch their lunch before it was ruined.
‘As I was saying,’ Michael stepped into the kitchen, his back to Nerissa, dismissing her without a word of greeting, ‘this part of the building is mostly original, but it wouldn’t take much to modernise it – depending on your plans, of course.’
‘Hmm.’ The older man who’d followed Michael into the kitchen was dressed in a smart, navy pinstripe suit with a white shirt and a flamboyant orange tie the same shade as the silk handkerchief spilling from the breast pocket of the jacket. He had a soft, sleek look about him. Well-groomed, Nerissa thought to herself. ‘Oh, hello,’ the man turned a polite smile to her, hand outstretched. ‘I hope we’re not intruding. I’m Bryan, Bryan Bannerman.’ He said his name with the kind of self-assurance that said he expected her to recognise it, but she had no clue.
‘Nerissa Morgan.’ Nerissa raised her oven-glove clad hands in an apologetic gesture. ‘As you can see, we weren’t expecting anyone.’ She cast a pointed look at Michael. ‘What are you doing here?’
Michael bristled, his plump cheeks mottling in a way reminiscent of salami. ‘I wasn’t aware I needed the housekeeper’s permission to drop by.’
Bryan Bannerman had the good grace to look away, but not before Nerissa caught a flash of annoyance and disgust at the rudeness in Michael’s tone. It made Nerissa feel a shade more kindly towards him, even though his presence didn’t bode well. Ever since Doc had been making noises about retirement, Michael had been sniffing around the place like Toby when he caught the scent of something delicious to him – and usually disgusting to Nerissa – when they were out exploring the beach.
As Doc’s lone-surviving close relative, Michael had taken on the assumption of an inheritance with an enthusiasm Nerissa found altogether distasteful. You’d think Doc had one foot in the grave from the way Michael behaved. Sure, Doc might be a bit past it in terms of coping with the full-time medical needs of their community, and some of his attitudes, especially when it came to things like women’s health, were two steps removed from the dark ages, but he was still fit for his age and fully in charge of his mental faculties. If Michael had his way, he’d have Doc packed off in a tiny retirement flat and the surgery building on the market before the year was out.
‘You don’t need my permission to do anything, Michael, but we’re absolutely slammed in the surgery. I’m grabbing us a late lunch between appointments. If you’d let your uncle know you were coming, we might have been able to rearrange things.’
Giving Michael her back, Nerissa picked up the kettle, filled it just enough to make two cups and switched it on. Petty, but if Michael and his guest wanted tea, they could damn well make it themselves. Or better yet take themselves off down to Laurie’s café and leave Nerissa in peace.
‘You carry on,’ Michael waved his hand like royalty bestowing permission on a lowly subject. ‘I can show Bryan around without an escort.’
Show him around?
Nerissa bit her tongue and concentrated on measuring the correct amount of tea into the pot. Doc insisted on loose-leaf, left in the pot to stew until the teaspoon could almost stand up in it.
Not your business, she chided herself silently. Doc didn’t pay her enough to get involved with whatever Michael was plotting. And even though she was dying to know what exactly he was up to, she would never give him the satisfaction of asking – not when he’d as likely try to dress her down again for not knowing her place.
Having filled the pot, she set it down on the tray she had placed on the table earlier. ‘Best if you keep away from the surgery, we’ve had some dreadful cases of D & V in this morning. One poor lad did a re-enactment of The Exorcist all over Doc’s carpet.’ Feeling devilish, Nerissa reached for the empty kettle and waved it towards the two men. ‘Cup of tea?’
Bryan Bannerman took a step towards the back door, face going pale. ‘No! Erm, no, thank you so much for the offer though.’
‘Well, if you change your mind, the cups are in this cupboard, so feel free to help yourself.’ Nerissa gave him her best just-here-to-help smile. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get Doc’s lunch to him.’ She slid the cheese on toast onto a couple of plates, which she added to the tray and lifted it. ‘If you don’t mind,’ she nodded towards the door on the opposite of the kitchen.
When Michael didn’t attempt to move, Bryan cast him another confused look before hurrying over to open it. ‘Are you sure you can manage the tray?’ he asked as he held the door open with his shoulder.
‘Oh, I’m fine, thank you so much. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr Bannerman.’
‘Bryan, please,’ he replied, inclining his head in a little bow. ‘I’m sorry again that we barged in unannounced.’ He cast a look back into the kitchen, his smile falling away.
‘Of course, Bryan. Well, you take care now.’
As she carried the tray down the little hallway connecting their living quarters to the surgery Nerissa couldn’t help feeling a little bit smug about the earful she imagined Mr Bannerman would be giving Michael as soon as they were alone.
She’d left the door to the consulting room propped open and a pleasant breeze ruffled the dark curls which had slipped from the bun pinned at the nape of her neck. Lord, the heat had been stifling for days. She set the tray down on the desk, then proceeded to set out the tea things and Doc’s plate, before retreating to a chair set at right angles against the side of the desk with her own lunch.
‘Well, this looks splendid, doesn’t it?’
One thing she’d say for Doc, he was always appreciative of whatever meal she set before him – even when it was just a bit of cheese on toast.
‘I hope it’s not gone too cold. I was delayed by some unexpected visitors.’ When Doc raised a bushy eyebrow in her direction, Nerissa continued, ‘Michael’s here.’
‘Is he now?’ Apparently unperturbed, Doc took a bite of his toast and chewed it before reaching for the pot and pouring them both a cup of tea.
When Doc seemed disinclined to say any more, Nerissa couldn’t help adding, ‘He had someone with him, a chap called Bryan Bannerman. Have you heard of him?’
‘Can’t say I have, my dear,’ Doc murmured, attention focused on adding exactly the right amount of milk to each cup.
Nerissa stuffed a square of toast into her mouth before she said anything else, then wished she hadn’t as it sat uneasily in her still queasy stomach. Doc had a habit of playing the obtuse card when it came to things he didn’t want to discuss. He was so damn polite about it, though, that it was hard for Nerissa to push him. She knew he knew she knew he was stringing her along, the sly old dog, but it still worked nine times out of ten.
Pulling out her phone, she typed Bryan Bannerman into the search engine and had her worst suspicions confirmed when the first entry took her to the homepage of Bannerman Construction and Development. Beneath a guff paragraph touting the humble family origins of the business was a grinning image of the man she’d just met – looking even sleeker and more pleased with himself than she would’ve thought possible. ‘He’s a developer.’
‘Interesting.’ Doc nibbled another square of toast. ‘Do you know, I wasn’t sure about it when you suggested Red Leicester instead of Cheddar, but I should’ve trusted you all along.’
Refusing to be drawn into a distracting conversation on the merits of melted cheese, Nerissa set her half-eaten lunch on the tray and sipped her tea while she waited to see if he would say anything else about Michael’s unexpected visit. To her growing frustration Doc held his peace as he finished lunch. Fighting the urge to snap at him she stood and gathered their empty plates onto the tray. They had a full afternoon ahead and now was not the time to force a discussion about the future, no matter how unsettled she was feeling. When would be the right time? Ignoring the silent self-admonishment, Nerissa forced a smile. ‘Do you want any more tea?’
‘No, this will do me fine, thank you.’ Doc settled back in his chair, both hands wrapped around his teacup. ‘Perhaps you’d be so kind as to bring me a glass of ice water on your return, though? I don’t think this heat is going to let up any time soon.’
A stickler for appearance, even he’d removed his jacket in surrender to the blazing temperatures and rolled his sleeves in precise squares to just above the elbow. He looked as crisp and fresh as a daisy, his cheeks smoothly shaven and a faint hint of his favourite aftershave carrying on the slight breeze.
By contrast, Nerissa felt as limp and sweaty as the tendrils of hair clinging to her neck. She cast a quick glance at the clock over Doc’s shoulder. Even with the delay caused by Michael, they still had ten minutes before their next appointment – plenty of time for her to dash up to her room and refresh herself, maybe even change her blouse and skirt combo to a cooler dress. ‘I’ll be back in five.’
‘Take your time, my dear,’ Doc said as she carried the tray towards the door. ‘Oh, and Nerissa?’
She paused on the threshold to glance back at him. ‘Yes?’
‘Don’t worry about Michael, everything’s in hand.’
How many times had she heard him say that in the past month?
Fighting the urge to scream, Nerissa stomped her way back to the kitchen. She was furious with Doc for being so blasé about everything, and even more furious with herself for letting him get away with it – again!
6
‘And that’s all he said?’ Jake asked as he held open the door to The Sailor’s Rest later that evening. There were a few pubs in and around the village, but the sprawling edifice on Mermaids Point seafront was a favourite of the family – and not just because it was the one closest to the café and shop the Morgans ran on the very same street.
Doc had been content to settle in front of the television with a bit of quiche and some salad, giving Nerissa leave to escape for the evening. When her brother, Andrew, had posted the words LIQUID REFRESHMENT! in the family WhatsApp group, followed by a row of beer and wine emojis, Nerissa had responded with one of her favourite GIFs, Lucille Ball grinning as she waved a bottle of champagne in the air, the contents spilling everywhere. Sylvia had added one of two women clinking together enormous glasses of wine. Jake had posted Forrest Gump sprinting with the words ‘I’m on my way’, while her nephew, Nick, had settled for Father Jack in his crusty armchair yelling ‘Drink!’
‘Yup.’ Nerissa shrugged, the frustration she’d been feeling since her non-discussion with Doc following Michael’s visit bubbling back to the surface.
‘And what do you think he meant by that?’ Sylvia asked. ‘Oh, look, that table by the window is coming free.’
Nerissa watched half in admiration, half in disbelief as her sister-in-law strode across to where two young men were finishing the last of their pints and placed her handbag on the table they were sitting at.
‘Thanks, darling,’ Sylvia said with a wave and a smile as the boy on the left slid along the bench seat and stood, a slightly befuddled look on his face. If they were considering a second drink, it would have to be at the bar – thus was the power of steamroller Sylvia.
