Jane Renshaw - Watch Over Me

‘No, no screens – you can show Edith the video another time. And I think we’ve got enough crisps, Beckie.’ She couldn’t be bothered searching for her phone now. She’d just have to use Caroline’s if she needed to call Neil for any reason. ‘Come on.’

‘Edith might not like cheese and onion.’

‘Okay, choose one more flavour.’ Flora followed Caroline into the hall.

‘Bye, you lot,’ came Neil’s voice from the open study door. ‘Have a good one.’

‘Yeah, you too!’ Caroline yelled back, lugging the cool box through the vestibule.

Flora, encumbered by two tote bags and three large beach towels, put her head round the door. ‘Would you be able to get double cream, and rasps and strawberries and blueberries, or whatever there is, and I can make a summer fruits trifle?’ Beckie’s favourite.

Neil looked up abstractedly from his screen. ‘Yeah, sure.’

He would probably forget.

‘See you later, then.’

‘Mm, see you – have fun. Don’t forget the sunblock.’

‘When have I ever forgotten the sunblock?’

The only time Beckie had ever got burnt at the beach was when she was with Neil.

She was struggling with the door to the vestibule when Beckie appeared and shoved three packets of crisps into the tote bag.

‘Say goodbye to Dad, Beckie.’

‘Bye, Dad!’ Beckie yelled in the direction of the study before scooting out into the sunshine.

‘Bye, Beckster,’ came Neil’s reply.

The heat hit her as she stepped out of the vestibule into the sun. She swung the larger beach bag off her shoulder and rummaged under hats, cardies and a packet of wine gums until her hand closed over the smooth plastic of the sun cream.

But by the time they’d picked up Edith and got to Yellowcraigs, and had lugged all the stuff from Caroline’s car to the beach, it had clouded over. The view across the Firth to Fife was still spectacular, though, and the wide expanse of beach stretching all the way to North Berwick was virtually empty at this time in the morning – just some brisk walkers and dog owners, and a few other families with kids.

Flora held a towel round Edith and then Beckie as they wriggled out of their clothes and into their costumes, and plastered them with sunblock despite Beckie’s protests that ‘There’s not even sun ,’ and then they were off, running at the sea.

‘Just paddle until we get there, girls,’ Flora called after them.

Edith was still thin but no longer worryingly so, Flora had reflected when she’d been putting the sunblock on her. The biggest difference was in her face – her cheeks had filled out into two sweet, pink little apples and there was a healthy glow about her. She was like a different child, as Shona had said the other day.

Shona had gulped: ‘Thank you so much, Flora, for – for saving us. You really have saved us.’

Flora, her own tears threatening, had shaken her head. ‘Maybe I’ve been the catalyst, but everything that’s happened, it’s all been down to you.’

All Flora had done was make Shona see that she needed help. It had been Shona who had found the courage to ask for that help: from her GP, from a charity that provided support to parents in difficulty, and, most importantly of all, from her ex-husband. She’d told Edith’s father about her depression and how much she was struggling, and they had come to an agreement whereby they shared custody, Edith staying with her dad four days a week.

And Edith was blossoming in front of their eyes.

The two girls were fast friends now, and Beckie was touchingly protective of Edith. Shona had even been round a couple of times for lunch, and though the first time had been hard going, the second time she had seemed to relax more and had even made a few quite amusing remarks which suggested a lurking sense of humour.

Was it possible that Flora was making another friend?

Caroline was saying something.

‘Sorry, what?’

‘Are you getting changed some time this year, Flora?’

Caroline’s swimming costume was a stylish navy one-piece; Flora’s consisted of Lycra shorts and a long T-shirt. Not that she ever did much swimming. The only reason she ever went in the sea was to supervise Beckie.

But Beckie and Edith hadn’t got anywhere near the water yet. They’d been sidetracked by a little dog that bounced around them excitedly while the couple who obviously owned him stood some way off down the beach, looking back. Beckie was giggling and running backwards towards Flora and Caroline, the dog jumping after her and then running to Edith, who was swishing a disgusting length of old seaweed temptingly across the sand.

‘Beckie, I think his owners are wanting him to come.’

Beckie, grinning, dancing on her toes, shook her head. ‘Nope, he’s ours now. Look, he luuuves us! You luuuve us, don’t you?’ She squatted down and the dog planted his sandy paws on her lap and pushed his face towards hers.

‘Don’t let him lick your face –’

‘– or I’ll get a disease and my insides will turn to mush. It would be so worth it.’ But Beckie put her hands over the dog’s face and cupped his little head to stop him reaching her face, the surprisingly bright red tongue darting between her fingers. ‘Ooh, tickly! Oh! He’s so cute! Edith, do this! It’s amazing!’

The man, resignedly, had started walking back towards them.

‘Well what can they expect,’ Beckie pre-empted Flora’s next remark, ‘when they’ve got a dog this cute?’

Edith, giggling as the dog licked her hands, said, ‘If they didn’t want people to pay their dog any attention they should have got like a Rottweiler or something.’

Beckie laughed. ‘Or like a wolf !’

‘A lion !’

‘A bear !’

But Beckie jumped up and took off across the sand towards the man, the little dog and Edith running after her. She called, ‘Sorry, we had to play with him or our heads would have like exploded because he’s too cute! What’s his name?’

The couple were both smiling, and Beckie launched into a conversation as the dog cavorted happily.

‘God, she’s such a great kid,’ said Caroline. ‘She’s really brought Edith out of her shell.’

‘Mm, she’s redeemed herself there. Just about.’ Flora smiled. ‘She’s a handful.’

‘No, but that’s the thing – she’s got all this energy and exuberance, and that witty sense of humour of hers that comes out of left field… but then when you tell her to do something, she does it.’

‘Sometimes.’

‘And she’s happy as a pig in sh… in clover, just sitting reading a book for an hour.’

Flora smiled. ‘Again, sometimes.’ As they stood and started across the sand after the girls, Flora looked at her friend. ‘Thank you so much for agreeing to – to be her guardian and everything. It’s really taken a weight off our minds.’

Neil had come round to the whole idea, eventually. They’d been over at Caroline’s for lunch last Saturday, which had been a great success – Beckie and Caroline had made a bizarre salad with pears and cheese which Neil had pretended to sick up behind a rhododendron but which had actually been quite nice.

They had met their solicitor a couple of days later and changed their wills to appoint Caroline as Beckie’s guardian in the event of their deaths.

And it was weird, but just completing that paperwork had made Flora feel differently towards Caroline. She was more than a friend now. It was as if Caroline being officially Beckie’s guardian had made her virtually family.

Caroline waved a dismissive hand. ‘Hey. It’s all hypothetical.’

They hadn’t seen or heard of the Johnsons since the day of Beckie’s party. The Johnsons had withdrawn the assault complaint, and the charges against Neil had been dropped. She was starting to hope that Lorraine Johnson had been sincere when she’d said they would leave them alone. That Neil had been right all along about the Johnsons not representing any real threat.