Bella Osborne - Coming Home to Ottercombe Bay - The laugh out loud romantic comedy of the year

I“m so sorry but I have to go. I“ll be in touch. Take care of yourself. Love D x

She left the note on her pillow, picked up her bag and left the bedroom as quietly as she could. Panic rose as she wrestled with the porch door. It was one thing to run away but to be foiled in her attempt would be excruciating. ‘Bloody thing,’ she grumbled but a whimpering at her feet drew her attention. Bugsy was sitting watching her, his head on one side. He studied her with his abnormally big eyes. She stopped for a moment, for some odd reason she felt she needed to explain to him why she was leaving, although she suspected he wouldn’t be sad to see her go.

‘I have to go,’ she whispered. ‘This place has too many bad memories for me. Too many ghosts.’

Bugsy stood up, turned around and she heard a sort of phht sound, which was followed by a foul smell. Daisy shook her head, gave the door one more shove and slunk out.

She pulled on her helmet, got on the bike and was thankful it started first time. She surveyed Sea Mist Cottage one last time, opened the throttle and drove away. Hopefully this would be the last she’d see of it for a very long time.

In a few short minutes her breathing had steadied and despite a small niggle she knew she was doing the right thing. She didn’t like not saying goodbye to Aunt Coral but she would only have tried to make her stay. She turned into the high street and pulled up at the traffic lights. Tamsyn jumped in front of her waving her arms.

Oh cock, thought Daisy.

‘Hello. I knew it was you; your bike sounds ropey. Wasn’t it a lovely service? Proper good send off, lots of people, which is really lovely, especially for an old person because sometimes there’s not many people there because all their friends have died, but everyone loved Reg. Why have you got your rucksack with you?’

‘Umm,’ mumbled Daisy.

Tamsyn came to the side of the bike. ‘Are you leaving?’ Tamsyn’s face fell, she looked instantly despondent.

Daisy wished she was a better liar as she lifted her visor. ‘Sorry, Tamsyn, I need to go. You take care now.’

‘No. You’ve only just come back, you can’t leave now …’ Her eyes filled with tears and Daisy felt like she was torturing a toddler.

The traffic lights changed. ‘I’m sorry,’ said Daisy, she meant it. She flipped down her visor. Someone behind hooted and Daisy revved the engine and started to pull away.

‘Sandy wants you to stay!’ shouted Tamsyn with desperation in her voice.

Of all the things she could have shouted after her this was the one thing that would have the desired effect. The words were still ringing in Daisy’s ears as she pulled her bike into the kerb and switched off the engine. Tamsyn walked over looking anxious.

Daisy felt numb. She pulled off her helmet and stared at Tamsyn.

‘What do you mean “Sandy wants me to stay”?’ snapped Daisy. Daisy’s mother was called Sandy, was this who she meant?

Tamsyn nibbled her bottom lip. ‘You remember my mum, Min?’ she said, sounding like she was saying a tongue twister.

If this was going to be another long drawn out story Daisy was likely to scream. ‘Yes, why?’

‘She kind of gets these feelings. It’s a bit like a spiritual medium but not really the same. They’re like a sixth sense message from those who’ve left us. And she said to tell you but I wasn’t sure if you’d think she was mad or not and I didn’t want to upset you and—’

‘Tamsyn, please spit it out.’

Tamsyn took a deep breath. ‘She felt your mum’s presence. She said she could tell Sandy was pleased you were home and she wanted you to stay.’

Daisy didn’t know what to think. She had seen no evidence herself of life after death so she had no reason to believe in it. But the thought of some sort of contact from her mum had such a powerful draw it wrestled hard with her logical mind. Daisy swallowed. Another car honked at her and overtook, nearly clipping her bike.

‘We can’t stay here. Get on,’ instructed Daisy.

Tamsyn shook her head. ‘It’s too dangerous without a helmet.’

‘I’ll go at like five miles an hour – it’ll be fine. Or better still, you can have mine.’

Tamsyn shook her head. ‘It’s illegal. Hang on, I have an idea.’ She ran off towards the barbers. Moments later she came out wearing a black crash helmet featuring a bloodied skull design, which looked interesting when teamed with her long flowing summer dress.

‘Barber has a motorbike,’ she said and she climbed on the back. Daisy didn’t question her, she restarted the bike and pulled out safely into the traffic. She could have ridden anywhere but one particular place sprang to mind. She headed out of the town centre and turned onto the coast road. A short way along she turned off onto the gravel area that was both a small car park and viewing spot.

Daisy left the bike and walked off along the coastal path with Tamsyn following dutifully, a lot like it had been when they were children. Up ahead Daisy caught a glimpse of the sea – the dark blue smudge expanding as she neared the headland. The perfect crescent of Ottercombe Bay came into view on Daisy’s left side. From her high vantage point she had a good view of the divide that had existed in the bay for almost a hundred years; on one side of the beach were rows and rows of fishing boats of varying shapes and sizes and on the other a multitude of deckchairs, picnic rugs and tourists. The occasional shout of a child drifted up to her before ebbing away but otherwise it was peaceful high up on the cliff top.

As the sea breeze caressed Daisy’s senses she started to feel calmer and some of the frustration at having her escape plans interrupted diminished. She could smell the sea, the fresh scent quite like no other which reminded her of the summers she had returned to the bay with her father, year after year until he could bear it no more. For Daisy returning to the bay meant being reunited with her sadness but when they left there had also been the ache of being ripped away from everything familiar.

They walked to the far end of the headland; the tip of the crescent on one side of the bay. Daisy took off her leather jacket, laid it on the ground and she and Tamsyn flopped down on it.

‘I love this view,’ said Tamsyn at last. Daisy was amazed she’d managed to keep quiet this long.

‘Me too.’ She had forgotten how much she loved it. Pictures of the picnics she had had there as a child swam in her mind’s eye. Her mother and father dancing while she giggled and snuck an extra biscuit. The sun shining down on them whilst the sea beat a steady rhythm below – they were happy times. Her parents had loved this spot too it seemed, as it was somewhere they had come regularly. Daisy ran her fingers through the grass and wondered if her mother had sat on that spot and done the same thing; it felt likely. A familiar sense of loss pulled at her gut. Daisy was reminded of why she was here. ‘Is your mum some sort of psychic?’ she asked.

Tamsyn dragged her eyes away from the sea. ‘Not officially, but she’s always had these sensations and thoughts that weren’t her own. My dad calls it a load of witpot but I think there’s something in it.’

‘What makes you think there is?’ Daisy turned to gauge her reaction.

Tamsyn tipped back her head and stared into the cloudless sky. ‘Because she never lies. I mean like never – she can’t even tell a white lie. If I ask her “Do you like my hair up?” she’ll just go “No, it looks better down.” She never lies. So when she says things about people who have passed then I have to believe that too, don’t I?’

Daisy wasn’t convinced. ‘Who else has she had messages from?’