Wendy Jones - The Summer We Loved

“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.