make something of their lives, but it will only really work if they have the support of the community they live in. They have been shunned and treated like dirt everywhere they have ever been and I want their experience here to be different. I want to give them that chance; I want to show them that there is a nice side to life. I want to give them hope.’
No one heard the door creak open. In the midst of the debate, a girl carrying all she possessed in a heavy grey bin liner entered and stood in the shadows. She listened intently to Kate’s words. Without any pre-planning, she stepped forward and took her place centre stage. Her large frame dominated the low-timbered room. She deposited her bin liner on the floor.
‘Kate’s right. I’ve been shunned and treated like dirt since I was little. And let’s face it, it was just bad luck. Some of you got lucky and were born here to parents that loved you, and I got the exact opposite. But I have decided to change my luck. I shall be studying at Plymouth University. I’m going to study psychotherapy. It’s something I could never have imagined doing a few years ago, but someone gave me a chance and showed me that there is a nice side to life.’ She smiled meaningfully in Kate’s direction and Kate beamed back, astonished and thrilled at the surprise arrival of her old friend. ‘If I hadn’t been given that chance,’ the girl continued, ‘my life would be very different, believe me. Now I want to give other people a taste of that hope, and when I finish my course I would like to work at Prospect House to help people like me, people who need better luck. My name is Janeece, by the way.’
The bar was silent for a moment, then the regulars started mumbling among themselves, casting mental votes, seeing what their neighbours thought before throwing in their support. Tom Heath stepped forward.
‘I think it sounds like a wicked project, Kate, and maybe if I’d had a bit more support when I was younger, I might of made something of myself. I could have done with a bit better luck. I will help you in any way that I can.’
The locals stared at Tom, who had been one of the loudest objectors to Prospect House only minutes before Kate and Natasha’s arrival.
‘Thank you, Tom. Actually I do need help; we are looking for a cook and a housekeeper, and there are other roles that need filling.’
I can definitely help you there; that’s my trade, the hotel game …’
The volume in the room rose by an octave. Jobs? They hadn’t thought of that.
The fisherman spoke again. ‘So I guess we won’t be overrun with muggers and murderers!’ He laughed and his friends laughed too. The lion had been tamed, for now.
‘No, I can almost guarantee that there will only ever be one killer living at Prospect House.’
Rodney Morris seized on Kate’s statement.
‘A murderer? You are telling us that there will be a murderer living among us, interacting with our kids, roaming our paths? Good God, I don’t like the sound of that one bit! How can you guarantee that we’ll be safe?’
Kate smiled at his flustered rhetoric.
‘I personally guarantee that you will be safe from the killer, Rodney.’
‘How? How can you guarantee it?’
Kate turned to face him and spoke loudly enough for them all to hear.
‘Because, Rodney, the killer is me. I have, however, served my sentence for manslaughter, done my time, as they say, and don’t expect to be tried again by you or anyone else. And incidentally I am not planning on bumping off anyone else any time soon.’
The pub was once again silent. Everyone stared at her, each drinker digesting the words and deciding whether they had been spoken in jest.
Tom stepped forward and placed a pint of real ale into Kate’s hand.
‘Cheers.’
‘Cheers, Tom.’
Kate raised her glass at the crowd, then glugged the beer. Impromptu clapping broke out, and she got the feeling that they were clapping for much more than the fact that she was downing a pint. She was right about that.
* * *
The unlikely trio made their way down to the beach below Prospect House. As they spread picnic blankets on the sand and unpacked a cold roast chicken, a large bowl of Greek salad and slices of vanilla cheesecake, they all felt a giddy sense of excitement.
Natasha produced cold cans of Pimm’s