that.
She considered what her own white sticky label might read: ‘A cool unrepentant killer that has seemingly abandoned her children and lives with a certain indifference to the establishment.’ And she recalled what she had said a while ago: ‘I can see that some people will only ever see what they want to see.’
Kate was on hand at all hours of the day and night for the many and varied emergencies that seemed to occur weekly at Prospect House. In her four-year tenure she had dealt with everything from attempted suicide (twice), fire (once), flooding (once), fights (sixty-three) and the unexpected birth of a baby on the loo floor, Jayden Lee, who had weighed in at a respectable 7lb 3oz and now lived with his mother and her new partner in Truro. Of all the words you could use to describe existence at Prospect House, dull was not one of them.
Kate knew the residents were ready to leave when the journey from hopeless to hopeful was complete. For each of her guests – seven so far – the timing of that journey varied enormously. Arriving without optimism or any reason to feel positive meant the process of healing was often long and arduous. Only the brave attempted such a feat and not all would succeed. For some, to turn over the boulders that represented their lives and rake through what lurked beneath was not a good experience, and for a few it would end in disappointment.
This had been a bitter lesson for Kate to learn: that sometimes people were too far gone and for those individuals it felt better to leave the lid on their troubles. Prospect House could only help them so far, but each left with the words that if they wanted to try again, the door would always be open. For many, this was hope in itself.
Tom walked past the open door of the study with a stack of clean towels balanced on his forearm.
‘Oh, Tom!’
He retraced his steps, careful not to let his towel tower topple.
‘Yes, boss?’
‘Don’t forget Tanya’s arriving today. Her train gets in at two thirty. Can we get her something ready in case she’s famished?’
He nodded. It was pointless telling her that he had already considered this and would prepare sandwiches after he’d finished lunch. It wasn’t that she was a tyrant, far from it; the whole staff loved working for and with Kate. But sometimes her meticulous need for every detail to be right for these girls meant she worried needlessly about things they were capable of executing perfectly without her comments or suggestions.
‘I’m on it.’
She smiled at his back as he resumed his journey to the stairs. Of course he was, dear Tom.
Tom was a vocal advocate for Prospect House within the local community, extolling all that was good about it to anyone that would listen. The support they had received had been incredible; they had many regular visitors, all wanting to be involved. The first visit would be for no other reason than to satisfy a curiosity, but the second and third would be because they liked the atmosphere and the sense of hope that pervaded there. The odd few who were vehemently opposed remained so. Thankfully Penmarin was just big enough for their paths not to cross with any regularity.
Natalie, who had only recently left and had been with them for eight months, was currently working in the local delicatessen with a bedsit above and a regular boyfriend. Many of the girls had enjoyed comparable employment and acceptance; these were her success stories. She sincerely hoped that Tanya would be similarly and fittingly dispatched when the time was right.
Kate sat on the slatted wooden bench and listened to the loud tick of the clock on the platform. The white-painted wooden canopy held well-tended hanging baskets and there was not a speck of litter anywhere. As for graffiti, she doubted that the maintenance team had ever seen it. It was the station of a bygone age; even the station master stood rocking on his polished heels with a pocket watch in place and a flag furled in his hand. She half expected to see Miss Marple alight, with her cloche slightly askew, from a coach full of steam.
The train when it arrived brought the twenty-first century with it, a shiny red-and-yellow bullet streaked with the filth of cities only briefly visited. Kate spotted Tanya immediately. Among the groups, couples, and parents clutching the hands of children stood a teenage girl