the keys in her direction, informing her it was home time. Her humiliation was complete; he wasn’t wasting any words on her. The best he could manage was an action, the rattling of chunks of metal to coerce her, in the way one might distract a baby or quiet a rowdy pet. As he reached over, she hoped to feel the caress of his palm against her face; it would have helped. Instead, he pinched her cheek, in the way one might a naughty nephew, or as if he were a cane-wielding schoolmaster.
He dropped her off at the bottom of the driveway. She had barely placed her feet on the ground when the Kawasaki roared off into the night. The honey glow of Kate’s carefully positioned lamps shone through the windows of Prospect House. Tanya eased her key into the lock.
Kate was on the sofa, blanket bound and reading.
‘Hello, love. Good evening?’
‘Yeah, not bad. If shagging on the bar floor is your idea of a good evening.’
She wanted to shock, transfer some of the tension to this woman who was easy prey.
Kate sat up, The Time Traveler’s Wife suddenly of less interest than the topic in hand.
‘Actually, no, it isn’t. I’m a bit old-fashioned like that, preferring at least a mattress, a decent courtship or a bag of chips first, but that’s just me.’
Kate refused to take the bait. She’d seen it all before, heard it all before. She suppressed the many questions that danced on her tongue. Who is he? Why are you doing this? Are you okay? Hurt? Happy?
Kate unwrapped the blanket from her legs and closed her book. Henry DeTamble would just have to stay missing somewhere in time until she could pick up his trail again. She knew he would understand, given that he was always having to suffer the inconvenience of disappearing at the most crucial moments.
‘Well, as long as you are home safe and sound, I think I’ll turn my toes in.’
Tanya stumbled forward and sat down on the sofa next to Kate. Her tears fell quietly, snaking their way into her open mouth. She was not usually given to mournful reflection, but it was as if by being in this wonderful place, she expected her life to be different, she expected to be different. But it wasn’t. She wasn’t. Whether with the old gang trying to score a hit or here in this picture-postcard village by the sea, it would always be her that gave the boys what they wanted, her that only knew how to seduce, but not how to love.
‘Oh Kate, Kate…’
‘It’s okay, lovey, you are home and you are safe.’
She cradled the girl’s slight frame against her own and spoke into her scalp.
‘It will all feel a bit better in the morning, you wait and see. It’ll pass, everything does.’
Kate smiled as she regurgitated the advice a good friend had once given her.
The two sat until Tanya drifted into sleep. Kate extricated herself, taking care not to wake her. She needed the escape that sleep offered. Kate tucked the pale pink lambswool blanket around her charge’s slender shoulders and pushed a cushion under her cheek. Tanya was calm, for now.
* * *
‘Morning all!’
Tom was in good spirits.
‘Just seen Rodney on the deck of his boat looking like a right plonker! God, if he’s not racing around on that ridiculous bloody motorbike, he’s poncing about on that boat!’
Kate seized the moment. She popped on her trainers, snuck out of the back door and trotted off down the lane. She tried to calm her rising pulse, tried not to jump to any conclusions. It wasn’t often she knew where to find Rodney, and this was just the opportunity she’d been looking for.
She found him on the deck of Lady of Penmarin, his rather ostentatious yacht, wearing a naff sailing hat with gold braiding and a large anchor embroidered on the front, the kind of cap you could pick up at any of the local gift shops for a few quid. He was busy coiling rope, which even though she was a novice sailor, Kate could tell was a futile chore, designed so that he could show off in full view on the deck. Tom had phrased it perfectly: a right plonker.
‘Rodney, hi!’
Kate waved from the pontoon.
‘It’s Cap’n Rodney when I am on my seafaring maiden!’
‘Righto. I was wondering if I might have a word?’
Kate ignored his joviality; she was in no mood for high jinks.
‘Yes of course, come aboard!’
‘Urgh, I was afraid