Flo when I drop her off.
‘I will.’ I grin. ‘And try and get a good night’s sleep for once.’
She nods, waves and disappears inside her cute mid-terrace cottage.
*****
Arriving home, my heart sinks.
We live on a small, modern estate on the outskirts of Sunnybrook, just a ten-minute walk from the village. When she’s in, Tavie tends to flood the four-bedroom detached house with light, but the house is in total darkness.
I let myself in and dig out my phone. Still no message, even though I’ve sent her three in as many hours, pretty much begging her to reply. (I even thought about promising to buy her some new trainers if she’d just let me know she’s okay, but I managed to resist. Bribery is a step too far.) I have the number of the parents of her friend, Amy, but I’m reluctant to bother them.
Needs must, I think firmly, and I ring their number.
Then I really wish I hadn’t, because it seems Amy got back to the farm, where the family lives, an hour ago. Her mum, Angela, tries to calm me down, saying, ‘Amy was feeling a bit tired so she left early, but otherwise, she’d still be there and I’d be feeling what you’re feeling if she hadn’t bothered to contact me. Which, let’s face it, has happened more times than I care to remember. She’ll be back soon, Jenny. I’m sure of it.’
‘Thanks, Angela.’
‘Shall I get Amy to ring her and find out when she’ll be coming home?’
‘Is she in bed?’
‘Yes, but that’s okay. I can wake her up.’
‘Oh, no, don’t do that. I’m sure you’re right. She’ll be back soon. I’m just worrying for nothing.’
I end the call, feeling only marginally better, and wander into the kitchen to make some tea. Then I sit in the living room in the dark, with the curtains still open, trying to drink it and rationalising that she’s actually only three-quarters of an hour late. I told her to be back by ten. Teenagers have no concept of time. I was the same myself when I was her age…
When it gets to eleven-fifteen, I wash out my mug slowly and go upstairs. She’ll be mad if she finds me waiting up for her when she gets in. Probably best to be in bed when she arrives – although I know for a fact that I won’t be able to sleep until she’s safely back home and tucked up in bed.
*****
I first met Tavie’s dad, Harvey, when his car had a puncture, just outside the Sussex village where I was manager of the popular Half Moon Bakery there. I was behind the counter when he came in, talking on his mobile, and when he ended the call, he asked me what I could recommend to take the sting out of a flat tyre.
He was tall and quite handsome, with thick blonde hair, and when he smiled at me, I noticed his two front teeth were ever so slightly crossed. It was a good smile and I had a feeling he was flirting with me, so I said, ‘Try a warm apricot and almond pastry, and all your troubles will float away like magic.’
‘Sounds good.’ He glanced around and noticed the three tables over in the corner. ‘A coffee as well, please. I might be here a while.’
‘Are you from around here?’ I asked, as I poured him a black coffee.
‘Sunnybrook.’
‘Oh, yes. In Surrey? Were you heading back there?’
He took his coffee and pastry to the table nearest the counter. ‘Actually, I was on my way to the Goodwood Festival of Speed, would you believe?’ He grinned. ‘But with a nail through my tyre, I’m definitely on a go-slow now.’ He shrugged. ‘No spare tyre.’
‘That’s pretty ironic,’ I agreed.
‘I suppose it has its compensations.’
‘Oh?’
‘Well, I wouldn’t have met you, would I?’
I felt myself blush. ‘I suppose not.’
‘I’m Harvey, by the way. Harvey Gold.’
He got up and we shook hands. ‘Jenny. Jenny Wilkes.’
When his phone rang and it was the mechanic saying he’d arrived with a tyre, I thought Harvey Gold would say goodbye and that would be the last I saw of him.
But to my surprise, he came back into the bakery twenty minutes later.
‘It’s you again,’ I said, my heart lifting.
‘It is.’ He grinned. ‘I’ll try a chocolate pastry this time, please.’
We clicked, Harvey and I. We had a similar sense of humour and we never seemed to run out of things to talk about. I liked his smile and his confidence,