Silver Bay(29)
Author: Jojo Moyes

I didn’t need to answer that one. I knew Greg would have done the same.

‘So what did you talk about?’ he asked.

‘Oh, for God’s sake.’

‘I’m just interested,’ he protested. ‘He turns up here, looking like some kind of spiv, throws his money around . . . What’s it all about?’

I shrugged. ‘I don’t know and I don’t care. Let the man be. He’ll be gone soon enough.’

‘He’d better be. I don’t like him.’

‘You don’t like anyone new.’

‘I don’t like anyone new who sucks up to you.’

Hannah ran up to us, breathless and giggling. Milly flopped down at my feet. ‘She’s been rolling in something disgusting,’ Hannah said. ‘She smells. I think it might have been a dead crab.’

‘Have you got homework?’ I reached out to push her hair off her face. Every time I looked at her now she seemed to have grown a little, her face taking on new aspects. It reminded me that one day she would break away from me. Given the ties that bound us, I was not yet sure how that would work.

‘Just revision. We’ve got a science test on Tuesday.’

‘Go and do it now. Then you’ll be free for the rest of the evening.’

‘What’s your test about?’ asked Yoshi. ‘Bring it out and I’ll help you, if you like.’

Over the years I had discovered that the crews had enough skills between them to provide a whole education for Hannah. Yoshi, for example, had an advanced degree in biology and marine science, while Lance could tell you anything you wanted to know about weather. One or two had given her skills with which I was less impressed, like Scottie, who had taught her to swear and once, while I was out, suggested she take a drag on his cigarette – Lance saw and punched him. She had skills of her own, my daughter. Skills, I suspect, she had inherited from me: how to assess people, how to stand back from them until you’re sure of who or what they are, how to make yourself invisible in a large group. How to cope with grief.

She’d learnt that lesson way too early.

Yoshi sat with her and, as night fell round us, they ploughed through something to do with osmosis, Yoshi explaining things far better than I ever could. But I hadn’t had much of an education, a mistake I was determined that Hannah would not repeat.

Greg seemed to recognise that I’d been shaken by the day’s events, and tried to make me laugh with stories of the warring couple he’d had on board his boat. He didn’t mention his ex or the fate of his boat; I hoped she’d backed off him a little. But my eyes kept wandering down the coast road, as I waited for that truck to reappear, those blue uniforms to climb out of the cab again.

Greg leant in to me. ‘You fancy coming to my place tonight? I got a whole load of videos off one of the guys at the boatyard. New comedies. Might be something you’d like.’ He made it sound casual.

‘No,’ I said, ‘but thanks.’

‘It’s just a film,’ he said.

‘It’s never just a film, Greg.’

‘One day,’ he said, his eyes lingering on mine.

‘One day,’ I conceded.

Mike Dormer came out as the last of the light disappeared. The burners were on, and Kathleen had made bacon sandwiches, with fat slices of floury white bread. I didn’t have much appetite, and picked at a bit of bacon. Hannah was squashed next to me, wrapped in a muffler against the colder air, her straight dark hair pulled into a knot. I could smell the shampoo when I dipped my head to hers.

Kathleen had handed him a plate, and he walked round the side of the table to get to the remaining seat. He appeared to have showered, and had put on a different shirt and sweater from what he had worn on the boat. His clean, well-cut clothes marked him out. Most of us are capable of wearing the same clothes for days on end if storm jackets and waterproofs hide them. He glanced at me, then at the others, muttering, ‘Evening.’ His accent still made me start. We didn’t get many English people in Silver Bay, and it was several years since I’d heard the accent of my own country.

Hannah leant forward. ‘Did you see what I wrote?’

He tilted his head.

‘On your computer. I left you a note. I was playing around earlier and I did that thing you said for looking people up.’

He took a sandwich.

‘I looked up Auntie K again. And then I looked you up.’

Mike’s head shot up.

‘There’s a picture of you. Of your face. And your company.’

He seemed oddly uncomfortable. Mind you, I sympathise with people who don’t like to have their lives dug into, and I admonished Hannah for prying.

‘So what is it, mate?’ said Lance. ‘Drugs? White-slave trade? We can sell you Squirt here at a good price. Throw in the dog, if you like.’

Hannah poked Lance’s arm. ‘Actually, it looks a bit boring,’ she said, grinning. ‘I don’t think I’d like to work in a city.’

‘I think,’ Mike said, recovering slightly, ‘you have the better deal out here.’

‘What is it you actually do?’ said Greg. His aggressive tone told me that Mike had not been forgiven for the temerity of our boat trip. It made me feel somehow protective of him.

Mike took a big bite of his sandwich. ‘It’s research, mainly. Background information for financial deals.’ His voice was muffled with food.

‘Oh,’ said Greg, dismissively. ‘The boring stuff.’

‘Is it your own company?’ said Hannah.

Mike shook his head, his mouth apparently too full to talk.

‘Pay well?’ said Lance.

Mike finished chewing. ‘I do all right,’ he said.

I waited until Hannah had gone in before I spoke to him again. ‘Listen, I’m sorry about earlier. If I gave you a fright, I mean. I just couldn’t work out how to get rid of those boats. But it was stupid. I acted . . . hastily. Especially with a passenger on board.’

He had had a couple of beers and looked about as loosened up as I imagined Mike Dormer got, collar open above the neck of his sweater, sleeves rolled up. He was leaning back in his chair, staring at the black nothing where the sea should have been. The clouds obscured the moon, and I could just make out his smile from the porch light.

‘It was a bit of a surprise,’ he said. ‘I thought you were going to harpoon them.’

That smile made me wonder how I had ever suspected he would talk to the police about me. But that is how I am: my default position, if you like, is one of suspicion. ‘Not this time,’ I said, and he grinned.