Part 1 (2/2)

'Yeah. As long as the b.a.s.t.a.r.d at the market gives them a good price.'

Greer's father laughed. 'Is that right?'

'Yeah.'

'I've got one!' Greer was pulling up her line and, as it broke water, her father and the boy could see that she had three fat, black, glittering crabs clinging greedily to the bait.

'Bring 'em in slow, Greer.'

'Get the bucket, Daddy!' she called excitedly.

'That's it. Nice and slow. Now drop 'em in.'

Greer watched as the three crabs plopped into her bucket.

'Mummy! I got three in one go!'

'Did you?' responded her mother from the safety of the bench; she was still not looking up from her magazine. 'Well done, darling.'

'Do you want to feed them a chip?' The boy pa.s.sed over the bag.

She picked up the fattest chip she could see and dropped it into her bucket.

'Thank you.'

The crabs, which had been sc.r.a.pping with each other, now started sc.r.a.pping with the chip.

'Want one yerself?' asked Jesse.

Greer darted a glance at her mother, who shook her head. 'You've already had an ice cream, Greer. You don't want to get fat.'

Greer looked back at Jesse. 'No, thank you.'

'Suit yourself,' he said, shovelling a handful into his mouth.

'What bait you using?' he mumbled, standing up and wiping his hands on his cotton shorts. He ambled over, with his hands in his pockets, to look at her catch.

'Fish,' said Greer.

'What sort of fish?'

Greer's father replied, 'Mackerel, boy. But I reckon 'tis bacon that's the best. When I were a nipper, I always used bacon.'

The boy looked at him, nodding his head slowly, weighing up the pros and cons of mackerel versus bacon. 'I prefer mackerel. It's what Dad says is best and he's the best fisherman in Trevay.'

'Then he must be right,' smiled Greer's father.

The emptying of the crabs back into the water was a serious business. One by one they were counted and Greer had a pleasing sixty-four to Jesse's eighty-one.

'Not bad. For a beginner,' he told her.

'Bryn,' called Greer's mother, impatient to get home to a cooling shower. 'It's time to get Greer back.'

'Stop your nagging, woman. We'm 'aving a good time.'

'I've got to get tea on and it's getting late.'

'I told you to stop nagging,' he said, and silenced her with a look.

The children said their goodbyes and Greer's father said, 'Send my regards to your dad.'

'What's your name?' asked Jesse.

'I'm the b.a.s.t.a.r.d at the market who never gives him a good price.'

Greer snapped her eyes open, remembering Jesse's straight talking as being so typical of him, even as a young boy. He always seemed so sure of himself; he didn't ever seem to care what anyone thought. But had she ever really known him? Had any of them? She continued staring out into the churning, dark sea and pulled her coat closer around her, though she knew that it wasn't the winter chill that was making her s.h.i.+ver.

The sea in front of her was devoid of boats, reflecting the emptiness she felt inside.

Loveday Chandler knocked and waited for several minutes. She pulled her mobile phone from the pocket of her fleece and dialled Greer's number. She heard it ring out behind the closed front door. Snapping her phone shut and putting it back into her pocket, she turned away from the house and headed towards the only other place where her friend could be.

'Greer,' Loveday called as she jogged breathlessly down the beach. 'Greer!'

Greer hung her head and blew out a stream of warm breath into the cold wind. Why would no one leave her alone?

Loveday reached her, panting. 'Greer, darlin', you OK?'

Greer dragged her eyes from the horizon and focused on her oldest friend. 'I'm fine,' she said flatly.

'Only we was worried. You left so quickly.'

'I wanted to be home.'

Loveday sat down on a bunch of mussels next to Greer. ''Twas a tough day.'

Greer nodded, grim faced.

'Brings it all back again,' said Loveday, picking up a small pebble and throwing it into the lapping water.

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