I wake stiff and cold with his jacket covering me.
‘Bloody hell.’ His voice is groggy with sleep as he stretches his back. ‘I’m too old to be sleeping rough again.’ He smiles and rubs his face. ‘And I’m famished. Breakfast? I fancy a full English.’
I retie my hair in a ponytail, trying as best I can to neaten it. I’m aware I must look horrible and wish I could shower, clean my teeth, and change into fresh clothes. I stand and wait for him to put on his trainers.
He gets to his feet and smiles again. ‘Last night was—’ he hesitates, ‘special.’
‘It was.’
The sea is still calm, flat and polished, the early morning sunlight colouring it a buttery yellow. I don’t say any more. I don’t want to ruin the moment by addressing the harsh reality which prowls like a cat beyond this hidey-hole of ours.
We climb the overgrown footpath which wends its way upwards, and when we emerge from the gorse and blackthorn tangle, a handful of herring gulls who’d been sitting on the pasture fence take flight with screeches of complaint. As we walk back along the coast path I search the sea, desperate for a glimpse of a basking shark or passing pod of dolphins. It’s not dolphins which grab my attention, but my phone. It springs to life as we come into reception in a frenzy of possessed beeping. I pull it out of the pocket of my jacket.
‘Shit,’ I breathe, as I fumble to unlock the screen.
A sickening dread congeals inside me as I digest what’s on my screen. Three texts from Alex. One text from Vicky. Twenty-eight missed calls from Nathan.
‘Everything OK?’ Cam calls over his shoulder.
I don’t answer. He stops and walks back to me. His hand grips my arm. ‘Hannah?’
I stare at my phone as I open the texts.
Alex: Mum? Where r u?
Alex: Please call
Alex: MUM???!?
Vicky: Call me when you get this.
Fingers of icy cold coil through me.
‘Hannah?’ Cam says again. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nathan knows.’