Freya shivered as the sea breeze hit her full in the face. It was a week until Christmas, and the temperature was dropping on a daily basis. Ginger didn’t seem to feel the cold, though, and was rushing through the foamy surf as if it was a summer’s day.
Ellie and Liv had been true to their word and had spoken to as many local people as possible to try and track down her father, but there’d only been a handful of red herrings and no solid leads so far. Freya had paid their efforts back by helping out at the last big corporate event of the year – the Christmas party for a large agricultural insurance company, which Ellie had told her provided a good chunk of the farm’s income. Working alongside Ellie and Liv had been good fun, like being back on the ward again. It was strange to think that, in just a few weeks, she’d be starting her new job, as a senior sister on the cardiac ward of a London hospital. She might not be going ahead with her plan to share a life with Ollie in the capital, or be moving to the flat they’d been so excited to find, but she’d still be starting her new job. There was no choice, at least not in the short term, and she’d have to start looking for somewhere to live as soon as Christmas was over.
Renting a flat in central London by herself wasn’t an option, so she’d have to look for something in a neighbouring county, which was a commutable distance from the hospital. She couldn’t face the thought of flat sharing and, in truth, she didn’t want to think too much about leaving The Old Stables. Maybe she could find somewhere to rent nearby, or at least elsewhere in Kent. Kelsea Bay felt as close to somewhere she could call home, as anywhere had since she’d sold her parents’ house, just after her mother had died.
Turning to head back to the well-worn stone steps that led up from the stretch of beach she and Ginger chose to walk on most days, the wind whipped at Freya’s hair, blowing it across her face. When she pushed it out of her eyes, and turned back to make sure Ginger was following her, the little dog had disappeared.
‘Ginger!’ Scanning the shoreline, she could just make out the outline of the dog chasing after her favourite prey – a seagull. ‘Come on Ginger, stop, please!’ Freya shouted, and for a second she thought the dog might actually respond to the command. Ginger stopped and looked back to where Freya was standing. Then the seagull swooped past her again, sending her into a frenzy of barks as she skidded across the sand after the bird. Seconds later, Freya had lost sight of her all together.
‘Oh God, please don’t drown.’ She started running in the direction that Ginger had gone, but as she got closer to the shoreline, her progress slowed down as her feet began to sink deeper and deeper into the wet sand. It was like running through wet concrete, and there was still no sign of Ginger. Ellie had trusted Freya to take care of the dog, and Ginger had been a lifesaver since she’d got to the farm. She’d listened without judging, and she hadn’t even seemed to mind when Freya had soaked her fur with tears, on the morning after what should have been her wedding day when the sense of relief she’d expected had failed to arrive. If something happened to the dog, it would be the final straw.
Half an hour later, Freya was hotter than she’d ever dreamt she could be on a cold winter’s day. It felt like she’d done a marathon, and her chest was tight with the effort of running and calling after the dog, but there was still no sign of her. Tears were streaming down her face and she didn’t have a clue what to do. Were you supposed to report a missing dog to the RSPCA, or the police? She should probably ring Ellie first, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit what she’d done, not until she really had to.
As she turned back towards the stone steps for what seemed like the hundredth time, there was a screech of brakes and a car honking its horn, up on the coast road. Breaking into a run, despite her legs feeling like they’d turned to jelly, Freya started to pray again. If Ginger had been knocked down, then the best thing she could do was to keep running and stop dragging Ellie, and the rest of her family, into the mire of bad luck that seemed to follow Freya around wherever she went.
‘Hey, watch it!’ She’d turned a hard right at the top of the stone steps, to head up to the coast road, and gone slap bang into a man who’d been heading in the other direction.
‘Alan.’ Freya tried to hold onto her composure as she registered who it was, but as soon as he realised it was her, and switched his expression from a scowl to a smile, she dissolved into noisy sobs. The poor man took at least two steps back, before he reached out and took hold of her shoulders.
‘What’s the matter, my love? I can’t help you until I know what’s wrong, but whatever it is, it can’t be as bad as all that.’
‘I’ve l-l-lost Ginger and there’s a good chance she’s just been knocked down by a car.’ Half of Freya wanted to run up to the road to find out, but the other half didn’t want to know how bad it really was and she wasn’t sure she could remember how to move.
‘I thought this was about your… wedding.’ He pronounced the word slowly, as he dropped his hands back to his side. ‘But a lost dog I can cope with and we’ve had more than our fair share of runaway animals at Seabreeze Farm. Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll be able to find Ginger together, she’ll just be chasing after a bird again, if I know her. What makes you think she’s got on to the road?’
‘I heard a car honking its horn and braking sharply just now. She’s definitely not on the beach any more, so she must have headed that way.’
‘I’ll go up and check, just sit here for a moment and I’ll come back if there’s no sign of her on the coast road.’ Alan was reassuringly calm as he guided her to a bench that looked out over the bay, and she didn’t offer any argument. She should have been the one to go and check whether Ginger had run out into the road, but she couldn’t face it. Crossing her fingers, as Alan disappeared up to the road, she held her breath, listening out for the sound of him shouting that the dog had been knocked over and it was all her fault. Not that she needed anyone to tell her that. She’d let the shockwaves of discovering the truth about her father impair her judgement again and this time the consequences might be fatal.
‘Well she’s not up there.’ Alan was puffing as he got back down to the bench, and Freya turned her tear-stained face towards him.
‘Do you think there’s a chance she could have run all the way home?’ She crossed her fingers again, but it was too much to hope that the little dog was already back at the farm, curled up on the rug in front of the farmhouse’s wood burning stove where she belonged.
‘I suppose there’s a chance, but Ginger has always been one to stick close to Ellie or Karen, unless a bird flies past and then no amount of yelling her name makes a blind bit of difference. Don’t worry my love, she’s a hardy little thing and she’s street wise for a country dog, so I’m sure she’ll turn up right as rain.’ Alan’s kindness was incredible, given the fact that she’d lost his family’s beloved pet.
‘She probably just had enough of me. Everyone I love leaves me in the end.’ She hadn’t meant for that last part to come out, and poor old Alan obviously had no idea what to say in response. He put a hand on her shoulder instead.
‘I know one place where she could be, down by White-Cliff Cave. There are a lot of birds that roost there, and up on the cliff face above it, even in the winter. It’ll be Ginger’s idea of heaven, trying to get hold of one. Not that she’ll ever do it; I’ve seen stuffed toys with more hunting skills than that silly old dog.’
‘Where’s White-Cliff Cave?’
‘It’s on the far side of the bay. It’ll be quicker if we walk along the coast road and down the steps at that end, instead of going across the beach, especially at the rate the tide is coming in.’ Alan gestured towards the road with his head. ‘The quicker we get moving, the quicker we can track her down and get you home in front of the fire. You look cold to the bone.’
‘I was boiling hot from running across the beach to look for Ginger, but as soon as I sat down, all the warmth seemed to drain out of me again.’ Freya stood up. ‘But I don’t care if I have to wade through icy water, as long as we find Ginger.’
‘If we can beat the tide, we should be able to check out the cave and track down the little tinker without even getting our feet wet, but we best get moving. You just need to follow me.’
For a big man, Alan could move pretty quickly, and Freya had to step out to keep up with him, but she’d happily have run all the way there if she knew where White-Cliff Cave was. She just hoped he was right, because if the little dog wasn’t there, they’d have to head back up to the farm and report her missing. There was no chance of having a conversation with Alan at the pace they were moving, and she wondered if that was part of the reason why he was walking so fast. She got the feeling that conversations weren’t his strong point, at least not with a virtual stranger like her, but she was glad he was there. And not just because she wouldn’t have had any idea about White-Cliff Cave if he hadn’t been.
‘We need to take these steps, just watch your footing. Not many people use this end of the beach, especially at this time of year, and there’s probably still a tonne of seaweed you’ll have to make your way over, that’s been washed up from the last storm.’
‘Thanks for the heads up.’ Freya picked her way carefully down the steps. Alan hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d mentioned the seaweed, but there were lumps of driftwood, too, as well as rocks and even a wrecked lobster pot, upended on the third step from the bottom.
‘The cave is carved out of the cliff about a hundred feet to the left of here. We’ll have to keep an eye out for the tide, though. If it comes in too far for us to get back to the steps, the only way up will be via the cliff face. And I don’t know about you, but my days of being able to shin up a cliff face are long behind me.’
‘I think the days of being able to shin up a cliff face bypassed me all together.’ Freya managed a half-laugh. ‘I never even managed to shin up a gym rope in my PE lessons at school.’
‘We’d better get a move on then.’
Freya followed Alan along the narrow stretch of beach that led to the mouth of the cave. The walls of the cliff face around it were dripping with green algae, and the sound of so many birds was like something from a horror movie. It suddenly dawned on Freya that she barely knew the man she’d followed to a deserted patch of beach, where no one would hear her scream. The cave looked like the perfect place to dump a body too, and the seagulls would probably strip away the evidence before anyone even realised she was missing.
‘Freya.’ Alan put his hand on her arm again, as he said her name, and she almost leapt into the sea behind them.
‘Oh my God, you made me jump!’
‘It’s all right, I think I can see her, up there to the left of the cave opening.’ Alan pointed towards where he was looking and, sure enough, Ginger was creeping along a narrow ridge, towards where a group of gulls were sitting in a row.
‘How the hell are we going to get her down?’
‘We can try calling her, but I think our best bet is to let the seagulls do it for us.’ Alan turned to look at her. ‘They flock together for warmth and protection at this time of year, and the likelihood is that one of them will go for her before she has the chance to get much closer. If you’ve ever seen them nick a bag of chips off a kiddie down by the seafront, then you’ll know they’re more than capable of giving Ginger a flea in her ear.’
‘What if she falls?’
‘If she’s scrambled up there okay, then she should be able to scramble down. I don’t think it’ll do us any favours to go up to her. She’d probably walk away from the whole thing whilst we were stuck up there, waiting for the air ambulance or the coastguard to come to our rescue.’ Alan looked up at the cliff face again. ‘I just hope the seagulls see her off before the tide comes all the way in.’
‘Has she ever done this before?’
‘She managed to climb up on the hay bales in one of the barns and squeeze through a gap in the corrugated iron, to get up on the roof. We had to borrow a cherry picker off Ben’s friend, Julian, to get her down. She was after pigeons that time.’
‘I thought it was cats that were meant to be obsessed with catching birds.’ Ginger sounded like she had quite a history with feathered prey, but luckily for the birds it didn’t sound like she had a lot of skill.
‘She’s always had a bit of an identity crisis our Ginger. We found her tied up in the caravan park next to my farm, after the family who owned her left her behind when they went home. Put it this way, I don’t think she’d even been for a walk before we got her, never mind run after a ball. She’s just making up for lost time and it’s why we can’t really get cross with her, even when she puts us through stuff like this.’ Alan smiled and for the first time since Ginger had disappeared, some of the tension left Freya’s spine. He might not be the most effusive of people, but he had a gentle warmth that was starting to make her believe that everything really could turn out okay.
‘She’s getting pretty close to that big gull on the edge of the flock now.’ Freya could barely watch, suddenly wishing she could be quite as confident as Alan that the dog wasn’t about to plunge to the ground from a great height.
‘Watch him, he’s sizing her up.’ Alan shielded his eyes with his hand, as they looked up again, towards where the winter sun was slowly slipping down behind the cliff. ‘He’s going to go for her.’
The seagull looked at least twice the size of Ginger from where Freya was standing, but by the time it had opened its wings in a gesture of undisguised aggression, it looked more like four times her size. The little dog stood her ground for all of about two seconds, before trying to back along the narrow ledge. It was like watching a video on high-speed reverse, but her escape clearly wasn’t happening fast enough for Ginger, as the bird continued to flap its wings and squawk at her. Deciding that turning around would be the quickest way out of there, Ginger lost her footing and Freya let out a gasp.
‘It’s okay, she’s coming down on the diagonal. Never mind acting like a cat by chasing all those birds, I reckon our Ginger has got a touch of mountain goat in her blood.’
‘I can’t believe she’s made it down in one piece.’ Freya didn’t know whether to laugh or burst into tears again, as the dog leapt off the bottom two feet of the cliff face and on to the sand, before trotting over to them, as casually as she might have done if she’d been let off the lead just two minutes before. Glancing at her watch, Freya could hardly believe she’d been looking for the dog for almost two hours. Although she felt about ten years older.
‘We best get up on the coast path if we’re going to make it home in one piece, too.’ Alan clipped Ginger’s lead onto her collar and Freya suspected it would be a long time before the dog sampled the freedom of an open beach again. She certainly wouldn’t be letting her off for a run in a hurry. ‘I’ll give you both a lift back up to the farm, and we can tell Karen what this little tinker has been up to. It’ll give her a laugh at least.’
‘As long as it does someone some good, I suppose it can’t be called a complete disaster.’ Freya raised a questioning eyebrow, as Alan nodded in response – thoughts of John, the man who’d raised her as his own, suddenly popped into her head. She and Ellie might both have missed out on having birth fathers who wanted to be around, but it had made room for some pretty special men to come into their lives instead.
Karen held up the knitting and tried to stretch it square. It turned out that being good at cake-making didn’t naturally translate into being good at other crafts. So far she’d tried crochet, knitting, scrap-booking and embroidery. The only thing she’d been able to complete was the adult colouring book that Ellie had bought for her, from the bookshop in town. Barely sixty, and resigned to a life where the biggest challenge she could overcome was keeping her colouring pens within the lines. Tempting as it was to try and stand as often as possible, she daren’t risk it after almost breaking her wrist. Never mind the extra problems it would create, she wanted to be able to hold her first grandchild in her arms, when he or she arrived in January. So she had to behave herself, even if she did feel like hurling the knitting – needles and all – straight into the wood burning stove.
‘Hello? Karen, are you in there?’ Alan’s deep voice seemed to bounce off the walls, as he called down the corridor.
‘Where else would I be? At a Zumba class down in Kelsea Bay community centre?’ Chance would be a fine thing, but the hospital had warned her there might be months of physio ahead before she could get back to normal. Not that Zumba was normal for her even when she wasn’t laid up. Who needed an exercise class when you had a farm, a wedding venue, and a catering business to run?
‘Sorry love, you know what I mean.’ Alan gave her a sheepish grin as he came into the room, holding Ginger on a lead, with Freya just behind him.
‘It’s me who should be sorry. Being cooped up like this is turning me into a proper old grump.’ Karen felt better just for seeing them, and the knitting could definitely wait. ‘What have you three been up to? Looks like it’s windy out there.’ Alan’s hair was sticking up on end, which it was liable to do, seeing as he was almost religious in his rejection of hair products. They were for city boys with too much time on their hands, as far as he was concerned. But Freya was looking distinctly windswept too, and Ginger’s coat was damp and curly, giving off that distinctive wet dog smell.
‘Ginger decided to go seagull hunting up on the cliff face directly above White-Cliff Cave.’ Alan unclipped the dog’s lead, and she flopped down on the mat in front of the wood burner to dry off, clearly exhausted by her antics.
‘You can tell me all about it over a cuppa, I’m gasping.’ Karen pushed against the base of her chair to reposition herself, and to stop her buttocks from going completely numb. It was a losing battle. ‘I’d like to say that not being able to make a pot of tea is the worst thing about being stuck like this, but it’s not even close.’
‘I can do it.’ Freya was halfway out the door before Karen could even respond. ‘And Alan can tell you all about Ginger’s adventure whilst I’m gone. I’m not sure I can face re-living that one just yet.’
By the time Freya returned with the drinks, Karen had heard all about what Ginger had put her through, and Alan had confided that he’d found her in floods of tears on the path between the beach and the coast road. Ellie and Liv hadn’t had much luck asking around about the photos so far, and Alan had been a bit reluctant to get involved in ‘an episode of EastEnders’, as he called it. But now he’d got to know Freya a bit better, Karen was sure he’d want to do his bit to help her out too. He could be prickly at first, her husband, but he had a heart of gold under all that bluff, and it hadn’t taken her long to find it. He’d lived in Kelsea Bay all his life too, so if anyone could track down someone who might have known Freya’s father, it would be him.
‘Have you heard any more from your aunt, sweetheart?’ Karen looked at Freya and her heart sank as the younger woman shook her head.
‘I don’t want to call her yet, to ask if they’ve heard more from mum’s old friend, because she and Uncle Dave haven’t seen my cousin Scotty and his family in over two years. I can’t expect everyone to make it their priority, just because it was mine.’ Freya swallowed so hard that Karen heard it.
‘It was your priority? Have you changed your mind then?’ Karen searched Freya’s face, as Alan busied himself flicking through the Christmas edition of the Radio Times.
‘I don’t know, I’ve just got to thinking that maybe some things are best left alone. If my father didn’t want to know about me back when mum was expecting me, what are the chances of him welcoming me into his life now?’ Freya shook her head. ‘One minute I’m determined to find him and it’s the only thing I can think about, because I can’t imagine a future where I never know who he is. Then the next minute I think about John, the man who brought me up. I couldn’t have asked for a better dad, so why would I want to try and track down someone else who can never compare to him? I’ve spent hours on the internet searching through social media and every website that has any reference to Kelsea Bay, but I haven’t turned up anything yet. You guys have all been so brilliant asking around, but that’s been a dead end too and I can’t help wondering if the universe is trying to tell me something.’
‘I know it seems impossible, but in my opinion there’s every chance of him welcoming you into his life if he gets to know you.’ For someone who was pretending not to be listening, Alan was lightning quick with his response.
‘Alan’s right, and you can’t give up now, not when you’ve come so far.’ Karen felt a prickle of guilt on the back of her neck. In all honesty, she couldn’t be sure if her attempt to persuade Freya to keep searching was entirely based on looking out for the younger woman’s welfare, or whether the excruciating boredom of being laid up was making her seek out whatever vicarious excitement she could get. There was almost certainly a dash of that somewhere in the mix, but Freya had been so desperate to find her father, so determined for at least one positive thing to come out of the discovery – and the subsequent ending of her engagement – that there had to be something they could all do to help.
‘Let Alan take a look at the picture. If anyone will know a farmer from back then it’s him.’ She looked across at her husband, as he gave an almost imperceptible nod. ‘He’s not had time to get involved in much asking around yet, have you love? But the Christmas farmers’ market in Elverham would be an ideal time for him to spread the word, even if he doesn’t recognise your father from the picture.’
‘This is the photo we’re handing around.’ Freya passed Alan the picture and he looked down at it. ‘We’re keeping Mum out of it for now, in case someone tells him who’s looking for him and he puts two and two together and does a runner again before we even get the chance to speak.’
‘Do you know him?’ Karen’s pulse seemed to quicken as she waited for Alan to respond, so heaven knows how Freya was feeling.
‘Can’t say I do.’ Even Alan looked disappointed. ‘But that doesn’t mean one of the other fellas down at the market won’t know who he is. I was always the sort of bloke who kept myself to myself – socialising has never really been my sort of thing – so I wouldn’t have got to know anyone down the pub or anything like that.’
‘Have you got the version of the photo with your mum in, sweetheart? Just in case she and Alan ever bumped into each other in Kelsea Bay.’
‘This is her, but she’s got her head down, and curly blonde hair that’s covering half of her face.’
‘Ah the Kylie Minogue look! I didn’t half fancy her back in the day.’ Alan laughed as he looked at Karen. ‘Sorry, love, I’m older and wiser now, and I know she’s not a patch on you.’
‘Hmmm. Well, with a body like mine, you’re getting two Kylies for the price of one.’
‘And I wouldn’t swap you for a thousand Kylies. Trouble is, there was a time when everyone seemed to have a hair do like this, not just in Kelsea Bay either. I’m really sorry but neither of them ring any bells with me.’ Alan handed the second photo back to Freya. ‘But if you don’t mind me keeping this one of your father, I’ll definitely ask around at the farmers’ market. Someone’s got to know who he is, haven’t they?’
‘Of course they will.’ Karen looked at Freya as she spoke, and prayed she was right. Something needed to happen to make the poor girl smile again, and if anyone deserved a bit of Christmas magic, it was Freya.
‘You can stop looking at me like that, you don’t deserve to be up on this sofa, let alone being fed treats.’ Freya ran a hand over Ginger’s coat, which had long since dried out from her seagull chasing adventure. ‘Oh for God’s sake, I’ve got about as much will-power as a wet lettuce leaf.’ She walked across and took a dog chew out of the kitchen cupboard, turning around to give it to Ginger, who had shot off the sofa as soon as she heard the cupboard door open. Funny how she could hear that perfectly, but hadn’t heard Freya desperately calling her name for well over an hour. The truth was she’d forgive the little dog anything because she’d fallen in love with her the first night Ginger had cuddled up next to her on the bed. She’d never really understood how devoted people were to their dogs until she’d met Seabreeze Farm’s resident terrier. Ollie had always said that the first thing he wanted, when they could finally upsize from a flat and have their own garden, was a dog. He’d joked about it being good practice for when they had children, not to mention being the perfect companion for the kids as they grew up. He'd had it all planned out and his vision of their future had felt so real, but none of it had come to fruition and she knew she was grieving for a life she’d never had, as well as for the things they had shared.
‘It’s seven in the morning in Queensland; do you think that’s too early to phone Auntie Linda, Ginger?’ They were nine hours ahead of UK time, but although there was a risk of waking her aunt up by calling this early, at least it meant she’d catch her before they headed out for the day with Scotty and his family. ‘Right, let’s do it.’
Freya picked up her phone and selected the option of making a FaceTime call, hoping that it wouldn’t stop her aunt from answering, if she was still in her PJs.
‘Morning lovey! I was just about to call you, but we were trying to work out what the time difference was. I’ve been awake since 4 a.m. and I still don’t know which way is up. This jet lag business is no joke and it seems to get worse the older I get.’ Auntie Linda looked surprisingly bright-eyed, despite her claim that she’d barely slept. It obviously suited her being back with her grandchildren.
‘I’m sorry to call so early, but I didn’t want to interrupt you later.’
‘You could never interrupt us, although your uncle Dave would have dragged me out of bed at 6 a.m. if I hadn’t already been up, he’s so excited. We’re off to Brisbane today to do a tour of where they filmed one of the Thor movies. How have I got a husband in his mid-sixties, who’s still so into films made from comic books stories? Honestly, the things I do for love!’
‘Just tell me he’s not wearing the costume he had for your last Halloween party?’ Freya laughed as Linda pulled a face.
‘It took some tough negotiation, I’m telling you. But I told him if he did that, I’d be wearing a teddy bear onesie. I think that just about swung it.’
‘I’d love to see the reaction on the streets of Brisbane with you two dressed like that.’ Freya suddenly wished she was with them and it had nothing to do with seeing them dress up to entertain the residents of Brisbane.
‘We wish you were here too lovey.’ Linda blew her a kiss. ‘But thank goodness for the wonders of the internet, eh?’
‘The Wi-Fi looks pretty good there. You’re coming through loud and clear.’
‘And you’re coming through with all the subtlety of a brick!’ It was Linda’s turn to laugh. ‘What you want to know, is whether we’ve heard anything else from Denise, right?’
‘You got me.’ Freya had to keep reminding herself that it probably wasn’t going to be that easy, especially as every attempt to find out more about the mysterious Farmer Giles had been a road to nowhere so far. Even Alan, who’d lived in the area for over sixty years, didn’t recognise him.
‘We have heard from her, and I was getting to that, but I don’t think you’re going to be too pleased.’ Linda’s tone was suddenly serious, and heat flushed Freya’s neck. This wasn’t going to be good news.
‘What is it?’
‘The photo you’ve been asking around with – it’s not your dad.’ Linda’s words hung in the virtual air between Australia and Seabreeze Farm for a few moments. As Freya struggled to undo all the images in her head, of meeting the man whose picture she’d stared at, at least ten times a day since she’d found it.
‘I don’t understand; how can it not be him?’
‘Because it’s not even your mum in the photo with him. Uncle Dave emailed it to Denise and she recognised it immediately, because it’s her! She and your mum had matching hairstyles, but she remembered every detail of having the photo taken, and your mum was the one taking the picture. It was when Coll had gone down to see her, to tell her about the baby, and it turned out to be one of the last times she ever saw her, because Denise went off to work on a cruise ship not long after you were born, and then your mum broke off all contact.’
‘If it’s not my father, then who is the man in the picture?’ Freya couldn’t bring herself to let go of the hope, not until she was 100 per cent certain.
‘She said it was her brother, Gary.’
‘And she’s sure he’s not the one who, you know, was with Mum that summer? Maybe she’s covering up for him, if he still doesn’t want anything to do with me. I can’t understand why Mum would have kept the photograph otherwise.’
‘I thought the same, but Denise linked your uncle Dave and Gary up on Facebook, in case your mum had mentioned anything to him on that visit that she’d forgotten about.’
‘And?’ Freya held her breath.
‘And your uncle Dave has got a new Facebook friend, but unfortunately that’s about it. Gary backed up Denise’s story, but he couldn’t really offer anything else. Although Dave did find out something about Gary.’
‘What?’ There had to be something, because if Denise was another dead end she had absolutely no idea where to try and restart the search.
‘That Gary has been married to a dentist called Nigel for the last five years, but they’ve been together since the mid-eighties. So unless Gary’s taking his secret double life to extremes, then I’m afraid he’s not your father.’
Tears stung the back of Freya’s eyes; it was all starting to feel so hopeless. ‘So where does that leave us, back at square one?’
‘I hope not, lovey. Denise told Dave that she’d managed to unearth some more photos, not of your mum and dad, but some of the others who were around that summer, and she’s sure a few of them were Kelsea Bay born and bred. There’s bound to be someone there who recognises a face from the photos, and, if you can track them down, maybe it’ll give us the clue we need.’
‘Not exactly a solid lead though, is it?’ Freya was determined not to cry, but she was struggling. She’d been so certain that she was keeping her expectations under control by constantly reminding herself that she might never find her father, or even if she did that he might reject her for a second time. She thought she’d come to terms with the prospect of giving up the search too, or maybe even choosing to, but now she knew that had been yet another lie.
‘I’m sorry, lovey, but we won’t give up.’ Linda was giving this her all, but it wasn’t her life and Freya couldn’t allow it to consume her aunt, the way it was in danger of consuming her. The aftershocks of the discovery had already changed her life forever.
‘I don’t know; I think I need to set a time limit on it, because this isn’t fair on you and there’s a good chance I’ll let the rest of my life slip away if I keep obsessing over this.’ Freya didn’t want to admit that part of her thought she already had, and she was determined not to ask if Linda had heard any more from Ollie. ‘I’ve got a new job to start in January and I need to find somewhere to live before then. There are other things I’ve got to get on with. I can’t spend all my time looking for a man who might be doing everything he can not to be found.’
‘You could ring Ollie, and give him a chance to talk about what Sophie told you in that email… What?’ Linda responded to the look that must have crossed Freya’s face. ‘I could hardly forward on her email without even reading it, could I?’
‘I suppose not, but it doesn’t matter anyway. Ollie made it clear that the wedding day was the cut-off point – it’s too late, even if I did believe a word of Sophie’s email.’
‘It’s never too late, unless you let it be.’ Auntie Linda put her head on one side. ‘If you tell him what happened on the morning before everything fell apart between you, I’m sure he’ll understand. None of us can believe he’d deliberately do anything to hurt you and your mum always used to get misty eyed talking about the way he looked at you, because it reminded her so much of how John always looked at her. That’s not something you should throw away without being absolutely certain that’s it’s broken.’
Freya couldn’t speak for a moment; the way her mother had felt about Ollie was something that played on her mind in the darkness of the night. She’d completely adored him and had told Freya how much comfort it gave her to know she’d have Ollie once Colleen was no longer there. Except now she didn’t, and even if she let someone into her life again one day, they’d never have known Colleen and another link to her beloved mother would be lost forever. She wished it was as easy as picking up the phone to Ollie and rewinding things to before it all went wrong, to unsay the things she’d said and to undo the lies he’d told her, for whatever reason he’d chosen to tell them. But life wasn’t that simple and when Freya finally found her voice, it wasn’t to respond to what her aunt had said.
‘Say thanks to Uncle Dave for me, won’t you?’ She blew Linda a kiss. ‘And give everyone my love. I’ll call you again at about 8 a.m. your time on Christmas Day, if that’s okay?’
‘You can call me any time, lovey, you know that. But I’ll email you again, when Denise sends the photos through, and keep your chin up in the meantime.’
‘I will. Bye.’ Freya ended the call and immediately broke her promise to her aunt, as her head dropped to her chest. The man in the photo wasn’t her father, he was happily married to a dentist called Nigel, which meant she was further than ever from finding out who her real dad was. And the one person she wanted to pour her heart out to, who might have been able to make it all somehow more bearable, was no longer a part of her life. Some Christmas this was turning out to be.