The Summer We Loved. Wendy Jones Lou
to find him?”
“He’s a grown man. I’m sure he’s got his reasons for disappearing like this. He’ll probably be with his family if something’s wrong.”
“But how do you know he’s okay?”
“Pete can handle himself just fine, I assure you,” he said.
“Look, I saw him,” Jenny said abruptly, the frustration of beating her head against a brick wall finally getting to her.
“You did? When?”
“After the funeral. And he looked awful.”
There was a pause at the other end of the line.
“He has… issues; don’t ask me what they are, I’ve no idea, he doesn’t say, but he does this now and again. Admittedly not for this long normally.”
He paused again and Jenny could think of nothing else to say that might persuade him to help. She heaved a deep sigh.
“He has a brother who seems to look out for him,” he said. “I met him once. If you’re really concerned, I’m sure he’d be the best person to talk to.”
“Do you have his number?” she asked, hope suddenly flickering to life inside her.
“Afraid not. But I think he said he lived in Teak. Yes, I remember, because it reminded me of the wood. It’s a little village, or something, outside Upper Conworth.”
Jenny wrote down the name and thanked him for his time. She had two days off before she had to be back in work and this was her mission: she was going to find Peter Florin, wherever he was, and try to sort out whatever mess he was in. She owed him that. He had been there for her once. He had seen her struggle and had given her the strength to pull through, to stand up for herself. It was he who had made her believe she was worth more. He had cared. And dear Kate had cared for him, and she had known him better than all of them. But it was down to her now, that much was clear, and she was going to find him.
That night she studied maps and timetables, working out her route, before finally searching directory inquiries for a Mr Florin in Teak. And it must have been a tiny place because she got lucky; there was only one: number six, Stoney Cross, and two minutes later, Google had him pinned. She printed out a map and wrote herself directions and then made a bag ready for the morning.
That night she had a sense of real hope when she wrote in her diary.
When I return, I will have found him. Someone has to care where he is. He needs a friend right now. He was a friend to me once, when I needed it. I don’t know why he’s like this, but whatever he is facing, he obviously can’t deal with it on his own. So I’m going to find him and I’m going to bring him back. Somehow. God, I hope I can do this. I hope I’m not too late. What if I am? What if he’s…? No, I can’t think like that. This has to work, because I just can’t lose him as well. I can’t. I won’t.
*
There was a knock at the door and two little faces huddled in cautiously. “It’s bedtime, Mummy,” they said.
Jenny stopped typing and turned around in her chair. She looked at her watch. “Oh my goodness, so it is!” she said. Holding her arms out wide, the two little girls ran over and cuddled in. She lifted them briefly on to her lap and kissed them. “Have you brushed your teeth?”
“Yes,” they chorused, showing her the tiny white pearls that she cherished.
“Absolutely dazzling! Would you like me to read you a bedtime story?”
Their dad appeared at the door and they looked at him. “Are you up to it?” he asked softly.
Jenny nodded.
“Just a quick one, then, and then your mum is going to have a rest before she sits her bottom down there and starts writing again.” He looked at her then, with such adoration, that Jenny had to agree. She knew he was only thinking about her and so she would let him care for her for a while, but not too long; the story was far from finished.
*
Jenny awoke with the birds. She was too excited to sleep. She wanted to be up and out of there. She wanted to find Pete, but the first bus didn’t leave for another three and a half hours, so she rechecked her bag, added a packet of chocolate Hobnobs for emergencies and went for a shower.
Still three hours to go. She began tapping her fingers. What could she do until then? She pulled everything out of her bedside drawer and plopped it down on the bed. Junk. It was all junk. She spent two minutes trying to sort it through and then lost all patience and shoved it back inside the drawer again, cramming it down and forcing it shut. She didn’t want to concentrate on something good in case she lost track of the time, so she couldn’t read a book, but she couldn’t think of how else to fill the time. Breakfast. She had to eat. Lord knows when she was going to get to eat again.
Pacing the floor with a muesli bar, she added her book and her MP3 player, in case the hours on the bus were long. She knew where she was going to start, but had no idea where the journey would end. Maps, purse, biscuits, bottle of water, wash kit and comb, spare pair of pants and an extra layer in case it turned chilly. All she needed now was a brass neck as wide as a mountain to go nosing into business she had no reason to be messing in. But this had never been a problem for Jenny; attitude and nerve were her speciality. She’d been an independent soul most of her adult life. She’d had to be, and they had helped her survive.
With two hours left to go, Jenny left the girls a note, checked her mobile, packed her charger and headed off to walk the three or four miles to the bus station. The weather was mild and the walk would do her good before a couple of hours cooped up in a stuffy old bus. So she’d be early; it didn’t matter; it was nice out.
As the journey drew on, Jenny became more and more determined in her venture. Mile after mile of countryside passed by outside the window, and then finally, the bus pulled to a stop in Upper Conworth.
Jenny stepped out and found herself in a quaint old market town bathed in sunshine. People in the street went about their business, happy and carefree, or so it seemed. She pulled out her sunglasses and slipped them on before retrieving the directions from her bag. She checked the bus route to take her to Teak: the number 24. She had 40 minutes before it left, so she decided to have a bit of a look around and maybe get something to eat.
Not far into town Jenny came across a café serving an all-day breakfast. By now she was starving and her anxieties allayed for the moment, she tucked in to a fry-up and a nice mug of tea and then, map in hand, she made her way back through the town to find her stop for the next leg of the journey.
It was a slower trundle through the outlying villages before Jenny spotted the sign she was looking for. The bus stopped and she checked with the woman on the seat next to her. “Is this Teak?” she asked.
The woman nodded and Jenny made her way down the bus and stepped off. And it was only then, as the bus pulled away and she was left on her own in a village she had never known, that she started to feel anxious. The weight of her mission had seemed so important that before arriving in Teak she had been confident in her intrusion, but now… here… possibly only yards away from where Pete might be, she began to question herself.
What if he was fine and had just had enough of his job? What then? What was she going to do if it was a woman who had tempted him? How would that make her feel? What if his brother turned her away? And how small and stupid would she feel if he appeared at the door, happy as a child at Christmas and totally bemused to see her?
Jenny stood watching as the bus disappeared around the bend, and then, hoisting her rucksack onto her shoulder, she fished the instructions out of her pocket. She had drawn a rough plan of the village on the back of the timetable and she turned it around in her hand until she had her bearings and then looked up. Over there, she thought, and blocking out all worries for the time being she made her way up the road in the direction of Stoney Cross.
A postman walked by. “Good day,” he said and Jenny