The Survivors(72)

It had taken everyone else a little longer to react, the response swelling from a rumble to a low roar. Mia had been quick off the mark, darting out with Audrey to reclaim the pram, leaving Kieran and George pressed closer than was comfortable as they and several hundred of their neighbours attempted to squeeze through the bottleneck at the door. A pair of uniformed officers were passing out fistfuls of fliers as they spilled out through the main library and into the cool night air. When there was space to stop, Kieran craned his neck back over the crowd, trying to see Verity and Brian.

‘Well, I have to admit, I did not expect that.’ George examined his leaflet with the printed images of Bronte’s camera and laptop. He frowned. ‘These have to be long gone, surely?’

‘I would think so.’

‘I wonder if the police know what was on them. I mean, stuff gets backed up, doesn’t it? It seems to happen to me whether I like it or not, sometimes.’

‘I suppose,’ Kieran said. ‘Depends what kind of set-up she had in place.’

Kieran spied the top of Brian’s head and could see him being steered by Verity, who was holding his arm. Pendlebury had slowed to help and was subtly clearing a path through. As they passed an officer handing out fliers, Pendlebury took a couple. She folded one in half lengthwise, creating a crisp edge which she presented to Verity. Take this. It was an unremarkable gesture, but there was something insistent about it that put Kieran on edge.

‘Well, either the police don’t know what was on them –’ George looked up from the flier and over to Pendlebury. ‘Or they do know and haven’t managed to work out the significance yet.’

Perhaps sensing the scrutiny, Pendlebury turned her head their way. Her eyes moved between Kieran and George, and something passed across her face. It was gone almost immediately as she was forced to bring her attention back to Brian. Pendlebury had barely helped him down the last step when she was accosted by an angry woman in a pink fleece.

‘I’m going to head off,’ George said, then hesitated. He turned back to Kieran. ‘Listen, mate, now’s not the time or place, but there was something –’

He was stopped short by movement over Kieran’s shoulder, and Kieran turned to see Ash approaching, dog lead in hand, his large frame backlit by the glow from the library. George made to leave.

‘Catch you another time,’ he said, raising a hand.

‘You seen Sean anywhere?’ Ash said, lightly shoulder-barging the writer as he passed but otherwise ignoring him completely.

‘No. Think he and Julian must have made a quick exit.’

‘Don’t blame them, that was bloody intense.’ Ash shook his head. ‘I’d better go too then, Liv’s waiting. She’s pretty upset.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Not going to be the only one, I reckon. People look freaked out, don’t you think? All that stuff Bronte’s mum was saying about things coming out?’

‘Yeah.’ Kieran could see people snatching glances at each other. The atmosphere outside the library felt loaded. ‘They do.’

‘Makes you wonder, hey?’

‘It does.’

Kieran finished swimming his lap in the sea now and lifted his head, wiping the water from his eyes. He could tell Audrey was still asleep, snug in her blanket beneath the red-gold morning sky. Kieran plunged under the surface once more, feeling the burn of the cold. He swam several fast strokes, his muscles loosening as he found his rhythm. He stayed under longer this time, and when he lifted his head again, he almost breathed in a lungful of water. Audrey was where he had left her, but the beach was no longer empty. Kieran could see a figure on the sand, their shadow falling over his daughter as she slept.

Kieran had found his feet in seconds, driving his way through the water to the shore, ignoring the frigid air stinging his wet skin.

‘Oi!’

The figure turned at his shout. Kieran swiped the salt water from his eyes, blinking as the face took shape. Trish Birch.

He slowed, just a little. Trish straightened and raised her hand. She took a step away from his daughter, and Kieran stopped running and started wading instead. It’s okay, he told himself, while his heart still pounded.

‘Hello,’ she called as he hit the sand. ‘I’m so sorry. I was –’

‘No, I’m sorry.’ Kieran reached them and bent down for his towel, a little unsure why he still felt the urge to position himself between Trish and his baby as he dried off. Audrey was asleep, peaceful and oblivious. ‘I just got a surprise.’

‘Of course,’ Trish said. ‘I was only –’ She faltered, a tiny frown on her face as she glanced around. ‘I mean, do you think it’s safe to leave her on the beach?’

Not blokes or babies, Kieran thought, although from the way his blood was still pumping, he wasn’t sure he believed it himself. He picked up Audrey and she stirred in his cold arms.

‘I didn’t think anyone else was here,’ he said.

‘No. Plus it’s absolutely none of my business.’ Trish gave him a small smile. ‘I used to hate people telling me how to parent. I’m sorry. Don’t let me disturb your swim.’

‘Probably time I finished up anyway.’

Trish’s face had a healthy glow from the morning air, but also a pinched look that made him wonder if she had been crying. The ocean had soaked up the reddish tinge of the morning sky and her eyes followed the movement of the tide as she looked out at the water. No, Kieran realised. Not just looking. Scouring. He hesitated.