Chapter Ten

ANNA PULLED INTO a near-deserted car park an hour or so later. She turned off her engine and opened the car door, glimpsing flat grey sea between the Marina Café, public toilets and other low buildings. The moment her head rose above the level of the open door, the wind whipped her hair in front of her face. She left it there, too busy thinking about the last moments of the journey itself to bother pushing it out of the way.

On the drive down the narrow, dead-end road that led to the beach, she’d passed her and Spencer’s bungalow, and even though it had been remodelled and extended, she’d recognized it straight away.

This had been a good choice for today. The whole place was full of memories of Spencer, even this car park nestled in a gap in the dunes, with its ever-present drifts of sand that curled and swirled in the breeze. In her mind, she could see him at the pay-and-display meter, swearing colourfully as it refused his 50-pence piece over and over. And there near the café was the sandy slope he’d carried her up from the beach because she’d just dried her feet off from paddling and hadn’t wanted to get them gritty again.

She sighed. She couldn’t wait to just start wandering around, letting those happier moments come back to her. She needed them.

She turned as another vehicle arrived – Gayle and Richard’s ancient but pristine Rover, with Scott and Teresa in the back. It pulled into a space on the opposite side of the car park, near the café. Anna locked her car and began to walk in that direction.

Gayle emerged from the Rover in a smart black dress with matching jacket, her hairdo defying the blustery weather – how did she manage that? Shellac? – and supervised with military efficiency as Richard removed a canvas shopper from the boot and donned wellingtons.

‘Hi,’ Anna said as she strolled over.

‘Oh, hello,’ Gayle said, smiling slightly. ‘You’re here.’ And then she took in Anna’s jeans, dark-green jumper and her usual black coat. Her eyebrows lifted an infinitesimal amount. Anna had gone for comfort over style, but even if she’d decided to dress more smartly, she wouldn’t have chosen all black for today. She didn’t want to dress up like it was his funeral all over again.

The others emerged from the car and greeted her, all three of them giving her a hug and kissing her on the cheek. Richard and Scott wore dark suits, and Teresa a demure charcoal dress similar to their mother-in-law’s. None of them looked as if they were ready for a day at the beach. Had someone forgotten to give Anna the memo? What was the deal here, anyway?

‘Have you got the bag, Richard?’ Gayle asked.

‘Roger that,’ Richard replied, holding it slightly higher for his wife’s inspection.

She nodded, then turned and set off in the direction of dunes that rose from the far edge of the car park, undeterred by her unsuitable footwear. ‘Right,’ she said. ‘Come on. First stop is “our” picnic spot in the dunes.’