They jog down into the village, stepping out into the middle of the road to avoid a crowd of children coming up the other way. They’re all eating ice creams, peering into a small beach bucket. That’s why Kate loves it here, a reminder of her childhood, of innocent days spent rock-pooling, building sandcastles. She just wishes that her past hadn’t caught up with her. The spiked coffee, Jake’s fire, the CCTV image of her at the pub. And a crazy, nagging sense that Rob’s been replaced by a double. Overnight her idyllic life’s become a nightmare.

‘Caught a shark?’ she says as they pass the children, glancing at their catch.

‘Crabs,’ one of them says, holding the bucket out for her to see.

Strover looks too, smiling at the young children. At the bottom of the bucket is a modest crab, its shell barely three inches across.

‘Massive, isn’t it,’ another child says. ‘Tried to bite me with its huge claws.’

Kate hears the car first. They are both still in the road, the children on the pavement. And then she’s aware of Strover screaming at her, so loud it’s as if her voice is in her own head.

‘Watch out!’

She spins around to see a car coming up the hill, out of the village, driving too fast. Instead of slowing down, or moving across to the other side of the road, it accelerates, the driver steering directly at her and Strover. Strover moves first, pulling Kate out of the way just in time, but not before Kate gets a look at the driver, who turns to glare at her. It’s the same man, same forehead. Herman.

The car speeds past, its wheels inches from the pavement.

‘Emmet!’ someone shouts from across the street.

‘Get the number plate,’ Strover says as she picks up one of the kids she accidentally knocked over when they jumped onto the pavement.

Kate memorises the plate and the make of the vehicle, a BMW. She’s hopeless with cars and only happens to know it because Jake used to want one when they were at their poorest. In his dreams.

‘Who was that?’ one of the children asks.

‘Just an angry fisherman,’ Kate improvises, her chest tight with adrenaline. She can hardly breathe.

‘Why’s he so angry?’ another child asks.

She tries to calm herself. Her legs have turned to jelly.

‘Because he didn’t catch what he wanted,’ she manages to say, peering again into their bucket to distract herself. As she holds its rim, one of the children looks up at her, aware that her shaking hand is creating ripples in the bucket’s water. She manages a smile, struggling to stop herself being sick. The car tried to run her down, could have killed the children.

‘Must have been jealous of your massive crab,’ she says.

35

Silas