‘Yeah, we don’t need our night ruined.’ Laughter followed the reply and she could smell their weed.

‘OK, I can do this.’

Lottie saw them hold hands and walk a bit further towards the edge. Her heart in her mouth, she prayed they weren’t about to do something reckless.

‘That’s done.’ Their torch shone in her direction.

The woman wasn’t carrying the flowers anymore. ‘We won’t stop missing him,’ she said.

He cleared his throat. ‘No, but we don’t need to come back here again.’

A branch snapped as Lottie stepped on it. She flinched.

‘Who is there?’ he asked.

Lottie watched John’s mother move closer to his father.

‘Sorry.’ She stepped into the path of their torch and they walked right up to her.

‘You’re Lottie Trewin,’ his mother said.

‘Yes.’ Lottie rubbed her arms feeling the wind rising.

‘You came too.’ His mother held out her hand and Lottie took it. ‘These years had to be hard on you, too.’

Lottie swallowed. ‘Yes, but not as hard as for you.’

‘Thank you.’ She squeezed Lottie’s fingers gently. ‘It’s time we all kept John in our hearts and moved forward.’

‘Yes, he’d want that.’ John’s father’s voice faded away.

‘I know.’ Lottie managed to say.

‘He’d want all of us to live, to laugh and to love.’ His mother paused. ‘We must do that.’

‘Are you heading back?’ his father asked.

Lottie shook her head. ‘Not just yet.’

‘Take care of yourself and be careful.’ John’s mother took a deep breath. She leaned forward and kissed Lottie. ‘Embrace life.’ She snuffled. ‘It’s what I’m going to try to do again.’

‘Yes.’ Lottie managed to reply. Living was hard. She watched the light of their torch until it disappeared. She was alone. Her mother wasn’t here, and Lottie doubted she was on the beach with the teens. She knew today had been tough on her. To finally find some peace with Gran and to know the end was so close. Lottie began to make her way off the headland when suddenly she remembered her mother’s diary. Her mother had to try and understand so much as a small child, like her father’s homosexuality, but it was the diary’s final words that haunted Lottie.

Daddy is dead. It’s my fault.

Was it like Lottie feeling responsible for John’s death? Or had her mother played a role in her father’s death and if she had, did it matter? Whatever happened, her mother had her ghosts and Lottie had hers and so had Gran.

67. Lottie

67

Lottie

5 August 2018, 12.45 a.m.