away and increased the might of the boat’s engines. Daisy curled up into a tighter ball. Another point to Bug, she thought. The boat skimmed across the water hopping rhythmically over the waves making only a slight spray. The inshore coped effortlessly with the bad weather; if it hadn’t been October and she hadn’t been frozen to the core, she may almost have enjoyed it. Max squinted over his shoulder at her and she averted her eyes.
‘You okay?’ asked Jason. Daisy didn’t want to talk, she just wanted to be warm again. She nodded and pulled the foil blanket tighter around herself. ‘We’ll soon have you warm, Daisy. You’re doing really well.’
She closed her eyes and tried not to think about how foolish she’d been.
A day in bed with Aunt Coral fussing over her was mostly heartwarming but also partly frustrating. Aunt Coral couldn’t seem to get past ‘the what might have happened’, which meant she was checking on Daisy every few minutes and almost drowning her in cups of tea. Once she was checked over by a medic and her body had returned to a normal temperature Daisy was basically fine. Apart from a few scratches on her palms there was no other evidence of her rescue, assuming you didn’t count the front-page news it had generated for the local newspaper who’d made it seem far more dramatic than it had actually been.
The worst part for Daisy was how she felt. She had never felt so stupid in all her life, even including the time she’d sold timeshare in Spain dressed as a pineapple. She’d read stories of people being caught out by the tide and had always thought them idiotic. She had known the tide was coming in but had not registered the speed or that the end of the bay jutted out and would therefore be engulfed by the sea much sooner than the rest of the beach. It was her fault, but it was all because of a tiny canine villain who was getting closer to his goal of doing her in.
Bug was swanning around as if he’d had nothing to do with it and Aunt Coral was crediting him with raising the alarm – in Sea Mist Cottage he was practically a hero. Daisy saw the situation very differently, but she didn’t hold a grudge. She had got herself into that mess so she was the one to take the blame. It showed her how easy it was to get caught out and it made her wonder if something similar had happened to her mother, but then that still wouldn’t explain what she was doing on the beach in the middle of the night in March.
A few days passed, with Daisy spending most of her time chasing up the ecologist for her bat survey and trying to come up with a name for the bar, although it seemed less and less likely it would ever get off the ground. How could her plans be stopped by such a tiny thing as a bat? Who liked bats anyway? They were basically flying mice that featured heavily in horror movies – unless of course they were getting seriously bad PR, although right now she felt it was all justified. She was reaching the despairing stage as the bats had everything going in their favour and she didn’t.
One morning she found herself having a silent weep, which had caught her off guard. She suspected it was a combination of frustration over the bats and delayed shock. As she sat on the floor hugging her knees and waiting for it to pass, Bug marched in, letting the door bang open to announce himself. They stared at each other and Daisy sniffed back a tear. In an unprecedented move Bug trotted over, pawed at her gently and leaned closer and closer to her until he could get near enough to gently lick away her tears. Daisy still didn’t like him being close to her face, but the tender contact softened her heart.
‘Maybe you’re not too bad after all,’ she said, and he answered with a vigorous wag of his tail. Bug tried to lick the rest of her face making her bury her head in her top while he scrambled over her excitedly. Daisy found herself giggling and despite all that was going on, despite everything, she was starting to feel a fraction brighter.
After three weeks the shock of Daisy’s rescue had waned and things were getting back to normal. Aunt Coral had stopped asking her how she was every five minutes and she hadn’t gone over the ‘what could have happened’ scenario for at least twenty-four hours. Today was the day of the ecologist’s visit and someone from the local bat group had arranged to meet Daisy at the railway building shortly before the ecologist. They were meeting at dusk, which sounded all very cloak and dagger to Daisy.
Daisy was sitting on the platform with her legs dangling down and her backside turning numb from the chill of the concrete when she spotted someone enter the car park. It was a stout woman with a ruddy complexion and a powerful stride.
‘I’m Tabitha, Ottercombe Bat Group,’ she said, marching up the platform and thrusting a large hand at Daisy.
‘I’m Daisy,’ she replied, her whole body vibrating with the firm handshake.
‘And you have bats. How exciting.’
‘Not if you have a deadline to meet and a bar to open.’ Daisy couldn’t keep the despondency from her tone.
‘Can I get a look at them?’ asked Tabitha, already scanning the building.
Daisy took her inside and showed her the now resident stepladder and the entrance into the loft space above the toilets supposedly where the bats had set up home, although Daisy hadn’t actually seen any. Daisy left Tabitha with her head in the loft making ahh sounds. A black car pulled up and a slim man in dark clothes got out, put a black folder under his arm and strode over to Daisy. He looked more like someone from a spy thriller than an ecologist. She’d been expecting long hair and a beard at the very least.
‘Miss Wickens? I’m here about the bat emergence survey.’
Before Daisy could get her words out Tabitha was already shaking his hand and introducing herself. ‘I’ll show you what I’ve discovered,’ she said, leading the ecologist inside.
Daisy pulled her old leather jacket around her. She was cold and fed up. Everyone she’d spoken to had told her bats and their roosts were protected and she couldn’t evict them so she already knew what the outcome would be. She had to resign herself to it. She had spent a chunk of Aunt Coral’s money on the family white elephant but at least she could pay her back when she got her inheritance at the end of June. Just thinking about it made it seem a long way away especially if she was going to be twiddling her thumbs for the next seven months.
‘A-hah,’ said Tabitha with gusto, pulling Daisy back from her thoughts. ‘This is where they’re getting in.’ She pointed to the peak of the gable end of the building whilst the ecologist made copious notes. Daisy sighed. She needed to think about shutting up the building permanently – it had been such a waste of time and money.
‘Right,’ said the ecologist, from behind her. Daisy got to her feet, took in a slow deep breath and prepared herself for the worst.
‘You have greater horseshoe bats,’ Tabitha butted in, her broad grin one to rival the Cheshire Cat. ‘They’re quite rare.’ At least someone is pleased, thought Daisy. ‘Sadly this one didn’t make it.’ Tabitha opened her cupped hands to reveal a tiny winged creature and Daisy stepped backwards. The ecologist took the bat from Tabitha and placed it in a plastic bag.
‘It’s a maternity roost,’ said the ecologist, sealing the bag. Daisy was resigned. ‘They’ve all departed now for winter hibernation but they’ll be back next year. It’s important to keep things as unchanged as possible.’
‘Right,’ said Daisy not really taking in what he was saying. Time to board the place up and forget about it.
‘I can’t complete a full survey because the bats aren’t here so I’ll be back in May. But in the meantime you have my permission to continue work.’ He waited for a response but Daisy was just frowning. ‘This explains everything,’ he handed her a leaflet. ‘Goodbye.’
