I am careful not to share everything. For example, it’s only Nick and I who know that Jacob’s head of sixth form called us in halfway through the term to talk about Jacob’s poor attendance. My hands trembled as I left the office. ‘Truancy? Where’s he been going? Do you think something is wrong?’
Nick had slung his arm around my shoulder, just like he used to do when we were younger, and said with a grin, ‘I seem to remember you and Isla bunking off your drama classes.’
‘That was different. It wasn’t school.’
Nick only grinned more.
I also didn’t tell my friends how Jacob broke two toes in the spring. He didn’t injure them in a skateboarding accident, but because he’d kicked the skirting board in our hallway when I’d told him he was too young to go to Glastonbury with his friends.
Just before I reach Caz’s hut, I become aware of Isaac at the periphery of my vision. He’s crossing the beach, his gaze fixed on me. I keep my eyes lowered, pretending not to notice him.
‘Sarah!’ he calls.
I flinch at the sound of my name from his mouth – but I don’t turn.
I can hear his footsteps hurrying through the sand. Heat suffuses my skin as I march on.
‘Sarah! Wait!’ he calls when he is almost at my shoulder.
I have no choice but to turn. ‘Oh, Isaac! I was miles away.’ I keep pace as I say, ‘Sorry, I can’t stop. Meeting Jacob. Already late!’
It’s a lie, of course, but at least Isaac doesn’t say anything further. From the corner of my eye, I see him hesitate. He looks anxious, his hands fluttering at his sides. Then thankfully he nods his head and lets me go.
Caz and Robert’s hut, painted a fresh sky blue, is raised slightly above the neighbouring ones. I scan the harbour to see if I can spot Robert’s boat – a large grey RIB with an oversized engine (which, to me, screams Penis extension!). I can’t see it moored up today, which most likely means he isn’t on the sandbank.
I call out as I climb the wooden steps leading on to the deck, not wishing to surprise Caz and Jacob if they’re together. I find Caz curled into the sofa with her headphones on, eyes closed. Her clear skin is deeply tanned, and her hair, bleached to a white-blonde, looks wild and mussed. I glance beyond her, looking for traces that my son is here. I suppose he could have left by now, deciding to see one of his friends, or to take a walk up on the headland. I am turning to leave when Caz’s eyes suddenly flick open. She sits up, startled, yanking off her headphones. There’s a red mark across her cheek from where she’s been lying, and I notice a slight glassiness to her eyes.
‘Sorry, I just came to see if—’
‘I was just … going out.’
‘Out?’
‘To catch up with a friend.’ Caz puts a hand to her head and ruffles her hair around her face.
I hover in the doorway, giving no indication of leaving.
‘I’ve got a minute though.’
I move into the hut, lowering myself on to the sofa opposite her. I take in the cream tongue-and-groove panelling, the expensive striped navy blinds, the antique barometer fixed above the sink. Caz’s mother decorated the hut before she left Robert to live in Spain with the manager of the timeshare she owned. I’ve not been in the hut since she left and I’m reminded how serene the view of the harbour is on a still day; only sailing boats and sea birds dot the water, the fishing quay visible in the distance. I do enjoy crossing to the harbour side of the sandbank to watch the sun go down in the evenings, yet it’s the sea view that I love; it’s wilder, more exposed.
‘Want a drink?’ Caz offers half-heartedly.
‘Thank you, but no. I was just passing and wanted to catch Jacob. But obviously he’s not here.’
‘No.’
‘He stayed last night, didn’t he?’
She shakes her head. ‘No.’
The word is clear and firm. It drops like a pebble into my chest, causing a ripple of panic. Then, where did he stay?
I look closely at Caz, wondering whether she is telling me the truth. She is perched on the edge of the sofa, as if she’s about to spring up – disappear. Perhaps she thinks I’d be cross if she admitted that Jacob spent the night. She reaches a hand to her left ear lobe, toying with a silver earring she wears in the shape of a seahorse. I watch as she turns it lightly through her fingers, over and over, like a rosary bead, and then removes it. She does the same with the second earring, placing them both on top of a pile of Coast magazines that are stacked neatly on the rustic coffee table between us.
I have the strongest desire to reach out for the earrings, feel the warm weight of the silver in my palm. I keep my focus on Caz though, asking, ‘Do you know where he is?’
‘No. No, I don’t.’
‘But you saw him at the party last night?’
‘Yeah, for a bit.’
‘I heard you left together.’
Colour spreads up Caz’s neck. ‘Oh, yeah. That’s right. We walked back together.’
‘But Jacob didn’t stay here?’
‘No,’ she says tightly.
‘Where did he stay?’
She sighs, exasperated now. ‘Look, we walked back along the beach. Stopped by the rocks near his hut to talk for a bit. Then I came back here. That’s it.’
‘Was he planning to return to the party?’
‘Maybe. I don’t know.’
I think of the conversation I overheard in Luke’s hut – Caz was a ‘mess’ and Jacob practically had to ‘march her out’. ‘Did the two of you argue?’ I picture Caz standing close with one of the other boys at the party, looking up through her long lashes, while Jacob waited at the edge of the hut, watching.
It’s clear I’ve overstepped the mark by the way Caz lifts her chin and glares at me. ‘Jacob wasn’t in a brilliant mood last night.’ She pauses. ‘I’m sure you know.’
The comment, delivered so innocuously, holds a clear accusation. Heat builds in my cheeks as I wonder what exactly Jacob told her.
Caz’s barbed remark seems to have returned her composure, set her on some ledge above me that I didn’t know we were vying for. She uncrosses her bare legs and stands. There is an empty glass on the coffee table, and she collects it, carrying it towards the sink. ‘If I see Jacob, I’ll be sure to let him know you’re looking for him.’
I’m about to rise to my feet, but my gaze catches again on the silver seahorse earrings, lying right there in front of me.
As Caz fills her water glass, I stand, and as I do so I find my fingertips brushing the earrings. I tell myself
