The Vanishing Tide by Hilary Tailor

Author:Hilary Tailor [Tailor, Hilary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Women, Family Life, General, Friendship
ISBN: 9781542036580
Google: TaG5zgEACAAJ
Publisher: Amazon Publishing
Published: 2022-06-15T12:25:54.090362+00:00

Chapter Thirty

ISLA

She should have known Erin would seek her out, but when the knock at the door finally came two days later, Isla assumed it was Penny and so she opened it, unthinking, with a smile. Her heart sank when she saw who it was. Erin with Frankie, their hair dishevelled by the wind. Frankie was clutching a slim metal contraption that hung around her neck from a ribbon.

‘Do you mind if we come in? Just for a minute?’ Erin’s smile was fixed. Isla wondered what on earth lay behind it. She didn’t want Erin in her house again, so she ushered them both onto the patio. ‘It’s a nice day,’ she commented, even though the wind had a bite to it and there were dark clouds rolling in from the west. ‘Let’s sit outside.’ Isla grabbed an old towel that hung on a rusty hook by the door and gave the chairs a wipe. There was a pause when she felt sure Erin was hoping to be offered a drink, but she resisted. She didn’t want them hanging around.

‘Frankie, why don’t you go and play on the sand?’ Erin nodded to the beach below. ‘While Isla and I have a chat?’

Frankie hesitated, looking at her mother for reassurance. Erin nodded briefly, and Frankie wordlessly took the patio steps to the beach. Erin turned to Isla. ‘I’m sorry about the other day. Mark had too much to drink and Frankie didn’t want me to leave her. I can’t believe you had to let yourself out. You must think I’m a terrible person. I’m so embarrassed.’

Mark hasn’t told her, Isla thought to herself. I can’t believe Mark didn’t tell her.

Erin continued, ‘I wanted it to be a nice afternoon and it just got ruined somehow.’

‘It was fine. You have a lot of stuff to deal with right now. I still got to meet Frankie and Mark. Objective achieved.’ So why have you come to my house? she wanted to say.

They both lapsed into silence and looked at Frankie, who was carving shapes in the sand with her fingertips. Her hair was tied up and exposed the gentle curve of her neck, the slim ribbon digging in. Even though she was being observed by two adults, she looked alone. For the second time, Isla felt a surprising jolt of tenderness towards her. She remembered doing the same thing at that age, in practically the same spot. She wondered what was going through her young mind.

‘It’s a Dictaphone,’ said Erin, nodding at her daughter.

‘What?’

‘The thing round her neck. It’s a recording device. I thought she could maybe . . . talk into it, if she didn’t want to talk to us.’

‘Huh. That’s a good idea.’

‘Borne of desperation,’ said Erin, mirthlessly. ‘You press a button and it records your voice. Even a whisper. I listen to it at the end of the day when she’s sleeping.’

Isla pressed her lips together. ‘Look, do you want a drink or something?’

Erin’s face broke into another wide smile, but this time it looked genuine, grateful.

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