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Coming to fold her in his arms, he said, “You’re a wonderful mother, Jenna Moore. She’s lucky to have you and she knows it.”

Jenna’s eyes were shining as she gazed into his. “It’s her daddy she loves best,” she told him. “But I don’t suppose I blame her for that.”

He kissed her deeply, easing her back against the worktop, where they might have gone further had a little voice not called out from the landing. “Mum, Wills said there’s a monster under my bed.”

By the time Jenna had resettled Flora and returned to the kitchen, Jack had left a note letting her know he’d taken Waffle down to the beach.

“In the pitch dark?” she demanded when he answered his phone.

“There’s a moon, and I brought a torch.”

“Are you sure you aren’t in the pub?”

“Would you mind if I was?”

“Only if you were trying to hide it. How long are you going to be?”

“Another ten minutes, no more.”

“OK. I’ll open a bottle of wine to drown our sorrows.”

“What sorrows?”

“The fact that the Arts Council didn’t increase our grant.”

“They might still come through,” he insisted, “so open that wine and put a Do Not Disturb sign on the bedroom door.”

Laughing, she said, “Much notice anyone ever takes of it.”

As she rang off she reached out to answer the landline.

“Jen? It’s Marcus here. How are you?”

“I’m great, thanks,” she replied, feeling her usual warmth for Jack’s younger brother. “How are you?”

“Pretty good. We’re still planning to visit again in the summer if that’s OK. The kids had a blast the last time we came.”

“So did ours, and of course it’s OK. We loved having you here.”

“That’s kind of you to say, but if that new business of yours is up and running by then…”

“We’ll still want you to come, so don’t think any other way. Jack’s out at the moment, I’m afraid, but you can reach him on the mobile, or I’ll ask him to call when he gets back.”

“Thanks. I only want to know if he’s still intending to drive up and see Mum tomorrow.”

Surprised, Jenna said, “He’s just come back from there. Didn’t he tell you he’d changed his plan?”

“Uh—no, uh, sorry—I…I had no idea. Well, if he’s already seen her, I guess that answers my question.”

“Would you still like him to call?”

“No. I mean yes, if he has time.”

“He always does for you. Give my love to Penny and the kids, won’t you?”

“Of course. Same goes for all of you.”

After ringing off she tiptoed up the stairs, emptied the laundry baskets in Josh’s and the twins’ rooms and stood quietly outside Paige’s for a moment, listening to the music inside. It was the same song she’d heard on other occasions, though whether it was coming from the iPod speakers or the computer she had no idea. It hardly mattered. Whoever the singer was, he had a good voice, strong yet mellow, slightly haunting in a way. She wondered if he was the latest teen sensation, or someone Paige knew. So many kids were putting videos and soundtracks online now that it could quite easily be a local lad hoping to make it big.

She’d ask if it wouldn’t out her as an eavesdropper. Since it would, she tiptoed away. Deciding to forget the laundry for tonight, she went to her own room to start lighting candles. It was a while since she and Jack had made love—either they were too tired, or there was a child in the bed, or she was already asleep by the time he got home. Tonight, however, she was very much in the mood to make it happen.

Daffodils have a jaunty exuberance, unlike primroses whose own exuberance is shyly sunny, or roses who can be guilty of a haughty grandeur. Daffodils, being the traditional flower of Wales, are always worn on St. David’s Day and they light highways, byways, woodlands, parks and gardens with the buttery radiance of their smiles throughout the spring months. They seem to say, here I am, winter’s over, love me, pick me, share me, just don’t ignore me.

Paige couldn’t remember any more than that; she wasn’t even doing very well recalling this first part of the short essay she’d written about a month ago,
“In Praise of the Daffodil.”

Miss Kendrick was mad about the flowers and never stopped going on about them at this time of year, when the whole countryside was covered in them.

Paige had to admit they were lovely. They had a way of making a person want to appreciate nature—this was something else she’d written in the essay, but she couldn’t think now how she’d made it fit in. It didn’t matter, since no one was about to test her on it; she was just trying to focus her mind on something other than how excited and fearful she was about the day ahead.

Oliver was definitely going to be there at the beach. Cullum had confirmed it to Charlotte last night. So was Liam. She and Charlotte had been on FaceTime for hours after Cullum’s text, and again this morning as they’d decided how they were going to wear their hair and whether or not they looked fat in their wetsuits.

They were in Charlotte’s mum’s car now, heading through Burry Green on their way to Llangennith. Paige was in the back, gazing out at the millions of daffs brightening up the route and trying not to feel sick. She had to keep herself calm by thinking about anything but him; unfortunately, she couldn’t think about anything else. She was asking herself a gazillion questions, such as: Would he remember her? Was he hoping she’d come today? Was he going to like the way she’d loosely plaited her hair over one shoulder? Would he think she looked cool and sophisticated, the way the model had in the magazine she’d copied it from? He probably wouldn’t notice her at all.
Please God, don’t let me do or say something stupid so I end up making a total prat of myself.

She’d hardly slept, she was so worked up about this. Making it a thousand times worse was the fact that she’d actually sent him a friend request last night.

Why had she done that? How could she take it back?

“I don’t expect he’s even seen it yet,” Charlotte had reassured her on FaceTime earlier. “He might not be someone who goes on every day the way we do.”

“He’s probably wondering who the heck I am,” Paige had groaned. “If he even knew my name in the first place—and I bet he didn’t—he’ll think I’m really weird for suddenly changing it to my mum’s maiden name.”

“Well you could hardly ask him to connect to the page that’s under attack from the Durmites.”

“At least they haven’t posted anything since that horrible thing they said about you.”

Charlotte appeared to have forgotten it already. “Do you think we should be wearing one-pieces rather than bikinis under our wetsuits?” she asked.

“I’m definitely wearing a bikini and a T-shirt. Should I tell him I’ve watched his video?”

“If it comes up, but I wouldn’t cough to how many times or he’ll think you’re a stalker. Which reminds me, have you heard any more from that Julie person?”

“Not really, and she’s not a stalker. I think she’s just lonely.”

“But she still hasn’t told you who she is, and for all you know she might not even be a girl. It could be someone’s dad or brother getting off on pretending he’s a schoolgirl.”

“Then how would he know all the stuff that’s going on with Owen and the Durmites?”

“No idea. I’m just saying I still think it’s weird that she won’t tell you who she is.”

Paige thought so too. Even so, she’d been online with Julie for over an hour last night, chatting about all sorts of stuff that only girls would chat about. Favorite bands, movies they rated, makeup they’d tried, how strict their parents were, what it was like being part of a big family—Julie always seemed to like hearing about her family. Not that Paige was dumb enough to tell her anything really personal; she was never going to do that until Julie fessed up to who she really was.

She looked down as her phone bleeped with a text.

You are such a fucking loser. Think we haven’t figured out your new FB name? What a pathetic mummy’s girl you are, you filthy swot!

It was from Kelly, the fourth that morning. She wasn’t even bothering to hide the fact that she was the sender, which was why Paige was feeling quite certain now that Kelly and Julie were not the same person.

Another text arrived.

Have you had this one yet?

Paige opened the attached picture. It turned out to be of a giant penis. Knowing how hilarious the Durmites would be finding this, she quickly closed down her phone. She wasn’t going to let them spoil her day, and besides, she could never get any reception at Llangennith anyway, so she wouldn’t need it.

As the pale blue expanse of sea came into view she sat forward to rest her arms on the back of Charlotte’s seat. They’d already passed the King’s Head, so they were only minutes away.

She wasn’t thinking about the Durmites. They meant nothing to her, and she definitely wasn’t going to tell Charlotte about the texts; if she did, they’d end up talking about them, and she just wanted to forget them.

“I’d feel happier if there was a lifeguard on duty,” Charlotte’s mother commented with a sigh.

“It’s not dangerous,” Charlotte assured her. “No one’s ever drowned here, have they? No surfers anyway.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Definitely. And we’ve been here a hundred times, Mum. It’s not like we don’t know it.”

Since this was true, Lucy Griffiths said no more as she drove them into a caravan park and wound down through the site to a sprawling car park behind the dunes. There were plenty of other vehicles around, and people coming and going, some of whom Paige vaguely recognized, but most she didn’t.

“Do you know if they’re here yet?” Paige whispered to Charlotte as she tried to spot Oliver’s black Ford Fiesta.

“They must be,” Charlotte replied. “Cullum texted before we left to say they were already on their way.”

Going to retrieve her surfboard from the back of Lucy’s wagon while struggling to hold her plait in place against the wind, Paige found her spirits lifting at the tangy taste of fresh salt air on her lips. The sound of the sea was a low, constant growl all around them, threaded with seagull cries and the odd blast of music coming from someone’s car. “Did he say if Owen was with them?” she asked, feeling a clench of nerves as she thought of it. If he was, it would be the first time she’d seen him since the horrible Facebook posting, as he hadn’t been at school at all after that.

“No, but he said last night that he was pretty sure he’d be coming. It’s all right, you don’t have to worry. You know what Owen’s like—he’s too sweet to bear a grudge, especially for something he’s got to realize by now that you didn’t do.”

Knowing she’d feel more confident about that if Owen had returned her texts and messages, Paige stood aside as Lucy fussed around Charlotte reminding her not to take any risks, or to get too cold, or to talk to strangers.

“I’m not six,” Charlotte protested.

Laughing, Lucy embraced her. “Just teasing. But
don’t
talk to strangers. Are you OK, Paige? Got everything?”

“I’m good,” Paige assured her, feeling slightly envious of Charlotte’s only-child status. Not that she didn’t love her brothers and sister when they weren’t driving her mad, which was actually most of the time; it would just be nice to have her mum and dad to herself once in a while.

A few minutes later, after waving Lucy off, they were starting along the path through the dunes, boards tucked tightly under their arms, heavy bags draped on their shoulders.

“Have you noticed something? We seem to be the only ones heading in this direction. Everyone else seems to be leaving,” Paige remarked.

“They probably started early,” Charlotte responded. “God, it’s bloody freezing, isn’t it? Let’s hurry up and get there. Just tell me, are you sure my bum doesn’t look big in this?”

Obediently checking, Paige said, “Don’t be daft. You’re a supermodel, so how can it. Does mine?”

“Yeah, huge,” Charlotte decided.

Paige’s eyes rounded.

“Like someone who’s size six has a big ass. Do me a favor.”

Giggling, they tramped on through the sand, careful not to collide with other surfers who were heading away from the beach.

“I reckon they know something we don’t,” Paige whispered.

“There’s Cullum!” Charlotte cried, spotting him coming up over the mound. Matt and Ryan were with him, but there was no sign of Owen—or of Oliver and Liam.

“Surf’s lousy,” Cullum told them as he approached. “Waste of time. We’re heading up to the café.”

“Did you bring any money?” Charlotte asked Paige.

Paige almost didn’t hear. She’d just caught sight of Oliver, and he looked so amazing, so totally drop-dead in his wetsuit with his dark hair blowing about in the wind and his teeth gleaming white as he laughed, that she thought she might faint. “Uh, I’ve got a fiver,” she mumbled, and quickly turned away before anyone realized where she was looking.

He was here! He was actually coming toward her with a group of his mates, and any second now she was going to say hello.
Oh my God. Oh my God.
She was so elated and terrified she hardly knew what to do. Would he mention her friend request? Maybe he’d already accepted. What was she going to say if he had? She wanted to sound intelligent and witty and like someone he’d enjoy talking to, but she wasn’t sure she knew how to do that.