Free Follow a Star by Christine Stovell Page A

at a level only dogs could hear when May had told her about her sailing trip showed she was still capable of being shocked, even if it hadn’t been quite the reaction May had hoped for. Not only that, Cathy had been topless sunbathing at the time and had tugged on her tie-dye top so furiously she’d nearly yanked her silver nipple ring from its mooring.
    Listening to her now, she could imagine Cathy in Soul
Survivor with the blue door open and cannabis-scented joss sticks, at least she hoped it was joss sticks, streaming into the warm air. She’d be sitting by herself at the counter wearing a pair of cheap reading glasses which always slipped down her nose. A gossip magazine – left, she always said, by a schoolgirl customer – would be spread in front of her and, as she bent her head, a fine white seam along the parting of her ferociously dyed jet hair would show.
    ‘I’m fine, Mum,’ she assured her, picturing her face, always gentler in repose, assuming its harder, angular proportions as she rattled off another question.
    ‘No, we won’t go anywhere until it’s safe. Then it should be one passage, a long one admittedly, to Little Spitmarsh. When? Depends how quickly the storm blows over. Another couple of days, I reckon. Yep. Love you, Mum. Mum?’
    No answer. Cathy had gone, but it made May smile just to know her mum had been thinking of her. She was surprised that her mother had sounded so delighted when she’d picked up, as if she was genuinely missing her and sorry she wouldn’t be home soon. It was unusual for someone who’d never shown signs of Empty Nest Syndrome to sound even faintly clingy. Yet beneath the aggressively black hair and smoky eye make-up was an insecure woman who had struggled to find her own niche in the world.
    For all Cathy’s feigned indifference, she loved her daughters, but because of her own upbringing found it hard to express her feelings. Rick, of course, she adored. May always had the feeling that if something ever happened to her dad, her mum would find it difficult to carry on without him. Considering the pair of them had been in their mid teens when they’d met, she sometimes wondered how they’d managed to stick together. For all the lean times when money had been scarce and with faults on both sides, somehow their relationship worked. How had May managed to make such a mess of her own love life?
    Consoling herself with a double scoop of Italian ice cream and a totally superfluous chocolate flake, May parked herself on a bench overlooking the harbour to juggle with the problem of trying to soak up as much sun as she could whilst making her ice cream last as long as possible. Even then, the gusty wind imprisoning them in the harbour was against her, snatching strands of her hair and whipping them across her mouth. As she did her best to fight it and see off the threat from a couple of interested gulls wheeling above her head watching her with beady eyes, she barely registered the footsteps coming towards her until it was too late.
    ‘I’ve been looking for you, babe,’ said Thunder, sliding on to the bench next to her. ‘Paige wanted to get her nails done, so I took a stroll into town with her and saw you go by.’
    May braced herself for what she knew was coming, but at least Bill wasn’t around to witness Thunder’s epiphany.
    ‘It was doing my head in wondering where I knew you from,’ he said, searching her face, ‘and all of sudden, it came to me! Of course, you look different without the stage gear and the fancy lighting – but, it is you, isn’t it? You’re Ch—’
    ‘Ah, May. This is where you’ve been hiding, is it?’ said Bill, towering over them and making her jump. He pulled something out of his pocket and dangled it under her nose. ‘By the way, you left these behind.’
    May could have kicked him. Of all the pairs of knickers spinning round in the drier he’d ignored her industrial-strength comfy old faithfuls and picked out one of the few