‘So how . . .’ Ffion prompts, when it becomes clear Angharad has finished.
‘I was out fishing – this would have been some time in October – and saw a swimmer was in trouble. I fished her out and took her back to The Shore.’
‘Clemence Northcote,’ Leo says.
Angharad nodded. ‘She was keen for him to try sailing. I got the impression she was one of those pushy mothers. They came out with me a couple of times, but it was obvious the boy wasn’t interested.’ Angharad gives a knowing look. ‘I’ve seen him a few times up in the fields by Lowri’s farm, picking mushrooms, so I’d say he looks elsewhere for his entertainment.’
Ffion knows exactly what kind of mushrooms grow up by Lowri’s farm.
‘Has anyone else from The Shore been on your boat?’ Leo asks.
‘Absolutely not. Have you met them? I’ve rarely encountered such unpleasant people. The whole place is rotten to its core.’
‘I understand some of the locals were opposed to the resort,’ Leo says.
‘All of them, wouldn’t you say, Ffion?’
‘People don’t like change,’ she says diplomatically, although she knows Angharad is right. No one in Cwm Coed wanted The Shore built.
‘Careful you don’t get splinters sitting on that fence, Ffion Morgan.’ Angharad looks at her sharply. ‘You know full well what people think about The Shore. And about Rhys Lloyd.’
Ffion keeps her mouth shut.
‘You didn’t like Lloyd?’ Leo says.
‘I neither liked nor disliked him—’
‘Careful of those splinters,’ Ffion says quietly.
‘—but I know he deliberately went against his father’s wishes. I’d never wish ill on another human being, but I will say this.’ Angharad leans forward, and Ffion feels a sudden chill. ‘Fate has a way of catching up with people.’
TWENTY-SIX
OCTOBER | RHYS
Back in the summer, when Rhys first took his family to The Shore, Tabby and Felicia had spent the long drive finalising plans for their rooms, discussing tanning methods and whispering about the boys they might meet. Yasmin had talked non-stop about what the other owners would be like. The four-hour journey from London to North Wales had been full of excitement, full of the unknown, the sun beating down on the car until it felt as though the heat were running through their veins.
Now, the twins sit sullenly in the back, as Rhys drives the family to The Shore for the October half-term holiday. As they cross the Welsh border, drizzle mists the windscreen, and by the time they reach Cwm Coed the rain is torrential.
At The Shore, the exterior lights haven’t come on, and the place looks cold and uninviting. The giant wooden letters at the entrance to the resort have been vandalised again: a red letter ‘W’ spray-painted on to the ‘S’， so it reads The Whore. Further up the drive the drains are overflowing, and a river rushes down the newly laid tarmac to meet them.
‘“Come to Wales”， he said!’ Sarcasm drips from Tabby’s words. ‘“It’ll be fun”， he said!’ The twins shelter under the overhang as Yasmin opens up, and Rhys ferries their cases to the lodge, getting steadily wetter with each trip.
Inside, the lodge is cold and unloved. The builder has traipsed mud up the stairs and through the bedrooms, but the windows now seem to be watertight, which is just as well, because the forecast for the week is bleak.
Rhys feels a hard knot of tension in his chest. Jonty has bunged him another few grand, and this time he really has spent it on The Shore. The entrance is now a sleek black driveway, and Rhys is annoyed that Bobby Stafford – who made such a song and dance over the potholes – isn’t here to see it.
The Shore’s WhatsApp group had fallen silent after the summer, limited to the monthly automated maintenance fee reminder, and the occasional message from Clemmie, with a link to some local news article. In the days leading up to half-term, though, there was a flurry of messages.
Clemmie Northcote: Anyone need me to put milk in the fridge? Caleb and I will be the first ones there, I think! x
Dee Huxley: Dear neighbours, I am very much looking forward to spending a few days at The Shore. Best wishes, Dee Huxley.
Ashleigh Stafford: Me and Bobby are in Barbados for a month – on location for his show! Check out the hashtag and give us some likes ;-） xxx
Jonty Charlton: The engineer will need access to the generator on Tuesday.
The fortnight stretches bleakly in front of Rhys. The Charltons are in Tuscany for half-term, and Rhys would rather chew off his own arm than spend time with Call-me-Clemmie. He bitterly regrets that little arrangement. Jonty had been putting pressure on Rhys to get the first few lodges sold, telling him the financial backers needed to see the project up and running. Clemence Northcote was neither the creative, media-friendly owner Rhys had in mind for The Shore, nor Jonty’s preferred cash-rich buyer, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.