Blood Loss by Kerena Swan (good beach reads .txt) 📕

I scroll further then pause as I find one of a group of young people. This is more like it. Some are wearing Santa hats and others are in sequinned dresses. It’s labelled as Be At One’s Christmas Party. I do another search and discover it’s a cocktail bar not far from here. I peer at the people in the photograph and wonder which one is Jenna but it’s hard to see much detail and I don’t know what I’m looking for.

Frustration builds as I click on her friends to discover there are no photos that identify her. I consider the idea of sending a friend request to her but there’s so little public information about Jenna that I suspect she’s a private person who would decline a request from a stranger. So would most people, I guess.

I decide to read a few of the comments under the photos and suck my breath in as I read one from someone called Lucy Lou. Bloody hell, whoever Lucy is she’s very critical of Jenna. “Wouldn’t it be better to clear your debts before you go travelling?” she remarks, under a post about helping at an elephant sanctuary, and, “Are Vegans just people with an eating disorder? Discuss.” under a rave review about a meal Jenna had enjoyed without meat or dairy.

I sit back and assess what I’ve learned so far. At least I’ve found a local Jenna Winterbourne and the co-incidence of being born in Milton Keynes hospital with that name is surely too great for it to be anyone else. I know she loves animals, especially horses, lives nearby and is a vegan. I’ve discovered she has someone in her life called Lucy who doesn’t seem to like her very much and I wonder why she hasn’t unfriended her. I also know she has some connection with Be At One. Was it a group of customers out for the night in the photo or the people who work there? There’s only one way to find out. I copy and paste the Christmas photo into a Word document then pay to print it. I look up the exact location of the bar and decide to go there after my session at the library.

I’m preparing to leave the library two hours later when Mark appears. I was beginning to think he wasn’t coming and I feel an unexpected dart of pleasure at seeing him. Maybe there’s hope for me yet and I will be able to feel affection for someone again. I need a second chance. I try not to think about Robert too often but he’s like a cavity in my tooth where a filling has fallen out that I can’t stop poking with my tongue to see if it hurts. I test it now and it feels surprisingly painless. I don’t miss him and I still have no guilt for what I did. He gave me a glimpse of a different way of life and filled me with false hope. His promises were as empty as a gambler’s wallet. I can forget about Robert now and move on – as long as the police don’t track me down.

Mark must see the warmth in my smile because he smiles back. His step quickens and he holds my gaze then glances around and places a light kiss on my cheek.

‘I would have been here earlier but my last appointment ran over time,’ he says. ‘I’ve got you a present.’ He grins like a child on Mother’s Day and reaches into a Tesco carrier bag. ‘I hope you don’t mind. You can refuse it if you want to.’ He pulls out a small box and places it in my hand.

‘A phone?’

‘Only a cheap pay-as-you-go but I’ve put ten pounds on it for you. At least we can contact each other now.’ His smile falters as though he’s expecting me to thrust the phone back at him. Maybe he’s not the control freak I first took him for.

‘Wow, thanks.’ I lift it out of its box. It’s a smart phone so can’t have been the cheapest model. I wonder if I’ll be able to get the internet on it.

‘I’ve charged it up and programmed my number in.’ He gives me the bag containing a leaflet on how to buy more credit and I put the phone back in its box. I won’t need to use Derek’s computer if I can access the internet on this. On impulse I stand on tiptoe and kiss Mark’s cheek. He grins and takes my hand as we make our way down the stairs together and through the exit doors.

‘Shall we go for a drink?’ I ask him. ‘I fancy a cocktail.’

‘Really?’ He looks at his watch and sees it’s only five.

I release his hand and squeeze his arm. ‘Come on,’ I say. ‘I’ve heard Be At One is good and it’s not far to walk. Besides, it might be happy hour.’

‘Two for the price of one. Good choice, Sarah.’ Mark beams at me.

We perch on high stools at the bar and Mark orders a Peachy Blinder for me and a Jamaican Me Crazy for himself. The place is already thrumming with people finishing work for the day and I take in my surroundings with interest. Despite being ultra-modern the bar is intimate and welcoming with wood panelled walls and shelves of colourful bottles behind the counter.

‘Have you had the DNA results back yet? I’ve been dying to ask you.’ Mark’s gaze is intense, trying to read my emotions.

I’ll need to make sure I don’t give too much away. ‘It seems John Butcher is not my father so that’s a cause for celebration.’

‘Too right. Who wants to be related to a murderer?’

I wince inside, thinking of what happened in Scotland. But Robert brought it on himself. Of course, if I’d had the loving life I was meant to have with the Winterbournes, I’d never have met