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

‘It’s great news,’ Mark adds, and I drag my thoughts back to the here and now.

‘Yes, it is.’ I try to inject bright cheer into my voice. ‘I now know why he was such a bastard to me.’

‘Has your Mum said any more about your real father?’

I don’t want to talk about this anymore and my face must make this obvious because Mark leans back and puts his hands up defensively. ‘Sorry, I realise it’s none of my business.’

‘It’s still raw,’ I say. ‘I need to come to terms with it all.’

Mark nods and changes the subject by surveying the bar and the lively people surrounding us. ‘I like it here. Maybe we should make this a regular after-work activity.’

‘Maybe.’ I sip my drink and savour the taste of clementine blended with vanilla and remind myself that I’ve come here for a purpose. But how can I find out more about the photograph without Mark overhearing?

Thirty minutes and a second drink later Mark excuses himself and goes to the men’s toilet. As soon as he’s gone I pull out the photograph and show it to the young guy behind the bar.

‘I’m trying to trace an old school friend for a surprise birthday party for my boyfriend.’ I nod in the direction Mark took, hoping the barman will know that what I’m saying needs to be kept secret. ‘I wonder if you know the people in this photo.’ I hand him the picture and he studies it carefully, grinning.

‘That was a great staff party. Shame I can only remember half of it.’

‘Her name’s Jenna Winterbourne. Does she work here? Is she in this photo?’

‘She does work here.’ He pauses and studies the faces again. ‘But she’s not in the photo. She must have been the one taking the picture.’

I feel a fizz of excitement. ‘Is she here now? If not, when’s her next shift?’ I can’t help scanning the room again, this time looking for a girl my age serving drinks or clearing tables. What will I say to her? What if Mark appears? How will I explain why I’m looking for her?

‘Matt, is Jenna in tonight?’ the barman calls to another young guy at the other end of the bar.

‘Didn’t you hear?’ Matt shouts back over the excited chatter of a group of young women. ‘She’s not coming in for a while. Got family issues or something.’

Family issues? I want to know more. They’re my family now. I look anxiously over my shoulder to see if Mark is returning then focus on the barman again. ‘Can you tell me her address?’

‘Sorry. I can’t give out confidential information.’

Bloody data protection laws. I think quickly before saying, ‘It would be such a shame for her to miss the party. A shame for my boyfriend too. What if you just give me the estate she lives on?’

‘Jenna doesn’t live on an estate. She’s in Bow Brickhill but don’t ask me for the exact address.’ He must see the disappointment cloud my face because he leans forward and whispers, ‘The Old Hay Barn or Hayloft, I think, or maybe Old Beams. It’s a converted barn and there can’t be too many of those in the village.’

Mark appears at my elbow and I sit back. ‘I was just asking the ingredients of the cocktail,’ I say and the barman winks at me. ‘Shall we have another then get a taxi back to your place?’

Chapter 39

The Following September | Jenna

The more I think about it, the more I believe the taxi driver was just trying to deflect attention away from his own bad driving by suggesting I was pushed into his path. There’s no doubt I was shoved but I’m sure it must have been accidental or the result of some arrogant idiot being careless of how they got ahead. I may still suspect Lucy of causing Merlin to bolt that day in the woods but to suspect her of getting a rabbit costume from somewhere and trying to hurt me here is… well, it’s ridiculous and I’m not going to let such negative thoughts spoil my day. There are bad days ahead with Mum, so good days now have to be treasured.

The pathways around the lake are crowded. Runners jog past with numbers pinned to their T-shirts and tabards display messages for loved ones: For Grandad, In memory of a beautiful daughter and Auntie Sal, we love you. People of all heights and sizes wear colours that shout, ‘Look at me!’ Bright pink tutus collide with orange leggings, green T-shirts and face paint. Everyone is in high spirits and laughter rings out across the still water.

By the time Nisha and I have walked part of the way around Willen Lake the ache in my leg has subsided so we break into a gentle run. Not for long, though. Neither of us trained for this and soon we’re both puffing like octogenarians on twenty fags a day. We settle back into a walk and only run when we approach a crowd of onlookers and marshals cheering encouragement.

Despite my resolution to enjoy the day I can’t help keeping an eye out for a pink rabbit costume. I don’t see one, which makes sense as the person inside it was clearly eager to get to the front. Even so I run on the inside of the path away from the water’s edge. The lake’s shallow but I’m not taking any chances.

‘Watch out,’ Nisha says to a group of children who stumble into our path in an exuberant game of tag. ‘We’re in the zone. Don’t break our stride.’ She looks at me and laughs. ‘Don’t they recognise top athletes when they see them?’

I laugh with her but my good intentions aren’t managing to lift my mood and my heart isn’t in it.

‘Are you okay, Jenna? Does your leg hurt?’

‘It’s fine. It’s my lungs that can’t cope,’ I puff, struggling to talk and run at