Wish You Were Here – Part 4. Cressida McLaughlin

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       Chapter One

      Robin Brennan was facing away from the sea, the warm June breeze whispering at her back, the waves marking time with their rhythmic ebb and flow. She thought how peaceful it could have been, before nine o’clock on a Saturday morning, with the sun already shining down on the seaside town of Campion Bay.

      But it wasn’t peaceful, because Darren and Fred, two men in scruffy shorts and navy vests, were taking down the temporary stage on the promenade with as much noise as it was possible to make. Robin winced as another metal pole clattered to the ground, and she picked up her takeaway coffee cup, blowing on the hot liquid through the tiny hole in the lid before taking a sip.

      ‘Who put this up, then?’ Darren asked, flicking a look in Robin’s direction. He was short and squat, with bulging muscles, a sheen of sweat on his large forehead.

      ‘It was a friend of mine, mainly. Though a few of us helped.’

      ‘Done a good job,’ Darren said, nodding appreciatively. ‘It’s solid.’

      ‘I should hope so,’ Robin replied, laughing nervously. She didn’t want to think about what the structure would have been like had it been left to her, Molly, Adam and Paige, struggling to follow the instructions as if putting together a Lego model. A lot of people had stood on that stage.

      The open mic night that Robin had organised had been a resounding success, even though it was quite a departure from her day-to-day routine of running the Campion Bay Guesthouse. Lorna, the young woman who had arrived as a guest only two weeks ago, had gone from being shy and timid, her guitar slung almost apologetically over her shoulder, to a confident performer, her voice and playing wowing the crowd on the Campion Bay promenade. Nobody would have guessed that the Lorna who had tripped off the stage had, a few months earlier, been mugged and her confidence shattered. And it wasn’t just Lorna’s performance that had captivated and thrilled: all of the acts had commanded the stage in their own individual ways, and the cheers and applause had been long and loud, drifting up towards the stars.

      The compere for the night had also made his mark, although perhaps more with Robin herself than anyone else. Robin pictured Will in his smart blue shirt, standing elevated above them all, his green eyes bright as he addressed the audience. Now she looked up at number four, the house next door to hers, but although the curtains were open there were no signs of life. Given the racket Darren and Fred were making as they flung the braces into the back of their van with wilful abandon, it was highly unlikely Will was still asleep.

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