Coming Home: An uplifting feel good novel with family secrets at its heart. Fern Britton

ticket office if you like?’

      Sennen and Rosemary were already climbing out of the car. ‘No, this is fine. We’ve got our tickets. Bye.’ They shut the doors and waved at the woman who was doubtful about leaving them but she was tired and ready for bed and the girls seemed nice and sensible so she waved to them and headed for home.

      The girls shouldered their rucksacks and headed off to the ticket office. ‘Two tickets for Spain, please,’ said Sennen as she delved into her bag for her wallet and passport.

      ‘Santander return?’ asked the tired man behind the glass.

      ‘We’re not sure when we’re coming back,’ said Rosemary, finding her courage.

      ‘Two singles, then.’ The man didn’t look up as he printed out the tickets and took the cash. ‘Follow the signs to the ferry. Sails in twenty-five minutes.’

      The two girls spotted the signs and ran to the boat. They clattered onto the gangway, laughing and breathless. Stepping on to the deck, Sennen dropped her rucksack and hugged Rosemary. ‘We’ve only bloody done it! We’re on our way to Spain.’

      In Trevay, Ella woke and began screaming from her cot. Adela woke too. She listened. Would Sennen get up and see to her? After a couple of minutes, with Ella’s crying becoming more agitated, the answer was clearly, no.

      Adela didn’t want Bill to be disturbed. He would stop her from helping, so she got out of bed as quietly as she could and padded onto the landing. Sennen’s door was closed. Sighing with frustration and irritation at her daughter’s lack of commitment to her children, she crept into the children’s room.

      Ella had managed to pull herself up by the cot rails, her tear-streaked face scarlet with the effort of crying.

      The crying stopped when she saw her grandmother, to be replaced with shuddering gulps.

      ‘Come on, you,’ said Adela, lifting Ella into her arms. She put her hand under Ella’s bottom and felt the damp creeping through her baby-gro. ‘Got a wet bum, have you? Let’s get you comfortable.’

      Adela changed Ella’s nappy and Baby-gro then walked around the small room with her granddaughter on her shoulder, cooing soft words until the precious baby rubbed her eyes and grew limp. Back in her cot with teddy close by, Adela left Ella sleeping. On her way back to her own bed she glanced at her daughter’s closed door and forgave her her selfishness. What seventeen-year-old, with A levels looming, wouldn’t be asleep?

      At six fifty the next morning, Henry shook Bill awake. ‘Poppa?’

      ‘Yes?’ rumbled Bill, emerging from deep sleep.

      ‘Where’s Mummy?’

      Bill stretched his arms above his head. ‘If she’s not in her bed she’s maybe downstairs.’

      He turned over and put an arm around the sleeping form of Adela.

      Henry shook him again. ‘She’s not, and Ella done poo.’

      Bill lay still for a moment reluctantly allowing the realisation that he had to get up seep into his muscles. He turned round to face Henry.

      ‘All right, old chap. Tell you what, you wake Granny and I’ll make tea.’

      Bill stood on the landing and glowered at Sennen’s closed door. She really hadn’t been pulling her weight recently. Yes, she had exams, but he and Adela were bending over backwards to help her through school while doing all they could to support her and Ella and Henry. He tucked his cotton sarong a little more tightly around his waist and headed downstairs. He would have words with Sennen later. She had to stop leaning on her mother so much.

      Adela, woken by Henry, changed Ella’s nappy. ‘Shall we wake Mummy up now? She might give you a nice cuddle in bed.’

      Henry said crossly, ‘Mummy not in room.’

      ‘Well, let’s go and look for her,’ said Adela smiling at both children.

      ‘Where the bloody hell is she?’ demanded Bill, having searched the house and garden.

      ‘Shh. You’ll frighten the children,’ said Adela, full of fear herself. She closed the door to the lounge where Henry and Ella were watching Bananas in Pyjamas.

      ‘Maybe she’s gone over to Rosemary’s for breakfast. Or to do revision,’ she said, trying to keep the wobble from her voice.

      They called Rosemary’s family who told them that Sennen was not with them and that Rosemary was still asleep.

      Five minutes later they called back.

      Bill rang the police.

      The church bells were ringing five in the afternoon when Sennen and Rosemary disembarked in Spain.

      The sun still warmed the day and the girls were hungry.

      They found a small pavement café and ordered coffee and eggs. Cheerfully, they raised their cups to freedom.

      Adela and Bill ushered the uniformed officers into the kitchen, and offered coffee and biscuits as a way of making things appear normal. The disembodied crackle of speech from their radios was unsettling and the gleam of the badges on their hats, which now lay on the table, were alien and officious.

      The officers sat on one side of the table, Bill and Adela on the other. One was broad-chested and ruddy-faced. The other reminded Adela of a vole, long-nosed with prominent teeth and sandy hair.

      Adela told them all she knew since she’d last seen Sennen the night before.

      Officer Vole was hovering his sharp pencil above his notebook.

      ‘So, the last time you saw or spoke to her was when she went up to bed?

      Adela squeezed the tissue in her hand. ‘Yes.’

      ‘Did she seem upset at all? Last night or in the past few days?’

      ‘No.’

      The sharp pencil scratched a note.

      ‘Did she take any money with her?’

      ‘Oh,’ Adela looked at Bill puzzled, ‘I don’t know. She didn’t have much.’

      Bill was glad to be able to do something. ‘I’ll go and look.’ He stood up, scraping the kitchen chair on the floor.

      ‘I’ll come too,’ said the other policeman, cramming the rest of a digestive biscuit into his mouth and followed Bill out of the kitchen.

      Adela swallowed the rising lump in her throat. Left alone with Vole she said, ‘She’s never done anything like this before.’

      ‘A lot of youngsters do this sort of thing. They usually come home when the money runs out.’

      He looked up as Bill and his colleague returned.

      ‘Darling,’ asked Bill, putting his hand on Adela’s shoulder, ‘do you still keep the housekeeping in your dressing-table drawer?’

      ‘Yes?’ answered Adela with fresh anxiety.

      ‘How much?’ Bill asked gently.

      ‘Almost three hundred pounds.’

      Bill sat down heavily. ‘It’s gone.’

      Adela let her tears flow.

      The broad-chested constable coughed uncomfortably. ‘How was she coping with the children?’ he asked, reaching for another biscuit. ‘To have two kids before you’re seventeen is pretty tough.’

      Bill raised his voice. ‘My daughter is a very good mother and, as a family, we have pulled together. My wife and I have given her every support. She loves Ella and Henry. There’s no way she would abandon them.’

      The police officers gave each other a sceptical glance.

      The vole said, ‘But she has.’

      Bill