Ottercombe Bay – Part Two: Gin and Trouble. Bella Osborne

here,’ said Daisy, pointing at the bedside cabinet.

      Jason stuck his head out of the window. ‘They must have taken them as a consolation prize when they didn’t find what they came for. If it was purely opportunist they could have just reached through the window and taken them off the cabinet as it’s right under the window.’

      He was very good, thought Daisy, and she opened her mouth to explain but Aunt Coral was already speaking. ‘Would you like a coffee, boys?’ she asked.

      ‘Please, and a slice of your Vicky sponge if you have any?’ asked Jason. Daisy thought how unlike CSI it was as she left the embarrassing scene and went to join Aunt Coral in the kitchen.

      An hour later the SOCO was long gone and Jason had moved on to sketching the locket as the only photos Daisy could find of herself wearing it wouldn’t zoom in with enough focus for the detail to be seen properly.

      Daisy couldn’t believe it had gone. All these years it was the first thing she put on each morning and the last thing she took off at night. It had always been with her since her mother died. It was her comfort blanket and she felt bare and vulnerable without it. She kept putting her hand to her chest and every time she was shocked not to feel it under her fingers. She knew she would never get used to not wearing it.

      ‘I’m quite observant,’ said Jason. ‘Your locket was rectangular, wasn’t it?’ Daisy nodded. ‘Was it solid silver?’

      ‘Yes, there’s a funny symbol inside it.’

      ‘Did it have any other distinguishing features?’ asked Jason, his whole face alert. Daisy didn’t like him referring to her beloved possession in the past tense. She thought how odd it was that in her time of distress here he was in his element, doing the job he loved.

      ‘Is it likely I’ll get it back?’ she asked, the sorrow evident in her voice.

      Jason paused, his pencil hovering. ‘We’ll do our best to recover your locket but I suspect whoever took it will be looking to sell quickly.’

      ‘Basically no chance then.’

      Jason gave a weak smile and carried on sketching. ‘Does this look right?’ He turned the page around for Daisy to see the drawing better.

      Daisy took the pencil from him. ‘The shape is right,’ she said. ‘But the pattern was different.’ She made an oval in the centre and started to sketch the scroll pattern within it. She knew the locket so well – she knew its smooth edges, its intricate patterned front and simple swirls on the reverse. She always knew it was immensely important to her, but was not prepared for the sense of loss she felt. The locket, like her mother, was irreplaceable.

      After a few minutes Daisy noticed droplets splosh onto the picture and she stopped drawing. She was crying. Jason passed her a tissue. ‘I promise I’ll do absolutely everything I can to get it back.’

      She nodded. Daisy feared if she tried to speak she’d end up sobbing and she and tears had an unhappy relationship. She always went blotchy and got a headache when she cried and she had done far too much of it in her lifetime.

      After Jason eventually left she had barely shut the door when Tamsyn appeared on the other side. Daisy let her in and was immediately swamped by a bear hug.

      ‘This is sooo awful. To think hard end criminals have been in this house …’ Tamsyn paused. ‘I wonder why they call them that?’

      ‘It’s not hard end, it’s hardened, as in toughened by their experiences. Do you want a cuppa?’ Daisy sloped off to the kitchen and whilst she got cups out Tamsyn hovered in the doorway.

      ‘Actually …’ started Tamsyn and Daisy paused with the kettle under the tap. ‘Can I look at the crime scene?’

      Daisy sighed. ‘Yeah, be my guest.’ Once again she was a point of local interest – a stop on the sightseeing tour of life, something to ogle and wonder at. Well, her bedroom was anyway. Daisy waited at the table and sipped her tea while Tamsyn’s slowly lost its heat.

      Tamsyn came scuttling back and slid into her seat opposite Daisy. ‘They’ve made a right mess in there. What did they take?’

      Daisy suspected she would get asked this quite a lot. ‘A few quid and my locket.’ She looked into her teacup.

      ‘The swines,’ said Tamsyn with feeling, then realisation seemed to permeate and her hands flew to her face. ‘Your mum’s locket?’ she asked, with a gasp.

      Daisy flicked her eyebrows in response; she didn’t want to unlock the emotions bubbling uncomfortably below the surface. It was best if she tried not to think too much about it, although that was hard not to do. They sipped their tea in silence for a bit.

      ‘Right,’ said Tamsyn forcefully. ‘What you need is cheering up.’ Daisy wasn’t sure this was even worth attempting. ‘I know what we’ll do. We’ll go to the donkey sanctuary.’

      Daisy felt herself physically slump. Wandering about looking at animals who were permanently miserable would do little to lift her mood. ‘I don’t think—’

      ‘I’m not taking no for an answer,’ said Tamsyn, standing up. ‘First of all, we’ll sort out your bedroom. Come on.’

      ‘It’s fine,’ said Daisy, but the words were said to an empty room. By the time she’d washed up the teacups and wandered through to her room Tamsyn was plumping the pillow and doing the final adjustments to her bed. The room looked perfect.

      ‘There. You’d never know they’d been in here.’ Daisy didn’t like to point out it was highly unlikely they had been in the room because everything on the bedside cabinet was reachable from the open window.

      ‘Thanks, Tams. This is kind of you.’ Daisy vowed to keep her room tidy from now on. She wasn’t sure how long it would last, but at least she’d try.

      ‘Right, let’s go,’ said Tamsyn with gusto. She linked arms with Daisy and marched her out of the house, giving her barely time to grab the house keys. ‘We can look out for Nesbit the eagle on the way. He’s been spotted in a back garden over that way. He frightened the life out of an old lady hanging out her washing.’

      Thankfully it was a short drive in Tamsyn’s battered Nissan Micra. The car either had an issue with its steering or Tamsyn’s driving was a little on the erratic side. She seemed to stray over the white line on more than one occasion making their arrival in the car park a welcome relief.

      On the walk to the entrance the sound of braying donkeys welcomed them. Tamsyn was looking excited even before she’d seen a donkey. Daisy was surprised to see it was free to enter and became intrigued by the map promising all manner of donkeys, a gift shop, a café and a variety of walks around the many donkey enclosures. Daisy decided that if she was to get through the next couple of hours she had better upgrade her attitude. She took a deep breath, slapped a smile on her face and followed Tamsyn through the gate. Her friend was trying to take her mind off things, the least she could do was try to look as if it was helping.

      ‘I love it here,’ said Tamsyn, her face one large grin. ‘It’s my happy place.’

      The first couple of enclosures had some bored-looking donkeys on the other side of their paddock who had no intention of making the long walk across to say hello. Tamsyn read out the information on the small board and Daisy listened to the sad story of Bernard and Biscuit, two of many rescue donkeys now leading a happy life at the sanctuary. By the third enclosure Daisy was starting to feel a bit better about things, some of the poor animals had suffered terrible neglect and had bounced back and here she was making a fuss about a possession. Learning about the suffering of another was good at giving you perspective, even if it was a donkey.

      They walked through some pretty gardens, past a children’s play area where the volume rose above a comfortable level and then it changed to near silence as they reached a tree-lined area where many benches were dotted about. Each bench had a neat shiny plaque and they stopped to read them, noting