I Found You

by Lisa Jewell

And Romaine, the baby, was just four months old.

Like the lettuce?!

His thick hazel hair was damp and wavy and he was barefoot.

Hazel hair?!

They didn’t see Mark for three days after his angry exit from their cottage on Thursday morning. Gray’s family remained slightly on edge as they carried on about their lives. Mark had proved he had a knack for knowing where they’d be and when and for appearing silently from the wings. The house on the cliff stood white and alert, the eerie call of peacocks occasionally being blown down the coast to the beach. But there was no sign of him. “Maybe he went back to Harrogate?” suggested Tony as they sat in their usual spot on the beach on Sunday afternoon. It wasn’t quite beach weather; the sand was still damp from the rain that had fallen that morning, but the sun was drying it out fast and the beach was slowly filling up. “I reckon,” said Mum. “No reason for him to stay here really if the girl he liked isn’t interested.” “He was probably embarrassed too,” said Tony. Gray gazed up at the house and shook his head slightly. “I reckon he’s there,” he said. “Planning his next move.” “Don’t,” said Kirsty. “You’re scaring me.” She turned to glance at the beach café behind them. She’d been doing that every few minutes. “You haven’t done anything wrong,” Gray said to her. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.” “I feel bad,” she said. “Bad?” “Yeah. I feel like I led him on.” “Oh, come on, you did not lead him on. He virtually stalked you!” “I know.” She plucked at the frayed tassel on her handbag. “But, you know, he paid for me to go to the cinema. And…” She shrugged. “And what?” “Well,...

Gray says planning his next move and Kirsten says he’s scaring her and he says she has no reason to be scared? Also, he prob went back home because the girl he’s interested in isn’t? He was there to help his aunt?!

As Lily sits with the phone cradled beneath her chin, pressing redial, redial, redial, she builds up a mental image of the woman who is not answering her phone. She has dark hair, like Carl, and his sharp cheekbones.

Carl is Mark? Frank is Gray?

by the trendy radiator

How is a radiator trendy?

She feels nervous pulling it out of the bag. She’s had sleepless nights agonizing over every detail of it, trying to strike the dreadful balance between sentiment and mawkishness. “Here.” She slides it to him across the table. Her fingernail goes immediately to her mouth. “What do you think?” she says. It’s a picture of a peacock, tail feathers spread wide open, its head held at a playful angle, one foot off the ground. “It’s dancing,” says Frank softly. “Yes!” she says. “I’m so glad you could tell. I wasn’t sure if it didn’t look like it was having a fit. Jasmine said it looked like it was trying to fly. She said she felt sorry for it.” “No,” says Frank, running a finger over the glass. “It’s dancing. It is most definitely dancing.” “And look,” she says, turning it slightly toward her, “see the maps. This”—she points at one section—“this is Croydon. For obvious reasons. But this”—she indicated another

The mother doesn’t have a connection with a peacock.