Page 2

Nova

Nine Days Earlier

Nova Davies closed her eyes and thrust her arm into the murky depths. She could feel the chill of the water through her rubber gloves as she groped around, reaching for the body.

“Any luck?” her colleague, Lauren, asked behind her.

“There’s something here, but I can’t get a proper grip on it.”

“Try and grasp a leg, that might give you something to pull on. Or else the hair.”

Nova delved further, trying not to think too hard about what else might be down there. Finally, she managed to close her fingers round a foot, and she yanked her arm back hard, freeing the victim with a loud splash.

“Got her!”

She stood up from the toilet and turned round triumphantly, a soggy plastic doll in her hand.

Lauren shook her head as she opened the black bin bag she was holding. “I bet it was that Daryll Robins. I saw him lurking round the toilets earlier with an evil smirk on his face, plotting our downfall.”

“The boy’s only six! Here, take Toilet Barbie while I wash my hands.” Nova dropped the offending doll in the bag, along with her rubber gloves, and crossed to the sink.

“Man, we do not get paid enough to deal with this nonsense,” Lauren said with a dry laugh.

“Good thing we love what we do, hey? And thanks for staying to help.”

“No problem. You know St. Tredock Community Center rule number 17: never leave a comrade to face a blocked toilet alone!”

They headed down the corridor together, and Nova stopped outside the small meeting room, sighing when she saw the circle of empty chairs inside.

“No one’s coming tonight, are they?” she said.

“Of course they will; you still have a few minutes.”

“I’m not so sure. There were only four people last month, one of whom looked like he’d gotten lost on the way to the pub. Honestly, this book club is a disaster.”

“Don’t be so defeatist. I once ran an over-sixties yoga class here for more than a year and it only ever had one member, and I don’t think he even mastered a downward facing dog. Now, that was a disaster.”

Nova smiled. “Thanks, that makes me feel a bit better.”

“Just give it time. I’ve told you, this lot are deeply suspicious of anything—and anyone—new, but they’ll come round to you eventually.”

“This lot” was how Lauren referred to the residents of St. Tredock, the small, picturesque Cornish village where the two women worked. Nova had moved to the area five months ago, but Lauren had lived here her whole life and took great pleasure in affectionately mocking her fellow natives.

“I’m sorry I can’t stay and give you moral support, but Sam will never forgive me if I miss tonight’s pub quiz. I’ve got a parting gift for you though.” Lauren reached into her rucksack and pulled out a packet of digestive biscuits. “I know what Phyllis is like, and your evening will be considerably easier if you have snacks.”

“Oh, thank you. I meant to buy some earlier but forgot.”

“No worries. Also, I’ve never been to a book club before, but don’t you need a copy of the book?” Lauren’s eyes scanned the empty chairs, and Nova grimaced.

“Ah, yes. Ideally you do, but I can’t find mine anywhere. I must have left it at home.”

“It’s Where the Crawdads Sing , right? I’m sure I saw it on your desk this morning, under a pile of papers.”

“Really? You’re a lifesaver!”

“Right, I’d better get to the Anchor,” Lauren said. “ Will you join us later?”

“I’ll see how it goes here. If I don’t make it, tell Craig I’ll see him at home.”

“Will do. Good luck with your crawdads!”

Lauren headed toward the front door, and Nova glanced at her watch; 6:59 and there was still no one here. She walked down the corridor, her footsteps echoing through the empty community center. Nova hated being here alone, and she hummed as she unlocked the door and flicked on the light. The office was really a glorified cupboard, with barely space for the desks of her, Lauren and their boss, Sandy. Nova’s was nearest to the door, its surface invisible under assorted junk modeling from the after-school art club, some wilting potted plants she was trying to resurrect and several dirty coffee mugs. No wonder she kept losing things; she really must keep it tidier. Nova located her copy of Where the Crawdads Sing , which as Lauren had said was under a teetering pile of papers, then put on a slick of red lipstick and grabbed a plate for the biscuits.

She flicked off the office light and stepped back out into the corridor. As she was locking the door, Nova heard a sudden bang to her right. Her heart leaped and she swung round, adrenaline coursing through her veins as she prepared to defend herself.

“That wind! There’s a storm coming tonight, Craddock, you wait and see.”

Phyllis Hudson was stepping into the entrance foyer, untying a plastic rain-hood from under her chin. The septuagenarian was a familiar sight at the community center. Nova saw her squat figure and distinctive blue-rinsed perm at the knit and natter group on a Monday, at the Silver Swans senior ballet class on a Thursday and at the food bank on a Friday. In fact, she was such a regular that Nova had been told to turn a blind eye to Craddock, the elderly, arthritic English bulldog that accompanied Phyllis at all times, in blatant contravention of the center’s no-animals policy. The dog was lumbering in through the door now, wheezing like a sixty-a-day smoker.

“Evening, Phyllis,” Nova said, fixing a smile on her face.

“What’s wrong with you? You look like you’ve witnessed a murder.”

“Nothing, I’m fine. Come on in, I’m just setting up.”

Nova hurried to the meeting room and began laying out the biscuits. As she did, she took a deep breath, trying to slow her racing heart. It was just the door banging in the wind.

“Digestives?” Phyllis wrinkled her nose as she fed a biscuit to Craddock. “If you want people to come to your book club then you need to do better than this.”

“Sorry, I’m afraid these are all I’ve got today.”

“They’re not even McVitie’s ones. Beryl used to get us shortbread from M at the last meeting he’d not uttered a single word.

“How do you mean?” Nova asked.

“Given she knew how awful life would be for Kya when she left, why didn’t she take her daughter with her? What kind of a monster abandons her own child like that?”

“Hang on a second,” Phyllis said, crossing her arms. “The book tells us the woman had a nervous breakdown, and yet somehow you’re blaming the poor bird for everything. That’s typical bloody men!”

“Here we go again,” Arthur muttered to Nova. Last meeting, Phyllis had taken umbrage when Arthur had made a critical comment about Agatha Christie’s The Murder at the Vicarage , and she’d spent fifteen minutes berating the man.

Nova cleared her throat to cut Phyllis off before she could launch into another rant. “I thought it was interesting how Kya uses examples from the animal world to try and understand the behavior of humans. Did anyone else pick up on this?”

“Like that mother fox who abandoned her babies for her own survival,” Michael said with a grunt. “Kya’s mother did the same, leaving her kids in danger to protect herself like a—”

He stopped as his phone pinged. Michael pulled it from his pocket and looked at the screen, the color draining from his face as he read the message. He thrust it away again and closed his eyes. Nova was about to ask if he was okay when Ash spoke up.

“I don’t think it was the mum’s fault,” he said, his voice so quiet Nova had to strain to hear him. “I think even Kya comes to understand her mum’s actions.”

“Kya could empathize but these two clearly can’t,” Phyllis snapped, nodding toward Michael and Arthur.

“Okay, shall we move on?” Nova said quickly. “The residents of Barkley Cove treat Kya as an outsider, and I wondered—”

But she didn’t get to finish her sentence, as at that moment Michael jumped up so abruptly that his chair fell over with a crash, grabbed his bag and ran out of the room.