This is part of the #MAYnia challenge run by the Hive account@freewritehouse. Today I have written 1719 words. Some of them were written using the following prompts

Today's Maynia prompt: confession
@freewritehouse/maynia-day-ten
The Daily Freewrite prompt: Today is the weekend freewrite! Please choose from any one of the single prompt options.
@mariannewest/weekend-freewrite-5-9-2020-single-prompt-option

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_{_{If you have nothing better to do you can read my previous “chapters”: _{One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine}}}

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Alba sat at a table by the window of The Big Plate cafe. She stared out at the road outside. Traffic was light at this time of the year. Without many tourists, the roads were mostly used by commuters and parents taking their children to school. And here, on Beach Road, there were not many of either. The schools were on the other end of town, so apart from the few people who could afford houses at this end of town, there were very few cars. A few people walked along the promenade, looking out to sea. Some with dogs, some in couples arm in arm, old, not so old. Some runners.

Alba took a sip of coffee and thought about her confession to Trempter last night. She shivered. Why did she have to open her big mouth? Trempter said it was fine, but she was clearly disturbed by it. Alba bit her lip.

Rule number one: never open up. To anyone.

“I’m flattered,” Trempter had said. “But I’m really not into all that.” She paused and then reading the look on Alba’s face said, “Not because you’re a woman, Alba. I’m not homophobic. It don’t fancy women. I don’t fancy men. I don’t do relationships. Or sex. It’s never interested me.” She pushed her glasses back on to her nose. “Some people,” she said looking Alba in the eye. “In the past, have taken that to be a challenge. Please don’t be one of those people.”

“No. Of course. I understand.” That was a lie. Alba didn’t understand. Part of what made Alba Alba was her sexual drive, her needs, her desires. It had been a part of her for so long she couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t thinking about sex. She remembered the first time she masturbated. She remembered that very clearly. But she couldn’t remember before then. Not really.

“We can be friends,” Trempter said. “Although, by friends I don’t mean hanging out sharing stuff. I don’t really do that. But I like sitting opposite you.”

So now Alba felt stupid. And like a bit of a pervert. Making a play for someone who had no interest in her always made her feel like that.

Never open up.

Why had she confessed her interest in Trempter?

She saw her aunt and uncle walking up the road. Good, a distraction.

She re-read the email her uncle had sent her.

To: Alba, H-O-S uni
From: Howard Morris
Alba, Darling.
So nice to talk to you, earlier. Could you do some research for me? I need all the information you can get on the incident that happened on the Ghost train yesterday. And all the newspaper clippings from the murders back in 1993. And can you contact the reporter and see if he can arrange for me to meet with the little girl? You’ll find the link to his article attached. Hopefully, you can find his contact details from there.
I’ll see you tomorrow,
Love Mindy and Howard

Alba hadn’t seen the article - she didn’t really follow the national news, let alone what was going on in Humpbuckle-on-Sea - but someone had mentioned that the pier had been closed that morning because of some kind of incident. Reading through the article, while Trempter cursed and tapped at the keyboard beside her, she found that a young girl had been injured on a ride. Some kind of mechanical fault. Alba for the life of her couldn’t understand why her Aunt would be interested in that. She knew her aunt had grown up in Humpbuckle-on-Sea so perhaps she used to work on the ghost train or something? Alba didn’t get it.

She knew about the murders, of course. Not the details, but she knew that her aunt’s friend was one of the victims. There were lots of newspaper articles covering the case, which she downloaded. There was a book, too, written by a detective on the case, but Alba couldn’t find any of it on the internet. She checked on the library website but they didn’t seem to have it. There was a second-hand bookshop just opposite the pier. Her call went to answerphone when she tried the number last night - irritatingly no website or email address - and it was closed when she walked past this morning - part of the reason she was early. It opened at ten, this morning, according to a sign on the door. She would suggest to her aunt that they pop in there after a coffee and see if they either had a copy or could get one.

Again, Alba couldn’t see the connection between the murders and the incident on the pier. Perhaps there wasn’t one. But it was odd that her aunt - who didn’t really like to talk about the past, or at least that part of her past - was suddenly interested in these horrific events from the past.

She waved at her aunt and uncle as they drew closer and had an energetic wave in return from her aunt and a raised hand from her uncle. She stood up and went to meet them at the door.

“Darling!” Mindy said, holding Alba close. Mindy had a hug that could go on for eternity. Alba knew that some people found it an uncomfortably long time for a hug, but Alba loved it. “So good to see you! How are you? Working hard at university?”

“Oh, yes. You know…”

“Don’t work too hard,” Howard said, taking his turn to hug Alba - a quicker squeeze than that of his wife. “You should leave plenty of time for parties. I remember when I was at university-”

“Oh Howard!” Mindy said. “Things are different now. People don’t have time for all the sex and drugs that you did in the sixties. Isn’t that right, Alba?”

Despite herself, Alba felt her face redden.

“I certainly don’t get much of either,” she said. “At least, not at the moment.”

“Get me a coffee, Howard,” Mindy said. “And whatever Alba wants of course?”

“Another black coffee, would be great, thanks, uncle H.”

“So,” Mindy said sitting in the seat with her back to the window. “Did you manage to get any information for me? I haven’t a clue where to start with the computer thing. Howard does okay, but you kids are so much quicker than we are.”

Alba nodded. She pulled a tablet from her bag.

“I’ve downloaded all the articles I could find. There is a book, aparently, written by a policeman who worked the case. I couldn’t find that, but I thought we could try the bookshop down the road.”

“Good idea, darling! Now, show me how to work this thing.”

Alba showed her how to scroll through the documents she had downloaded and how to enlarge them.

“Here’s your coffees!” Howard was carrying a tray. “Not too early for cake, is it?”

“Not for me,” Alba said. “I could eat cake at any time of the day or night.”

Howard asked Alba about her studies and about university life while they all munched on cake, and slurped their coffees. Mindy finished reading the articles, and put the tablet down.

“Nothing about the sixth woman?” she asked.

“Sixth?”

“There was a woman who was attacked the same night. I seem to remember she died later. The police said it wasn’t related. But it always seemed odd to me.”

“I didn’t find anything. But then again, I wasn’t looking.”

“And the young girl? Have you managed to get the contact details for her?”

Alba shook her head.

“I spoke with the paper and they said they weren’t allowed to pass on information like that. Data protection law, you know. But I got the email address of the journalist and sent him a message.” Alba checked her messages on her phone. “No, I haven’t had anything back yet from him. It might help if I can tell him why you want to see her. I imagine they get all sorts of cranks wanting information on stories. And she is a young girl, so they’ll want to be more careful.”

“I only want to talk to her,” Mindy said, her tone defensive. “It’s not like I’m a paedophile or anything.”

“To be fair,” Howard said. “They won’t know that, will they? They don’t know that.”

“Well, I’m a woman!”

“Women can abuse children too,” Howard said. “I read something the other day. Shocking.”

“And some men pretend to be women. Or even children,” Alba said. “Why do you want to speak to her? What’s this about?”

Mindy picked up her mug and swirled the remaining liquid around.

“I had a vision,” she said. “And she was in it.”

“Oh.”

“Yes,” said Howard. “Oh, indeed. Not really something you could tell the reporter that would reassure him that he wasn’t talking to a crank.”

“I know what I saw, Howard.”

“I believe you, darling,” Howard said, placing his hand over his wife’s. “I’m just saying that it sounds a bit… flaky. To someone else, someone who didn’t know you, that is.”

Alba thought about it for a moment.

“I guess I could say I’m doing some research for the university. Let me send a follow-up email.”

She tapped out the email on her phone and pressed send.

“Okay. Done. What next?”

“Let’s wonder down to the pier,” Mindy said. “I’d like to talk to the manager of the ride, if possible. And I’d like to get a feel for the place.”

Alba knew that her aunt was talking about her sensitivity. Her aunt’s belief in the supernatural had awakened her own interest in the subject. Alba didn’t have her aunt’s ability - or whatever it was - but she wished she did. It was why her university research was focused on the supernatural.

“And then we’ll have fish and chips for lunch,” Howard said. “Nothing like eating fish and chips out of paper while sitting looking at the sea.”

“Always thinking about where your next meal is coming from,” Mindy said.

“And, then we can check the bookshop,” Alba said. “See if they have a copy of that policeman’s book.”

“Great!” Howard said, standing up. “We have a plan. The sooner we start, the better. I’m starving. It must almost be lunchtime.”

“It’s ten o’clock, darling,” Mindy said, rolling her eyes rather dramatically.