This is part of the #MAYnia challenge run by the @freewritehouse. Today I have written 1673 words. The first 200 or so were written using the following prompts
Today's Maynia prompt: fat bodyguard
@freewritehouse/maynia-day-five
The Daily Freewrite prompt: toothpicks in a coconut
@mariannewest/day-927-5-minute-freewrite-monday-prompt-toothpicks-in-a-coconut

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_{_{If you have nothing better to do you can read my previous “chapters”: _{One, Two, Three, Four}}}
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Heather liked the restaurant. Billy said it was "naff" which meant not very good, but Heather liked it. It had a tropical theme, which made her think of desert islands and ice cream. There was half a coconut shell on the table with toothpicks in it, a palm tree stood in the corner of the restaurant (although Billy said it was plastic, Heather thought it looked real enough).

She liked to sit with her back against the wall so she could watch people come and go. Her mother called it "people watching". A woman with a fur coat had just walked in followed by a large man in an ill-fitting leather jacket. Heather nudged Billy and whispered, "fat bodyguard" in his ear. He strained to have a look and suppressed a giggle. That was one of the games they liked to play. Guess what people did for a living. The large man did look a bit like the bodyguard Heather had seen on a programme on television about the rich and famous.

The woman didn’t look famous, particularly. But she did look like she would like to be. Dressed to impress, her mother might say. Uncle Stan, mummy’s boyfriend, would say the woman was “mutton dressed as lamb”. Heather’s mum would give him a slap if he said that and tell him he should be so mean.

Heather didn’t mind Uncle Stan. He was nice enough, even if he did smell a bit of sweaty feet when he came in from work. He bought her presents sometimes and mum was happier now she was with him than before, when she wasn’t. Yes, Heather liked him well enough. But she was glad he hadn’t come on holiday with them. It was nice to spend time with mum without Uncle Stan hanging around. Mum was different with him.

“Don’t touch it, dear,” Heather’s mum said.

Heather pulled her hand away from her face. She hadn’t even been aware that she had been tracing the line of the knife mark down her face.

“Does it hurt?”

Heather shook her head. It didn’t even itch now. At first, it had hurt, and then it itched and then it tingled a bit. But now it didn’t really do anything. Apart from make her look ugly. Billy said that it made her look fierce, like a pirate. He said that was a good thing. Heather quite liked pirates, although she didn’t like the smell of rum -Uncle Stan, drank it sometimes - and they drank quite a lot of that.

No one really believed her. About Poppery. Mum said that it was a faulty bit of equipment and the ride should be put out of action. She said that she was sitting right next to Heather and she hadn’t seen the pale man with shadows in his hair lunge at her with a knife. And she certainly didn’t hear anyone say anything about being called “Poppery”.

Jeff, the newspaperman who had come to interview them for the online local paper, said that it wasn’t the first time someone had been injured on the ghost train, but normally it had been because they hadn’t been strapped in properly. He said he had never heard of anyone being attacked before. And he had never heard of the name Poppery.

Even Billy didn’t believe her. He said that she had probably just imagined the man. After all, the Ghost Train was supposed to scare you, he said. To make you believe in things that weren’t real.

But Heather knew that Poppery had been real.

“Please stop reading at the table, Billy,” Mummy said.

Billy tutted and put a bookmark into the book and closed it. Heather could see that it was one of the books he had bought while she was being attacked in the Ghost Train.

The waiter came and took their order. Mummy ordered the steak and Billy and Heather both ordered burger and chips, Billy had his with a side order of beans - yuck! - and Heather had coleslaw. Mummy had a glass of wine - “after all, I am on holiday!” - and Billy and Heather both had a glass of coke.

The phone rang just as the waiter brought over the drinks.

“Hello?” Mummy motioned to Billy to move his book so the waiter could rest the tray on the table while he unloaded the drinks. “Oh, hello, Jeff. Yes, thank you. Yes, I was very happy with it. I sent the link to my friends in London. Yes. No, they haven’t been in touch yet. But… oh… okay… right… hmmm. What do you…? Okay, well let me think about it. Can I call you back? Yes, the number you are calling me from now? Yes. Okay. I’ll call you later.”

“Am I going to be famous, Mummy?” Heather asked.

“A famous loser!” Billy said, quickly. Heather frowned at him.

“You’re just jealous!” she said. “Because you aren’t in the paper.”

“It’s not even a real, newspaper,” Billy said. “They only publish online. Not more than a blog, really. Anyone can be on a blog.”

“Stop it, you two!” Mummy said. “Billy, try to be a bit nicer to your sister. She was injured, you know.”

Heather stuck her tongue out at Billy and he screwed up his face, but he didn’t say anything.

“That was Jeff,” Mummy said. “From the newspaper,” Heather noticed how she said the word, as if daring Billy to say it wasn’t one. “He has been contacted by someone who used to live in Humpbucke-on-Sea. They saw your article and would like to meet with you.”

“Why?”

“Because they think they might have some information that may be useful,” Mummy said. She picked up her glass and took a sip of wine. “Jeff said he wouldn’t normally pass on messages like this. He said that they get all sorts of calls from all sorts of fre - all sorts of people. And some of them - a lot of them - are just time wasters. But Jeff said his dad used to work with the man who called. He said he was a nice man.”

“It’s not Mr Poppery, is it?” Heather said, her voice shaking.

“No, darling!” Mummy said. Billy sniggered and Heather kicked at him under the table. “No, it’s not him. Actually, it’s his wife who wants to talk to you. It’s up to you, darling. Maybe they will be able to tell us something we can use to get some compensation.” The last sentence didn’t really seem to be directed at Heather, or Billy. “Apparently, they are coming to Humpbuckle-on-Sea tomorrow. So we could meet them. Or not. It’s up to you.”

Heather took the straw and put it in her mouth and sucked the coke into her mouth. She liked the way it fizzed on her tongue.

“Okay,” she said, eventually. “But only if we can go to the pier again, afterwards.”

“You’re not going on that ride, again!”

“No,” Heather said, firmly. “I don’t want to go on that ride again. But I do want to go to the show.”

The waiter arrived with their lunch and Heather ate almost all of the burger, and most of the chips. The coleslaw wasn’t as nice as they usually had at home, so she left that.

Mummy said they could either have desert now, or an ice cream later down on the beach. After a short debate they decided on having an ice cream later. Mummy paid the bill and then they went outside.

“Let’s go for a walk along the promenade,” Mummy said. Billy wanted to sit and read his book, but Mummy said he needed some exercise and he could only have the ice cream if he went for a walk with them. He reluctantly agreed, walking behind Mummy and Heather with a sulky face on.

The sun was bright and warm but the wind from the sea took most of the heat away. Heather linked arms with Mummy for a while and then broke away to skip along the sand. After about twenty minutes they turned around and walked back towards the pier. They stopped at a kiosk on the promenade that sold ice creams. Heather had one with a flake in it, and Billy chose two scoops of ice cream instead of the flake.

They sat on a bench facing the sea, eating their ice creams. Heather began to play eye-spy with Mummy. Billy refused to play.

“That game is for babies,” he said. “Besides, I want to read my book.”

After a while they decided to walk back to the apartment. Mummy said she was tired and could do with a lie down before preparing dinner. Billy was happy because he could read his book in peace. Heather thought it was boring to come to the seaside and read books or go for lie downs. But she was outvoted, and it was her turn to walk behind the other two with a sulky face on.

Back at the apartment, Mummy went into the bedroom. Heather could hear her talking to Uncle Stan for a while and then she was quiet. Heather played with some toys she had brought with her. Billy sat on the sofa, his head bowed over his book.

Then, just as Heather heard Mummy stiring in the bedroom, Billy dropped his book.

“Shit!” he said.

“You said a bad word,” Heather said. “I’m telling Mummy.”

“Do what you want,” Billy said, picking up the book. His face was pale and he looked funny.

“What’s the matter?”

“What was the name of the man who attacked you?”

Heather looked up. Billy was staring at her, intensely.

“Poppery,” she said. “He said he goes by the name of Poppery.”

“Look at this.” Billy flicked through the book and then stopped at a page and pointed at the middle of the page.

The words were smaller and closer together on the books that Billy read. But the word jumped out at her from the page, just above Billy’s finger.

Poppery.