Page 31 of The Summer Swap

But now she was here, and it was like stepping back in time.

Finishing her coffee, she walked back into the cottage and went to the fridge. She reached inside for the cheese, intending to make herself a snack with the bread she’d bought the day before, and as she did so she noticed the jug of lemonade. Had that been there the night before? It must have been, but she’d been too upset and distracted to notice.

The lawyer had told her that Cameron had kept the cottage maintained and ready (Ready for whom? How often had he come here?), but surely that didn’t include providing a jug of fresh lemonade?

It was mystifying. Maybe the housekeeping staff made it for themselves to keep themselves hydrated while working. Thinking about that made her wonder when the cleaning company came. The thought that they might witness the havoc she’d wrought galvanized her into action. She didn’t want people to know. She didn’t want people asking questions. She’d clear up and then she’d find a way to cancel the cleaning service while she was here. And she’d do what Cameron should have done. She’d sell the place.

Maybe this was what she needed to do to be able to move on.

Grabbing a broom, she swept all the broken glass into a pile, scooped it up and then disposed of it. She’d thought she’d done a good job, but then she spied a piece of glass that had skittered across the floor and almost reached the kitchen. She retrieved it, then discovered more under the coffee table and another piece stuck to the rug.

It was the large shard under the sofa that was her undoing. She reached for it, not seeing the piece that lay sharp and deadly beside it. It sliced across her wrist like a blade and she gasped and jerked her hand back, horrified to see the volume of blood welling from the wound.

Blood slid down her arm and dripped onto the floor. The sight of it made her dizzy.

Cecilia had never been good with blood. When the kids had fallen over, it had been Cameron who had cleaned them up while she’d sat with her head low, trying not to pass out.

“Damn.” She covered her wrist with her other hand, putting pressure on it but her fingers were slippery with the blood. She wanted to close her eyes and let someone else clean it up, but that wasn’t going to happen. She’d wanted to be on her own, and now she was on her own, which meant clearing up her own mess.

Did Cameron still keep a first aid kit here?

She was afraid that if she stood up and searched for it she’d faint, or bleed everywhere and leave the cottage looking like a crime scene. She should never have smashed the paintings, and she wouldn’t have done so if she hadn’t been so angry with Cameron.

Had he kept the cottage so he could have more affairs, knowing that this was the one place she would never come?

She gave a loud scream of frustration, taking advantage of the fact that she had no neighbors and no one could hear her. It felt good, so she did it again, louder this time. It was cathartic. Why had she never screamed aloud before? She probably should have done it decades ago. She should have shattered Cameron’s eardrums as revenge for shattering her heart.

And then she realized that if no one could hear her she might bleed to death and no one would know until the cleaning company came again, whenever that was. She was going to die alone. Here. In this place she’d avoided. Her body would be found, and no one would know who she was, or what she had been doing in the cottage.

She imagined the shock it would create. The poor soul who opened the door and found her might be traumatized forever and that would never do.

Pull yourself together, Cecilia.

Cecilia felt the blood escape from the pressure of her fingers and slide down her arm, and she was about to try and stand up without releasing her grip on her wrist when a sound came from the doorway.

She glanced across and saw a young woman standing there. Her face was pink from the sun and her hair, a rich oak brown, fell tangled and messy past her shoulders as if she’d had a dip in the sea and hadn’t taken the time to rinse her hair of salt water. Sand clung to her running shoes, and she was out of breath.

She looked vaguely familiar although Cecilia couldn’t think why that would be. She hadn’t been here in years and knew no one.

The girl dropped the backpack she’d been holding and rushed across to Cecilia. “What happened? No, you mustn’t—why did you—oh, there’s so much blood. Don’t move. I’m going to help you.” She rushed to the kitchen, pulled open a drawer and removed a first aid kit. Then she sprinted back to Cecilia and dropped to her knees next to her. “You need to elevate the limb. That’s it. Hold it up for me—right there.” She unzipped the pack, and dressings and bandages spilled out. “I’ll call an ambulance but first I need to stop the bleeding. Just breathe steadily. You’re going to be fine.”

Now that she was no longer alone, Cecilia knew she would indeed be fine.

“I don’t want you to call an ambulance.” She didn’t want a fuss. But it would be good to stop the bleeding. Looking at it was starting to make her feel dizzy again. “I’m feeling light-headed. Could you stay for a few minutes?”

“I’m staying for as long as needed. I’m not leaving you like this.” The girl was calm and steady. She found what she was looking for, opened the packaging and pressed a dressing hard against the wound. “You poor thing. You must have been feeling terrible.”

The unexpected sympathy brought a lump to Cecilia’s throat.

She had been feeling terrible, but how could this girl possibly know that?

“What made you come to the door?” She winced as the girl’s fingers pressed hard. “I didn’t know anyone was around.”

“I’m the caretaker. I arrived early. I was on the beach when I heard you scream.”

“Oh.” Her scream must have been louder than she’d thought.

Also, this really was early.

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