Page 12 of The Path to the Last House Before the Sea

She wished she’d known Penny, who sounded like a lovely woman, and wondered, rather morosely, who would mourn her if she unexpectedly shuffled off her mortal coil. Ben would, she decided, crossing the garden that led to her caravan. Ben would be heartbroken to lose her after all that they’d shared.

Alyssa sat down on the caravan steps, her chin in her hands, and gazed across the grass that was sprinkled with daisies. Purple clematis festooned the wall of Magda’s cottage and, beyond it, Driftwood House was a white smudge on top of the cliff.

This was a beautiful village that had provided her with sanctuary, but Heaven’s Cove kept secrets, just as she did: secrets about the smugglers who had once trodden its paths, laden down with contraband; and secrets about Charity and Josiah, whose disappearance still echoed down the centuries.

‘Secrets, secrets everywhere,’ murmured Alyssa, closing her eyes and listening to the soothing whoosh of waves lapping against the sea wall nearby.

SEVEN

JACK

Jack sat on a wooden crate in the cellar, cradling his mobile phone in his hand. He would have to open Miri’s message sooner or later, but he felt bizarrely churned up at the prospect. This was the woman he’d married, the woman he’d promised to love for all eternity – and here he was, nervous about what she had to say.

Though he supposed, all things considered, that his angst was understandable. His soon-to-be ex-wife rarely messaged these days, unless it was to give him an update on Archie, which felt bittersweet. Or to berate him for some failing that she’d suddenly remembered.

She’d recently informed him that he never put the dustbin back where it should be – did it really matter if it wasn’t standing directly opposite the garden tap? – and that he stole the duvet during the night. He was sure he had far more serious faults than these, but impending divorce appeared to distil complaints down to the minutiae.

Jack hated the breakdown of his relationship descending into pettiness. And the last thing he’d needed, after Alyssa had just come up with some fairy-tale ending for his ancestor who was, in reality, a total thug, were more imagined slights from Miri.

That was the reason for telling his dad everything was fine, and beating a hasty retreat when Miri’s text had arrived and made his heart pound. He wasn’t about to reveal his marriage woes to anyone, and in particular not to inquisitive Alyssa.

OK, he was going in! Jack clicked on Miri’s message and smiled when he saw it was a photo of Archie, beaming as he zoomed down the slide at their local park in North London. Jack was relieved that Archie looked so happy. Of course he was. But a sliver of ice lodged in his heart at the thought that his son was happy without him.

Jack shook his head, feeling ashamed. He didn’t want Archie to be miserable. But the suspicion that Archie was forgetting him made him feel like weeping. Not that he would, with his dad around, and Alyssa liable to appear at any minute with more outlandish fairy tales.

Jack shifted on the crate and recited pi to calm himself down. He could reel it off to at least thirty figures from memory, which was a party trick he occasionally performed for his more nerdy friends. It didn’t go down too well at ‘normal’ gatherings – Sunday lunch with family, Christmas Day and the like.

Not for the first time, Jack wondered if he was insufferably boring. He sighed and went back to the photo on his phone.

Beneath it, Miri had written: Archie yesterday. I’m in Devon in a fortnight’s time and will come to see you in Heaven’s Cove if that’s acceptable. Just me. Archie will be with my mum.

Jack read the message again. Why was Miri coming to Devon? And why was she going out of her way to see him? They only met these days when he collected Archie for a weekend visit. And though they worked hard to ensure those meetings were civil, the two of them were emotionally distant and spoke as little as possible.

Perhaps Miri wanted to meet now because she had a form that needed signing for the divorce. Or she’d remembered another of Jack’s failings that required a face-to-face row.

Or maybe… the thought slithered into his brain. Maybe she wanted to see him because she was missing him and had decided that the divorce was a mistake.

He sat for a while, wondering how he felt about that possibility. If, indeed, it was one.

Then he picked up his phone and typed a reply: That works for me. Let me know where and when.

He went to add a kiss, out of habit, but pressed ‘Send’ before he could make such a crass mistake.

Though perhaps Miri would quite like an x at the end of his message?

Shaking his head, Jack pushed the phone back into his pocket and got to his feet. He could drive himself crazy with speculation, but there was no point. Because soon, he would find out for sure what lay behind Miri’s urge to see him.

EIGHT

MAGDA

Magda surveyed the rainbow array of ice creams and smiled. Mounds of Banana, Coffee and Cream, Raspberry Soufflé, Strawberry, and Chocolate Fudge glistened invitingly in their stainless-steel tubs.

The tubs were filled to the brim, ready for the first customers to arrive when the parlour opened in ten minutes’ time. It never ceased to amaze Magda how early in the day people were willing to eat ice cream.

And later that morning, Stan would arrive for a chat by the sea and Magda would talk and smile and pretend that her heart wasn’t breaking.

Her smile faded and she pushed a spoon full of Butter Pecan into her mouth. Eating her own merchandise wasn’t recommended: there were only so many scoops of frozen dessert her hips could accommodate. But after a restless night tormented by unanswerable questions, a calorie-laden hit of flavour was the only way forward.

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