Page 33 of The Path to the Last House Before the Sea

‘I’m so sorry,’ said Alyssa, feeling overwhelmed with sadness for poor bereaved Stan but not surprised. She’d suspected as much from the hints his body was displaying.

‘I can’t believe it, after losing Mum so recently.’

Without thinking, Alyssa grabbed hold of Jack’s hand. He seemed so lost and lonely, standing on the cliff with the dying sun behind him.

His hand was warm and she felt his fingers curl around hers.

‘Has he been told of treatments that might help him?’

‘What? Like crystals or something?’

She let go of his hand. ‘No, like evidence-based treatments.’

Jack shook his head, his face a mask of misery. ‘He doesn’t seem keen to pursue the treatment route. He says he wants to leave this world on his own terms, as if he’s resigned to letting nature take its course.’

‘I can understand that. I’ve seen it before.’

‘Have you?’ Jack moved a step closer. ‘I know so little about you, Alyssa. Yet here I am, telling you such personal news.’

He paused, as if he was waiting for Alyssa to reciprocate with personal news of her own. And for a moment she was tempted to tell him everything about the mistake she’d made and the terrible consequence of her cowardice and weakness. But the words wouldn’t come.

Jack held her gaze for a moment, his eyes bright with disappointment, before turning and walking away. He called over his shoulder: ‘Dad doesn’t want a fuss so please do keep it quiet. The last thing he needs is Belinda bustling round.’

‘Of course.’ A terrible thought struck Alyssa. ‘Does Magda know?’

‘Dad told her this afternoon because she’s family.’

It was strange, thought Alyssa, how you could feel two strong emotions at exactly the same time: sorrow for Magda that she would lose the man she’d loved for so long, and relief for herself that she wouldn’t have to keep that news from her landlady. This was one secret too many for Alyssa to bear.

‘Thank you for trusting me with the news about your dad, and I’m so very sorry,’ Alyssa called out.

But Jack was already so far ahead, she wasn’t sure that her words were heard.

SEVENTEEN

JACK

The face staring back at him from the mirror was the same, and yet different. Older, thought Jack, puffing out his cheeks, to see if the lines around his eyes would disappear – they didn’t. And sadder.

There was a definite air of melancholy about him, and with Miri arriving in Heaven’s Cove in half an hour’s time, it just wouldn’t do. He gave himself a wide, cheesy grin in the mirror. Now he simply looked demented.

‘Get a grip, Gathergill!’ he muttered. ‘Yes, your life is a car crash right now, but perhaps things are about to start looking up.’

He did up another button on his shirt, an old one that Miri had once remarked brought out the ‘storm grey’ in his eyes.

Jack presumed that was a good thing and that she liked his eyes. Or maybe she considered grey boring, which would be a shame seeing as a significant proportion of the clothes he owned were that colour.

This was in stark contrast to Alyssa, who, he imagined, would never allow anything so dowdy as grey into her wardrobe. It was bright colours all the way for Heaven’s Cove’s resident myth-teller. This morning she’d arrived at the shop in daffodil-yellow trousers, a white T-shirt and a purple cardigan several sizes too big.

He’d look like a clown in that outfit, but he had to admit it worked on her. She’d looked good today – more than good, actually. And she’d been very kind to his father, while not letting on that she now knew about his condition.

Jack had been on tenterhooks in case she let anything slip, and had berated himself for telling her during their walk the other night. Maybe the ‘wonderment’ of the sunset had loosened his tongue.

But Alyssa had been subtly supportive – insisting Stan sit at the till to work, fetching stock without his help, and making sure that he took breaks.

Jack shook his head, not sure why he was thinking about Alyssa when he should be concentrating on the woman he’d married six years ago. Miri would be here soon and if he didn’t leave now he would be late for their meeting.

Jack grabbed a jumper that had been in his wardrobe for ages. It wasn’t Alyssa-levels of eye-catching. It was dark green, the colour of hedgerows that lined Devon’s lanes. But it wasn’t grey, so it would do.

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