Page 67 of The Path to the Last House Before the Sea

THIRTY-ONE

MAGDA

Almost three hours had passed since Magda had taken Alyssa to task for encouraging her to bare her soul to Stan. And those three hours had been exhausting.

Magda had cried and paced and eaten far too much cake and decided that it would definitely be impossible to face Stan again.

This meant a move was inevitable because how else could she avoid bumping into him? And even when he was no longer in this world – though even thinking about that made Magda’s heart hurt – she would never come back to Heaven’s Cove. There would be too many bittersweet memories here.

‘I should have kept my mouth firmly shut,’ she said out loud, ignoring the tiny part of herself that would never truly regret telling the truth to the man she loved.

Magda stopped pacing and stole a glance at herself in the hall mirror. Never a raving beauty, she looked particularly unappealing today: unbrushed hair and red-rimmed eyes were far from flattering, and there were cake crumbs around her mouth.

There was a sudden tremble beneath her feet – a particularly large wave crashing into the harbour wall, presumably – and she adjusted the mirror, which had tilted slightly on the wall.

Then, she brushed the crumbs from her lips, wiped her eyes and ran a brush through her hair. This would be her new normal, her new life, and she needed to get used to it: a life without Stan, without Penny, and without the community in Heaven’s Cove.

She walked into the kitchen and gazed at the caravan sitting at the end of her garden. What was Alyssa doing now? she wondered, stabbed by guilt as she remembered how upset the younger woman had looked three hours earlier.

Magda went over her conversation with Alyssa in the Smugglers Haunt, when she’d spoken of her love for Stan. But the anger that had consumed her earlier had gone for good and the truth was plain to see: Magda had taken out her despair on Alyssa, who had troubles of her own, because blaming her was less painful than blaming herself.

Magda sighed. Not only was her heart broken; she was now riddled with guilt for wrongly blaming Alyssa, who had done nothing more than try to help her.

She leaned against the window watching the leaves on the trees rustling in the breeze. Beyond them stood Driftwood House, sitting high on the clifftop where Magda had made a total hash of her life.

A sudden knock on the front door made her jump. She wasn’t expecting anyone, so she stayed quiet and still in the kitchen, hoping they’d go away. If there was a problem at the ice-cream parlour, the girls would have to sort it out for themselves this time.

But the rapping at the front door began again, louder this time. And when Magda didn’t move, someone began thumping on the door.

‘Wait!’ called Magda, hurrying into the hall. It had to be Maisie, who she’d only hired as a favour to her aunt. Unfortunately, the girl was turning out to be a bit of a nightmare.

‘What’s the problem?’ she demanded, yanking open the front door.

‘Hello, Magda,’ said Stan, his walking stick raised as he was caught mid hit.

‘What are you doing here?’Magda meant to sound inquisitive but, in the shock of seeing Stan, her tone was combative. She ran a hand through her hair, aware that she looked a sight.

Stan lowered his walking stick. ‘I was hoping to see you.’

‘Why?’

Stan cleared his throat, his knuckles whitening as he clenched and unclenched his fingers. ‘I’ve been thinking about what you said and I wanted to make sure that you’re all right.’

‘Just forget what I said,’ said Magda quickly. ‘And there’s no need to check up on me, Stan. I can look after myself. I have done for years.’

‘I know that.’ Stan hesitated, his face pale. ‘Can I come in anyway? I hate to play the illness card, but I’m not sure how much longer I can stand up. I’ve been sitting by the sea for a while and my muscles appear to be seizing up.’

Magda sighed quietly and opened the door wide. ‘Of course. Come on in and sit down.’

Stan walked slowly into the kitchen, leaning heavily on his stick, and lowered himself into a chair at the table.

‘Is that chair comfortable enough? Do you need a cushion?’ asked Magda. It was hard to break the habit of wanting to look after him.

‘This is fine, thanks, and I’m not staying.’ Stan wiped a hand across his face. ‘Look, Magda, let’s not beat about the bush. About yesterday, I—’

‘Like I said,’ interrupted Magda, her face growing hot with the memory, ‘just forget what I said. Too much drink was taken.’ She tried to smile, but her lips were wobbling. She clamped them together, aware that Stan was staring at her.

He took a deep breath. ‘I’ve been thinking about this all night and it needs to be said, Magda. The truth is, I was taken aback by what you said to me on the cliff and I’m aware that I didn’t react well.’ He held up a hand when Magda went to interrupt. ‘Please, I need to say this because I’ve realised something important. Something that I need to say to you.’

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