Page 14 of The Sisters at the Last House Before the Sea

MAISIE

Isla was still wasting time searching for a ghost. She’d had her head stuck in her computer for the last ten minutes, clicking on this website and that, looking for elusive Edith. Yet she was no closer to solving that stupid riddle if the furrow between her eyes was anything to go by.

If she kept frowning like that, thought Maisie, dropping her bowl into the dishwasher, she’d end up with horrific wrinkles.

The clink of crockery prompted Isla to look up from her laptop. She gave Maisie a smile. ‘So, what are you up to today? Do you have any plans?’

What kind of daft question was that? The options round here weren’t exactly epic. It was either huddle at the beach in the freezing cold or wander past endless sad little cottages. Her school kept sending work for her to do, but she didn’t intend to spend much time on it.

‘Dunno,’ grunted Maisie. ‘Thought I might go back to bed for a bit.’

‘Really?’ Isla frowned so hard it must surely be destroying what little elasticity her skin had left. She should be more careful, now she was over thirty.

‘Yeah, really. Why?’

‘I was thinking I might walk down to the church in a bit, St Augustine’s by the Mini Mart. And you could come with me, if you like, to get some fresh air.’

Maisie would not like, but she recognised that Isla was trying to be kind so she rewarded her with a half-smile. ‘Thanks, but churches aren’t really my thing.’

‘I’m not planning on going inside, but seeing the names of my great-grandparents in the family Bible has reminded me that Gran used to tend their grave in the churchyard. I might wander down to have a look at it.’

That had to be the most boring invitation Maisie had ever received but she managed another smile. ‘Thanks, but I think I’ll give that a miss.’

‘OK.’

Isla went back to doom-scrolling about dead people while Maisie escaped upstairs to throw herself back into bed, and to wonder where her stepmother was. Caitlin was being very mysterious at the moment. She was all ‘everything’s fine’ and ‘there’s no need to worry’, which usually meant ‘It’s all gone to hell so start panicking!’ Not that anyone would ever tell her the truth.

Maisie drummed her heels against the crocheted bedspread and stared at the ceiling. What she really wanted to know was when she and Caitlin were going home to London, and when her dad would be back from his work conference. If that was where he really was.

Maisie squeezed her eyes tightly shut, wishing for the hundredth time that she didn’t know what she knew. If only her train hadn’t been delayed that day, giving her time to kill around Waterloo Station. If only she hadn’t decided to wander over Waterloo Bridge, she’d have been none the wiser. There was a lot to be said for never going for a walk unless it was absolutely necessary.

But she had gone for a walk, and now she knew. And if Caitlin didn’t that was her look-out. Maisie wasn’t about to lob a grenade into what appeared to be an already dodgy relationship.

She opened her eyes when a seagull began pecking at her window, and thought back to when she was a child and her mum and dad had split up. Her mum had sunk into depression as the marriage had failed, whereas Caitlin had been over-the-top jolly recently, which was particularly irritating. But perhaps it meant she was totally oblivious to what Maisie knew and this marriage would last.

If it didn’t, Maisie reasoned, she was fifteen and totally able to cope with another divorce. She would go back to their house in Hammersmith and live with her dad and her life would go on pretty much as normal.

Hopefully, she’d still see Caitlin sometimes. A rush of anxiety made Maisie’s stomach burn. Caitlin was annoying but she’d treated Maisie pretty well since first appearing on the scene six years ago, and Maisie might…She took a deep breath and admitted it to herself. Yes, she would miss her stepmother. A little bit. Actually, she didn’t like to think of not seeing Caitlin every day.

She blinked, annoyed with herself for feeling as if she might cry. Because the truth of the matter was that Caitlin had no right bringing her to this place, which was just dire in winter, and making her live with Isla, who looked so sad all the time, was plain mean. And that wasn’t even taking Paul into account. Quite what Isla saw in him, Maisie couldn’t imagine. She’d decided back at Easter that he was totally wet and boring, and this latest visit hadn’t changed her view that he was a drip. Yet at the same time he bossed Isla about quite a lot.

A little man from a little village on a power trip, Maisie decided, giving a loud, theatrical sigh, even though it was pointless when there was no one around to hear it.

The sooner she and Caitlin went home, the better. It wasn’t as if they needed stupid money from this house. Her dad was well off, so much so that Caitlin didn’t need to work. She’d given up her job when they moved house and hadn’t found another one yet.

Maisie didn’t need a Saturday job either and hadn’t been too chuffed when, at Easter, Isla had announced she’d found her holiday work – as if she was doing her a big favour or something. In the end, working at the ice cream parlour in the village hadn’t been too bad. It had passed the time, and she’d been allowed to eat the merchandise.

She’d still been glad to get back to London and back to school – until, that is, she’d carried out that stupid practical joke a few days ago which had resulted in her immediate suspension. Maisie shivered, remembering the Head’s face after she’d been summoned to her office. Maisie was expecting her to be angry, but what she hadn’t anticipated was her disappointment.

Maisie, it seemed, was a disappointment to the Head and to the whole school – but then she was to Caitlin, too, who, let’s face it, had been saddled with her. Caitlin had been presented with a passive stepdaughter at first: a young girl who missed her real mother, who was living and working in Canada. But now Caitlin was landed with older Maisie, who was stroppy, complicated, and horribly sad – although she hid her sadness well, mostly by kicking off and being lippy when she felt threatened.

A lot of things made Maisie feel threatened: snarky comments from the girls at school; Caitlin and her dad being in a strop with each other; teachers who expected her to do well when, in fact, she found schoolwork horribly hard. And then there was Heaven’s Cove, which was too sickly sweet to be anything other than terrifying. There had to be a serial killer sheltering in one of the whitewashed cottages with their twee thatched roofs. Or a mugger hiding along one of the lanes that criss-crossed the village.

Nowhere could be this perfect, Maisie decided, kicking her magazine off the bed so it dropped onto the floor with a thud. She definitely did not want to be here – but the problem was she didn’t really want to go back to school either. The teachers there knew what she’d done. And though Madison in her class had let her join the WhatsApp group for her select band of friends – what Maisie had wanted for ages – their comments about other people, including Maisie, were not always kind.

It was all very complicated. Life was complicated, she thought, staring at the tree outside her window, that was dancing in a sea breeze. The locals laughingly called it a breeze. She called it a freezing cold gale that swirled through the cracks in this old house and moaned like a ghost.

Dark clouds were gathering outside, filtering out what little winter daylight there was, and her bedroom was gloomy and full of shadows. Maisie shivered and turned on her bedside light before closing her eyes and trying to sleep. She’d only just got up, but there was nothing else to do around here.

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