Page 28 of The Sisters at the Last House Before the Sea

Isla watched him as he made his way to the bar. It was obvious that he wasn’t from around these parts. His glowing tan stood out amongst pasty-faced villagers and the weather-beaten faces of those who manned fishing boats. He was wearing blue jeans, a long-sleeved burgundy T-shirt and tan hiking boots. He seemed exotic, somehow – well-travelled and worldly wise, albeit a bit grumpy.

He chatted to Fred at the bar and glanced round at Isla a couple of times. What was Fred telling him? she wondered. Did Fred think the two of them were here on a date? Would he say anything about it to Paul? Paul would go bananas if he knew the two of them were here on their own, though Isla wasn’t sure why.

He worried about her too much, and, actually, it felt rather nice to be sitting alone in the pub while Ben got her a Martini. She never came to The Smugglers Haunt on her own these days, not since she and Paul had become an item eighteen months earlier.

Isla switched her gaze from the bar to the fire crackling behind her and watched the orange flames leaping up high. Paul loved her, even though she drove him mad sometimes with her forgetfulness. He could be a tad overwhelming at times, but, all in all, she was a very fortunate woman, she decided.

‘There you go, one Martini and lemonade.’ Ben put the drink down in front of her, slid back into his seat and placed his beer on the table. ‘Thought I’d treat myself to a pint of Old Peculier. The landlord recommended it.’ He took a sip and licked his upper lip. ‘Nice. Anyway, let’s cut to the chase, shall we, Isla? I was hoping to be riding the London Eye round about now but I was told by my mom that you wanted to see me?’

‘Well, not exactly…I mean, I didn’t…’

Isla stopped speaking and took a deep breath. Ben didn’t look overjoyed to be sitting in a rainy corner of Devon, rather than marvelling at the bright lights of the capital laid out before him.

‘When did you actually arrive in Heaven’s Cove?’ she asked, hoping to ease into the conversation about why his plans had been upended.

‘An hour ago. I was expecting to arrive mid-afternoon at the latest, only I hadn’t factored in the traffic jams I’d encounter on the way. I can’t believe how much traffic you have on such a tiny island.’

He frowned at Isla, as if the state of Britain’s roads were entirely down to her.

She gave a deliberately warm smile back. ‘The roads down here can get busy in summer, but in winter it’s not usually so bad. Are you staying at Driftwood House?’

Ben nodded. ‘It seems like a nice place.’

‘It does have a lovely view.’

‘I wouldn’t know. The clouds are so low, I can hardly see my hand in front of my face. And the road up to the house is shocking. It didn’t do my rental car any good whatsoever.’

Isla sighed quietly, wishing that Nell had never suggested to her son that he journey to Heaven’s Cove. The sooner they discussed his ancestor, William, and he beat a hasty retreat back to London, the better.

‘So what exactly did your mum tell you about me?’ she asked, taking a sip of Martini and relishing its familiar, sweet taste.

‘She said you were researching an ancestor of yours who had some dealings with one of my ancestors, a guy named William who was a distant cousin of mine. My mom is very into family research right now and wanted me to see what this place is like for myself. My feet standing in the same spot where William once stood…that kind of thing. Only I don’t think she realised that Heaven’s Cove isn’t right next door to London.’

‘Your mom…I mean, mum…was really nice when I spoke to her. She was intrigued by William’s story, like me, and she suggested that you might want to…’

Isla stopped speaking because it was abundantly clear that Ben didn’t want to. He regarded her with his grey eyes, the colour of a winter sea. ‘Yeah, well, I’m here now so why don’t you show me this letter. Mom said you had a letter from William?’

‘I do.’ Isla searched in her handbag for the envelope. ‘It was left to me by my grandmother who died recently.’

‘Oh.’ Ben puffed air into his cheeks. ‘I didn’t realise you’d suffered a bereavement. I’m sorry for your loss. My father—’ He stopped speaking and bit his lip.

‘Your mum told me that your dad had passed away, last year.’

Ben swallowed, distress flitting across his face. ‘Mom’s taken it hard, and she’s become caught up with finding out more about Dad’s family. A little obsessed, really.’

‘Perhaps delving into your dad’s family tree is her way of still feeling anchored to him. She probably feels there’s a huge hole in her life now that link to such a significant person has been severed.’ Isla had felt the same way since Jessie had died – adrift with no anchor in the sea of life. Buffeted by the waves, with no sense of direction.

‘Maybe you’re right.’ Ben tilted his head and caught her eye until she looked away. ‘Anyway…’ He ran his hand across the faint stubble on his chin. ‘Where’s this letter I’ve been told about?’

‘Oh yes.’ Isla pulled it from her bag, took the precious piece of paper from its envelope and passed it to Ben, who read through it quietly. Then he folded the letter and passed it back.

‘So William was sweet on Edith, who apparently changed her mind about marrying him. Do you know why she didn’t travel to the States with him?’

‘We’re not one hundred per cent sure yet that she didn’t. Caitlin is checking out trans-Atlantic passenger lists.’

‘But Mom said she’s buried here and she wasn’t married.’

The way he said it was so matter-of-fact, it rankled with Isla. This was a woman’s life he was talking about so disinterestedly.

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