Page 51 of The Sisters at the Last House Before the Sea

‘I wasn’t really lost,’ moaned Maisie, but Caitlin was too busy jabbing at her phone to take any notice.

Message sent, they walked on through the streets which were beginning to look Christmassy, with fairy lights in gift shop windows casting pink, blue and gold across the snow.

Caitlin definitely wasn’t taking the shortest way home and, just past Gilly’s Bake Shop, she stopped outside what was the grandest building in Heaven’s Cove – not that there was much competition. Most buildings in the village were small, many of them thatched, with a slight tumbledown air about them. This one was larger with a non-flammable roof, pillars flanking its double doors, and a large sign outside proclaiming: Heaven’s Cove Village Hall and Cultural Centre.

‘I didn’t think the cultural centre would be open today but it looks like it might be,’ declared Caitlin. ‘It was worth making a detour to check. Have you ever been inside?’

Maisie laughed. Of course she hadn’t been inside. Why on earth would she want to?

‘Come on,’ said Caitlin, swerving towards the front doors, which were ajar. ‘Isla suggested visiting the cultural centre to see what life was like in the village when Edith was around. Plus, I’ve never been inside either and it’s about time I did. Follow me.’

The trouble with Caitlin, Maisie decided, was that, one, she appeared to be obsessed with a dead woman and, two, she could be very bossy at times, rather like Paul. But it was cold out here and it had started snowing again…With a sigh, Maisie followed Caitlin inside.

They were in a small corridor with a large hall leading off to one side. A poster tacked to the wall said in large letters:

Forties Forces Night –

Lindy Hop to the fabulous sounds of Glenn Miller.

‘Sounds like fun,’ said Caitlin, gesturing at the poster.

Was she being sarcastic? Maisie wondered. She didn’t look as if she was taking the mick but it was sometimes hard to tell.

‘S’pose,’ she muttered.

‘Do you even know what Lindy Hopping is?’

‘Nope, but it sounds disgusting.’

Caitlin grinned and walked on towards a room at the back of the corridor that had Cultural Centre above it in enormous letters. When she disappeared inside, Maisie stopped, not keen on following her. But a cold draught was snaking through the front doors and, a few seconds later, she trudged after her stepmother.

It wasn’t so much a centre as a large room, thought Maisie, glancing around. There were framed photographs everywhere, and several glass-covered cabinets hugging the walls. A woman with striking red hair was sitting cross-legged on the floor, emptying the contents of a large cardboard box. She got to her feet when she spotted visitors and smiled.

‘Come on in.’

‘Is that all right?’ asked Caitlin. ‘I wasn’t sure anyone would be here, bearing in mind the weather, but the front door was open.’

‘We’re not officially open today. I was actually taking the opportunity to unpack a recent collection of memorabilia we’ve been left, hence the mess.’ She laughed and waved a hand at the rubbish littering the floor. ‘But you’re welcome to come in and have a look around. I’m Lettie and I run the centre. Are you staying in the area?’

‘Yes, at Rose Cottage. I’m Caitlin, Jessie’s granddaughter.’

The woman’s mouth turned down. ‘I didn’t realise. You must be Isla’s sister, then. I’m so sorry about Jessie. Everyone is very upset about her death. She was such a wonderful woman.’

When pain ricocheted across Caitlin’s face, Maisie took a step forward, her stepmother’s vulnerability stirring unfamiliar feelings of protectiveness.

Caitlin glanced at her. ‘And this is my stepdaughter, Maisie.’ The pain had gone and her stepmother’s neutral expression was back.

‘Hi, Maisie.’ Lettie grinned while Maisie tried to work out if the vivid colour of her hair was natural. Maisie knew a lot about hair dye, having tried out several colours herself – which had also got her into trouble at school.

‘I like your hair,’ she mumbled.

‘Thank you,’ said Lettie, touching her fringe self-consciously. ‘It didn’t always go down too well at school, believe me, but I’m very happy now to embrace being a redhead.’

Definitely natural, thought Maisie, deciding that Lettie seemed all right.

‘We’ll have a quick look round then, if you’re sure that’s OK,’ said Caitlin. ‘I’m trying to find out more about my gran’s aunt, Edith Anstey, and wondered if you might have heard of her?’

Lettie frowned. ‘The name rings a bell, but I can’t think why…no, I’m probably getting her confused with someone else. Sorry.’

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