Page 56 of The Sisters at the Last House Before the Sea

‘You could maybe try in the village, but I know the B&B by the pub is fully booked, and the guesthouse near the quay closes down for the winter. I’m in a WhatsApp group with other business owners and we’ve been talking about how busy we seem to be at the moment.’ She bit her lower lip. ‘If you’re really stuck, I could maybe squeeze you into the box room but I don’t normally let that one out because it’s tiny.’

Ben shook his head. ‘Don’t worry. Maybe it’s better that I head back to London anyway.’ He glanced at Isla. ‘You can always keep in touch with Mom and let her know how your search is going.’

‘Mmm.’ Isla’s mind was whirring. ‘Or you could always stay with us for a couple of days. We have room.’

Ben looked taken aback. ‘I couldn’t impose on you, Isla, while you’re dealing with the death of your grandmother. There’s a lot going on in your life right now.’

‘It wouldn’t be an imposition. You’d be welcome to stay.’

‘What about your sister and her daughter?’

Isla shrugged. ‘They won’t mind.’

Ben caught her eye. ‘What about Paul?’

What about Paul, indeed?

‘He’ll be fine with it,’ said Isla breezily, ‘and he doesn’t live at Rose Cottage anyway.’

She looked away before he could spot any anxiety on her face. It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision to offer Ben a bed and she didn’t regret it – not really. It seemed churlish not to offer him somewhere to stay when he was only in Heaven’s Cove because of her.

And, though she hardly dared admit it to herself, she was sad at the thought of him disappearing back to America. She was enjoying their chats about the big wide world out there.

But she’d have to square it with Caitlin and Maisie – and Paul definitely would not be happy. She usually did what he wanted. To be honest, she usually didn’t mind, and it avoided him sinking into a sulk. He was a champion sulker. But this time she would put her foot down.

There was something about spending time with this big, confident American which made her feel braver.

22

CAITLIN

‘Thanks again for the hot chocolate,’ said Maisie, stepping aside so Caitlin could fit her key into the front door at Rose Cottage.

Caitlin blinked. Her stepdaughter had been out helping people that morning and had admitted she quite liked the girl she’d been with. And now, she was repeating her thanks, unprompted, for the drink that Caitlin had just bought her.

‘You’re welcome,’ she replied, trying to avoid flurries of snow being blown from the roof.

‘That Heavenly Tea Shop place isn’t bad, though the name is shocking.’ Maisie shook her head, appalled by the twee business names littering the village.

Caitlin smiled. ‘I’m just glad it was open on a day like today, and I really enjoyed spending some time with you.’

Which was true, even though she’d only taken Maisie out again for hot chocolate to stop her grumbling incessantly about being bored. Once in the café though, with melted marshmallow around her mouth, her stepdaughter had seemed softer and less combative. They’d had a proper conversation about the work of the local residents’ association, which Maisie hadn’t immediately dissed. And Caitlin had been tempted to tell her the truth about what her dad had done, but she’d wimped out. It was so nice to be having a decent, grown-up conversation with Maisie, she hadn’t wanted to spoil it – though she would have to tell her soon.

‘Is the key stuck?’ asked Maisie behind her. ‘Or are you getting so old, you can’t manage to unlock a door?’

And the teenager she knew so well was back! Caitlin gave a wry grin and shoulder-barged the door, which did appear to be stuck. It swung open and Maisie pushed past her into the hall.

Was Isla back now? Caitlin wondered, closing the front door behind them. It was ridiculous how excited she felt about spotting Edith’s photo at the cultural centre, as if she’d done something right for once. And she’d been disappointed that her sister wasn’t at home when she and Maisie had got back an hour earlier. It was only an old photograph but realising its potential significance had made her feel like a detective: a history detective, piecing together clues from the past.

‘You all right?’ Maisie asked, kicking off Jessie’s borrowed boots. They skidded across the hall, leaving a trail of melting snow in their wake.

‘I’m fine, but could you please pick up your boots and put them by the door. I don’t—’

Caitlin stopped talking at the sound of raised voices coming from the sitting room.

‘What’s goin’ on?’ asked Maisie, picking up her boots and dropping them in a heap on the doormat.

‘I’m not sure. It sounds like Isla and Paul.’

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