Page 57 of The Sisters at the Last House Before the Sea

It was definitely Paul. A deep male voice was going on and on, not shouting exactly, but speaking much more loudly than usual. Every now and again there was the murmur of a woman’s voice.

‘If they’re having a bust-up, I’m outta here,’ said Maisie, heading for the stairs. ‘Good luck.’

She pulled earbuds from the pocket of her jacket as she bounded up the steps, ready to listen to her music in the relative peace of her bedroom.

Caitlin was also tempted to escape upstairs, but she couldn’t help feeling protective towards Isla, who didn’t sound to be getting much of a word in.

Creeping to the closed sitting room door, she listened for a few seconds and then knocked. The male voice inside went silent and the door was wrenched open.

‘Yes?’ barked Paul.

‘Um, I heard you both in here and…’ She tailed off, not sure what else to say.

Paul glared at Caitlin for a second but then his expression softened. ‘I’m so sorry. Where are my manners? Did you want to come in?’

He took a step back and opened the door fully. Isla was standing by the fireplace, biting her lip.

‘I wanted to have a word with Isla but I can come back another time.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. You can come in now, and perhaps you can talk some sense into your little sister.’

Caitlin gave Paul a tight smile and stepped into the room, which was gloomy and cold. Outside, through the bay window, a lone seagull was pecking at snow in the garden.

‘Are you all right, Isla?’ Caitlin asked.

‘Yeah, fine,’ Isla replied, though she didn’t look it. Her face was strained and she appeared thoroughly miserable. Caitlin resisted an urge to rush over and pull her into a hug.

‘What do you think, Cait, about Isla wasting her time with this bloke from the States?’ asked Paul.

Caitlin felt her lips purse as she bristled at Paul shortening her name.

‘I just don’t think it’s…seemly,’ he went on, sounding as pompous as Caitlin had feared he was.

‘Seemly?’ Isla puffed air through her cheeks. ‘We were drinking coffee when you saw us yesterday. Not making out in a corner of the café.’

‘Yet now you’ve invited him to stay here, at Rose Cottage.’

Had she? Caitlin gave Isla a questioning look but Isla ignored her.

‘I’ve already explained to you that his flight isn’t until Wednesday at the earliest and he can’t stay on at Driftwood House. There’s no room.’

‘So you offered him your bed.’

‘I offered him a bed, Paul. There’s a difference. And you’ll no doubt be staying here overnight when he is, anyway.’

‘Why doesn’t he just leave when the snow buggers off and go to London? I’m sure there’s plenty he could be doing there while he’s waiting for his flight.’

‘I’m sure there is, but he’s got more interested in Edith and William’s story and, who knows, he might be able to help us solve Gran’s riddle.’

Paul sighed very loudly. ‘Isla, I know you miss Jessie, and you’re not quite yourself at the moment. But I promise you that’s a complete and utter waste of time. The letter is one hundred years old. The person who wrote it and the person who received it are long dead, and your gran’s riddle is meaningless. She was just messing with you.’

‘Why would she do that?’ asked Isla, glancing at Caitlin.

Caitlin recognised that glance. She’d seen it often enough when they were younger. It meant ‘please help me’.

‘Isla’s right, Paul. Our grandmother wouldn’t have left us the letter and riddle for no good reason.’

‘So you’re going along with “solving” it too, are you?’ When Paul put ‘solving’ into imaginary air quotes, Caitlin had a sudden urge to slap him.

---