Page 74 of The Sisters at the Last House Before the Sea

‘Yeah,’ said Caitlin, spooning out more rice.

He would feel awful. Who wouldn’t? She placed the spoon carefully back on the table. Yet Paul was not an accident-prone man. He’d made that very clear when he’d berated Isla for leaving the hob on and doing ‘daft’ things.

A horrible thought wormed its way into Caitlin’s brain. Had Paul deliberately ruined their mother’s dress? He wasn’t happy about Isla wearing it, and Caitlin had seen the shadow that crossed his face when Ben looked at her sister.

But no, she was being ridiculous. Paul loved Isla and would never do something to hurt her like that. She pushed the container of rice, very carefully, towards Ben. ‘Help yourself. I’m sure they’ll be back soon.’

The two of them ate almost in silence, save for a few pleasantries, until a few minutes later, Paul and Isla came back into the room and took their seats. Isla was back in her usual ‘uniform’ of jeans and sweatshirt, and she’d scraped her hair into a ponytail. Her face was pale and there was a smudge of mascara on her cheek.

‘I’m so sorry about that,’ said Paul, lifting Isla’s hand to his lips and kissing her palm.

Isla tried to smile. ‘Don’t worry. It wasn’t your fault. It was an accident.’

‘I know, but I can’t believe how clumsy I was. That’s not like me at all. I’ll have the dress dry-cleaned tomorrow.’

‘I’m not sure there’s much point,’ said Isla. She grabbed hold of her wine glass and raised it, her hand trembling. ‘But please don’t let this spoil Jessie’s birthday celebration.’ She held her glass aloft. ‘Happy birthday, Gran. We love you and we miss you.’

‘To your gran, who sounds like a wonderful woman,’ said Ben, before taking a sip of wine.

‘Yeah. To Jessie,’ said Paul, his mouth turned down at the corners. He drank his glass of wine in three long gulps.

What had her grandmother made of Paul? Caitlin wondered. And what would her verdict be on Ben, who was staring at Isla and Paul with a thoughtful look on his face?

‘More food, Ben?’ Paul asked, sounding very jolly all of a sudden. ‘I promise not to throw it over anyone’s lap this time. We can enjoy our meal to mark poor Jessie’s passing, and I’ll even allow talk of William and Edith and that damn letter without yawning.’

When he laughed, Ben and Caitlin smiled politely but Isla hardly raised her eyes from her food while they ate.

29

ISLA

The house wasn’t quiet. It was never truly quiet, even at almost three in the morning, thought Isla, as she crept down the stairs. Every step creaked under her bare feet, and she could hear the grumble of the ancient boiler, doing its best to keep the worst of the cold at bay.

The big thaw was happening. There was a steady drip-drip from outside, where the snow on the roof was melting. But Isla’s pink towelling dressing gown wasn’t thick enough to keep out the chill, and, padding across the hall tiles, she cursed her bare feet.

The kitchen tiles weren’t any better. So, after grabbing orange juice and leftover sponge from last night’s birthday meal, she sat on the kitchen table, her legs swinging back and forth. Moonlight dappled across her lap as she bit into the cake and savoured its comforting sweetness.

It was silly to be so upset about her mum’s dress, she told herself. Many happy memories were attached to the dress, but owning it and wearing it wasn’t the same as having her mum around. And her distress at the dress’s demise only made things worse for Paul, who was upset about the accident. He was snoring upstairs right now, but he’d apologised again before falling asleep.

‘So, Isla, you need to accept it’s happened and move on,’ she told herself firmly, taking another bite of the sponge. She glanced up and a scream caught in her throat when a shape appeared in the doorway.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise…I didn’t mean to scare you.’ Ben rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. ‘I’ll go back to bed.’

‘No, it’s OK,’ managed Isla, her heart pounding with adrenaline. She swallowed her mouthful in one gulp. ‘Did you want something?’

Ben ran a hand across his chin. ‘Just a glass of water, if that’s all right. I crept down trying not to wake anyone. I didn’t know you were in here.’

‘Not surprising, seeing as it’s the middle of the night.’

Isla carefully wiped her mouth, wishing she’d run her fingers through her hair before venturing downstairs. It must be sticking up all over the place. And there were cake crumbs all down her dressing gown.

‘What’s this, a midnight feast?’

Ben nodded at the half-eaten sponge while she tried not to look at his legs. He’d thrown a sweatshirt on but obviously slept in his boxer shorts. And although the light was dim, she could see that his legs sported the same golden tan as his face and arms.

‘Something like that,’ she managed. ‘I don’t normally get up at three to raid the kitchen, I promise. But I couldn’t sleep.’

‘Did you have bad dreams?’ asked Ben, taking a clean glass from the dishwasher and filling it with water from the tap. Around them, Rose Cottage creaked and groaned as it settled, and an owl screeched its lonely cry from the garden.

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