Page 3 of The Sisters at the Last House Before the Sea

‘No, thanks,’ Caitlin shot back, sounding less than happy for her exercised buttocks to be enfolded in a pair of Isla’s tracksuit bottoms. In any case, Isla’s clothes mostly came from supermarkets, and she felt sure her sister wouldn’t be seen dead, these days, in anything so downmarket. But she’d offered at least, and Jessie would have approved.

Isla’s mind spooled back to happier times, when the two sisters had talked about clothes, and boys, and the future. They’d had great fun on shopping expeditions to Exeter, and had been close back then, before everything went pear-shaped.

‘Where’s Maisie?’ asked Caitlin, cutting into her thoughts. She smoothed down her caramel-coloured hair.

‘In her bedroom, I think,’ said Isla, trying to remember what Caitlin’s real hair colour was. ‘She’s been there all morning. Do you think she’s all right?’

Caitlin shrugged. ‘She spends most of her life in her bedroom at home so I imagine she’s fine. Just sulking.’

Sulking about being dragged to Heaven’s Cove, thought Isla, picking up a pile of Jessie’s Sudoku puzzle books that were still on the hall table. She opened a drawer and slipped the books inside. They were too painful a reminder of her vibrant, loving grandmother whose absence was so keenly felt.

‘Maisie spent most of her time in her bedroom when she stayed with us at Easter too,’ said Isla, trying not to wince at the thought of those three weeks when the house had been filled with the sound of doors banging and loud music.

She’d done her best for her niece, even securing her temporary work in the local ice cream parlour so she could earn a bit of money over the holiday. But Maisie clearly hadn’t wanted to visit her stepmother’s sister and aged grandmother. And she obviously wasn’t happy with her repeat visit right now.

Isla had never got to the bottom of why Caitlin had decided that Maisie should spend Easter with them. And she wasn’t quite sure why Caitlin was still hanging around now the funeral was over.

But surely the will reading tomorrow would bring an end to their visit. They would go haring back to their posh London house and leave Isla here to sell up and move out.

Isla didn’t want to think about having to pack everything up at Rose Cottage and clear out Jessie’s things. Lots would have to go because she would have nowhere to store them. And without this house, she would have to move out of Heaven’s Cove.

It was ironic, really, she mused. She’d been keen to move out of the village once and yet now, when forced to leave it behind, she was aching to stay.

But staying wasn’t an option. Though there would be a sizable sum from half of the house, it wouldn’t be enough to buy a decent flat in the village. Not when they went for ridiculous money and rarely came onto the market anyway, because they were all rented out to holidaymakers.

Isla sighed and caught a flash of irritation in Caitlin’s eyes, as if she wasn’t allowed to be sad or to grieve the grandmother she missed so much.

‘Why don’t I light the fire in the sitting room and you can dry out in there?’ she said, trying her best to be cordial.

Caitlin gave a genuine smile at that. ‘Thanks. That’s a good idea.’

She followed Isla into the cosy room and watched as her sister got the fire going. Then she sat in front of the flames, stretching her wet legs towards them.

Isla wandered to the window and looked out across Heaven’s Cove, with its whitewashed cottages that led down the hill to the quay. Gulls were swooping over thatched roofs and soaring into the leaden grey sky. Paul had said she should move in with him at Cutter’s Path, a small town a few miles inland. But she was unsure about that, and he’d seemed annoyed by her hesitation. He didn’t fully grasp how safe she felt in this village with its close-knit community, and how she loved being so close to the sea that changed shade by the hour.

But she had to accept that life moved on and things changed. Her relationship with Caitlin being a case in point.

Twenty years ago, when the sisters had first arrived at Rose Cottage, still bewildered by the death of their mother, they’d been inseparable. Caitlin was the older by four years, and had been a source of protection and comfort for Isla.

She glanced at her sister, who was stretching her hands towards the crackling fire. Once upon a time, they were so close you could hardly have passed a piece of paper between them. Whereas now they were separated by a chasm of difference and resentment. They had become different people leading very different lives.

Isla bit her lip to stop the tears that were so close to the surface these days and started making for the door. She would go and do something practical – maybe start packing up her bedroom, ready for the inevitable move from this house that she loved.

3

MAISIE

The last place Maisie wanted to be – the actual last place in the whole wide world – was where she was right now: sitting in a solicitor’s cramped office, wedged between her stepmother, who was bristling with suppressed emotion, and Isla, who looked ready to blub at the slightest provocation.

It was hard to believe the two of them were sisters, even though they looked alike in some ways. Isla had almond-shaped eyes and thick hair – like Caitlin – and she would look good too, if she made the slightest bit of effort. She had long, dark eyelashes to die for, but wore a succession of dreary clothes and pulled her hair into an unflattering ponytail.

Maisie pouted her lips and dipped her head, like the beautiful women she followed on Instagram. It was easy to look good if you tried, but Isla seemed to have given up the ghost.

She’d looked better when Maisie had visited at Easter and Maisie supposed that losing the old lady had dragged her down a bit since then. But even so, a woman should have standards, when it came to looks…and boyfriends.

There was nothing inherently wrong with Paul, who wasn’t grotesque or anything. But he had a stupid goatee beard, and his shirts were too tight, and he could be bossy at times. Overall, Maisie felt that Isla could do better.

She breathed in deeply, her mind flitting back to that awful Easter visit to Heaven’s Cove seven months ago. She’d only been shipped off to Devon because Caitlin and her dad were having problems and they’d wanted her out of the way. So while people at school were going skiing in Italy or lying on Spanish beaches, Maisie had been mooching around this poky little village and trying not to get frostbite at the local cove.

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