Page 20 of The Diary at the Last House Before the Sea

‘I’m sure it won’t matter if his lunch is late for once.’

‘Maybe not, but it’ll matter to me.’

‘Why don’t you go home, Mum? I can cook Geoffrey’s lunch.’

‘No, thank you. He likes his fish cooked just so and you wouldn’t get it right. I’ll do it.’

Julie walked into the kitchen and Clara followed, the anger in her chest still knotted and tight.

‘Are you going to speak to Geoffrey about all of this?’

‘What’s the point?’ Julie was banging pans around, her brisk, no-nonsense demeanour restored. ‘There’s nothing I can do about it. I’ll see you later, Clara. Didn’t you say you had work to do?’

Clara left her mother searching for salmon in the fridge and walked to the front door of the manor house. She had lots of work to do, work that would bring in much-needed income if she and her mother were about to become homeless.

But first…She paused at the door and swallowed. First, there was something else she had to do. Something else that needed to be said.

10

GEOFFREY

That had been more difficult than he’d anticipated. Geoffrey pulled in a deep breath as he sat ramrod straight in the drawing room armchair that faced the fire.

Today the temperature was nudging 27°C outside so it was unlit. But sitting in front of the stone fireplace, where huge fires roared in the winter, felt comforting somehow. Would he still be here this winter to warm his toes?

He closed his eyes for a moment, hardly able to bear the thought of his wonderful house being knocked about by the developer who would buy it. But Bartie was right, there was no other option.

Sadly, Geoffrey hadn’t inherited his father’s business acumen, and the business deals he’d made a few years ago had recently come back to bite him. So, in reality, the fault was his. Brellasham Manor would have to be sold because of him.

You’ve failed, Geoffrey. That’s what his father would say if he were still here, his nostrils flaring with disappointment. But then I never did hold out high hopes for you.

The door to the drawing room was open and Geoffrey noticed Clara walk past towards the front door. He waited to hear it open and close but silence stretched and contracted around him.

Suddenly, she appeared in the doorway. ‘Can I get you anything? A drink of water, maybe?’

Geoffrey shook his head. ‘I’m all right, thank you.’

‘Mum is busy cooking your lunch.’

There was an edge to her tone that Geoffrey didn’t recognise. But he and Clara rarely spoke these days. When she was younger, he’d avoided her because she reminded him of River and what he’d lost. He’d asked once if she was still in contact with his son and she’d said no, although he hadn’t been sure she was telling the truth.

In more recent years, after growing used to River’s absence, he’d liked having Clara around. She brought some life to the house. But the damage was done and she often seemed to avoid him, as he’d once avoided her.

Clara was still standing in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot.

‘Was there anything else?’ Geoffrey asked, pushing himself out of his chair.

Clara stared at him for a moment before stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. Geoffrey blinked, unsure what was going on.

‘First of all, I’m very sorry that you have to sell this house,’ she said, swallowing as if she was nervous. Did he make her nervous? He hoped not.

‘Thank you. It’s very sad and, of course, I regret that it means your mother will lose her job.’

‘And her home, too.’

He nodded. ‘Yes, that’s another source of huge regret for me.’

He did regret it, deeply. Mostly for Julie, but partly for himself because it would be strange to live in a place that didn’t have her in it.

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