Page 7 of The Diary at the Last House Before the Sea

Back then, she was a tomboy with scraped knees, who explored the grounds of the manor house with him while her mother worked. They’d swum in the cove together and climbed trees. And he’d told her things. Things that he should have kept to himself.

And now she was grown up. Her dark auburn hair was longer and falling in waves, and her face was leaner. But the big grey eyes were the same. The same colour as the sea when it crashed into the cove in winter.

‘It’s good to see you again,’ she said, holding out her hand, though her solemn face said the opposite. They’d parted on bad terms and the intervening years of no contact had obviously done nothing to mend their relationship.

‘You too,’ he said, giving her hand the briefest of shakes.

Why was she still here, at Brellasham Manor? River, who’d been sure that she’d be long gone, experienced a pang of envy. She had been enjoying this amazing place while he had been, effectively, banished. But he blinked and pushed the thought from his mind. He had been with his mother. He had been seeing the world. He was the fortunate one.

Clara’s eyes suddenly slid past him to Bartie, who had just approached, and her face broke into a wide grin.

‘Little Clara. You’re all grown up!’ Bartie declared, grabbing her hand in both of his and leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek. ‘And you’ve grown up so well,’ he added, giving her a huge wink that made Clara’s cheeks redden.

River stood stiffly, envying the ease and charm that his cousin was displaying. Back at Brellasham Manor for five minutes and he felt like a teenager again. A gauche teenager without a clue. But Bartie had never been afflicted by the insecurity and lack of confidence that had dogged River his whole life.

‘Do you work here too, now?’ Bartie asked Clara, finally letting go of her hand.

She shook her head. ‘No, not really. I help Mum out sometimes if Geoffrey has guests, but I mainly work as a virtual PA.’

‘That sounds exciting and intriguing.’

Was Bartie being sarcastic? Apparently not because he was gazing at Clara with what looked like genuine interest.

‘Those aren’t words I’d use to describe my job. It’s all very ordinary, really. I basically provide administrative services to clients.’

‘Such as?’

‘Everything from helping to organise conferences and setting up travel arrangements to buying birthday presents for CEOs’ children. I do whatever’s needed.’

Bartie stared at her for a moment and then leaned forward. ‘I bet you do. And, for the record, I never thought of you as an ordinary girl. You were always rather extraordinary, if I remember rightly.’

River shifted from foot to foot, feeling acutely uncomfortable. Bartie was very good at flirting but here, in the hallway at Brellasham Manor, five minutes after arriving, was neither the time nor the place.

Mrs Netherway apparently felt the same way because she stepped between her daughter and his cousin. ‘Shall I show you both to your bedrooms?’

‘I don’t want to put you out, Mrs N,’ insisted Bartie, shifting his gaze from Clara. ‘You didn’t know I was coming.’

‘No, but it’ll only take a few minutes to make up another bed for you. It’s no bother. Follow me,’ she said, her hand already on the polished bannister.

River gave Clara an awkward nod – though he didn’t know why and wished he hadn’t – before he and Bartie followed her mother up the wide staircase to the first floor.

They walked past the rainbow window that dated back to the mid-nineteenth century, and into a carpeted corridor that stretched along the west wing of the house. Portraits lined the walls, along with polished tables holding candlesticks and other antiques that the Brellasham family had gathered over the years.

It was all so alien after his years in Australia, and yet so familiar at the same time. River had the strangest sensation that he was walking backwards through a rip in time.

‘Hell’s teeth!’ Bartie muttered beside him. ‘I’d forgotten how opulent this house is.’

‘I’m surprised you haven’t visited for such a long time. Did you say it was more than three years since you were last in Heaven’s Cove?’

‘Something like that. I’ve been meaning to visit for ages but, you know what it’s like. Work, life, other things get in the way and, suddenly, a few years have whizzed by. But I’m here now.’

Mrs Netherway suddenly stopped next to a dark-oak door and pushed it open. ‘Would you be happy in this room, Bartie? I can come along and make up the bed in a short while, once I’ve shown River to where he’s sleeping.’

Bartie looked around the large, sunny room which had cream silk curtains framing a window that overlooked the garden. In the centre stood a four-poster bed, its wooden posts decorated with carved figures of animals.

‘I’ll be very happy in here, Mrs N,’ Bartie declared, kicking off his shoes and throwing himself onto the bed. He pushed himself up on one elbow. ‘Tell me, does Clara still live round here full time?’

Mrs Netherway nodded. ‘She’s back living with me at the cottage in the grounds, though she mentions moving out every now and then. I’m not sure why because the cottage is very cosy and so convenient for the manor.’

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