Page 58 of Secrets at the Last House Before the Sea

CHAPTER 17

Liam didn’t mean to snoop. He’d done some questionable things in the past – telling fibs, letting people down, being careless with people’s hearts. Things that made him go hot and cold when he thought of them these days. But he’d never been a sneak.

However, it was hard to miss the list that was lying on the kitchen counter at Driftwood House: a list of men, many of whom he knew.

Jackson Porter

Jim Kellscroft

Jason Fulton

James Garraway

Jeremy Brockman

Jacob Dawe

Justin Maunder

The common denominator was a first name beginning with J. Rosie seemed determined to track down her mother’s mystery flower-giver, though Liam wasn’t sure why she was bothering. Not when her mum was gone, and she’d be leaving for Spain in a couple of weeks’ time.

‘Liam, is that you?’ shouted Rosie from upstairs.

‘Yep,’ called Liam, stepping back from the list with a guilty start. ‘I’ll be up in a minute.’

First, he placed a homemade gammon pie in the fridge and dropped a handful of carrots into the vegetable rack. His mum insisted on sending food parcels, convinced Rosie was wasting away. She probably was, if the empty shelves in her fridge were anything to go by. That’s what came of spending every waking minute sprucing up Driftwood House for the Eppings.

The thought of them walking through the place as if they owned it – even though they did – made him shudder, and he just hoped they’d appreciate the hard work Rosie had put in to improve the house over the last two and a half weeks. Even he, with all of his initial misgivings, had started to picture Driftwood House as a cosy bolthole for paying guests.

The kitchen, in particular, was looking miles better now he and Rosie had painted the walls and back door, polished all the surfaces and scrubbed the table. And the sitting room was transformed from a gloomy, shabby space to a light, bright room with yellow cushions, bought online, that seemed to draw sunshine right into the house.

‘I’m working in the bathroom,’ shouted Rosie, swearing as something heavy fell to the floor and thudded above his head. ‘I’m not sure what I’m doing.’

Liam grinned and climbed the stairs to the main bathroom, which was opposite Sofia’s old bedroom where Rosie now slept.

‘There you are.’ She smiled and stood up from where she’d been crouching barefoot in the bath tub. ‘I left the back door open in case I didn’t hear you arrive. What do you reckon?’ She brandished the toothbrush that she was using to scrub the discoloured grouting. ‘It’s starting to look better, isn’t it?’

‘Definitely.’

She turned to survey her handiwork. ‘This place will look polished before you know it.’

Rosie didn’t look polished. Her old jeans were covered in paint and there were splodges on the big white shirt, probably an old one of her mum’s, that she’d tied at the waist. Her hair was tumbling down from its hairband, and she wasn’t wearing a scrap of make-up. Katrina would be horrified at Rosie’s lack of glamour, but actually she looked amazing: healthy, natural, radiant.

‘Oh, no. Have I got paint on my face again?’

She started scrubbing at her cheeks, turning them pink.

‘Not that I can see.’

‘Good. I thought you were staring at me.’

‘I was admiring your fabulous grouting. Mum sent more provisions, by the way.’

‘Good grief, I’m going to be the size of a house. It’s kind of her though. Can you tell her thank you? And do you fancy a cup of tea? I was about to take a break.’

‘I’ve only got a couple of hours free to give you a hand.’

‘Five minutes won’t matter, if we have a cuppa.’

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