Page 11 of The Key to the Last House Before the Sea

‘I thought the village would be bigger,’ he said to Nessa, who was standing watching him with a thoughtful look on her face.

‘It was, once. Come with me.’

He followed as she picked her way down the slope, into the heart of the destroyed hamlet, and walked to the edge of the land. She pointed at a tumbledown wall that was so close to the water, it glistened with sea spray.

‘That house was once at the centre of the village.’

‘So, where are the others?’ He followed her gaze to the waves washing over the rocks near them.

‘Several were submerged in the storm that wrecked Sorrel Cove on the twentieth of March, 1946. Five people died here when the storm hit unexpectedly. It was expected to hit inland France but it veered off course and struck this coast instead. I guess weather forecasting wasn’t as precise as it is now.’

‘That’s tragic.’ Gabriel peered into the water, wondering what ruined buildings lay just below the shoreline. What bodies had been swept out to sea? He shivered. ‘I read that the other villagers moved out soon afterwards.’

Nessa nodded, her face solemn. ‘There was so much sorrow here, and the rest of the village wasn’t safe. Other buildings that escaped being washed away that night have fallen into the sea since.’

‘I hear that new sea defences farther along the coast are helping to protect this area now.’

Nessa narrowed her eyes. ‘That’s right. It’s a welcome by-product of the work that’s been done. How do you know about that?’

‘I told you. I was reading up about the village,’ said Gabriel, looking around him.

His father was right: this was a beautiful spot, with the headland rising up high behind the ruins and the sea in front. And the land was less steep to the left of the village and would take a decent road. There was a tidy profit to be made here.

‘Don’t you think?’

Gabriel stopped counting pound signs and looked at Nessa. What had she just said?

Nessa gave a tight smile. ‘You were miles away. I said, this is a very peaceful place.’

Gabriel nodded, though it wouldn’t be so peaceful once the excavators and dumper trucks he had planned arrived. Maybe some of the original stone from the surviving cottages could be used. That would be a nice touch when it came to marketing.

They’d stopped outside the best-preserved cottage, and Nessa ran her hand across the bumpy stone wall.

‘My grandmother lived here when she was a child.’

That caught Gabriel’s attention. He blinked. ‘Really? Was she here when the storm hit?’

Nessa nodded. ‘She was. Her mum died that night. She’d gone out to look for her husband’s boat, which hadn’t come back into harbour, and she was washed away by a huge wave.’

‘Gosh. I’m sorry,’ said Gabriel, imagining what it must have been like that night, with the wind howling and towering waves. ‘Was her husband… I mean, did he…’

‘No, my great-grandfather survived, thankfully. His boat had put into harbour farther along the coast when the weather turned. But he and his daughter – my gran –moved out after that, along with his in-laws, who’d been living at Sorrel Cove with them, and everyone else in the village. Gran told me they were all too scared and heartbroken to stay.’

‘Does your grandmother still live around here?’

‘She did, but she died recently.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Gabriel, as Nessa swallowed as though she might cry. Without thinking, he reached out and touched her arm, before pulling his hand back.

What was he thinking? The two of them were alone in a secluded place after he’d very possibly flashed her in his underpants. What happened if she got spooked and thought he was coming on to her? It wouldn’t look good for the business, and his father would hit the roof.

You’ve got to think ahead and be prepared for every eventuality.

There was his father’s voice in his head again. Gabriel took a deep breath and glanced at Nessa, who was staring out to sea.

‘Shall we head back?’ he asked, but she didn’t move.

‘I love it here in the Ghost Village,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s a place of peace and history, family history. My gran told me stories about the people who used to live here. The men who went out on their boats to catch mackerel, bream and cod, the women who sewed by gaslight to bring in extra money, the children who played hide and seek as the sun went down. There was a close community here.’

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