Page 18 of The Key to the Last House Before the Sea

And with it forever a piece of my heart.

Nessa smiled. It was poignant, but her gran had always been the first to admit she was a better artist than poet.

Glancing back into the box, she recognised her grandmother’s writing again. This time her words were scrawled across a manila envelope: I was never brave enough to return. Maybe one day you will be.

Intrigued, Nessa opened the envelope and pulled out the papers inside. There was something else in the envelope and, when she tipped it up, a large key fell into her hand.

The key was almost the length of her palm and had rusted with age. Nessa peered at it curiously. Thin strands of metal at the top of the key had been twisted together into the shape of a heart. What on earth did this unlock? And why had her grandmother never mentioned it?

She picked up the papers that had come from the envelope and, squinting in the sun, began to read. It seemed to be an old legal document relating to the cottage at Sorrel Cove. Perhaps that was where the key belonged.

She read on, ploughing through the old-fashioned style of writing, and realised with a start that the papers were some sort of lease. And if she was reading it correctly, this lease appeared to give the Paulson family the right to live in the cottage.

She skimmed through the legal language again and noticed a signature at the bottom of the document, next to the date: sixteenth of February 1919. She peered at the tiny, looped handwriting, just able to make out the name: Seth Paulson.

Another name was nudging at the edges of her brain. The name she’d just seen on the first page of the lease. She flicked back and gasped. Rider. This agreement was between her great-great-grandfather and Mr Edward Rider – George’s grateful father, perhaps? It seemed he had thanked the hero who had saved his son by granting him and his family a home for life.

It was pure supposition but it made sense, thought Nessa, wishing her grandmother was here so she could ask her about it.

Her gran had never mentioned this document or the story behind it. But, traumatised by witnessing the death of her mother, she’d never much wanted to talk about the Ghost Village or the cottage – even though she knew how peaceful Nessa found the place. The few stories she had told had focused on her neighbours in Sorrel Cove rather than her own family.

Nessa gently traced her fingers across Seth’s faded signature. She loved touching where his hand had rested as he’d written his name. She loved the feeling of connection across the years, because even long-dead ancestors were comforting when your current family was so small.

Nessa suddenly felt the absence of a loving, supportive family acutely. Sometimes, in spite of great friends like Rosie, she felt terribly alone and scared as she tried to do the best for Lily.

Taking a deep breath to ward off a spiral of self-pity, she went through the legal agreement again. It seemed to remain in effect for 125 years, which meant – Nessa did the maths in her head – it was still valid for another twenty-two years.

A sudden thought hit her like a sledge hammer. Did that mean, as a member of the Paulson family, that she could move into the cottage? Twenty-two years would give Lily a ‘forever home’ for the rest of her childhood and beyond.

Nessa gazed across the ocean, to where the sea disappeared and became sky, and tried to figure out what this all meant.

If only she and Lily could live in beautiful Sorrel Cove, in their own home with its ties to her family.

If only the house wasn’t in such a state.

If only it wasn’t going to be demolished by Gabriel Gantwich and his father.

She was drowning again in if onlys. Nessa lay back on the grass to calm her jumbled thoughts.

But as the sun warmed her body and a light aircraft droned gently overhead, she couldn’t stop her mind from racing. Images of the mum she still missed so much and the grandmother she’d miss forever drifted through her head, along with Lily’s upturned, trusting face, and Jake running off into the distance.

I was never brave enough to return. Maybe one day you will be.

Nessa sat bolt upright and rubbed her eyes. She was fed up with being a victim in her own life. She was tired of things happening to her – people dying, partners abandoning her, jobs ending. Surely, it was about time she made things happen for herself.

She had no money, no job, no prospects. But maybe she could secure a home for Lily. How hard would it be to do up the cottage and make it habitable? There was just one fly in the ointment.

Picking up the lease again, she read the clause that had leapt out at her: Said property shall remain available to the Paulson family as their primary dwelling so long as a family member occupies said property for thirty days and nights continuously.

If she understood it correctly, it meant that to activate the agreement again, she’d have to move in for a whole month. Thirty days would be OK, but nights? Nessa shivered, imagining her family’s derelict cottage in the small hours. The Ghost Village wasn’t spooky in daylight but what about when the sun dipped below the horizon and shadows lengthened?

‘I can do it,’ muttered Nessa, getting to her feet and standing with her hands on her hips and her chest pushed forward. She’d read that this was a power pose. Something to do with superheroes and boosting your confidence. Was it working?

As a circling seagull flew out across the ocean, squawking mournfully, Nessa pushed aside the doubts that started crowding her mind.

Of course she could do it. She could move in for thirty days – and thirty nights – and even if she and Lily couldn’t live in the cottage long term, maybe the prospect of a sitting tenant would stop it from being demolished.

And that, in turn, might save the Ghost Village, and preserve some of Lily’s heritage into the bargain.

‘It’s a crazy idea,’ shouted Nessa into the wind, holding the lease tightly in her hand.

It was crazy. Completely off-the-scale bonkers. And, as well as being hugely difficult to pull off, it would put her on a collision course with Gabriel Gantwich and his father.

But she’d done difficult things before. She’d truanted from school to care for her dying mother, and being a single parent was no walk in the park. However, she didn’t regret either of those things for a moment.

Nessa swallowed hard. Maybe she’d live to regret this one, but she had to try. Gabriel wouldn’t like it. But she didn’t much like him, so who cared?

He was blind to the beauty and significance of Sorrel Cove. It was nothing more to him than an investment opportunity. So why couldn’t he invest somewhere else and allow the souls of the Ghost Village to rest in peace?

‘I’m not sure I am brave enough, Gran,’ said Nessa into the salt-laced air. ‘But I’ll give it a go.’

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