Page 20 of The Key to the Last House Before the Sea

‘So, where does your daddy live?’ he asked.

Lily thought for a moment, her brow furrowed.

‘I’m not ’xactly sure. I don’t see him very much, but sometimes he stays with Granny Val. I’m staying with Granny tonight and Daddy’s coming.’

When she grinned, her eyes sparkling, Gabriel wondered why he and Nessa had split up. Probably because Nessa was supremely annoying, though she appeared to be a loving mother, at least – more than his own had been.

Gabriel was suddenly overcome with emotions that he worked so hard to suppress.

‘I’m off to have breakfast,’ he said in a fake cheery voice, backing away from the box room. ‘Have fun with your dad.’

He threw the clean towel onto his big, comfy bed and rushed down the stairs, faintly appalled that he felt so rattled by a conversation with a five-year-old. I’m a mature, successful businessman, he told himself, and the sooner I get back to London and my normal life, the better.

He stood in the hall for a moment, until all of his inconvenient emotions had been shoved back into their box, and noticed that the row of walking boots belonging to other guests was gone.

The whole house was quiet, and when Gabriel glanced at the grandfather clock he did a double-take because it was quarter past nine.

He never normally slept this late. He was usually up, breakfasted and out of his Hampstead apartment by eight o’clock at the latest.

But here, high above Heaven’s Cove, he’d slept in – perhaps because of the fresh sea air or, more likely, because he’d had trouble dropping off last night. It must have been two a.m. before the rhythmic boom of waves hitting rock had finally lulled him to sleep.

Gabriel yawned and poked his head into the dining room. No one was sitting at the table, which was worrying. Had he missed breakfast altogether?

Muttering to himself about provincial guest houses, he made his way to the kitchen, pushed open the door, and stopped dead. The place was in uproar. Surfaces were covered with the detritus of several breakfasts – cereal bowls lined up on the worktop above the dishwasher, two large frying pans in the sink, and empty coffee mugs on the table at the centre of the room.

He was expecting to spot Rosie, who’d said last night that she’d see him at breakfast. But Nessa was at the centre of the chaos, bending over the dishwasher. She was loading it with plates smeared with traces of egg and beans.

He stood still in the doorway, not relishing any further discussion about the fate of her ‘Ghost Village’. And now there was the added complication of her giving up her room for him.

But beating a hasty retreat would be absurd. He was thirty-one, for goodness’ sake. And he was also very hungry.

He watched for a second as she rearranged a couple of plates, her dark hair falling across her face and her gold bracelet clinking against the china. She had no idea he was there, and standing watching her suddenly felt inappropriate. He gave a small cough.

She straightened up, her face flushed.

‘Oh, I didn’t see you there,’ she said, without a smile. ‘Are you here for breakfast?’

‘I was hoping for something but I’m rather late, so don’t worry. Maybe I could grab a piece of toast?’

He’d need more than that to get him through the morning but hopefully one of the cafés in the village served croissants and a decent cup of coffee.

‘I assumed you’d already gone out. Everyone else staying has already eaten and left. They’re heading to Dartmoor, to go walking.’

‘Good for them.’ Gabriel swallowed. That sounded brusque and Nessa was staring at him. ‘What I mean is, it’s good they’ve gone out walking. Good for their health – physical and mental – or so I’ve read. I had a lie-in instead.’

Gabriel stopped talking, annoyed with himself for burbling on and almost apologising for not getting up at the crack of dawn on a Saturday.

He’d just decided to give breakfast at Driftwood House a miss when Nessa said, ‘Go and take a seat in the conservatory and I’ll cook you something.’

‘You really don’t have to.’

Nessa pushed a strand of hair from her hot face. ‘I know that, but you’re a guest and I’m helping Rosie out by cooking today’s breakfasts. She’s had to go out early. Would you like bacon and egg? Or would you prefer toast and muesli?’

‘Don’t you need to be with your daughter?’

Nessa raised an eyebrow. Did she think he was criticising her parenting skills? This woman was too touchy for her own good.

‘Lily’s great at occupying herself when I’m busy,’ she said, frostily. ‘So what will it be?’

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