Page 29 of The Key to the Last House Before the Sea

GABRIEL

Gabriel took another bite of his scone and licked thick clotted cream from his lips. Nessa had been right when she’d recommended this café during her tour of the village.

Of course, he should be nibbling a healthy sandwich right now, after his full English breakfast. If he was at his desk in London, he’d be eating sushi or a mixed salad.

But outdoors, with the smell of sun cream in his nostrils, he felt more free and rebellious. Here in Devon, he was free of his father’s expectations, free of work obligations, free to wreck his arteries if he so chose.

Though his father’s latest terse text – Following receipt of your report,demolition team organised to join you on Monday – had served as a reminder that this was an illusion.

Gabriel took another large bite of scone and watched the people passing by from his pavement table. They strolled along as if they were without a care in the world – aside from the parents dragging recalcitrant toddlers, looking stressed and knackered.

It couldn’t be easy being a parent, especially ones juggling child-rearing on their own.

Gabriel’s thoughts turned again to Nessa, for the second time in as many minutes, which was annoying. For a waspish woman who couldn’t abide him, she was taking up far too much headspace.

But the only thing she had going for her – apart, Gabriel had to admit, for her beautiful eyes – were her parenting skills. She was obviously a good mother.

He’d watched from his bedroom window yesterday evening as she’d chased Lily outdoors, whooping and cheering. She’d caught her daughter in the end and the two of them had fallen into a giggling heap, with Nessa cradling her daughter in her lap.

Gabriel had stepped back from the window at that point, partly because it felt like intruding on a private family event, but mostly due to the pain in his heart.

He couldn’t remember his mum ever chasing him like that, or cradling him in her arms. Perhaps she had, before she’d divorced his dad and married a banker with bad breath and a posh house in the Cotswolds. A banker who didn’t want to take on someone else’s kid.

So Gabriel had stayed with his father and been brought up by a succession of au pairs who never stayed for long. He’d learned, as a child, not to get attached to any of them.

His father’s girlfriends had also come and gone. The latest, Collette, was young enough to be Gabriel’s sister, and she took no interest in his family. Her main interest seemed to be his father’s impressive investments.

Gabriel shook his head. What did he know? Maybe Collette was madly in love with his father, who looked rakish in a well-cut suit.

Gabriel glanced down at his white shirt and suit trousers. Was he turning into his father, who wouldn’t be seen dead in shorts, even in a tiny seaside village in the middle of nowhere?

He picked up the last piece of scone and was about to shove it into his mouth when, to his horror, he noticed Nessa walking past.

He abruptly dropped it onto his plate, and wiped a paper serviette across his mouth, preparing for verbal combat. With any luck, Nessa would pretend she hadn’t seen him and walk on. He desperately wanted her to walk on because she wouldn’t like his latest news.

But it wasn’t his lucky day. Nessa stopped when she spotted him, walked on a few more paces and then retraced her steps. She was striding directly towards him now, her brow knitted and sun glinting on the golden snake bangle that encircled her wrist.

She stopped in front of him but said nothing. Then she swallowed as though she was building up to something. Gabriel sat back in his chair, waiting for whatever was to come.

‘Hello,’ she said finally, using her hand to shield her eyes from the glare. ‘What do you think of our famous Devon cream tea?’

That threw him. Her body language – fists clenched, jaw tight – screamed stress and dislike. But here she was, making small talk.

‘It’s very nice, though I’ve got far too much of it,’ he said woodenly. He gestured at the second scone he hadn’t yet touched. ‘I think the woman who runs the café is trying to feed me up.’

‘Pauline takes it as a personal affront if people don’t order a mountain of food.’

Her shoulders dropped slightly as she smiled at the woman who’d served him. She looked very different when she smiled – younger, less intense, prettier. Gabriel realised he was staring at the freckles on her nose. He looked away and pushed his plate across the table. He didn’t want any more carbohydrates.

‘So, can I help you?’ he asked, trying to sound languid but realising too late that he sounded bored instead.

Nessa stared at him then dropped into the seat opposite. ‘I need to have a word, if you’ve got a minute.’

‘Yeah, sure,’ he said, turning his palms to the sky in what he hoped was a conciliatory gesture. He paused. ‘Would you like the other scone?’

That put her on the back foot. Surprise sparked in her deep brown eyes and she shook her head. ‘No, thank you. I’m not here to eat. I wanted to ask, when will work start at Sorrel Cove?’

Gabriel sighed quietly but there was no point in sugar-coating it. He got the feeling that Nessa would see through any obfuscation.

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