Page 47 of The Key to the Last House Before the Sea

NESSA

Nessa stretched her arms above her head and yawned. Pale light was streaming through the window and her watch showed it was almost seven o’clock. She’d survived another night in this strange, lonely place.

The first night here had been awful and she’d hardly slept a wink. Every creaking timber, sigh of wind and fox call outside had been terrifying. And the chill of the flagstones, seeping into her sleeping bag, had made her shiver.

The second and third nights had been almost as bad. But last night, her fourth in the Ghost Village, had been much better for two reasons: Rosie had brought her a camp bed from Driftwood House, which was luxury compared to the floor; and she’d been so bone-weary last night that even all the ghosts of the village wailing in unison wouldn’t have roused her from sleep.

Nessa pushed back her duvet and stepped onto the cold floor, before wrapping herself in her dressing gown.

‘I’ve survived another night, Gran,’ she said into the empty room, as she’d taken to doing every morning. ‘I’m one day closer to saving your cottage and making a new home for Lily and me.’

There was no reply, of course. She’d have died of fright if there had been. But speaking to her gran made Nessa feel less alone.

It was easy to feel terribly alone here, amongst the ruins. So much so, that even Gabriel’s twice-daily visits were a welcome break from the solitude. Not that he stayed for long, and he never came into the cottage.

They’d developed a kind of routine already.

He’d knock on the door, on the dot of seven a.m. and ten p.m. She’d answer it, opening the door a crack so he couldn’t see how far she’d got – not very – with renovating the cottage. As she’d expected, he never offered his practical help in any shape or form. Instead, he’d say, ‘Hello’ and she’d reply, ‘Hello. I’m still here.’ At which point, he’d nod, turn on his heel and leave.

It was a total waste of his time, but Nessa had to admire his dedication to work.

It must be wonderful to have a job that you loved, even if it did involve destroying people’s dreams. Her hopes of a fulfilling career had vanished with her mum’s illness that took her away from school. Not that she’d have done anything differently – the last few months she’d spent with her mum had been precious.

Nessa listened to the faint wash of the waves nearby and glanced again at her watch. Where was Gabriel this morning? Surely the King of Punctuality, who’d give Mr Scaglin a run for his money, hadn’t overslept?

She looked out of the window. His car wasn’t there. Perhaps he’d given up and gone back to London. Nessa felt a pang of disappointment, which was bizarre because she wanted him to go.

Spending too much time on her own was playing with her mind, she decided, suddenly catching sight of a lone figure sitting where the land met the sea.

It was Gabriel, staring across the water that was shimmering silver under the rising sun. What on earth was he doing?

Nessa threw off her dressing gown, pulled on her jeans and jumper, and let herself out of the cottage. The grass was wet with dew under her bare feet as she padded towards him.

‘Hello, I’m still here,’ she said when she got closer.

‘Good grief!’ He jerked round. ‘You frightened the life out of me, creeping up like that.’

‘I wasn’t creeping. Did you think I was a ghost?’

‘Of course not,’ he shot back.

Nessa couldn’t help grinning because he was so obviously lying.

‘This place can be a bit spooky.’

‘Especially in the middle of the night, I imagine.’

‘I wouldn’t know because I’m fast asleep,’ Nessa lied right back. ‘Where’s your car?’

‘At Driftwood House. I woke up early so I walked over the headland.’

‘It’s beautiful up there first thing in the morning.’

‘It’s beautiful here.’

He went back to staring at the waves lapping the narrow strip of sand that appeared at low tide. There was something different about him this morning. Melancholy surrounded him like a shroud.

Nessa stood for a moment and then sat on the grass beside him. She’d regret it because the grass was wet, but he didn’t seem bothered by the dampness that was already starting to seep through her jeans. He was wearing suit trousers as usual, but with the unexpected addition of a green waxed jacket.

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