Page 55 of The Key to the Last House Before the Sea

VALERIE

It was a beautiful spot, Valerie had to admit that. Sorrel Cove must have been an idyllic hamlet once upon a time, sheltered beneath rising ground with the sparkling sea so close.

But now the place was nothing more than ruins, with only one cottage still intact.

It had been years since Valerie had last visited Sorrel Cove and it had fallen into more disrepair since then. Large chunks of pale stone littered the site – stones that had once made up the walls of people’s homes. If only the last remaining cottage had been engulfed by the sea as well.

Valerie felt a twinge of shame as she approached the building. Enough people had died here that night without her wishing for even more devastation.

But if only the storm surge had licked at the cottage walls or the howling gale had ripped off the roof. If that had happened, the building would have been too far gone by now for Nessa to even contemplate taking it on.

What kind of woman thinks she can save a building like this?thought Valerie, cursing loudly when she tripped over a stone and stumbled.

‘Valerie! Is everything OK? Is Lily all right?’

Nessa had appeared around the side of the cottage and was firing questions at her. She was carrying what looked like a roll of grey vinyl flooring and her hair was tied up off her shoulders with a bright blue scarf.

‘Lily’s at school and fine, as far as I’m aware,’ said Valerie, noticing Nessa’s shoulders slump with relief.

Nessa placed the roll of flooring at her feet and brushed her palms together to clean them. ‘So why are you here? You didn’t say you were coming.’

Valerie sniffed. ‘I thought I’d come and see where you’re planning on bringing my granddaughter to live, if your…’ She floundered about for the best way to describe Nessa’s hare-brained scheme. There was no point in being rude for the sake of it. ‘… unconventional idea comes to fruition.’

‘That’s good of you,’ said Nessa, though they both knew that goodness didn’t come into it.

Valerie was here to see how appalling the cottage truly was and to pour cold water on Nessa’s plans.

‘You’d better come in,’ said Nessa, picking up the roll of vinyl. She noticed Valerie looking at it. ‘This is an offcut of flooring that Fred at the pub had left after doing up their kitchen, and he said I could have it. I thought it might make the kitchen here more welcoming if I can cut it to the right size, and Fred said he could help if I can’t sort it out. People in the village have been so kind with donating things. Even Belinda, who doesn’t approve of me at all, gave me some leftover paint.’

Et tu, Belinda, thought Valerie darkly, but she forced herself to smile.‘That is very kind of them,’ she said, walking towards the cottage’s front door.

She had to admit, from the outside the place didn’t look half bad. The walls and roof seemed pretty solid and someone – Nessa or one of the many villagers who appeared to be supporting her – had filled and painted the window frames a brilliant white.

Inside, it wasn’t so good. The walls, though whitewashed and clean, were bare, apart from some peculiar arty thing over the fireplace. And the flagstone floor would be bitterly cold on bare feet in winter.

‘I’ll need to get a few big rugs in here,’ said Nessa, following Valerie’s gaze. ‘They’ll cheer up the place.’

Valerie consciously un-pursed her lips. She’d never been much good at presenting a poker face. People often seemed to know exactly what she was thinking – apart from Alan, who remained oblivious to the dark thoughts that crossed Valerie’s mind daily, which was probably just as well because many of them involved him.

‘So, what work have you done here since you arrived?’ she asked, poking her head into the tiny kitchen, which currently housed a camping stove, half a dozen mugs, a box of food and two thick pairs of socks draped over the back of a white plastic chair.

‘Lots of filling and repairing and cleaning and making sure that the building is safe.’

‘And is it?’ asked Valerie, imagining her granddaughter picking her way through this trip hazard.

Nessa nodded. ‘It is. Eddie in Heaven’s Brook is a surveyor who knew my gran. He nipped over to give the place a once-over and he was surprised how solid the buildingis.’

‘Me too,’ murmured Valerie. ‘So where are you sleeping?’

‘I was sleeping down here, on a camp bed from Rosie. But now I know that upstairs is structurally safe, I’ve been sleeping in the bedroom that overlooks the sea.’

‘And what about water and electricity?’

‘I’m boiling water from the well until the results of the water tests come through. And there’s no electricity so I’m using candles and a couple of old oil lamps, but Phil has said he’ll have a look at the place for me.’

‘Phil? The electrician who lives in Sheep Lane?’

‘Yes, that Phil. And Rosie and Liam have been round to lend me a hand. Like I said, people have been incredibly kind.’

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