Page 58 of The Key to the Last House Before the Sea

It was beautiful painting weather. The sun had vanished behind a hazy veil of thin white cloud so the temperature had dropped, but it was still pleasantly warm. The calm sea, lapping gently against the rocks, was a startling turquoise and, when Nessa got closer, she saw that he’d captured the shade perfectly.

Art critics might claim that the sea couldn’t possibly be that colour. That the painter was taking artistic licence. But it was true to life. As were the scattered mounds of stone littering the land in the forefront of his picture.

The painting was all broad brushstrokes and there was a vibrancy to it that made the breath catch in Nessa’s throat. He’d captured the spirit of the place.

Gabriel turned and looked over his shoulder as she approached, a wide streak of blue paint on his forehead where he’d wiped a hand across his brow.

‘Don’t look. I haven’t finished and it’s not very good.’

‘I think you’re being too modest.’ Nessa studied the painting. It was even more impressive up close. ‘You have a real talent.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘My gran would definitely think so, if she were here.’

Nessa had a sudden longing to see her beloved grandmother, whose ashes had been scattered only a few weeks ago over the same turquoise sea that Gabriel had just painted.

He put his paintbrush down on the easel. ‘To be honest, I don’t really care what my picture’s like. It’s very…’ He hesitated, searching for the right word. ‘… freeing to sit and paint and to know that it doesn’t matter how good or bad it is.’

‘And it makes a change from working all the time,’ said Nessa, batting away a fly that was buzzing around her neck.

Gabriel turned to her, his face flushed in the heat. ‘I guess. Plus, at work, I always…’ He shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘What doesn’t matter?’

‘Do you always ask so many questions?’

‘Do you always avoid answering questions by asking one back?’

Nessa waited, half expecting Corporate Gabriel to give her a steely glare. But instead, his shoulders dropped and he wiped his hands on the rag that her gran had used to mop up spills.

‘At work, I always have a lot to prove.’

‘It must help that it’s a family firm.’

‘Do you think? I’m the boss’s son so people assume I’m only there through nepotism.’

‘And are you?’

Nessa winced, wondering if she’d gone too far. But Gabriel answered straightaway.

‘No. Not really. I work hard and I do a good job.’ He gave her a sideways glance. ‘Except when people make my life difficult.’ He paused. Was he waiting for her to say sorry? He sniffed. ‘And I’ll take over the business one day, when my father retires.’

‘That sounds very high-powered. Are you looking forward to being the big boss?’

‘I don’t know. I guess so. My father expects me to follow in his footsteps.’

‘But it isn’t always easy being what people expect.’

‘Mmm.’

When Gabriel started packing up his paints and brushes, Nessa helped him without another word. He didn’t want to talk about his life. All he wanted was for her to stop making his life difficult.

They’d almost reached the cottage when Gabriel came to a sudden halt. Nessa looked to see what he’d dropped but he still had the canvas in one hand and the easel under his arm.

‘What do people expect of you?’ he asked, shuffling his feet.

Nessa looked away, out to sea where fishing boats were smudges on the horizon.

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