Page 68 of The Key to the Last House Before the Sea

It wouldn’t save the building. But it felt like sticking up two fingers to his father and to the family business and to the life he was living, if only for a little while.

Half an hour later, Gabriel stopped pushing filler into gaps in the stone and wiped a hand across his forehead. The sun was still blanketed in thick cloud but the temperature was rising.

He surveyed his handiwork. He’d checked a large area beneath one of the windows and had done what repairs he could with the cement provided by Corey.

Fisherman Corey had taken a day off work to help out Nessa. He was more friendly than his girlfriend and the two of them had had a decent chat before he’d returned to the back of the house to check out the stonework.

Gabriel wiped beads of sweat from his forehead and stepped back to look at the cottage. He had to admit that Nessa and her ragtag helpers had done a great job over the last twenty-eight days.

The cottage no longer looked derelict and sad. The front door and window frames were freshly painted, broken panes had been replaced and makeshift curtains installed, and the weeds twisting around the walls had been cleared away.

There was still a lot to do inside, but Nessa would manage it and turn this cottage into a decent home. He somehow felt sure of that. If only she had more time.

‘What do you think?’ Nessa’s voice at his shoulder made him jump. She thrust a mug at him. ‘Would you like some tea? Lettie brought a flask.’

‘Does she know that you’re giving some to me?’

‘She won’t mind.’

‘Are you sure? I got the feeling I’m not her favourite person.’

‘I’m sure. Lettie’s lovely and usually very gentle. She’s only sticking up for me.’

She waited while Gabriel took the mug and had a sip of tea before saying: ‘I don’t get it. Why are you here, helping me?’

Why, indeed? Gabriel breathed out slowly. ‘It was either that or read through a twenty-page treatise on favourable methods of construction with regard to insulated concrete framework dwellings.’

‘Eek.’ Nessa smiled. ‘That sounds tedious.’

‘Very. And Rosie was persuasive. She said it was up to me whether or not I helped with the renovations when I got here,’ he explained, raising an eyebrow. ‘Though it turns out I didn’t end up with much choice in the matter.’

‘That sounds like Rosie. I like the new clothes, by the way.’

‘Thanks.’

He suppressed a smile, feeling stupidly pleased that she’d noticed.

Nessa gazed out to sea, giving Gabriel the chance to look at her properly. He saw her twice a day but it was either first thing, when neither of them were at their best, or late at night when it was getting dark and he felt awkward being alone with her in such an isolated spot.

Now he could see that having a project to focus on – even a hopeless one like this – had done her good.

Her skin glowed as she brushed dark hair from her eyes, and when she suddenly turned to him and smiled, breath caught in his throat. She was beautiful.

He swallowed and stared at his feet. ‘It’s very peaceful here,’ he said, just for something to say.

‘It is now. It must have been so different on the night of the storm.’

‘It must have been terrifying.’ He imagined towering dark waves crashing over them, and shivered. ‘But today it’s still and brooding. Perfect to paint.’

‘And yet you haven’t been back since you painted the cove about two weeks ago.’

‘I’ve been too busy,’ Gabriel replied, though that wasn’t the whole truth.

He’d avoided spending time with Nessa alone because she asked too many questions and he told her too much. There was something about her searching gaze that invited confidences.

‘Why didn’t you go to art school in the end?’ she asked, confirming his reason for staying away.

‘I focused on more useful subjects, like economics and business.’

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