Secrets at the Last House Before the Sea

by Liz Eeles

  No one.

  Liam’s brush hit the wall rather too hard and paint splattered over his jeans. Not that it mattered, when they were just for working on the farm. He dabbed at the white specks with a cloth and watched Rosie out of the window.

  Standing in the biting sea breeze, she pulled what looked like her mum’s old cardi tightly around her and burrowed her shoeless feet into the grass as she continued her conversation. Liam was no body-language expert but the chat wasn’t going well if her furrowed forehead was anything to go by.

  When the call ended, she pushed her phone into her jeans pocket and stood for a moment, face into the wind. Liam pulled back from the window as she came indoors.

  ‘Everything OK?’ he asked, casually.

  ‘Yeah, well no. Not really. I just broke the news to Matt that I need to stay on here for a few more weeks. I’ve been avoiding telling him.’

  ‘Ah. How long have you two been together?’

  ‘A few months. He joined the property agency I work for, though he’s got ambitions to set up one of his own. He sees himself as an entrepreneur.’

  ‘That’s nice. He didn’t sound Spanish.’

  Damn, that gave away that he’d been listening in to the call, but Rosie didn’t seem to notice.

  ‘Matt’s not Spanish. He comes from London, St John’s Wood, but he’s lived abroad like me for a few years.’

  ‘It’s a shame he couldn’t come back with you for your mum’s funeral.’

  Rosie’s face clouded over. ‘It’s pretty busy at work at the moment. I’ll see him when I get back.’

  ‘I take it he wasn’t best pleased with your extended stay?’

  ‘No. He can’t understand why I’m trying to save a house that’s probably doomed anyway. I sometimes ask myself the same question. It doesn’t make much sense.’

  She pushed her painty hands through her hair, leaving a white streak across her fringe. Liam balanced his brush on the paint pot and leaned against the wide stone window sill.

  ‘Things don’t always make sense when you’ve had a big shock. People don’t always behave logically when strong emotions, like grief, are involved.’

  ‘What about anger?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘And guilt?’

  Liam nodded. ‘That too.’

  ‘I feel so guilty, about everything,’ blurted Rosie, her bottom lip trembling.

  ‘Your mum wouldn’t blame you for not saving Driftwood House, you know.’

  ‘Logically I know you’re right, but I can’t shake the feeling that she’ll haunt me forever if this house, the home she loved, is destroyed by the Eppings. I’ll have visitations in the night.’

  ‘Lucky you.’

  Though Rosie laughed briefly, she still seemed close to tears.

  ‘I didn’t see her as much as I should have,’ she said, stroking the wool of her borrowed cardi. ‘I couldn’t be bothered to come back to Heaven’s Cove. I thought this place was boring and a bit… beneath me.’

  ‘But I’m sure you were still close,’ answered Liam, starting to feel out of his depth as a tear trickled down Rosie’s cheek.

  ‘I’m beginning to think I didn’t know my mum very well at all. I keep finding out things about her. Secrets.’ She stopped and bit down hard on her lower lip.

  ‘What sort of secrets?’

  ‘Nothing really. Just the lease,’ said Rosie, though her glance at the bureau made Liam wonder if she was telling the truth. ‘I just wish I’d taken the time to know her better.’

  ‘I don’t think we ever really know anyone. I didn’t know Dee as well as I thought I did.’

  Why on earth had he mentioned Dee? He never mentioned her these days and neither did his friends. It was as though she’d been expunged from his life.

  ‘What happened with the wedding?’ asked Rosie, quietly.

  Liam stared through the window. Grey billows of cloud were casting patterns on dark water, and bright wild flowers were pushing through the grass. Everything was uncomplicated and beautiful. He brushed dust from his jeans and tried to keep his voice light. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t heard the whole sorry tale from Belinda or your mother.’

  ‘I try not to spend too much time with Belinda, and Mum gave up telling me stuff about Heaven’s Cove. She hated gossip, anyway. Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.’

  ‘No, it’s all right.’ Usually, Liam kept what happened to himself – every detail a heavy weight that dragged him down. But here with Rosie, in Driftwood House, keeping secrets felt toxic. ‘I met Dee two years ago, in a night club, and she moved into the farmhouse with us six months later.’

  ‘Local lothario Liam Satterley was in love.’

  Was she taking the mick? Liam’s sideways look was returned with a gentle smile. ‘So what happened next?’ she asked, taking a step towards him.

  ‘On the day of the wedding she realised she couldn’t marry me after all. Terrible timing, huh?’

  ‘Why did she change her mind?’

  ‘It was the age-old story,’ he said, still keeping his tone bright, jokey even. ‘She’d fallen in love with someone else. Hard to believe, isn’t it?’

  He gave his Jack-the-Lad laugh, the one everyone expected. But it came out all wrong because his chest was so tight.

  ‘Impossible to believe! I mean, how could she possibly do better than you?’ asked Rosie with a smile.

  ‘I know, right?’

  ‘Is she still with… the other man?’

  I’m so over her I have no idea what she’s doing now. That’s what he should have said. But instead he pulled his phone from his pocket, clicked onto Facebook and searched for Deanna’s name. The sight of her familiar, beautiful face made his stomach lurch, even after all these months. He pushed the phone at Rosie. ‘Take a look.’

  Rosie scrolled through Deanna’s timeline, through endless photos of her in the arms of another man, before handing the phone back. ‘I hope you don’t often look at her Facebook.’

  ‘Hardly ever,’ he lied.

  When Rosie glanced up at him, he noticed for the first time the freckles scattered across her nose.

  ‘Well, Deanna’s pretty, but her new boyfriend is pug-ugly.’

  Liam’s snort of laughter echoed through the stripped room and Rosie’s beaming smile lit up the gloomy morning. She looked like an oil painting, thought Liam, standing amid chaos with her hair all over the place, paint on her nose and streaks of red soil from the clifftop between her toes. A sudden beam of sunlight had caught her sideways on and she was glowing.

  A ringing phone – Liam’s this time – broke the spell. His mum was calling.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ he asked as he answered it, his eyes back on Rosie.

  ‘Yes, love. No need to panic. Are you still up at Driftwood House helping Sofia’s girl?’

  ‘Yes, but I’ll be back soon.’

  ‘That’s fine. I wasn’t chasing you. I was ringing to speak to Rosie, actually.’

  ‘Rosie?’

  ‘That’s right. If you could pass me over.’

  ‘Um… OK.’ Liam held out the phone, puzzled. ‘My mum would like a word, if that’s all right.’

  Rosie frowned but took the phone and wandered into the hall. She came back a couple of minutes later and handed the phone back.

  ‘What was that all about?’

  Rosie smiled. ‘Your mum’s invited me to yours for a Sunday roast tomorrow. She thinks I’m wasting away up here on my own. I did say not to worry, but she was quite insistent.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’ Liam pushed the phone into his pocket. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Rosie coming round and wished his mother had cleared it with him first. But it was done now. ‘Well, she’s a great cook so you’ll get a good meal, and the third degree, probably. She likes to know everything about her guests.’

  ‘That’s mums for you.’ Rosie’s smile faltered. ‘I suppose I’d better get on with the painting.’

  ‘And I’d better get back to the far
m because there’s lots to do.’

  ‘Of course. Thanks for giving me a hand with my guilt-trip venture and for all the painting you’ve done. The room looks better already.’

  She was right. A coat of light, bright paint had worked wonders. Liam wiped paint splatters from his hands and carefully placed his brush on a wodge of kitchen towel. ‘You’re welcome. Oh, and you know who might have more information about Morag Macinwhatsit? Belinda.’

  ‘Belinda, who knows everything about every person in the area?’

  ‘That’s the one.’

  ‘I asked your mum about Morag and she didn’t know her, so Belinda is probably my best bet.’

  ‘She might be in the pub tonight, if you’re going to take up Nessa’s invitation.’

  ‘I’m not sure. I might be too knackered after working on the house all afternoon.’

  ‘Nessa will probably march up the cliff and drag you out if you’re a no-show.’ Liam grinned. ‘I’ll see you in the pub, if you make it, and if not, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  ‘Yep, half past one for eating at two o’clock.’

  After a quick goodbye, Liam left her to her decorating and hurried down the cliff path. He’d been at Driftwood House longer than he’d intended and the afternoon was going to be crazily busy.

  Earlier this morning, the thought of spending time alone with Rosie, even though he’d been the one daft enough to offer, hadn’t filled him with joy. They hadn’t particularly got on at school so being together for hours was bound to be awkward. But it had been all right, he realised, as his feet dislodged small stones which tumbled over the cliff edge.

  At school, Rosie had been a nerd. There was no other word for it. He remembered her watching from the sidelines, never keen to join in, with her head constantly in a book, and always making it clear that Heaven’s Cove wasn’t enough for her.

  She was still different from the confident, polished women he was used to, but he didn’t see that as a bad thing any more – he no longer felt like running with the crowd himself. He grinned to himself as he reached the edge of the village. Maybe local lothario Liam Satterley and nerdy Rosie Merchant would end up friends after all. Especially if his mum had anything to do with it.

  CHAPTER 14

  Liam was right. If anyone in Heaven’s Cove knew of Morag MacIntyre it would be Belinda. And she was currently in The Smugglers Haunt, sitting at the bar with her husband.

  Rosie stopped peering through the window, smoothed down her simple cotton dress, and pushed open the pub door. A wave of sound hit her and she hesitated, unable to put one foot in front of the other.

  ‘This is ridiculous,’ she murmured, as butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She’d moved across continents to reinvent herself in far-flung places, struck up conversation with total strangers, and built a new life for herself in Spain. Yet here she was, in her home village, too scared to face the people she’d grown up with. Perhaps it was the realisation that her reinvention wouldn’t wash here.

  ‘Get a grip,’ she said to herself, more loudly, crossing the pub threshold and plastering a smile on her face.

  The place was packed and, with its low, beamed ceiling, absolutely roasting. For the first time since arriving in Heaven’s Cove, Rosie felt comfortably warm in her summer dress that she’d picked up for a song in a Spanish market.

  Belinda, perched on a bar stool, glanced at Rosie before putting her hand over her mouth and murmuring to her husband. The back of Rosie’s neck prickled, as it always did when she suspected she was being talked about.

  ‘Hey, Rosie!’ Nessa was waving from a table in the corner, near the stone fireplace. ‘Rosie, we’re over here,’ she yelled again. ‘Come and join us.’

  Rosie waved back and wandered over. She was mostly here for Belinda, but maybe it would do her good to mix with other people for a while.

  Nessa was sitting in a huddle of people Rosie recognised, including Katrina, who was wearing a leather jacket and huge, sparkly diamond earrings. Rosie scanned the pub for Liam, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘You came!’ said Nessa when Rosie reached her. ‘That’s great. We’re just dissing Larry the Lech and his wandering hands.’

  Their old PE teacher did have a disconcerting reputation among his students for being rather too hands-on. He’d resigned abruptly one spring term and was never mentioned by the teaching staff again.

  ‘Come on, sit down,’ said Nessa, shifting along the wooden bench to make room for her.

  Rosie sat down and smiled, though her heart was hammering. ‘Hello, everyone.’

  ‘Well, look at you, Rosie Merchant, all grown up,’ said the man next to Nessa. ‘Excellent tan, and sorry about your mum. Shame you weren’t here when it happened. You know everyone, don’t you? I’m John, you know Nessa, obviously, and that’s Heather, Phil and Katrina.’

  ‘Of course. It’s nice to see you all after so much time.’

  The group nodded while Rosie checked them out. John was heavier than she remembered with a thicker neck and less hair, but otherwise he looked full of mischief and much the same as he had at school. Heather, who gave Rosie a shy smile, must have ditched her glasses with their pebble lenses for contacts and her amazing amber eyes were now on full show. Phil’s wedding ring glinted when he raised his pint and took a slurp. And Katrina, now minus her jacket, sat at the head of the table like a queen bee, looking even more fabulous than when she’d been flirting with Liam in the farmyard.

  Her flimsy halter-neck top, a scrap of midnight-blue silk, revealed toned arms and shoulders, and her glossy dark hair, streaked with chestnut highlights, shone under the fairy lights strung above the bar. The scarlet nails she was drumming on the table were either false or she had a live-in maid. Those were not hands accustomed to housework. Rosie moved her own paint-splashed hands off the table and placed them in her lap.

  John bought a round of drinks and after necking a glass of red wine with indecent haste, Rosie began to feel more at ease amongst her old school friends.

  It was interesting to hear how life was treating them, and she didn’t have to say much. John and Phil seemed happy to keep the conversation going with their tales of skinny-dipping on the beach in their teens, and climbing the cliffs while drunk.

  But Katrina wasn’t about to let her relax.

  ‘What about you, Rosie, sitting there all quiet as usual, like a little mouse?’ She leaned forward, cutting across Phil’s anecdote. ‘You must be going back to Spain quite soon.’

  ‘Yes I am, in a couple of weeks or so.’

  ‘Not until then?’ said Katrina, raising an eyebrow. ‘I thought you’d be desperate to top up your fading tan.’

  ‘There are a few things I need to do at the house first.’

  ‘Before it’s knocked down to make way for a hotel.’ She gave a faux pout of sympathy. ‘That’s such a shame. You won’t have anywhere to come back to.’

  ‘We’ll see.’

  ‘I didn’t realise that the house didn’t belong to your mum. Nobody did.’ Katrina twirled a diamond ring on her right hand and gave a perfect pearly-white smile. She’d definitely had work done on her teeth. ‘Did you know I’m living in Bellesfield now?’

  ‘I didn’t.’

  ‘I have a rather gorgeous new-build on the edge of Bellesfield Park, right near the river.’

  ‘That sounds great,’ said Rosie, not envious in the slightest.

  ‘It is. My ex got the boat and I got the house in our divorce. I definitely got the better deal. And now Stephen’s moved in. He’s a very successful chartered surveyor.’

  ‘Oh, you live with your boyfriend?’

  ‘Yes. What’s so surprising about that?’

  You were flirting with Liam the other day like there was no tomorrow.

  Having seen the heartache caused by her dad’s affair, Rosie hated cheating with a passion. She could cope with bad moods in boyfriends, the occasional white lie, even dodgy personal hygiene. But cheating was her red line in the sand. H
owever, what Katrina got up to was none of her business.

  ‘No reason,’ said Rosie. ‘I just didn’t know.’

  ‘Really? Like I said when we met the other day, my business is going very well too. Everything’s brilliant, actually. Really brilliant.’

  ‘Wish I lived in bloody Bellesfield,’ said Nessa, checking her mobile phone. ‘Sorry, got to keep an eye on it in case I’m needed. Lily’s getting over chickenpox and her sleep pattern’s gone to pot.’

  ‘God, you’re not infectious, are you?’ Katrina moved her pert backside as far away from Nessa as she could.

  ‘Yeah, probably,’ said Nessa, with a wink at Rosie. ‘But don’t worry, Kat. The pox doesn’t leave too many scars. Hey, Rosie,’ she added with a sideways glance at Katrina. ‘Why don’t you tell us about your amazing life abroad so we can all be horribly jealous.’

  Katrina sniffed and carried on twirling her diamond ring.

  ‘Yeah, what’s it like?’ asked John.

  ‘Well, it’s good.’ Rosie stopped but everyone waited, expecting her to go on. ‘I live in Andalusia and I’m working in a B&B and also for a property company at the moment.’

  ‘I hope you’re not fleecing Brits,’ interjected Katrina, with another sniff. ‘My ex and I were going to buy a holiday place in Tuscany, a little villa in the hills, with an infinity pool and grounds. But it turned out the property people were running a scam. We could have lost thousands.’

  ‘That sounds awful but I’m not involved in any scams. Our properties are all bona fide and really nice, with views of the Med.’ If you don’t mind hanging over the balcony, that is.

  Katrina’s reply was drowned out by John yelling and waving over Rosie’s shoulder. ‘Hey, mate! We’re over here, in the corner.’

  Even with her back to him, Rosie knew John was waving at Liam by the way Katrina pouted and patted the bench next to her. Liam, carrying a pint, squeezed into the space. She hadn’t left much room for him, Rosie noticed. His thighs were wedged against hers.

  ‘Hi, all,’ said Liam, putting his pint down. He nodded at Rosie. ‘You made it, then.’

  ‘I thought I might have a quick word with Belinda.’