Clara’s husband John entered the kitchen. ‘Hiya. How’d it go?’
‘Fine. For a funeral,’ Lucy said and poured him a glass of red wine, remembering he disliked white.
‘I’d have come if I could but I didn’t have anyone to cover my class for me,’ John said.
‘I know. Clara told me. You don’t have to defend yourself to me.’
‘And then I had to pick up Molly from after-school club,’ John continued.
Lucy gave him a look. ‘I know,’ she repeated. ‘Don’t worry. It’s not like you missed anything.’
‘Yeah, but I think Clara’s a bit miffed.’ John sipped his wine as Clara rolled her eyes. ‘Thanks, I need this. Long day. Thank God the summer holidays are just around the corner. Year twelves were a complete bunch of—’
‘Language,’ Clara said from the doorway as she carried a dishcloth.
‘I hadn’t sworn yet,’ John protested.
‘I was getting in early,’ Clara replied.
‘Oh, come on that’s not …’ John put his wine glass on the counter a little too forcefully and red wine spilled on the side.
‘Listen, guys,’ Lucy said, walking towards Clara and taking the dishcloth from her. She thrust it at John with a pointed expression and he turned to wipe the wine from the counter. ‘I’m thinking I should shuffle out of your way. I’ve been here a week and the funeral’s over and you need your space again so …’
‘Oh, you don’t have to,’ Clara started but Lucy cast a glance at Molly who looked back at Lucy conspiratorially.
‘Yes, I do.’
‘It’s nearly summer. You’ll pay buckets of money if you rent a cottage or a little apartment for a few weeks. And hotels are the same,’ John said.
‘I know, but it’s all right.’
‘Why don’t you stay here?’ Molly asked as another sausage roll made its way into her mouth.
Lucy discreetly pushed the platter back out of reach of her niece. ‘Here?’
‘No one lives here now, do they?’ Molly asked with simple, childish logic.
‘I don’t think I’m allowed.’
Lucy looked at Clara, who shrugged and replied, ‘The will’s being read tomorrow so … I have no idea. If Dad’s inherited as he thinks – and quite frankly I don’t think Dido had any other family – then he won’t mind you staying here while we put it on the market. You may as well. It’s huge though. Will you be OK in a house this size all by yourself?’
‘Is it haunted?’ Molly asked, searching the counter for the sausage rolls.
‘I bloody hope not,’ Lucy replied with a shudder.
‘Language,’ John reminded her with a smug look.
Lucy decided she’d wait until the will had been read before packing her holdall with her few possessions and moving into Deux Tourelles for the duration of her stay. ‘Just in case Dido’s left it all to the local cat home and I get turfed straight back out,’ she had joked.
The day had turned bright and the temperature was soaring. She’d forgotten how beautiful the island could be in the bright summer sunshine as she and Clara drove past hedgerows abundant with vibrant hydrangeas. And then, just as suddenly as they had entered the small patch of countryside, they emerged through the lanes and down the winding, tree-shaded road, the dappled light falling through the trees as the road wound into St Peter Port. The shining azure waters never failed to make her smile. How easily she’d forgotten that.
Clara parked at one of the small car parks adjacent to the water, narrowly cutting someone up in order to get one of the few remaining spaces. Lucy crouched down in her seat, shielding her eyes, ashamed of her sister’s brazenness.
‘Right, let’s get this done and I can head back to yours and get on with a bit of work,’ Lucy said, feeling neglectful of her poor client whose soft-toy brochure she was meant to be copywriting. As she watched the sun bounce from the water in the port, and she put on her sunglasses, she wasn’t sure how she felt about sitting indoors and writing meaningful sentences about teddies.
‘Are you still enjoying it?’ Clara asked as they walked towards the office where the will would be read.
‘Being here?’ Lucy asked.
