Lucy reread the short missive addressed to Persephone Le Roy that had fallen from the pages of the newspaper. So Persephone was a Le Roy and the address on the envelope showed she had lived at Deux Tourelles.Persey … can you meet me?someone named Lise had asked.Something urgent …
She put the letter back in its envelope, then returned it to the box. She had then rifled through the mail stacked on the centre table in the entrance hall, found a letter from Dido’s car insurance company and organised the odious task of adding herself as a temporary driver. The car was battered, old and rusty and only had a few months left on the MOT. After that, Lucy sensed it would cost more to MOT it than the car was worth. She’d have to let them know Dido had passed away but that was a job for later depending on who was the executor. There would be so much of this, Lucy thought. Admin.
Just before three p.m. she was in Dido’s Renault and driving through the lanes to Molly’s school. After confirming who she was to Molly’s teacher and offering the password Clara had told her, she gathered her niece into her arms and the two squeezed each other tightly.
‘What are you doing here?’ Molly asked as they walked towards the car.
‘I missed you,’ Lucy replied as she strapped Molly into the booster seat Clara had left out for her as arranged. When Lucy had collected it from the front doorstep she wondered if Clara had actually been inside her house at the time and was just avoiding her.
‘Are we going to your house?’ Molly asked.
‘I don’t have a house,’ Lucy said, wondering whether to take Molly back to Deux Tourelles. It didn’t exactly hold endless possibilities of fun for a boisterous five-year-old.
‘Are you homeless now Mummy’s kicked you out for being rude to her?’
‘Erm …’ Lucy replied, shocked that Molly knew what had gone on between the sisters.
‘I heard Mummy telling Daddy that you had been your usual self. What does that mean?’ Molly continued.
Lucy blew a puff of air out of her cheeks and sighed. ‘Never mind. Don’t worry about it, will you? It’ll all get sorted.’
‘Can we go to the beach?’ Molly changed tack.
‘Yes,’ Lucy said, pleased the awkward conversation had ended so soon.
‘And have ice cream?’ Molly continued.
‘Yes.’
‘Before dinner?’ the little girl asked.
‘No.’
Lucy drove to her favourite beach, Pembroke. While others favoured Cobo Bay, Pembroke was, in her opinion, the prettiest on the island. She loved Pembroke beach not only because of its wide expanse of white sand but also because it directly faced England and although she had never actually seen the mainland from the beach, even on the clearest of days, she’d always knownit was there, just out of sight, just out of reach, holding the promise of a glittering career that had, actually, never quite materialised. It was the only place in Guernsey where Lucy had felt she actually had both the time and space required to breathe; to look out towards something better.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d come to the beach on one of her flying visits. There’d never seemed to be the time. But now time was something she had plenty of and until she sorted out Deux Tourelles and put an end to this horrid row with Clara she wasn’t going to give her sister the satisfaction of leaving so soon and proving her right. She was going to stay until the bitter end so no further accusations of familial negligence could be fired in her direction. Even though her mum and dad were about four thousand miles away in Barbados, Lucy noted, playing no part in the events in Guernsey.
On her final days as a full-time resident of Guernsey, she and Clara had sat on this beach and drunk cheap vodka until the early morning, returning home drunk and happy before a hung-over Lucy had caught the ferry to England and then the train to university.
In the end Lucy conceded to Molly’s request for ice cream before dinner and the two of them bought delicious swirls of whipped vanilla made with thick milk from Guernsey cows. It tasted exactly as Lucy had always remembered it and unlike any ice cream she’d tasted anywhere else. Nothing matched it. The two took off their shoes and socks, buried them in Lucy’s deep handbag and walked along the shoreline talking about Molly’s school and her friends.
When they finished their ice creams, they scooped sand with their hands, making a gully for a rudimentary sandcastle for the tide to half fill. They lined the channel with shells. Then they ran happily to and from the shoreline, jumping over the waves as they moved in and out of the shore. Lucy, jeans soaked from jumping and knees wet from kneeling on the damp sand to dig, sat a bitfurther back on the dry sand and watched Molly as she hitched up her school summer dress, continuing the game and giggling as she tried to avoid getting wet.
‘Hello again,’ a man’s voice sounded next to her and Lucy turned. Oh Christ. It was the man who’d stormed into Deux Tourelles last night. At the sight of Will she felt the fun of the afternoon drain away with the pull of the tide.
‘Hello,’ Lucy said stiffly, hoping he’d move on now he’d said his greeting. She avoided his gaze and looked at Molly as she played.
‘Your daughter?’ Will asked, glancing briefly at Molly. He smiled as he listened to her screech.
‘My niece.’
He nodded and Lucy waited for him to say, ‘Bye then,’ and move on but he did neither.
‘I’m glad I caught you,’ he said. ‘I wanted to apologise for last night. I was a bit short.’
‘A bit short?’ she echoed before clamping her mouth shut. The man had walked out of Deux Tourelles without so much as a goodbye.
‘All right.’ He laughed. ‘I was … surprised. Sorry.’
