“Isthere such thing as crab preschool, Missus Laura Silvey?”
“Let’s go find some crabs and ask them, Master Edwin Mayes.”
He grinned.
It was a small beach, but postcard perfect in the summer sunshine. The sand was pale yellow, and a band of rocks along the base of the cliffs bulged out to the sea at the far end of the cove to create a few rock pools. Edwin and I spent a contented hour poking around, scooping tiny fish and bigger crabs into buckets, while Ruth sat on a picnic blanket on the sand with a book, her face hidden by a huge, floppy hat. Edwin sprang between rocks with ease, and I was glad after all for my practical shorts and T-shirt.
The sun was high and fierce by the time Ruth called us over for lunch.
“Look, Mummy,” Edwin said, introducing her to the contents of his bucket, before trotting away to release the creatures back into the pools, and then galloping down to the sea to rinse off his hands.
“Where does he get his energy from?” I asked, flopping down and accepting a sandwich gratefully.
“God knows. I get exhausted just watching him.”
“Do you ever swim in the sea here?” I asked her, conscious there’d been no mention of swimming costumes when we were getting ready at the house.
“Oh, Dominic does. He’ll take Edwin for a swim at the weekend. Maybe when we come down with Alex on Saturday.” She smiled, and looked out to sea. “I used to swim here sometimes when I was a child, but”—she shrugged—“I wouldn’t be that confident to take Edwin in by myself.”
“Can I paddle, Mummy?” Edwin asked, a sandwich in one hand, too restless to sit down.
“As long as you stay just in front of us, and no higher than your knees, darling. And keep your hat on.”
“Okay, Mummy.” He trotted off. We sat and watched him as we ate. Ruth had put sun cream on him before we left the house, and was now applying some to her own limbs. I hesitated when she offered me the bottle, since my olive skin doesn’t tend to burn easily, but the harsh glare on the sand was relentless, so I accepted with thanks.
“You’re very... discreet, aren’t you?” Ruth said suddenly, breaking the companionable silence and making me blink.
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, just that you don’t ask lots of questions,” she said.
I handed the sun cream back to her, ducking my head.
“It’s not a bad thing,” she assured me, smiling. “I meant it as a compliment. You didn’t press me on why I don’t like toswim in the sea anymore, although I could see that you wondered. You haven’t asked who Alex is.”
She raised her eyebrows as if to invite a question, and something from our conversation with Michael earlier niggled at me. Something I’d registered, but not yet thought through properly.
“Who’s Theo?” I asked.
As soon as I’d said it, I was seized by an awful conviction. Who else might Edwin describe as his best friend, aside from little Joel?
Ruth was lying propped on one elbow, but jerked upright at my question. I could feel my cheeks reddening as she stared at me, and I began to apologize, but she shook her head.
“No, it’s fine. You just surprised me.” She eased herself back down again. “Theo was Edwin’s twin brother. He died just after their second birthday, in December the year before last. In an accident.”
I held a hand over my mouth, staring at her.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I should have realized. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“It’s okay. You weren’t to know. He fell from the cliff here, actually.”
My eyes darted to the rocks at the base of the steps.
Ruth drew in a deep breath and then let it out again heavily. “It’s—I know it seems strange for us still to come here, but...” She cast her eyes around the beach, choosing her words. “This is our home. Summerbourne. My home, and Edwin’s home. It always has been, and it always will be.”
I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye, and she gazed out to sea. Edwin continued to frolic in the shallows.
“I’m sorry,” I said again.
