Page 110 of The Clifftop Cottage

The house looked lived-in.

But Erica wasn’t anywhere in sight.

“Darling,” Leah said, turning to Maisie, “stay here. I’m just going to check on Auntie Eri, alright?”

She leaned over the seat and kissed the top of her daughter’s head, lingering a moment longer than usual.

After Dylan’s call – something about a fire, no details but just enough to make her come – her instinct took over and she bundled Maisie into the car.

Maisie now hugged her small grey teddy to her chest. It was her favourite, though Leah could already feel those days slipping away. The quiet moods lately. The thoughtful silences.

Soon cuddly toys wouldn’t fix everything.

Leah stepped out of the car and crossed the garden quickly, the headlights stretching her shadow long across the grass.

She knocked hard.

No answer.

She pushed the door open.

Inside, Lucky lay curled beside the Rayburn, eyes half lidded, barely glancing up. Lamps glowed softly around the room. A mug sat on the table, half-full.

The house felt warm, but the silence inside felt wrong.

“Erica?” Leah called, moving quickly through the rooms.

Bathroom. Empty.

Bedroom. Empty.

The warmth clung to the space like someone had just stepped outside … and never come back.

Then—

“Mummy!”

Leah spun around, heart kicking hard against her ribs.

She ran outside.

Maisie was in the garden, crouched at the edge of the disturbed earth, her raincoat flapping over her pyjamas as she scraped eagerly at the soil with both hands.

“Maisie! I told you to stay in the car. What are you doing?”

Her daughter looked up, cheeks streaked with dirt. “There’s something down there!”

Leah hurried over and dropped beside her. “Maisie, don’t⁠—”

Too late.

Mud covered the sleeves of her pyjamas. Maisie was already digging, small fingers working furiously through the damp soil. “It’s a treasure chest!”

Leah blinked.

In the low glow of the headlights, something rectangular caught the light, wedged deep in the earth. Wood, maybe. Or metal. Its edges glinted faintly beneath the dirt.

The moon slipped between the clouds then, casting a pale silver wash across the garden.