Page 18 of The Clifftop Cottage

“Maisie asked for me?” Erica frowned, genuinely puzzled. Why would her niece care about the aunt who barely made an effort?

“Of course she did. She talks about you all the time.” Leah’s tone softened as she stepped closer to the bed. “You don’t see it, do you?” She perched on the edge of the mattress, her expression shifting into one of quiet fondness. “You’re the coolest thing to come into her life. And that’s saying something, considering how much she loves Halloween – and trust me, Halloween’s a big deal for Maisie.”

“I haven’t exactly been a great aunt, have I?” Erica said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You’ve been a bit … distracted,” Leah said gently, patting Erica’s leg over the covers. “And that’s okay. We’ve all been so proud of you.”

Erica blinked, caught off guard. Proud? Who was proud of her – Leah? Dylan? Maisie? The idea felt foreign, almost undeserved.

“I’m just worried about you,” Leah continued, her hand lingering. “Last night … well, it gave me a bit of a shock.”

If only she really knew.

“It won’t happen again,” Erica repeated, hoping it wasn’t a lie.

Leah nodded, though concern still lingered in the lines of her face. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m keeping tabs on you. You’re a grown woman, Erica. You can stay here as long as you like, but …” She paused. “You need to talk to me. Please.”

Erica looked at her sister and, for the first time, noticed the fine lines etched around her eyes and forehead. This wasn’t just about her, she realised. Leah’s worry radiated outward, warm and heavy, like a hand pressed firmly against her chest.

Erica took Maisie to school that morning, this time braving the stares of other parents with something closer to confidence. She even managed a casual salute to a few familiar faces from the other day, her lips quirking into a half-smile.

But her real joy came from Maisie, who skipped along, her hands swinging loosely at her side.

“You’ll pick me up after school, right?” Maisie asked, her face bright with hope.

Erica couldn’t help but grin. Something about her niece’s excitement broke through the cold shell she’d been carrying.

“Yes, I’ll be here to pick you up,” she promised, shoving her hands into her coat pockets against the biting chill. She leaned down to Maisie’s level, noticing the loose ponytail, the frizzy fringe held back with two bright hair clips – one shaped like a pumpkin, the other a spider.

Erica laughed softly. “You really do love Halloween, huh?”

Maisie beamed. “It’s my favourite!”

For a moment, something flickered inside Erica – a spark of inspiration, a sudden idea that warmed her more than the tea had earlier. She nudged Maisie gently on the arm. “Now, have the best day of your life, crocodile.”

Maisie giggled and ran to the school doors, her backpack bouncing with every step. A teacher stood at the entrance, dressed in a pink tweed skirt and a fuzzy white turtleneck, arms full of books, greeting each child with a calm smile that softened the chaos of the schoolyard.

Erica watched Maisie disappear inside, her heart unexpectedly light. But as the wind picked up, she shivered, clutching her white fleece ski jacket tighter around her. It should have been warm enough but the cold seemed to cut straight through her.

Or maybe it wasn’t just the cold.

Maybe it was something else.

She couldn’t keep going like this.

Instead of retreating back to the warmth of her bed, Erica found herself wandering along the high street instead. The morning air was crisp, her breath puffing into small clouds as she exhaled. She passed a tiny bakery, its windows fogged from the heat inside. As a customer stepped out clutching a brown paper bag, the scent of sourdough and warm pastry spilled out onto the pavement.

Next door, a florist had arranged an autumnal display – bunches of lavender tied with twine, sprigs of ivy and dried wheat spilling from wicker baskets. Handwritten signs listed prices in looping ink.

Further along, a second-hand bookshop beckoned beneath a faded awning. Novels were stacked haphazardly in the window, and a small chalkboard sign leaned against the door:

Tea & Books: A Perfect Pair.

Erica lingered for a heartbeat before moving on.

A butcher’s shop followed, its deep green frontage polished to a dull shine. Inside the window, neat rows of labelled cuts sat alongside jars of chutney and preserves. Beyond that was a general store that seemed to sell everything at once: handmade candles, tins of biscuits, jars of screws, and garden equipment leaning against the counter.

The town unfolded around her, unhurried and lived-in.