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I storm into the cottage, rip a bottle of whiskey off the shelf, then head back outside and climb down the rocks at the base of the lighthouse, stopping only when I’m right at the edge of the earth and water is lapping at my feet, soaking into my trainers.
Kiernan and his mum will handle the clearing of the hall. They’ll thank everyone for coming and they’ll gather up the leftovers. I just need to be alone. To drink and wallow and then wake up in the morning and get my shit figured out.
FOUR
CASPIAN
“Why didn’t you save Pops?” I ask the beast. His face is shrouded in darkness as he stands hidden by the shadows in the corner of my room. All I can see are his eyes. Bright green, staring intensely at me. When he doesn’t answer, I stand up and stalk forward. I’m too angry to be afraid. The air moves, pressing in around me as I stalk closer. The beast remains still. “Answer me,” I demand. He doesn’t, so I close the distance, cross into the shadows and reach out a hand…
Shooting up in bed, I gasp for air as my eyes dart to the corner of my room. There’s nothing there. No monster. No shadows. Just the dull glow of the rising sun.
With a groan, I climb out of bed and stretch, hating how heavy my head feels. I trudge through to the shower and turn the water on. It’s an old system that needs a few minutes to heat. But after five minutes, the water is still ice cold.
“Fuckssake,” I grumble, turn the shower off and then walk out of the bathroom and down the stairs to where the boiler is situated in a cupboard near the front door. Oddly, the cupboard is ajar, and when I open it fully it’s to find there’s no power to the boiler. It’s completely dead. Bending down, I get a closer look, trying to work out how to get it started again. That’s when I notice that the main wiring has been chewed.
“Bloody hell. Fucking rodents.” It’s not the first time rats have got in and destroyed something in this house. The insulation is shit and they get in through the walls and gaps in the doors. But fuck me, this is inconvenient.
I slam the cupboard door shut with a little more force than necessary, then give myself a cursory sniff. I can’t go into work smelling this bad – like sea and sleep and a bad night. Dragging my sorry ass back up the stairs, I turn on the shower and climb in, gritting my teeth against the cold. Thankfully, it’s summer and though Newbridge never gets particularly hot, the air is mild and I can tolerate the short time it takes to wash the night from my skin.
Twenty minutes later, I’m chilled to the core, but clean, wearing my favourite t-shirt, the really soft one with the words ‘bake it till you make it’ printed on the front.
I pull on boots and head over to the barn, where I’m greeted by the bleating of sheep. I usher them into their paddocks and then fill their trough with fresh water.
By the time I climb into my car to make my way to the bakery, the sun is rising and birds are chirping in the trees lining the property. I usually like to be in the bakery by four each morning – except Sundays when we’re closed. But given my restless night and rocky start, I’m running late, which really isn’t like me at all.
Kiernan is waiting for me outside the back door when I arrive.
“Morning, boss,” he says with a smile, adjusting the backwards cap on his head, before taking a sip from his reusable coffee mug.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” I reply, feeling immensely guilty, not only for being late but for abandoning him after the funeral. “And sorry about running off so suddenly yesterday.” I unlock the bakery and we both step inside. Kiernan flicks on the lights and I head straight over to turn on the ovens.
“We’re all good.” He waves me off and heads to the front of the store, but returns moments later with a mug of tea, which he hands to me. “Your dad and that property douche left pretty much after you did. Rumour is, he was snooping around the village long before the accident.”
I look at Kiernan and raise an eyebrow. “He was?” I take a sip of my tea, closing my eyes briefly as the herbal mix of mint and apple hits my tongue.
“Yep. Apparently, Pops had a run in with him at the bank a few weeks ago.”
“He never told me,” I reply, putting my mug on the counter. It’s strange that Pops would have kept that from me.
“He probably didn’t think it was important. He’s not the first person to want to buy Newbridge Farm.”
I nod. “Yeah, you’re right.” There have been offers in the past, but Pops always stood firm that the land would always belong to the Brody Family. “I hope he doesn’t hang around any longer.”
Taking out a large metal bowl, I place it on the counter and then walk to the pantry, where I collect a tub of flour and another of sugar.
Kiernan is leaning against the counter when I return. “There’s nothing here in Newbridge for him. He’ll leave soon enough.”
“I hope you’re right,” I reply, weighing out the flour for a batch of scones. My first batch will be plain with raisins, the next will be something different – I like to mix it up, try new flavours and see what sells. “He’s not getting his hands on my land. No matter how much money he tries to throw my way.”
“Good. Wouldn’t want you to go getting all rich on me and forgetting your roots.”
I laugh. “You know I wasn’t born here, right?”
Kiernan hums. “True, but that doesn’t mean this isn’t where your roots are.”
The first batch of scones sold out before nine, so I quickly whipped up another. The flavour of the day today was savoury cheese and chilli scones, which went down well with my regulars. Once the morning rush was over, things slowed down until the usual afternoon crowd came in for cakes and scones to go. Now, it’s midafternoon and I’m headed home to tend to everything else begging for my attention.
I pull my car into my usual spot, frowning when I notice two of my ewes standing in the flowerbed outside the farmhouse. Climbing out of my car, I approach them, then note a third ewe further on, standing in the shade of the trees along the property line.
