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“I think it’s called love. Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”
“Thank you, but no. My mother hates a fuss, which is how I know it must be bad.” Clare was hunting around the kitchen and Flora grabbed a fresh towel from the counter.
“Will this do?”
“Perfect. You’re a lifesaver.” Clare grabbed it and headed for the door, a slightly wild look in her eyes. “You’ll be on your own. I’m sorry—”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll finish off that planting we started yesterday.”
Clare was halfway to the car when Flora spotted her phone on the table.
She sprinted after her.
“You’re going to need this.” She dropped the phone into Clare’s pocket. “Call if I can do anything. Drive carefully.”
The door slammed. The engine revved and small stones flew as Clare accelerated along the drive to the Gatehouse where her mother lived.
Flora stared after her for a moment, and then walked back into the house.
Silence enveloped her.
The day, or at least the next few hours, stretched ahead but for the first time in as long as she could remember she was alone without feeling lonely. It seemed that the house retained the warmth even after the people had left. Or maybe it was Jack. Even when she wasn’t with him, she thought of him.
She cleared the kitchen, loaded the dishwasher, swept the surfaces and floor until they gleamed. She allowed herself a brief moment to luxuriate in the pretense that this place was hers. Deciding that she’d earned herself another coffee, she made herself a cappuccino from Todd’s terrifyingly sophisticated machine and took it into the garden.
The lawn still wore the evidence of the day before. Water pistols lay abandoned next to Chase’s favorite ball and a half-inflated kayak.
Izzy was still on the sunlounger.
Flora approached cautiously. “Izzy?”
Those shoulders stiffened, but she didn’t turn. “What? What do you want?” Both words and tone crossed the line into rude but Flora ignored that because as well as anger and resentment, she heard a distinct wobble in that voice.
Izzy was crying. And she was trying to hide it.
Flora had done the same many times. She’d cried into a pillow, cried in the shower, locked herself in the bathroom.
She reached out to touch the girl’s shoulder and then pulled her hand back.
“Izzy—”
“Fuck off!” Izzy flew to her feet, her hair whipping round her face. Her eyes were red from crying, her cheeks soaked and streaked with the evidence. “Can’t you get it into your thick head that I don’t want you around? Just fuck off and leave me alone.” She shoved Flora, then grabbed her backpack and ran across the lawn. She stumbled twice, righted herself, arms flailing.
Can’t see where she’s going, Flora thought, pulling her soaked T-shirt away from her body. Most of her foamy cappuccino was now on her body or on the lawn.
She put the empty cup down and sat down hard on the sunlounger Izzy had just vacated.
Family life, family life.
But her heart ached for Izzy.
She wanted to go after her but that would be stupid, wouldn’t it? Izzy had made it clear she hadn’t wanted to talk to her and the fact that Flora had witnessed the tears she’d been trying to hide wasn’t going to endear her to the girl anytime soon.
She sat, with no idea what to do next. A butterfly danced across her field of vision, a swirl of color against the deep blue of the lake.
There was no sign of Izzy.
Flora stood up. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she squinted along the trail, and then moved closer to the water so that she had a better view of the boathouse.
