AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Part of the roof was missing.
When Mara opened the door, the creaking noise startled seagulls that were nesting somewhere upstairs, and they flew out, shrieking. The warped wooden floor creaked as she walked on it, and a damp stain had flowered on the wall facing the sea. Mara wrinkled her nose in distaste.
‘Oh dear,’ she murmured, as she took it all in.
The beach house was a two-storey wooden construction with a porch that ran the length of the front of the house, and wooden steps (now broken and half-rotted away) that led up to it from the beach. The house itself was oriented sideways, so that its front faced the beach, with the back of the house facing an outcropping of rock. The west side faced the sea.
Immediately inside the front door was a square sitting room that might once have been cosy. The floorboards spread across a wide room with light blue walls; there were darker patches here and there where pictures had once hung, not counting the damp. A white-painted kitchen dresser stood on one side; a couple of blue-and-white plates sat on the shelf, covered in dust. A door led to another large sitting room that looked out over the sea; it was damper in there, and the old blue wallpaper was peeling off. A pair of rattan easy chairs faced out to sea: the seat was missing from both of them. Otherwise, the only furniture left was a ratty cream sofa, a warped, empty bookshelf and an oil lamp which stood on top of it. Abby had not left much.
At the rear of the main sitting room, a large kitchen spread across the back of the downstairs. Mara walked over and inspected it for signs of functionality, but the stove appeared to have once used gas canisters, and there was nothing connected. A few utensils sat in a pottery jar sticky with dust and ancient cooking residue.
‘Look, Mummy! A box!’ Franny raced past, her wet shoes leaving sandy prints on the wood. Mara opened her mouth to tell her daughter to take her shoes off, then closed it again. There was no point; people would be coming to view the house soon, no doubt tramping sand all over the place. Franny lifted the lid of a deep wooden chest and looked inside. Mara thought it had probably been a blanket box once; she walked over, curious to see what was inside, if anything.
John had already disappeared into the kitchen and was opening cupboard doors and closing them again.
‘John, don’t slam those doors,’ she called out. Anywhere there was a door, John would swing on it, lean on it or play with the handle: she was always terrified he’d catch his fingers in the jamb. Whereas his sister talked incessantly, John always had to be moving. A door handle turned and released. Fingertips drummed on tables. Standing on one leg, and then the other.
Looking down, Mara reached into the box and pulled out a mildewed cushion, showing it to Franny.
‘Yuck. Put it down.’ Her daughter made a face and peered back into the box. Mara leaned the cushion against the side of the box; she’d have to clear out all this old stuff before putting the house on the market.
Franny reached in again and pulled out a rag doll with red hair in a thick plait. She hugged it delightedly.
‘Look, Mummy! A doll!’ she cried happily.
‘That’s lovely, darling.’ Mara sat back on her heels and watched as Franny inspected the old toy. It had certainly seen a lot of love, but it seemed to have escaped the mildew, at least.
‘Can I keep it?’ Franny hugged the doll to her chest. ‘I’m going to call her Marianne. That’s her name.’
‘It’s her name?’
‘Yes. She told me. Also, it’s like your name, a little bit. Marianne seems like a good name for a doll that lives in a house by the sea – it’s quite romantic, isn’t it?’
‘Ah, I see.’ Mara stood up. ‘Yes, very romantic.’
‘Dad would like this house,’ Franny added, pointedly.
‘Mmmm.’ Mara made a noncommittal noise and walked into the kitchen to avoid any further discussion on the subject. She thought how odd it was that this was all hers now, when she hadn’t known anything about it last week. It had been enough of a shock that Abby had died so quickly; within a few weeks, cancer had developed, and taken her mother faster than anyone expected. Some weeks later, the solicitors had got in touch about her mother’s estate.What estate?Mara had asked, still shell shocked, whole days going past with her having no real memory of what she’d done. She must have made the twins meals, but she didn’t remember it.
John had found three saucepans in one of the cupboards, had upended them on the floor and was playing them like drums with a blunt pencil. Mara tried to open the back door, but it was locked and she couldn’t see a key anywhere.
Abby hadn’t even owned the house she lived in; it had been rented. She’d never owned anything much as far as Mara knew, but then there was this place, an address in an official letter. Abigail Hughes leaves this property to you. A house that her mother had never, in forty years, mentioned to her only daughter.
As she turned the back-door handle again, there was a knock on the front door. Surprised at the sound – why would anyone knock unless they’d seen her go in? The house obviously wasn’t lived in – she went to open it. Clare stood on the doorstep holding a large box.
‘Me again.’ She held the box out to Mara, who took it and put it down immediately; it wasn’t light. ‘Sorry, I got halfway down the road and remembered it. The box was left with us for safe keeping with your mother’s will.’ She was slightly out of breath.
‘Oh. What’s in it?’ Mara asked, curiously, but the woman shrugged.
‘No idea. It’s been in storage for the past few years. Sometimes people want to store valuables with us, meaningful documents, that kind of thing. Could be anything.’
‘Hmmm. Oh, I’m sorry. Come in.’ Mara waved vaguely at the lounge, but the solicitor shook her head.
‘Thanks, but I’ve got to be off. Forms to process, paper to stamp. As I said, any questions or issues, let me know.’ She raised her hand as a goodbye and made her way back over the rocks to the sandy beach and to the road at the top where her car was parked.
Mara squatted on the floor and regarded the box. It was medium sized and taped up neatly: Abby was – had been, she corrected herself – neat to the point of obsession. Growing up with a neat freak as a mother was a challenge when your idea of neat involved piling all the books you were reading into a shaky tower next to the sofa. Mara slid her finger carefully under the tape at the edge of the box and snapped one end open. It had been years since she’d sat down and read a book – although of course she’d read stories to the twins. Why had she ever stopped reading for her own pleasure?
Peeling the tape carefully from the top of the box, she listened to the twins who seemed to be playing some kind of game on the landing; she hadn’t even seen upstairs yet. She knew why she hadn’t read a book in years: Gideon hadn’t ever specifically said it, but he disapproved. In fact, he had a way of never specifically saying anything, yet making her feel inferior for anything from her driving (too slow, but in the event she drove faster, he barked at her to be careful, the children were in the car), hair colour (she was a dark brunette; he openly admired women with blonde hair he saw at parties or when they were out shopping or picking the twins up from a club or class) to her political views (he rolled his eyes when she raised the subject).
