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‘Four weeks.’ Charles stepped in front of his wife, whose mouth snapped shut. ‘We’ll give you that long to make your changes at Driftwood House. The tenancy would expire in around three weeks regardless, so that’s an extra week or so for you to work with.’
‘You’re letting your heart rule your head, and you know that’s never a good idea,’ snapped Cecilia, but Charles held Rosie’s gaze.
‘You have exactly four weeks to change our minds, Ms Merchant.’
An hour later, Rosie pulled her car into a layby on the crest of the hill above Heaven’s Cove, rolled down her window and gazed at the village below.
Cottages were clustered around the High Street and the church where her mother was buried, and the deep-blue sea was scattered with boats. They bobbed up and down on the waves while seagulls, white dots, wheeled overhead. The pretty, old-world charm of Heaven’s Cove drew in tourists like dye on litmus paper. So it was rather ironic that she, born and bred in such a beautiful place, had been so eager to leave it when she was growing up.
Why had she just agreed to spend the next month here, doing up a house that would no doubt be consigned to rubble in the end?
‘What am I doing, Mum?’ Rosie’s words sounded dull in the empty car. ‘Saving the house won’t bring you back, and the longer I stay here, the more I realise that I never properly knew you at all. You never told me about the lease on the house, or the mysterious J, who knew you well enough to call you Saffy. What other secrets were you keeping?’
Rosie stopped talking to herself and turned her attention back to the view. Driftwood House was just visible from here, standing watch above the village, and she could almost imagine the house breathing in its lonely spot on the cliffs. No matter how confused she was, or nervous about what else she might uncover, its fate was in her hands.
