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‘You’re twenty-nine years old, you live in a crappy bedsit, you don’t make the best of yourself, and you spend your days listening to people complaining that their glue doesn’t stick. You’re not exactly a romantic dream yourself, you know. The trouble is all those old books you read and the endless history exhibitions you go to. You’ve always got your head in the past, with no time for real life.’
Lettie slowly turned her history of London face-down on the bedside table. ‘That’s not true.’
‘I know not everyone can have an amazing marriage, like me and Jason,’ continued Daisy, now in full flow. ‘But you’re getting on a bit and need to be realistic. So settle down with a solid, decent man and stop worrying Mum and Dad. That’s what normal people do.’
Lettie sincerely hoped that Daisy adopted a more positive tone with her new life coach clients. ‘I don’t mean to worry Mum and Dad.’
‘Not consciously, maybe, but subconsciously you’re trying to attract their attention all the time because you’re the youngest child of three. It’s classic behaviour.’
Daisy seemed to have her all figured out. Lettie drew in a deep breath. ‘I’m very sorry I can’t babysit tonight but Mum might step in if you ask her nicely. I’ll be home…’ She hesitated, suddenly feeling rebellious. ‘…in a week or two.’
‘Two?’ whined Daisy. ‘Mum won’t cover two date nights, and I was thinking you’d do an extra babysit next weekend ’cos it’s Jo’s fortieth birthday party. She’ll be devastated if me and Jase can’t go.’
‘I’m sure you can work something else out.’
‘Huh,’ harrumphed Daisy down the phone. ‘I’ll let Mum know what’s going on but you need to call her yourself to apologise.’
‘What for? I’m allowed to go on holiday.’
‘Apologise for just taking off like that. It’s a bit thoughtless, Letts.’
‘Just because I didn’t get everyone’s permission first doesn’t mean I’m th… oh, whatever.’
Lettie knew this argument was pointless. The Starcrosses were close. Everyone said so. The very embodiment of a close and caring family. But sometimes close and caring could tip over into micro-managing and suffocating.
‘Well.’ Daisy sniffed. ‘Let me know when you’re coming back, and I’ll be in touch.’ She paused for a moment. ‘Sorry. I don’t mean to nag. Of course you’re allowed to go on holiday, but just don’t stay away too long, OK?’
Once Daisy had rung off, Lettie sat quietly for a moment. Tendrils of guilt had started wrapping themselves around her brain, as they always did when her family implied she was letting them down.
‘I have a life of my own,’ she said, grumpily, into the empty room. Even though it didn’t always feel like it.
That was the trouble with being the third child – a surprise baby who’d arrived seven years after the birth of Daisy and nine years after brother Ed was born. Her siblings’ head start made all the difference.
Daisy had married her second ever boyfriend, Jason, at the age of twenty-three and now had two children and her coaching course to keep her busy. Ed, a school teacher, was married to Fran, had three small children and lived in a new-build house just within the M25 corridor.
They were settled and successful, which made Lettie’s lack of direction and hopeless love life all the more obvious. It also meant that she’d slipped into the role of helper.
Neither Ed nor Daisy had the time – nor the inclination, Lettie suspected – to help out when it came to their parents. They were happy to pile round to Mum’s for a Sunday roast but disappeared sharpish when she started talking about a shopping trip to Lidl or needing someone to accompany her to a hospital appointment.
Lettie always stepped in to help, and Iris was the only member of the family who never seemed to expect anything from her.
‘You’re too obliging for your own good and your family take advantage,’ she’d often chastise Lettie, when they sat together, drinking tea. The older woman would light up a cigarette and puff smoke out of the open window as she advised: ‘You need to strike out and be your own woman. And remember when it comes to men, follow your heart and never settle for second best. It’s far better to be on your own than with someone not good enough.’
Lettie smiled at the bitter-sweet memory. Iris had certainly stayed true to her word, never marrying and, in fact, never mentioning any romantic attachments at all.
There was the sound of footsteps on the stairs before a tap sounded on the door.
‘Sorry to bother you,’ said Rosie, poking her head around the door. ‘But I’ve just made a pot of tea and wondered if you’d like a cup?’
‘That’s really kind of you but I fell asleep and think a quick walk to clear my head might be a good idea.’
‘That should do the trick, and you’re spoiled for choice around here. You could walk down into the village. It’s such a beautiful day, though it’ll be very busy with tourists. Or the walk across the cliffs, from here to Sorrell Head, will be more peaceful and the views are wonderful.’
Lettie set out across the cliffs five minutes later, her hair scraped back into a ponytail and her small handbag slung across her body.
Rosie hadn’t been exaggerating. The view really was magnificent from up here. She was so high, it felt as though she was flying alongside the seagulls that swooped above her. People were tiny ants in the winding lanes of the village far below, and when she strode as close to the cliff edge as she dared, she spotted a curve of sand lapped by azure waves. Heaven’s Cove was aptly named.
Lettie walked on and on, feeling the stresses of the day melt away, until she reached a headland that jutted out into the ocean. Was this Sorrell Head that Rosie had talked about?
