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‘Yes, police, because we were so worried. But Isla thought of this place. Honestly, I can’t believe you walked all this way in the dark.’
‘It wasn’t so bad,’ muttered Maisie.
‘It was foolish and dangerous.’ Caitlin shook her head, seemingly close to tears. ‘But that doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is that you’re safe and sound and we can get you home.’ She glanced up the stairs and gasped. ‘What the hell?’
Maisie followed her gaze. Connie was standing on the landing, still giving off major ghostly vibes in her long nightdress.
‘Sorry, Connie,’ said Maisie as the old woman walked slowly down the stairs.
Caitlin swallowed and held out her hand. ‘You must be Miss Carmichael. I’m so sorry for all of this fuss.’
Connie ignored Caitlin’s hand and spoke to Maisie. ‘The stepmother, I presume?’
Maisie nodded. ‘And Isla’s outside. I need to go home with them now.’
‘Good idea,’ said Connie, her white hair catching the light. ‘Then I might be able to get some sleep.’
‘I really am sorry, Miss Carmichael, for all the trouble you’ve had, and I appreciate you taking Maisie in and keeping her safe.’
Connie scowled. ‘Couldn’t leave her standing out in the cold, could I? She needs people looking after her. People who give a damn.’
She tilted her head at Maisie and watched while she and Caitlin walked to the car where Isla was waiting.
‘I’m so sorry about the letter,’ said Maisie, hanging her head.
But Isla pulled her into a hug and whispered into her ear, ‘It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’re OK. Let’s get you home.’
Isla slid into the driving seat and Caitlin got in next to her.
‘Come on, Maisie,’ said Isla. ‘It’s really late.’
Maisie turned back towards Connie. She looked so alone and vulnerable, framed in the doorway in her nightdress. She didn’t have family who would come out in the middle of the night to make sure she was safe. All she had were her cats and her ghosts.
‘Shall I call round to see you sometime, before I go back to London?’ she called out to her.
Connie gave her a straight stare and then a small shrug. ‘If you like,’ she said, before slamming the door shut.
39
MAISIE
Maisie was sitting in the conservatory at Rose Cottage, gazing disconsolately at the back garden. Last night’s drama seemed like a dream now – a nightmare when Caitlin’s face had loomed out of the dark. But she felt bad and embarrassed about her behaviour, and wondered if Connie, like her, had a headache after her broken sleep.
A robin was scratching at the soil in Jessie’s garden – its breast a cheerful splash of red against the dark earth. It must be nice being a robin, Maisie thought, watching its beak bob up and down: no family dramas to deal with, no scary school, nothing on your mind except finding the next juicy worm.
She sighed loudly, aware of the ridiculousness of wanting to be a bird, and pulled her feet up under her in the high-backed armchair. It was so quiet in this house. The wind had dropped overnight and all she could hear was the faint hum of the old boiler in the kitchen.
One thing that she’d come to appreciate here in Heaven’s Cove was peace, and that really surprised her. There was little peace in London – it was all busy hustle and bustle and noise everywhere. Even at three in the morning, the wails of emergency vehicles and the shouts of people walking home punctured the night. Maisie had thought she liked it, but she’d never really known anything else. And she had to admit that the peace in Heaven’s Cove – the silence at night, broken only by the sound of wind and waves – was calming.
But Caitlin must be desperate to be back in the city, and Maisie would soon be dumped with her grandparents. She sighed at the thought.
Her paternal grandparents’ interest in her had waned as she’d changed from a pliable child into a stroppy teenager with a stud in her nose. But no doubt they’d step up and take her in. They’d probably feel obliged to do so, seeing as it was their son’s gambling that had made her homeless.
Maisie dug her nails into the palms of her hands until the pain blocked out the black despair that was swirling through her body. Honestly, life was hard enough without all the adults around you making you feel unwanted.
Maisie pushed her nails in harder and had curled, foetus-like, in the chair when she heard footsteps approaching. She’d snuck down into the conservatory precisely so she wouldn’t have to face Caitlin or Isla and endure the lecture on behaving more responsibly that was surely heading her way. But the footsteps were getting louder.
‘I can’t, Sean,’ said a voice that Maisie recognised as Caitlin’s. Fortunately, she couldn’t see Maisie because the back of her chair stood between them.
