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‘I’m sure I will be.’
He put his rucksack on the bed, on top of the sheets that Isla had changed earlier that morning. The old bedsheets, that still smelled of Jessie’s lavender perfume and talcum powder, were in the washing basket. Isla didn’t have the heart to bundle them into the washing machine and wash away her gran’s perfume for ever. Not yet.
‘There are towels over there, on the dressing table, and the bathroom is just along the landing, past the bookcase. Anyway, I’ll leave you to unpack.’
She glanced at Ben’s rucksack. Unpacking would only take a matter of minutes, but Paul had a habit of calling in unexpectedly and she didn’t want him to find her and Ben in the bedroom together. It wasn’t worth the look of disappointment on his face.
‘Just give me a shout if you need anything else,’ she said, heading for the door. ‘Anything at all.’ Did that sound over the top? Paul would think so. ‘I mean…’ She stopped talking and smiled instead. If she started second-guessing what Paul would think about everything, Ben’s stay with them would be hard going. ‘See you later.’
She’d reached the foot of the stairs when the front door opened and Caitlin stepped inside after her trip to the Mini Mart for provisions. Although the snow was gradually disappearing, getting out of the village would still be more trouble than it was worth.
‘Is he here?’ Caitlin asked, glancing at the large boots in the corner. Her face was pale this morning, apart from the dark circles under her eyes. She looked as if she’d hardly slept.
‘Yes, he’s upstairs in Gran’s room, unpacking.’ Isla swallowed. ‘Are you sure that Gran wouldn’t mind? It just feels wrong, especially with it being her birthday today.’
To Isla’s surprise, Caitlin put down the bulging carrier bag she was carrying, walked over and put her arm around her shoulders. ‘I don’t think Gran would mind at all. She wouldn’t want her room kept as some sort of shrine. I’m sure she’d much rather it was being used.’ Caitlin raised an eyebrow. ‘Especially by a handsome young American.’
‘Is he handsome?’ Isla grinned. ‘I hadn’t noticed.’
‘Don’t let Paul hear you saying that.’
Isla’s smile faded. ‘He’s not here, is he?’
When she looked around, she felt Caitlin’s arm tighten across her shoulders. Being so close to her sister felt unfamiliar after years apart, but it felt nice. It felt safe.
The sound of Maisie’s music began to drift through the air and Caitlin dropped her arm. ‘Sorry about the racket. I’ll ask her to turn it down.’
‘It’s all right. I’ve got quite used to having her music in the house. It’ll cheer the place up, especially today. I can’t believe Gran would have been ninety. What a milestone! I wish she’d lasted just a few more weeks…’
Suffocating grief settled on Isla like a blanket.
‘I know,’ said Caitlin, her face drawn. ‘Me too. But we’ll mark the occasion tonight and drink to her memory. Happy birthday, Gran.’
‘Yeah, happy birthday,’ said Isla, feeling her throat tighten.
‘I’m not sure Maisie will be keen on the whole idea of a dinner party, mind.’
‘Not keen on what?’ asked Maisie, who’d just appeared at the top of the stairs, still in her pyjamas. She pushed a hand through her hair which looked as if it hadn’t seen a brush in days.
‘Hi, Maisie. Are you all right?’ asked Caitlin. ‘I put my head around your door earlier but you were fast asleep. I thought you might want to talk?’
Isla glanced between the two of them. Talk about what? There was something going on between Caitlin and her stepdaughter that she didn’t know about. Maisie looked tired, too, as if she’d been up half the night.
But Maisie shook her head. ‘What won’t I be keen about?’
‘We’re holding a dinner party this evening, to celebrate Gran’s birthday,’ Caitlin explained.
Maisie scratched her backside distractedly. ‘But she’s not here.’
‘No, but she’ll be here in spirit and Isla and I want to celebrate her life.’
‘Bit ironic when her life’s over,’ muttered Maisie, before being silenced with a glare from Caitlin.
‘So, do you want to come, or not?’ she asked her stepdaughter.
‘Not really. It’s not my kind of thing.’
‘We’re having a takeaway.’
