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‘Hi.’ Isla swung around, the spoon in her hand dripping cake mixture onto the floor. ‘How are you doing? Are you all unpacked?’
Ben gave a grin. ‘It didn’t take long because I travel light. Apologies for disturbing you but I wondered if there’s anything I can do to help, seeing as you’re very kindly having me stay in your home?’
‘I don’t think so, but thank you. I guess you’d have been flying about now, if you hadn’t missed your flight.’
‘I’d have been somewhere over the Atlantic. But it doesn’t matter. I’ve managed to book another flight from Heathrow, first thing Thursday morning. I don’t have anything much to do in London – I’ve visited the city before – so I thought I’d stick around in Heaven’s Cove until Wednesday and maybe explore the area more. What do you think?’
‘I think there’s a lot to see, especially if the weather improves.’ Isla bent over, deliberately hiding her face as she cleaned the splattered floor tiles. There were pros and cons to Ben’s longer stay: on the one hand, more opportunities to hear about his travels; on the other, more time for Paul to get arsey about having another house guest. She straightened up, all trace of mixed emotions gone and her expression re-set to pleasant. ‘Help yourself to some lunch if you like. There’s a loaf in the bread bin over there and ham and tomatoes in the fridge.’
‘Maybe in a minute? I’m still full of Rosie’s amazing cooked breakfast. You should try it some day. It’s unbelievable.’
‘So I’ve heard from other people.’
‘What are you making?’
‘I’m making a cake for Gran, which sounds kind of crazy, but today wouldn’t only have been her birthday, it would have been her ninetieth so it’s extra-special.’
Isla blinked when tears began to prickle. What a day of celebration they could have had, with Jessie opening cards and presents. Perhaps Caitlin would even have made it to Heaven’s Cove, rather than wishing Gran a happy birthday over the phone.
‘I’m sorry. You must miss her even more.’ Ben pulled out a chair and sat at the kitchen table. ‘You miss them all the time but special birthdays, anniversaries, Thanksgiving, Christmas – they’re the worst. So what are you going to do with the birthday cake?’
‘We’re going to have it for dessert this evening after our birthday meal in honour of Gran.’ Isla twisted her mouth. ‘Does that sound really odd, or even ghoulish?’
‘Not at all. It sounds like a touching way to remember someone you loved.’
Isla poured the mixture into two baking tins, smoothed them with a knife and opened the oven. A blast of heat hit her as she pushed the tins inside and slammed the door shut.
‘Right. That’s done.’ She pushed hair from her hot forehead with the back of her hand and sat at the table, opposite Ben. ‘You’re invited to the meal tonight, if you’d like to come. It’s only a takeaway because that was what Gran always wanted. She loved spicy food.’
‘Thank you for the invitation but I couldn’t possibly intrude. It’s a family occasion. What would Caitlin say?’
‘She’s not always been terribly family orientated. She won’t mind.’
‘Are you sure? I get the impression she can be a little fierce.’
‘Ah, you’ve realised that, have you?’ Isla grinned. ‘Her bark is worse than her bite, once you get to know her, I promise. She kind of had to be fierce growing up because she was looking after our mum, who died when I was eleven, and then she was looking after me, with Gran’s help, obviously.’
‘Your sister sounds like a formidable woman.’
‘She is,’ said Isla, remembering how Caitlin had spent years looking out for her, until it all became too much. ‘Anyway, she definitely won’t mind, and Paul’s going to be there, so it’s not just family.’
‘Won’t Paul mind, having an interloper at the special meal?’
He wouldn’t be overjoyed, thought Isla, but they could hardly leave Ben sitting alone in his bedroom while they tucked into curry and cake downstairs.
‘Paul won’t mind at all,’ she assured him, crossing her fingers behind her back.
28
CAITLIN
The room looked amazing, even if Caitlin said so herself. She stood with her arms folded and looked around her. A table had been set up in front of the hearth – with grudging help from Maisie – and firelight was twinkling on the crystal glasses and silver cutlery that Caitlin had found at the back of a kitchen cupboard: a stash of elegant tableware that Jessie, always down-to-earth, had rarely used.
A lamp by the door was exuding a golden glow that puddled shadows in the corners of the room. And propped on the mantelpiece were photos of Jessie, as a young woman, as middle age had beckoned, and as old age had arrived. Among them were pictures of Jessie with teenaged Caitlin and Isla, photos that had brought a lump to Caitlin’s throat.
‘Happy birthday, Gran,’ she said quietly, smiling at the photographic array. ‘Thank you so much for everything.’
‘Are you talking to yourself?’ asked Isla, who had slipped into the room while Caitlin’s back was turned.
