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Paul smiled, all peevishness gone from his face as if he’d flicked a switch. ‘May I say, Caitlin, that you’re looking particularly lovely this evening.’
‘Thanks.’ Caitlin caught sight of herself in the mirror above the fireplace. She was wearing the only dress she’d brought for what was supposed to be a short stay in Heaven’s Cove. But the pale green of the jersey fabric suited her.
The doorbell rang and there was a sudden thundering of feet, down the stairs and through the hall.
‘That’ll be Maisie,’ said Caitlin with a grin. ‘She’s hungry.’
A minute later, Maisie came into the room in her pyjamas, carrying two large carrier bags, which she plonked onto the table. The smell of Indian food began to drift around the room, making Caitlin’s stomach grumble. She was hungry too.
Isla began to pull out plastic tubs and place them along the middle of the table. ‘Maisie, do you think you could get the plates which are warming in the oven?’
When Maisie came back with the plates, she ladled an obscene amount of curry and rice onto hers. At least the stress of losing her home didn’t appear to be affecting her appetite.
‘Leave some for the rest of us.’ Isla laughed and, rummaging in the paper bag nearest to her, pulled out a poppadum and waved it at her niece. ‘Don’t forget one of these – oh, and don’t forget that we’re going to see Connie tomorrow, if the snow’s on the way out.’
‘You’re wasting your time trying to talk to her. And mine,’ muttered Maisie. But she said a nice thank you for the food before grabbing the poppadum and disappearing up to her bedroom.
‘Who’s Connie?’ asked Paul, taking off his jacket and hanging it over the back of his chair. He ran his hand along the lapels, smoothing out imaginary creases.
‘Connie Carmichael, who lives up on the edge of the moors.’
‘Really?’ Paul sniffed. ‘Why on earth are you going to see her?’
‘Maisie thinks Connie’s mum knew Edith, or knew something about her, at least. It’s worth a quick trip to see what Connie might have heard.’
Paul shook his head. ‘I might have guessed it would be about that odd letter that you’re all obsessed with.’
‘Hardly obsessed,’ murmured Caitlin, but Paul had already sat down and was grabbing his share of onion bhajis.
Caitlin and Isla spooned out their rice and had begun ladling curry onto their plates when the door opened and Ben walked in. ‘I smelled the food. Sorry I’m late.’ He stopped talking and looked around the room. ‘Wow, when you invited me to join you for takeout food, I didn’t realise it was going to be such an occasion.’ He glanced at Paul in his crisp white shirt and looked down at his jeans. ‘You didn’t mention there was a dress code.’
‘I don’t suppose you have a dinner suit stuffed in your rucksack,’ said Caitlin with a grin. ‘And you look perfectly fine, so take a seat. It was a tradition that Jessie would dress up on her birthday and enjoy her favourite takeaway food. And even though she’s gone…’
Caitlin stopped talking and swallowed hard as Ben slipped into his seat.
‘I’m all for traditions being upheld,’ he said, giving her a sympathetic smile. ‘I think it’s wonderful to honour your grandmother’s memory in this way. And you all look amazing.’
He smiled at Caitlin and Paul and then his eyes fell on Isla, across the table. ‘Hey, look at you. Now I’m feeling very under-dressed.’
‘Don’t worry about it. We’re all friends here,’ said Paul with unexpected bonhomie. ‘Can I suggest you have some food before it all goes. We Devon folk have good appetites. Here, let me help you,’ he urged, getting to his feet and leaning across the table.
But when he pushed a container full of rice towards Ben, his elbow caught the side of a chicken korma and Caitlin watched, horrified, as it slid off the table and into Isla’s lap.
‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry,’ said Paul, grabbing a handful of paper serviettes and thrusting them towards Isla, who had yelped and jumped up. Great clumps of curry were sliding down her dress, leaving streaks of yellow grease across the delicate blue silk.
Ben and Caitlin were also on their feet, but there was nothing to be done. Isla, her face twisted in despair, scooped up the bottom of her dress, to stop curry from falling onto the carpet, and ran from the room, towards the kitchen.
‘I’d better go and help her. Just eat,’ said Paul, following his girlfriend.
There was silence after the door had banged shut behind him.
‘What a terrible shame,’ said Ben, sitting down slowly. ‘That was a beautiful dress.’
‘It belonged to our mother,’ said Caitlin, feeling close to tears. No dry cleaner would be able to remove those stains from silk. ‘It meant a lot to Isla, a lot to both of us.’
She began to spoon rice onto her plate. Her appetite had disappeared but she didn’t know what else to do.
‘Paul must feel awful about it,’ said Ben, glancing out of the window into the darkness beyond.
