Page 114 of The Clifftop Cottage

Leah pulled her into a hug. “Always,” she whispered.

For a moment, Maisie stayed tucked against her, small arms wrapped tight around Leah’s neck, as if making sure the promise would hold.

When Leah looked up again, Gabriel was still beside the open box. The medallion rested in his palm, catching the torchlight. He turned it slowly between his fingers, studying it before setting it gently back in the box.

The movement felt careful. Respectful. As though he understood the weight of their history.

Erica lowered herself onto the grass beside Leah, knees drawn in, eyes fixed on the box.

“Who knows what really happened here,” she said quietly. “Maybe she stayed. Maybe that was the only way.”

Gabriel set the box down between them.

Erica’s fingers hovered over the letters but didn’t touch.

Gabriel glanced down. “Love letters, maybe.”

No one spoke for a moment.

Leah looked at her sister. “You found her, Eri. No one else would have kept going like that.”

Erica shook her head. “I didn’t find Mum though.” Her voice was calm, but Leah could see the old ache sitting just behind it. “I’ll never find her.”

“Oh, Eri …” Erica looked up then, and to Leah’s surprise she was smiling. Small, but real.

“But you were there.”

Leah frowned. “What?”

“For me.”

Leah didn’t know what to say to that.

“You were my sister and my mother at the same time. And I never really said thank you.”

Leah nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak straight away. Then, after a beat⁠—

“You didn’t make it easy,” she said. A flicker of humour crept in. “Mind you … neither did I.”

That earned a small laugh from Erica. “That’s one way of putting it.” Then Erica reached for her hand. “But you never stopped showing up.”

Leah squeezed her fingers. “Of course I did. You’re my sister,” she said simply. “Looking after you was never a job.”

The wind moved through the garden then, rustling the grass around them.

Maisie leaned against Leah’s leg, teddy still tucked beneath her chin.

Leah looked down at her daughter – mud on her pyjamas, cold pink cheeks, eyes still bright with curiosity.

The strange old box lay open beside them, filled with someone else’s past.

For once, everything felt … quieter.

“Is Auntie Eri leaving?” Maisie asked.

Leah glanced up, but Erica answered first.

“No, Maisie.”