‘Amy and I took over the housework and chores – that was nothing, and it felt good to keep busy. Auntie Sue stayed for a couple of weeks, until we were back on our feet. Except Mum didn’t get back up. She stayed in bed for weeks, only getting out when we hauled her into the bathroom for a shower and when we needed to change the bedding. She kept the curtains closed, and the room was overpowered by a strange smell that was new to me, but I soon learned was sadness.’
I shuddered at the thought of that peculiar combination of damp, sweat and unwashed laundry that I couldn’t ever forget.
‘Mum was lost without him. And then one day, she was gone.’
I paused then, and Adam put an arm around me and wiped a tear from my cheek that I hadn’t realised was there.
‘Come on. You don’t have to tell me the whole story now. Besides, we’ve got to find you a home.’
I took fish and chips over for Mike and the kids for lunch. I wanted to check in on them and let them know I would be sticking around for a while. Rachel was already at the house and was sorting laundry in the kitchen, so I told her first.
‘That’s… good news, I suppose.’ She didn’t take her eyes off the basket of socks as she spoke.
‘I thought you’d be… a bit more pleased?’ I blushed. I thought Rachel liked me and we were getting on so well. Had I imagined it?
‘I am pleased, really – I think it’s great.’ She put down the laundry and looked at me. ‘It’s just… well, what comes next? You stay here for a few months and then you leave again?’
‘Well yes, that’s the idea.’
She rubbed her eye with the heel of her hand. ‘These kids have just lost their mum. What they need now is consistency and stability. Not to get close to someone, only to lose them too.’
I crumpled, my balloon burst. I hadn’t thought about it that way.
‘I can’t just drop everything and come back forever,’ I said. ‘I have my own life, the life that I chose, just like Amy chose to stay here and have three kids.’ I waved my arm around the kitchen, as if that was the sum of my sister’s life choices.
Too late, I noticed that Lucas was standing in the doorway, listening to everything. He bolted and ran back up the stairs.
Could I get anything right today?
I followed him to his room and knocked timidly on the door. He was lying on the bottom bunk, his head twisted to face the wall. I stroked his hair.
‘Please don’t be cross with me. I’m going to stay for a while – I thought you guys would be happy?’
‘But you don’t want to stay with us. You’re only staying with us because Mummy said you have to!’
‘That’s not true. Of course I want to be here. We’re going to stick together and look after each other, like we promised. It’s just that I can’t stay forever, like Mummy wanted. It would be too complicated for me.’
‘We have a spare room here. Or you could come and live with Nanny. It’s not that complicated.’
If only life was as simple as the perspective of an eleven-year-old.
Mike looked rough. His skin was grey, with puffy blue bags under bloodshot eyes, and his hair was greasy. I wanted to run him a hot bubble bath.
I offered to take the kids out for a few hours so he could get some rest. Adam had already lined up some properties for me to see that afternoon, so I told them they could come along and hang out at the amusement arcade between viewings.
We called in at Mum and Auntie Sue’s first for some tea and cake. Mum was still in her dressing gown but didn’t seem to be embarrassed to have unexpected visitors. Without make-up, she looked so much older. I told her I would be staying in Seahouses for three months and her expression didn’t change.
‘I’ll make up the small bedroom for you,’ said Auntie Sue. ‘It’s probably not what you’re used to, but your suitcase can go in the loft, and if you need more storage, there’s half a wardrobe in my room…’
‘Thanks,’ I said quickly, ‘but I think it’s better if I have my own place. It might be a bit much for all of us, squeezed in here.’
Mum gazed out the window, her attention suddenly captured by a blackbird on the garden fence.
Adam had arranged three viewings. The first address was on Swallow Street, just around the corner from Mike and Amy’s house. I must have walked down that lane thousands of times, but I struggled to picture it until I arrived.
The location was perfect. It was a row of old fishermen’s houses perched at the top of the hill above the harbour, accessed by the back lane which was sheltered from the wind despite the height. A narrow footpath ran along the front of the row, putting just a few feet and some ornate iron railings between the front doors of the cottages and the dizzying drop down to the harbour.
Each house was painted a different colour. Puffin Cottage, the one I was viewing, was pale pink and had a tiny, pebbled back yard. Climbing honeysuckle framed a pale green door with a big silver knocker. It was absolutely beautiful.
The owner, a weather-worn woman in her late fifties, was there to give us the tour. She introduced herself as Sandra and started chatting to Adam while I took
