Page 49 of Take Me Away

‘Dad says we can’t go inside right now because it’s dangerous, but after it’s fixed, everyone will be able to visit again,’ Maisie continues. ‘Are you going to help with the fixing? Even with your hurt foot?’

‘I reckon my rock-carrying days are over,’ I smile. ‘But I’d like to help somehow.’

‘You could do a fundraiser,’ Maisie suggests eagerly. ‘Like, sign autographs or something. People would pay lots of money for that.’

I laugh. ‘I’m not sure there’s much demand for my autograph in Sea Salt Bay.’ Or anywhere.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Kit says, his first full sentence in a while. ‘The hairdresser’s been talking about nothing else since you arrived.’

‘Not Sandy?’ I recall the woman who used to cut my hair when I was a teenager, giving me my back-to-school trim. ‘She’s still here?’

‘Everyone’s still here,’ Kit replies. ‘That’s how Sea Salt Bay works. People stay.’

That’s not strictly true, though. I know for a fact his mum didn’t stay. She left before I’d even come down for my first summer. It was always Reuben and his boys. Clearly they don’t talk about her. But I know he’s not thinking about her with his barb – he’s thinking about me.

That I didn’t stay.

Or I didn’t come back.

We stare at one another and I’m actually hoping he slides off his high horse and breaks a damn leg.

Maisie, oblivious to the tension, yawns widely.

‘Bedtime,’ Kit announces, glancing at the clock.

‘But I’m not tired,’ Maisie protests, despite evidence to the contrary. ‘Isla just got here.’

‘And she’ll be here in the morning,’ Kit says firmly. ‘School tomorrow, remember?’

Maisie turns to me, eyes pleading. ‘You will be here, right? When I wake up?’

The naked hope in her face makes my chest tighten. ‘Yes,’ I promise. ‘I’ll be here.’

This seems to satisfy her. She stands, then hesitates before throwing her arms around me in an unexpected hug. ‘I’m glad your foot got hurt,’ she whispers. ‘I mean, not that you’re hurt. But that you’re here.’

‘Me too,’ I whisper back, trying to ignore the burning in my eyes. I can’t remember the last time I was hugged with such uncomplicated affection.

Kit watches this exchange with an unreadable expression before holding out his hand to Maisie. ‘Teeth. Pyjamas. Bed. Now.’

‘Okay, okay,’ she sighs dramatically. ‘Goodnight, Isla.’

‘Goodnight, Maisie.’

I manage to eat about half the rice and sauce, set my half-finished bowl on the coffee table, and lean back against the cushions, listening to the rain beating against the windows and the muffled sounds of Kit reading Maisie a bedtime story upstairs. My foot throbs in time with my heartbeat.

It’s a long while before Kit returns downstairs. I’ve almost dozed off, the warmth and comfort of the sofa conspiring with my exhaustion. He moves quietly, collecting my bowl, disappearing into the kitchen. I hear water running, the soft clink of dishes.

When he returns, his expression is determined, a look I recognise from years ago. Normally he’d made up his mind about something stupid like jumping off the highest rocks down in the cove. Or flaming sambucas on a night out in Newquay. Although looking at him in the golden light of the living room, he’s so far from the teenager who knocked back shots and danced till 1 am.

I ache for that summer. That snapshot of time.

But I guess he’s never given it a thought. His life here has grown far beyond anything I’ve ever known for myself.

‘She’s an amazing kid, Kit. You must be so proud.’

He rubs at his jaw, hesitating. Am I that awful he can’t even sit with me for a couple of moments?

My eyes are hot. Throat thick.