Page 62 of One Last Gift

“Tom died,” Sam said quietly. The words cut into her, like always, but Sam’s pain, the way it simmered in his voice, cut into her too. Would either of them get used to it? It must get easier, surely? But every time she thought it would, something happened to remind her that the pain of it was still there.

Greg paled, looked between them. “I…I didn’t know. I’m…” He shook his head. “That’s terrible.” He stepped aside, ushered them into what turned out was a charming little cottage, all light and airy. It was messy though, with big pots of paint out, and when he led them into the living room, Cassie saw plastic on the floor around the edges. The wall on one side was half painted, light blue over the white that had been there previously.

“I’m doing it up,” Greg explained unnecessarily.

Cassie walked over to the window, which was next to a white bookcase, mostly empty except the bottom shelf, which was filled with books that weirdly all had blue covers. She looked out—you could see the ocean from here.

“I usually just manage the bookings but, well, I got roped in.” Cassie turned back to see Greg looking at her quite intently. “Your brother…”

Why was he looking at her like that? What was he going to tell her? Cassie hugged her arms around herself as Sam came to stand next to her, not touching, just offering silent reassurance.

“He saved my life.”

Cassie’s arms dropped to her sides. “What?”

Greg gestured to the one sofa, light blue and apparently unaffected by the redecorating, and Cassie obeyed, going to sit down, Sam following her. The two of them looked up at Greg, who pulled a hand through his gray hair, shook his head ruefully. “I met him at a bar in Penzance—that’s where I live usually, you see. We were both on our own, both down.”

“Down?” Cassie asked, leaning toward Greg as she spoke. “What do you mean, down?”

Greg shrugged. “Well, I don’t know the details, I could just tell he was upset, you know? Had the signs you get when you’re drinking alone, something getting you down.” Cassie bit her lip. It didn’t sound like Tom. To her, he’d mostly seemed happy and content, seemed like he had things figured out, with a long-term girlfriend whom he loved, a job that excited him, always off on adventure holidays. She looked at Sam, but he was frowning, like it was news to him, too. Some things, it seemed, Tom had told neither of them.

“Anyway,” Greg continued, “we were both a bit drunk and a bit sad—my wife had left me, you see, though it turned out it was only temporary. She’s back with me now, we were separated for a total of two days.” He smiled at Cassie faintly, and Cassie did her best to return it, though she just wanted him to carry on with the story. “So, me and Tom, we got chatting and had a few drinks. He mentioned your parents,” he added, giving Cassie a little look.

Cassie’s heart gave a painful thud. Their parents? Tom had been talking about their parents? Is that why he was down? But whenever he talked about them with her, it was always fondly, trying to get her to remember the good things about them—things he could remember, by virtue of being those few years older than her.

“We left together when the place shut. And well, outside on the road…Well, like I said, we’d been drinking, and to cut a long story short, I nearly stepped out in front of a car and Tom, he pulled me back.” Cassie waited, but he said nothing more.

“That’s it?” She had been expecting something grander, like Tom climbing a building to save him or something. Not something that could just be a drunken memory, one embellished by alcohol.

“I’m telling you, that car would’ve hit me if it hadn’t been for your brother.”

Why hadn’t Tom told her? Maybe he’d not thought anything of it, pulling a stranger out of the way. It had clearly stuck with Greg, though. And it was a horrible, wrong thing to think but there was a moment—a tiny, fleeting moment—where Cassie felt bitter about the fact that Tom had saved Greg’s life, but his own had not been saved. That Greg should have been lucky, when Tom was not.

“Anyway, look, I’m working on the cottage, but you’re welcome to stay here.” It took Cassie a moment to register the change of subject, so she didn’t get the chance to decline the offer before Greg carried on. “I’ll go to my place in town for the night. One of the bedrooms is out of action at the moment, though,” he added with a frown, glancing between Cassie and Sam as if trying to figure out whether that would be a problem.

“I’ll sleep on the sofa,” Sam said quickly. Unable to look at Sam, because of the suggestion implied there, Cassie opened her mouth to say it wouldn’t be necessary because they wouldn’t be staying, but Greg talked over her again.

“All right, good, and there’s food in the fridge, some anyway, and you help yourself to anything. Some nice wine there too, OK? Not the cheap stuff either—Tesco Finest.”

“But we can’t kick you out of your house!” Cassie said, louder than was perhaps necessary. “I mean, sorry, it’s so incredibly kind of you, but really, all we need is the clue—the envelope, I mean—and then we’ll be out of your way.” She wanted to check her phone, see if she was still on track to make it back to London, but knew that would seem rude. “He did give you an envelope, right?”

“He did, but, well…” He got up, left the room.

Cassie looked at Sam. “Is that it?” she whispered.

“I think he’ll—”

Greg reappeared and Sam stopped talking. “Here,” he said, and thrust an envelope into her hands. There was no number in the corner of this one and Cassie found her stomach lurch. Had she gone wrong somewhere? “He told me to give this to you first.”

Cassie felt both Greg’s and Sam’s eyes on her as she opened it.

Whoop! You made it this far!

There was a doodle of a lighthouse in the middle of the page, a speech bubble coming out of the top of the lighthouse, with the words Welcome, Chipmunk inside.

I wondered if you’d do it…Just kidding (sort of). So, now you’re here, I’m setting you one more task…Oh, the power. Here it is: stay the night. Yes, that’s right, I can practically hear you scowling from here. But be a good little sister—stay the night, and you’ll get the next clue in the morning. I know you won’t want to. I know it’ll freak you out, staying somewhere unplanned, far away from home, on your own—but if you do it then it will prove you can do something spontaneous like this, and the world will not come crashing down around you.

Good luck! (Try and have fun?)