Chapter 1
Chapter One
MacLeod’s Cove, New Zealand
The car rolled to a stop in front of the colonial villa, its white clapboard exterior ghostly in the moonlight. For the first time in thirty-odd hours of travelling, silence descended. Jen could hardly believe she was home after so many years, after everything that had happened.
‘Well, here we are, sis,’ Lucy said, flicking on the handbrake. She followed Jen’s gaze up to the house in which they’d been born and raised. It appeared both familiar and strange at the same time.
‘At last,’ breathed Jen, relieved to have finally made it to her destination. Suddenly exhausted, she remained seated, studying her childhood home, trying to identify what had changed.
The red door was as inviting as ever, and light from the hall lamp streamed through the stained-glass panels, casting blocks of colour down the steps to greet them, just as it had always done.
The giant pohutukawa tree still stood sentinel at the side of the villa, pre-dating the villa itself. But there were changes, too.
The outside lamp highlighted peeling paint, and the path to the front door was barely visible through the tangles of early spring growth.
The years had taken their toll on the villa — visible even at night. Just as they had on her. Still, the obvious signs of neglect puzzled her.
‘Home sweet home,’ said Lucy, staring up at the house as if trying to see it through her big sister’s eyes. ‘Though I suppose not all homes are sweet, are they?’
‘No,’ Jen said quietly. ‘Not really.’ The home she’d just left had been anything but sweet, and she could sense Lucy’s curiosity, her unspoken questions.
Jen glanced at the back seat, where Liam sat fast asleep. He’d barely slept during the entire journey from England, but here, finally safe, he was out for the count.
‘Nothing sweeter than him,’ Jen said, touching his knee. The reminder was necessary — that this was real — that they’d escaped. They were safe now.
‘He’s adorable,’ said Lucy. ‘You bred a good ‘un there.’ She opened the door. ‘Let’s get the bags inside and then we can bring Liam in.’
Jen followed Lucy out of the car and inhaled deeply. That first breath of salty air, overlaid with the fragrance of an early flowering daphne bush, confirmed she was home.
‘Are you coming or are you just going to stand there?’ teased Lucy as she struggled up the path carrying a couple of bags and the suitcase which had been secreted in the hire car in London, ahead of their departure.
‘I’m coming,’ she said, grabbing the rest of the bags from the boot. Closing it quietly, she followed Lucy up to the front door. They dropped the bags on the familiar wraparound porch and returned for Liam, who was stirring.
Jen leaned into him and kissed his tousled hair. ‘We’re here, sleepyhead,’ she whispered, as he rubbed his eyes and struggled out of the seat into her arms. She lifted him out, and he stood blinking, looking up at the house.
‘Grandma’s house?’ he asked, as if unable to believe this mythical house really existed.
‘That’s right.’ His small, warm hand slipped into hers, and she looked down into her son’s trusting eyes. ‘We’re safe now,’ she murmured, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.
Lucy, who had been unloading a duffle bag from the boot, paused and glanced at them, her face etched with concern. ‘I haven’t asked why you left,’ she began, her gaze steady on Jen’s face. ‘And I won’t pry…’
‘Thanks. I’ll tell you all about it later. But now’ — she looked down at Liam, who was suddenly wide awake, still on UK time — ‘this one needs my attention.’
Lucy went ahead, pushing open the front door and stepping into the house. More familiar scents enveloped Jen as she followed her sister inside. Spring flowers, baking, and chopped wood, which she knew would be piled up beside the fireplace — things that went to make up a home.
Jen and Liam followed Lucy into the kitchen. The satisfying click of the bakelite switch turned on the lights, revealing an unchanged kitchen-family room.
Charity shop finds and family heirlooms vied for space on the open shelves, and plants fitted into every nook and cranny that were free, and some that weren’t. Beside the butler’s sink, washed dishes drained, and pots, pans and colanders hung from an overhead rack.
‘Wow,’ said Liam, looking around, wide awake now. ‘It’s like that museum we went to, Mum.’
Lucy failed to stifle her laughter as she opened the larder door. ‘Fancy a hot chocolate, Liam?’
Liam nodded but still kept hold of Jen’s hand. She gave it a reassuring squeeze.
‘Good idea,’ she said, bobbing down in front of him and undoing his coat. ‘There,’ she said, slipping it off his slim shoulders and draping it over the back of a kitchen chair. ‘Come and sit over here on the window seat. It used to be my favourite reading place.’
He knelt among the cushions and pressed his nose against the window. ‘I can’t see any lights,’ he said, peering into the darkness.
‘That’s because there aren’t any. We’re not surrounded by houses and streets and shops and cars here, like we were in London.
’ Jen joined Liam on the window seat, rubbing away the condensation his breath had formed.
‘There’s just a narrow patch of grass, a wall, then a bigger stretch of sand and the sea out there.
’ She glanced down at Liam, whose gaze was fixed on the blackness outside as if imagining the scene her words had created.
‘Nothing to keep you awake like police sirens or the shouts of people walking by. There’s only the sound of the sea to lull you to sleep, and the whisper of the wind in the trees to keep you there. ’
‘Oh,’ Liam said with a sigh, as he relaxed into the cushions. Without thinking, she’d lowered her voice, changing it to the ‘woozy voice’ Liam claimed she had when she read him bedtime stories.
It wouldn’t take much to get him off to sleep tonight, unlike most other nights when he stubbornly lay awake until exhaustion finally overtook him. It was tension, she knew — tension and worry and fear which super-charged his nervous system, draining him. He picked up every cold and ailment going.
Lucy slid the cup of hot chocolate across the table. Liam rubbed his eyes and took the cup between his two hands before looking up anxiously. ‘Can I drink, Mum?’
Jen felt her heart break a little more. ‘Of course you can. Go ahead.’
She glanced at Lucy, whose expression was uncharacteristically bleak.
‘Well, that confirms something,’ said Lucy, passing Jen her cup.
She took a sip, not wanting to talk about things now, especially in front of Liam. But he looked more interested in examining the miscellaneous contents of a pottery bowl. ‘What?’
‘The reason for your being here.’ Jen had forgotten how tenacious her sister could be. ‘Sometimes talking helps, you know.’
Jen released a slow sigh, her shoulders slumping as she considered Lucy’s words. ‘It was Alistair, of course,’ she finally admitted, the words tasting bitter. She shot Lucy a brief smile. ‘But I’m sure you guessed that already.’
A grim smile tugged at Lucy’s lips, her eyes reflecting both understanding and sorrow. ‘Guessed that it was a man? Of course. Isn’t it always?’ she replied, her tone tinged with a weary humour.
Jen managed a half-smile, wondering what lay behind the comment. She realised she hardly knew her little sister at all.
‘Invariably,’ said a voice behind her. Jen swung around to see her mother, Kate, backlit by the kitchen light.
Something tightened in Jen’s throat — halfway between a sob and a laugh — and she jumped up and walked towards her mother. ‘Mum!’
Kate pressed her lips together as if to stop words or a cry emerging — Jen didn’t know which.
Instead, Kate held out her arms, and Jen stepped into them.
She smelled of comfort — of vanilla and fresh laundry.
But as Jen’s arms went around her, her fingers felt the bones of her mother’s back, sharper than she remembered.
She’d lost weight. She drew away, realising that nothing was going to be the same as it had been.
Kate’s eyes were watery as she smiled, her fingers gripping Jen as if she never wanted to let her go. ‘It’s so good you’ve come back.’
Jen swallowed. ‘It’s good to be back.’ She gave a half-laugh, and swiped away unwanted tears. What the heck? She rarely cried anymore.
‘It’s OK,’ said Kate. She released Jen and looked down at Liam, bobbing down to his height. ‘And who’s this handsome young man?’
Liam looked up at her with wide eyes. ‘I’m your grandson, Grandma.’
Kate nodded, suppressing any humour she might have felt at Liam’s solemnity. ‘I thought you might be and I’m so glad you’ve come to stay, Liam.’
‘Me too,’ he said, his smile wobbling a little.
‘Something tells me we’re going to be very good friends.’
Liam’s eyes widened. ‘Who told you?’ He shot a glance at Jen, which was edged with fear.
She put her arms around her son’s shoulders, hating to see such timidity. ‘No one, darling. Grandma just means that she knows it without being told.’
Jen’s mum stood up and looked at Liam thoughtfully. ‘Would you like to see your bedroom? You must be ready for bed after such a long journey.’
Jen answered Liam’s glance with an approving nod, and when he reached up and slipped his hand into Kate’s, Jen released a tightly held breath. She hadn’t imagined what a relief it would be to see him trust someone other than herself.
Kate talked gently to him as they walked up the stairs to the upper floor of the villa, the floorboards creaking with each footstep. Jen turned to find Lucy watching her.
‘You can relax now, you know,’ Lucy said. ‘Whatever Alistair did, he can’t get you here. You and Liam are safe.’
She shot Lucy a weak smile. ‘Yes,’ she agreed, relieved that Lucy understood the essentials without explanation.
‘I very much doubt he’ll want to travel to the other side of the world to retrieve the son and wife he despises.
Not now he’s got what he wanted.’ She repeated the words, as much to convince herself as her sister.
‘And what’s that?’
‘Just… material stuff.’
‘Material things can be replaced. The important thing is you’re free now.’
Lucy may have understood the gist of what had happened, but there were things — hidden things — which weren’t so easy to leave behind.
She didn’t know if they’d ever be free of the distrust, wariness and fear which had taken root in them both.
But she knew one thing. She’d give it a damn good try. She had to. For Liam’s sake.
Liam. Jen glanced up, hoping he felt safe with his grandma.
‘He’ll be fine.’
Jen grunted. It didn’t look like she’d be able to get anything past Lucy.
‘It’s just that he finds it hard to settle. And he’s in a strange place.’
‘Then go satisfy yourself that he’s in good hands and then come back and finish your drink.’
‘It’s nearly midnight. Are you sure you don’t want to call it a night?’
‘Nope. It’s nice to be up this late. I’m usually in bed by nine so I can get up for the café at five. But I’ve got someone to cover for me tomorrow. Besides, you look wired.’
Jen couldn’t disagree. She felt as if she’d lie awake for hours if she went to bed. And she didn’t fancy staring at the ceiling, going over and over the enormity of what she’d just done.
‘I’ll go check on Liam.’
‘Sure thing. Whatever you want.’ Lucy gave Jen a hug. ‘I just want you to know that I’m already loving having my big sister back. I’m so glad you’re here — you and Liam. It’ll work out, you’ll see.’
A lump in Jen’s throat prevented her from replying.
While Lucy returned to the kitchen, Jen went upstairs. Her toes nudged the brass runners which held the carpet in place. The metallic clack was the sound of her childhood, bringing new layers of memory settling over the old.
She hesitated on the landing, about to open one of the main bedrooms on the first floor, before hearing her mother’s voice coming from the top of the house. Of course. She’d put Liam in one of the attic rooms Jen used to share with her other sister, Ellie.
Jen climbed the stairs and paused on the narrow landing.
Her old nightlight filled the room with an orange glow.
She smiled to herself as she listened to her mother talk, her voice as comforting as the feather duvet she pulled over Liam.
He rolled onto his side with his back to Jen, and gazed up at Kate, who was still talking.
She was telling Liam a fairytale she’d invented and embellished over the years. It seemed to be having the same magical effect on her grandson as it had had on Jen’s sisters. But never her. She’d never believed in fairy tales. And she’d been right. They didn’t exist.
She leaned against the door jamb, catching Kate’s gaze from time to time, and waited for her to finish the story. It didn’t take long. This seemed to be the abbreviated version, especially for tired boys who’d just travelled across the world.
After a few minutes Kate rose, kissed Liam’s cheek, and said goodnight. Liam turned around, saw Jen and relaxed back against the pillow. ‘Mum,’ was all he said.
‘Thank you,’ Jen said to Kate as she walked past.
Kate smiled and touched her on the shoulder before descending the steep steps from the attic rooms to the landing below.
Jen sat down next to Liam who was now snuggled up against a near thread-bare rabbit. She stroked his face, and his eyelids flickered. ‘Did you enjoy Grandma’s story?’
Liam nodded.
‘Your grandmother is very good at telling stories.’
‘So are you,’ said Liam loyally.
She kissed him. ‘Not as good as Grandma. You’ll see.’
He looked as if he needed convincing, and Jen saw traces of anxiety in his eyes.
‘Will you sing me a song?’ he asked.
‘Of course.’ She cleared her throat, still dry after over thirty hours of flying, and summoned up her last remaining shred of energy.
She didn’t have to think about which song to choose. There was only ever one song he wanted to hear. It wasn’t even a children’s song. But Are you Going to Scarborough Fair always seemed to do the trick. And tonight was no exception.
Before she’d finished, he’d fallen into the kind of deep sleep that came only with jet lag. She pulled the duvet a little higher around his shoulders, crept out of the room and down the stairs.
As she opened the kitchen door she was greeted by the combined gazes of her mother and Lucy. The easy part was over. Now it was time to tell the truth. Or at least as much as she could bear.