Chapter 7
Leah stood in Erica’s doorway the next morning, holding two steaming mugs. She stepped inside and handed one to Erica, who sat up groggily, propping herself on one elbow. Erica accepted the tea with a grateful murmur but braced herself for what was coming.
“I didn’t hear you come in last night,” Leah said, leaning against the doorframe, her voice carrying that practised blend of concern and gentle authority.
“I didn’t want to wake you,” Erica replied, her voice hoarse with sleep. She took in Leah’s appearance – blue overalls, hair pulled back into her usual tight messy bun, still damp from her morning shower.
“Well, I would have preferred you let me know when you came in,” Leah continued, her brow furrowed.
“I woke up in a cold sweat and had to come in here early this morning just to check on you. Please, Erica, keep me updated. You’re living under my roof, and that does come with some responsibility, I’m afraid.
Maisie was asking for you last night, she wanted a bedtime story. I didn’t know what to tell her.”
“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” Erica muttered, the words tumbling out too quickly, like a child caught sneaking in past curfew.
She sipped her tea, the warmth soothing her throat but doing little to loosen the knot in her stomach.
From down the hall, the sound of a morning radio show drifted in, the DJs laughing wildly at some energetic joke.
“Maisie asked for me?” Erica frowned, genuinely puzzled. Why would her niece care about the aunt who barely made an effort?
“Of course she did. She talks about you all the time.” Leah’s tone softened as she stepped closer to the bed.
“You don’t see it, do you?” She perched on the edge of the mattress, her expression shifting into one of quiet fondness.
“You’re the coolest thing to come into her life.
And that’s saying something, considering how much she loves Halloween – and trust me, Halloween’s a big deal for Maisie. ”
“I haven’t exactly been a great aunt, have I?” Erica said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“You’ve been a bit … distracted,” Leah said gently, patting Erica’s leg over the covers. “And that’s okay. We’ve all been so proud of you.”
Erica blinked, caught off guard. Proud? Who was proud of her – Leah? Dylan? Maisie? The idea felt foreign, almost undeserved.
“I’m just worried about you,” Leah continued, her hand lingering. “Last night … well, it gave me a bit of a shock.”
If only she really knew.
“It won’t happen again,” Erica repeated, hoping it wasn’t a lie.
Leah nodded, though concern still lingered in the lines of her face. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m keeping tabs on you. You’re a grown woman, Erica. You can stay here as long as you like, but …” She paused. “You need to talk to me. Please.”
Erica looked at her sister and, for the first time, noticed the fine lines etched around her eyes and forehead. This wasn’t just about her, she realised. Leah’s worry radiated outward, warm and heavy, like a hand pressed firmly against her chest.
Erica took Maisie to school that morning, this time braving the stares of other parents with something closer to confidence. She even managed a casual salute to a few familiar faces from the other day, her lips quirking into a half-smile.
But her real joy came from Maisie, who skipped along, her hands swinging loosely at her side.
“You’ll pick me up after school, right?” Maisie asked, her face bright with hope.
Erica couldn’t help but grin. Something about her niece’s excitement broke through the cold shell she’d been carrying.
“Yes, I’ll be here to pick you up,” she promised, shoving her hands into her coat pockets against the biting chill. She leaned down to Maisie’s level, noticing the loose ponytail, the frizzy fringe held back with two bright hair clips – one shaped like a pumpkin, the other a spider.
Erica laughed softly. “You really do love Halloween, huh?”
Maisie beamed. “It’s my favourite!”
For a moment, something flickered inside Erica – a spark of inspiration, a sudden idea that warmed her more than the tea had earlier. She nudged Maisie gently on the arm. “Now, have the best day of your life, crocodile.”
Maisie giggled and ran to the school doors, her backpack bouncing with every step. A teacher stood at the entrance, dressed in a pink tweed skirt and a fuzzy white turtleneck, arms full of books, greeting each child with a calm smile that softened the chaos of the schoolyard.
Erica watched Maisie disappear inside, her heart unexpectedly light. But as the wind picked up, she shivered, clutching her white fleece ski jacket tighter around her. It should have been warm enough but the cold seemed to cut straight through her.
Or maybe it wasn’t just the cold.
Maybe it was something else.
She couldn’t keep going like this.
Instead of retreating back to the warmth of her bed, Erica found herself wandering along the high street instead.
The morning air was crisp, her breath puffing into small clouds as she exhaled.
She passed a tiny bakery, its windows fogged from the heat inside.
As a customer stepped out clutching a brown paper bag, the scent of sourdough and warm pastry spilled out onto the pavement.
Next door, a florist had arranged an autumnal display – bunches of lavender tied with twine, sprigs of ivy and dried wheat spilling from wicker baskets. Handwritten signs listed prices in looping ink.
Further along, a second-hand bookshop beckoned beneath a faded awning. Novels were stacked haphazardly in the window, and a small chalkboard sign leaned against the door:
Tea with the other she lifted the ornament from the shelf. “Not for you, I take it?”
“What makes you say that?” Erica felt a flicker of irritation, or maybe it was discomfort, at being so easily read.
“Well …” The woman tilted her head, studying her. “If I had to guess – you’re related to Leah, the midwife. And this,” she said, holding up the ornament, tiny bat wings now visible on the cat’s back, “would be for imaginative wee Maisie. Am I right?”
Erica blinked. “Perhaps.”
“The sister from London,” the woman went on, warmly, and yet somehow too precisely. “A pleasure.”
“Thanks.” Erica’s throat tightened. She looked away, suddenly eager to be done, but the woman seemed in no hurry at all. “I’m Erica,” she said. “Leah’s sister.”
“Erica! Lovely.” The woman beamed, extending a hand. Her nails shimmered bronze-brown in the light. “Margery. Owner of the Green Cauldron. Though I imagine you worked that out.”
Erica shook her hand, surprised by the pull of her presence.
“You give that to your niece,” Margery said, slipping the ornament into a sleek black gift bag.
“She’ll love it. Little gestures matter more than people think.
” She lowered her voice. “And there’s a café just down the road that does a cinnamon pumpkin hot chocolate Maisie would adore. A small outing, perhaps?”
“You know,” Erica said slowly, “I did think about doing something like that … how did you know?”
Margery beamed and gave a small, unassuming shrug.
“Oh, people leave little trails, if you know how to look.” As Erica pulled out her phone to pay, Margery waved it away.
“On the house,” she said. “Your sister’s an asset to this town.
A healer. The least I can do.” She smiled.
“And I’m glad you’ve finally come to stay with us. ”
“I’m not sure I’m staying, exactly,” Erica said, the words catching.
“Oh, Rock Cove has a way of settling under the skin,” Margery replied lightly. “It shows you things. Some good. Some less so. But all of it hard to turn away from.”
Before Erica could insist on paying, Margery was already ushering her to the door. “Take care now.”
Outside, Erica paused, the gift bag swinging gently at her side. She glanced back. Margery stood framed in the window, her expression unreadable. The striped cat lounged beside her, golden eyes fixed on Erica, as though he, too, was watching her.