The Summer Swap

Chapter 8

Lily

And now she knew who owned Dune Cottage. The mystery was solved.

Why hadn’t she guessed? That was pretty simple to answer. She’d been to the Lapthorne house, and it was the size of a museum with grounds as big as a park. They owned a beach house in The Hamptons. Another house in Manhattan. They had a place in France—or was it Italy? Every property could sleep a dozen people comfortably.

Dune Cottage wasn’t a statement property, like the ones she cleaned on a daily basis. It wasn’t a spacious beach house with glass walls and a swimming pool. It was normal (as much as any property in this part of the Cape could be described as “normal”—it was all about perspective). She’d assumed that at some point it had been a much-loved family retreat, but that the children had grown up and the cottage forgotten.

It hadn’t crossed her mind that the reason there were paintings by Cameron Lapthorne on the wall was because the place belonged to him.

According to the company she worked for, no one ever stayed in the cottage. Lily never would have chosen to stay here had she known the owner might show up.

She felt sick. She was also cold after her night on the beach, and her eyes stung from lack of sleep. “Are you going to call the police?” She imagined calling her family from the police station. Hi, Mom, my new life isn’t going so well...

Cecilia raised her eyebrows. “Why ever would I call the police?”

“I’ve been staying here.” Saying it aloud made her wonder what on earth had made her do such a thing. Her parents had raised her to be honest and law-abiding. Her life had been all about studying hard and getting top grades. About aspiration and achievement. She’d been on a carefully curated path, running to keep up with people until she’d fallen hard. Until something inside her had snapped.

She was no longer a high achiever. She was someone who stayed in properties that didn’t belong to them. She was someone who broke the law. “It was wrong of me.”

“I’m sure you had your reasons,” Cecilia said. “Did you pick the lock on the front door or break a window to gain access?”

“No. I used my key.”

“Exactly. You had a key. All you really did was stay a little longer than was probably expected of you. You appear to have kept the cottage in immaculate condition. Until I came along.” Cecilia patted her arm. “I feel guilty for making such a mess. And I’m grateful to you because if you hadn’t been here, I might have bled to death. You have excellent first aid skills and you’ve been very kind to me. I don’t intend to repay that kindness by calling the police. You were here last night when I arrived?”

There seemed no point in lying.

“I was sleeping in the attic room. The noise woke me.”

“The noise? Oh, you mean the paintings. I didn’t know there was anyone in the place. I wasn’t paying attention. I was—I had other things on my mind.” Cecilia’s cheeks flushed pink and she shifted in her seat. “You saw that? You must have thought it very odd.”

She looked so uncomfortable and embarrassed that Lily wanted to reassure her—no, I didn’t see a thing—but how could she do that?

This was the most awkward conversation she’d had in a while. What was she supposed to say? I thought you were batshit crazy. “You seemed upset. I was worried.” And she was still worried. Without the paintings the walls looked bare and unfinished. The cottage was as bruised and damaged as its owner. She hoped the owners of the company she worked for didn’t pick today to do a random check or she’d be arrested for destruction of property.

“I was upset. And the fact that you saw that explains why you thought my unfortunate encounter with the glass was something other than an accident. But it was an accident.” Cecilia paused. “What happened after you heard me? Were you here all night?”

“No. I left the cottage.”

“How? I would have noticed if you’d used the front door.”

“I jumped from the balcony of the second bedroom onto the dunes.”

Cecilia winced. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“No. It wasn’t that far, and the landing was soft.”

“You didn’t think to just call out and let me know you were there?”

“No. You thought you were alone. I was intruding on a moment that was obviously personal.” Lily felt her cheeks warm. “Everyone has the right to privacy if that’s what they need.”

Cecilia’s gaze didn’t waver. “And is that why you’ve been staying here alone? Because you wanted privacy? Some people would find this place too isolated.”

“The position is part of the reason I love it,” Lily said. “Being here has helped me and I’ll always be grateful for that. But obviously I’ll leave right away, and I won’t bother you again. It’s good to see someone using it after so long. Are you sure you’ll be okay? You’re not going to—”

“Cut my wrists or smash more paintings?” Cecilia shook her head. “There is only one painting left anyway.”

Lily transferred her gaze from Cecilia to the painting that still hung on the wall. Why hadn’t Cecilia smashed that one? She was relieved that she hadn’t.

That painting had kept her company on so many nights. She wished now that she’d taken a photograph of it so that she could look at it sometimes.

“I love that painting.”

“The Girl on the Shore?”

“Is that what it’s called? Makes sense. I can’t imagine how it must feel to paint something like that.” Or to own a painting like that. “Of all of them, this is the one I would have kept.”

Cecilia stared at the painting. “Really?”

“Yes. I have been looking at it for months, trying to figure out what it is about it that draws me in. I want to know what that woman is thinking. What she’s doing. What happened just before she walked to the water’s edge. It’s wonderful. Special. I thought I knew almost all his paintings of the Cape, but I’ve never seen this one before. Was it one of his earlier ones?” She saw Cecilia transform from warm to wary.

She gave Lily a long look. “You’re an art lover?”

“Yes. And I love Cameron Lapthorne’s work. I’m surprised this painting isn’t in a gallery somewhere, surrounded by alarms and security guards.”

“Are you an artist yourself?”

“Oh—no.” Lily was embarrassed. “I paint a lot—all the time in fact—but I wouldn’t call myself an artist. I’ve never sold anything, unless you count a couple of sketches of seabirds that a tourist offered me money for. My first ever sale. It paid for a couple of ice creams.”

“If you produce art then you’re an artist,” Cecilia said. “Calling yourself that isn’t dependent on the value that someone else places on your work. Did you study art at college?”

“No. Biological sciences. I went to medical school, but I dropped out.” She waited for the inevitable judgments, but Cecilia simply nodded.

“Because you really wanted to be an artist, not a doctor.” She made it sound as if that was a perfectly natural discovery and Lily felt a rush of warmth and connection. Cecilia was the first person she’d ever told who hadn’t thought she was making a bad decision.

“Yes, but being an artist isn’t exactly a stable career path. So I’m here while I figure things out.” Whenever she talked about wanting to be an artist she felt like a fake, but that was nothing new. She’d felt like an imposter for most of her life. “I wonder when this was painted?”

And, more importantly, she wanted to know why Cecilia had spared that one. Maybe it was simply too large to lift it from the wall.

Cecilia was silent for a long moment.

“It was painted fifty years ago.”

“Really? Well, I’m glad you didn’t smash that one, Mrs. Lapthorne.”

Cecilia’s expression changed. “You know who I am.”

“I—Yes.” Why was that a shock? Had Cecilia not said her name? Lily had introduced herself, but it hadn’t occurred to Lily until now that Cecilia hadn’t done the same.

“When you first walked in, I thought you looked familiar,” Cecilia said. “We know each other?”

Lily wished she’d kept her mouth shut. Maybe Cecilia would change her mind now and call the police.

“We don’t exactly know each other. We met once, but I don’t expect you to remember. I’m a friend of Hannah’s.” Or maybe she wasn’t. Maybe that friendship was now in the past.

“A friend of—” Cecilia stared at her for a moment. “Oh dear. Lily. You’re Hannah’s Lily. Her best friend. Growing up you two were inseparable.”

Lily felt something stab her insides. She wasn’t Hannah’s Lily anymore.

“Is that a problem?”

“I’m not sure,” Cecilia said. “Since we’re being honest here, I’ll tell you that I came here to have some space from everyone, including family. No one knows where I am. And I don’t want them to know. That probably sounds strange to you.”

“Not really.” The confidence touched her. And as someone who had come here to escape her own family, Lily didn’t think it sounded strange at all. You could love your family and still need distance from them. She felt a rush of sympathy for Cecilia. “Won’t they guess where you are?”

“No one knows about this place,” Cecilia said. “Cameron and I bought it a long time ago. Right at the beginning, before we had children.”

The cottage had been a hideaway. Somewhere special. She’d sensed it the moment she’d stepped through the door the first time.

“No one knows? Not even Hannah and—” She almost said Todd, but stopped herself. She’d vowed that she was going to stop saying his name and thinking about him. “How about the rest of your family?”

“None of them know. We never brought the children here, or the grandchildren. It was our place.” Cecilia paused. “I thought Cameron had sold it, years ago. That was what he told me. It was only recently that I discovered he hadn’t. My lawyer knows. And now you.”

And now her. The fact that she knew Cecilia’s secret, and Cecilia knew hers bonded them in some way.

“This is the first time you’ve been back since he died?”

“Longer than that.” Cecilia stared into the distance. “It has been many years.”

Lily tried to imagine how it must feel to be back here after so much time. After so much had changed. Was that why she’d smashed the paintings? Had looking at them made her sad? “I’m sorry for your loss.” It was hard to know what to say, but she felt she had to say something. “It must be difficult to be here without him when the place was special to you both.”

“Yes.” Cecilia spoke quietly. “It is difficult.”

And Lily was intruding on her private grief.

“I should never have stayed here. I never planned to. I’ve been maintaining the place for months, coming here weekly to check on things—that’s my job, or part of it. In April I lost my accommodation. I was going to find somewhere else, but this place is always empty and—”

“And it isn’t easy finding accommodation on the Cape in the summer. I understand. You said that this place is always empty. That no one ever uses it.” Cecilia looked at her. “Do you know when it was last used?”

Lily shook her head. She’d expected Cecilia to be angry with her and instead she was asking about the cottage.

“The management company I work for has been in business for decades. It’s family run. This place has been on their books since the beginning, and there is no record of anyone ever staying here.”

“Never?” Cecilia’s hands were clasped tightly in her lap. “You’re sure about that?”

“Yes. I asked them specifically because I thought it was strange. And I wouldn’t have stayed here if I’d thought there was a chance someone might use it.” It seemed important to try and explain. “It wasn’t only about the money. This place was a comfort to me. I was having a difficult time and being here made me feel better. Calmer. Happier. It has been a sanctuary.”

Cecilia looked distracted, as if she was going over something in her head.

“Never.”

“Excuse me?”

“No one ever stayed here.”

Lily wondered why that was so important to Cecilia. “Apart from me.”

“Apart from you.” Cecilia seemed to relax. She smiled for the first time since Lily had walked into the house. “That’s good.”

Was it?

“You’re not angry?”

“That you stayed here? No. It makes me feel better to know that the place has had a use and that you found it comforting.” Cecilia looked around the cottage, her eyes lingering on the spaces where the paintings had hung, and then moving to the painting that remained. “Cameron and I felt the same way in those early days. It’s the reason we bought it. It has barely changed. It’s full of memories.”

Did Cecilia think she’d violated those memories?

“I haven’t changed anything. I used the upstairs room but not the sheets. I rolled my sleeping bag on top of the bed. And it’s good for showers to be used regularly—I would have run them as part of my caretaking duties, so it didn’t seem too awful to stand under it myself occasionally.” There didn’t seem any point in holding anything back. “And I used the studio. The light is fantastic.” Lily hoped she wouldn’t ask to see something she’d painted. That would be too awkward. “I see now how totally wrong it was to stay here. You were expecting privacy and that’s what you need.”

Cecilia stirred. “Who knows you’re staying here?”

“No one. No one comes out this far, unless something needs fixing.”

“Friends? Colleagues? Do they not wonder where you’re living?”

“I haven’t made close friends since I’ve been here.” She’d needed space to lick her wounds and decide what she was going to do. She hadn’t wanted questions. “I’ve been vague about where I’m staying. I didn’t want anyone to know, for obvious reasons.”

Cecilia touched the dressing on her wrist. “You’re sure you haven’t mentioned it to Hannah.”

Lily felt misery wash over her. “We haven’t spoken in months. We had a falling-out. She doesn’t know where I am, and I don’t think she’d care.” It was something she never thought she’d hear herself say, because Hannah had been the best friend she’d ever had. And she’d discovered that you could be angry with someone, and still miss them. And she missed Hannah. She missed her laugh. She missed Hannah’s confidence, some of which had seeped into Lily. Hannah had never wondered if she was good enough. Hannah never felt like a fraud or a fake. She’d never had a panic attack before an exam. Hannah knew exactly what she wanted, and attacked life with an energy that was exhausting for everyone around her. Until Lily had met Hannah, she hadn’t known it was possible for a person to survive on so little sleep. Hannah had joked that she’d been born to be a doctor. She’d teased Lily for being hopeless in the morning, for being almost incoherent until she’d had her first cup of coffee. She’d teased Lily for being in love with Todd.

Cecilia was watching her closely. “Friendships can be complicated, particularly as we grow older and our paths diverge. I’m sorry to hear you had a falling-out. For what it’s worth I’m sure Hannah does care. I hope the two of you manage to sort it out. Relationships can bring the greatest pain and the greatest happiness.”

“Yes.” Lily had never heard anyone articulate it quite so perfectly. She found herself warming to Cecilia, and not only because she hadn’t displayed the usual reaction to the news that Lily had chosen to give up medicine. They’d only just met, and yet it felt as if she’d known Cecilia forever.

Cecilia sat up straighter. “I don’t want people to know I’m here, so for my own selfish reasons I’m pleased you’re not in touch with my granddaughter. I’m going to ask you not to tell anyone.”

“I won’t. But won’t your family worry about you?” Lily imagined the Lapthorne family all trying to track down Cecilia. She hoped none of them would turn up while she was here.

The idea that Todd might show up with Amelie made her cold with panic.

“I left them a note saying that I needed some time to myself. I plan to message them later to let them know I’m safe. I’m hoping they will respect my need for some alone time. But either way they don’t know about this place, so there is no way they will come here.”

Lily wondered why Cecilia felt the need to hide from her family. She wondered why she’d smashed the paintings. Why she was here on her own. “Yesterday was your party.”

“You know about that?”

“My mother bumped into Kristen. She mentioned it. The party was the reason you left?”

“Let’s just say it was the trigger. The final straw.” Cecilia stood up. “It seems we both have secrets.”

“Yes.” Lily waited. “Is there anything you need me to do around the place before I go?”

Cecilia frowned. “Go? Where are you going?”

“I start work at ten, and I need to find somewhere to stay tonight.”

“There’s no need for that. You can stay here.”

“Stay?” Lily stared at her. “But you’re here. You came here for peace and quiet. For an escape.”

Cecilia glanced at the cottage. “That’s not why I came. For me the cottage comes with memories. It’s hard to escape when you’re surrounded by reminders of the thing you’re trying to forget.” She took a breath. “I plan on selling the place. I doubt I’ll be here for more than a few days. In the meantime, I’m sure we can share the space quite comfortably. I will use the second bedroom. You are welcome to the master or the loft room.”

Stay? Share the space?

Her head spun, her brain circling through different scenarios. She hadn’t thought for a moment that Cecilia would let her stay.

Staying would mean sharing the cottage, when really what she wanted was to be alone.

But staying would also mean she wouldn’t have to spend time trying to find somewhere else to live. More importantly, it would mean staying in Dune Cottage, a place she’d grown to love.

And even though Cecilia was technically a stranger, she didn’t feel like a stranger.

“If I stay, then I’ll pay you rent.” She hoped Cecilia wasn’t going to charge too much.

“If you’d do a little housekeeping while you’re here, we will call that rent. Our provisions are rather sparse right now. I was trying to keep a low profile, and I was afraid someone might recognize me when I went shopping yesterday so I grabbed a few things in as short a time as possible. On your way home from work today perhaps you could pick up some food for us. Do you cook?”

“Yes.” Although it had been a while since she’d bothered. Her appetite had disappeared, and it never seemed worth making anything elaborate for one. But presumably Cecilia Lapthorne would expect something more than a bowl of cereal.

“Housekeeping and cooking for a few days will more than cover rent,” Cecilia said. “I’ve just realized that it must have been late when you sneaked out of the bedroom. Where did you sleep last night after you jumped from the balcony?”

“On the beach.” Although she’d barely slept at all. She’d lain awake for the rest of the night wondering what she was going to do next. “And I know I’m not allowed to do that, but it was too late to find anywhere else and it was only one night.”

“Oh, you poor thing. You must have been so cold and uncomfortable. And tired.” Cecilia took Lily’s hands in hers. “No more sleeping bags, and no more outdoor sleeping. Go and take a hot shower and warm yourself up. I’ll make us breakfast.”

Lily felt a lump form in her throat. She wasn’t used to being offered comfort. And remembering the smashed paintings it seemed to her that it was Cecilia who needed the comfort.

“You probably shouldn’t be using that hand,” she said. “If you’re sure you don’t mind me staying here, then I’ll take that shower and make breakfast after. Why don’t you go and sit on the porch? The view is an antidote to most troubles.”

She kept the shower short, even though she was tempted to stand under the meagre flow of water forever. She washed her hair, dried it with a towel and scooped it back in a ponytail.

It was bliss to be clean.

She emptied out her backpack, pulled on the tunic she wore for work and headed downstairs. Knowing that she was going to be able to stay at Dune Cottage, and this time with the permission of the owner, lifted her mood. She wasn’t going to be homeless. She didn’t have to make any decisions. She didn’t have to call her parents. For now, she could legitimately think of this place as home.

Cecilia had followed her suggestion and was sitting on one of the chairs on the porch, a tiny figure with close-cropped white hair and delicate features.

She looked alone and vulnerable.

Lily felt a flicker of kinship.

She wondered what secrets Cecilia was hiding. Why she’d never told her family about this place.

Whatever the reason, Lily was determined to offer whatever support she could. “Mrs. Lapthorne?”

“Oh—” She gave a start and turned. “Call me Cecilia, dear. How was your shower? Frustrating?”

Lily grinned. “Possibly the best shower I’ve ever had. Sleeping on the beach is nowhere near as romantic as it sounds. I’ll make you breakfast. What would you like?”

“There’s not a lot of choice. Milk. Eggs. Mushrooms. Some fruit. I just grabbed a few things as I was passing a store.”

“I’ll stock up on my way home later.” Lily headed back to the kitchen. She found the eggs and whisked them, then added a blob of butter to the pan and let it sizzle. Her mother always added herbs from the garden, but Lily didn’t have any. She made a mental note to pick some up when she went shopping later.

The idea that she no longer had to hide the fact that she was staying in the cottage cheered her. And even though it made her feel sad that Cecilia planned to sell it, it wasn’t an immediate worry.

The sun shone through the window as she slid the omelet onto a plate and took it to Cecilia, who was sitting in a pool of sunshine.

Lily put the plate in front of her and topped up Cecilia’s coffee mug.

“This looks delicious.” Cecilia glanced up at her. “Where is yours?”

“I’m not that hungry.”

“Neither am I, so we’ll share this. You can’t go to work with nothing inside you.” Cecilia walked into the kitchen and returned holding an extra fork and a plate. She sliced the omelet and slid half onto a plate which she gave to Lily.

Cecilia sat down and picked up her fork. “Did you come here after you gave up medicine?”

“I stayed with my parents for a while.” Lily hadn’t talked about it with anyone else, but there was something about Cecilia’s calm acceptance and lack of judgment that made it easy to be open and honest. “It was a mistake. I never should have gone down that track in the first place. I really wanted to study art in some form, but my parents were worried that it wouldn’t lead to anything. That I wouldn’t be able to get a job. So I chose a science route. Not that I’m blaming them. They were just being caring. Encouraging. Doing what they felt was best for me. It was my decision.”

“Pressure, however well-meaning, is still pressure.” Cecilia sliced a piece from her omelet and ate it. “As well as doing something that wasn’t really what you wanted to do, you felt you had to live up to their expectations.”

It was a relief to talk to someone who understood.

“They were proud of the fact I was training to be a doctor.”

“I’m sure they’re still proud.”

“They’re not.” Lily put her fork down without eating anything. Nothing ruined her appetite faster than thinking about the situation with her parents. “They’re disappointed and worried. They sacrificed everything to give me a shot at a great career and I blew it.”

“Is that how you see it?”

“It’s how it is.”

Cecilia finished her omelet. “Why the Cape?”

“I’ve always loved it here. We came when I was a child, so it has happy memories. I feel less—” it was hard to explain “—less claustrophobic when I’m here.”

Cecilia nodded. “And you got a job with a property management company.”

“I didn’t have many options. I have no qualifications and so far my choices in life haven’t worked out so well.”

Cecilia reached for her coffee. “I’ve often thought it was ridiculous to expect a person to make decisions about their future at such a young age. How does anyone really know?”

“Hannah knew. Hannah never has any doubts. I always envied that about her.” And it had made her friend impossible to talk to because she just hadn’t understood.

Cecilia nodded. “But she is in a minority. Some people know, but far more just land on something and hope it works out. And it sounds as if you did know, deep down. You were passionate about art. But you didn’t choose art. You chose with your head and not your heart.”

“Art was a dream. Not a reality.”

“That’s your parents speaking.” Cecilia pushed her plate away. “There’s nothing wrong with having a dream. It’s good to know what you want. But you also need a plan. A dream without a plan will never be anything more than a fantasy. But if you ask yourself how you can turn that dream into reality—if you figure out what it is you need to do, and then make sure you do it, you’ll be living the life you want to live instead of thinking about it. Of course the dream loses some of its shine once you’re living it. One of life’s cruelest ironies I’ve always felt. I wish you’d eat something.”

Lily picked up her fork. Cecilia’s words played in her head.

She didn’t really have a plan. The last few months had been about surviving.

And no amount of planning was going to help her sell a painting. Maybe if she’d been to art college things would have been different.

“I wasted all those years of college and medical school.” And money. She’d wasted money.

Cecilia put her cup down slowly. “Better to waste a few years than a whole life. And is anything really a waste? We learn as much from what goes wrong as we do from what goes right. You tried it. You discovered it wasn’t for you. You will have learned something from it, I’m sure. If you hadn’t spent those years at medical school perhaps you wouldn’t have been able to bandage my arm so skillfully.”

Better to waste a few years than a whole life.

The words settled inside her and soothed her anxiety. “That’s a good way of looking at it. Helpful.” And she couldn’t help wishing, just for a moment, that it had been her parents who had said those words. But they wouldn’t, because they did think that she was wasting her life.

“It’s accurate, although you’re maybe too young to see it. You see it as a mistake. I see it as life experience.”

“Maybe it would be easier to see it that way if my parents hadn’t sacrificed so much to send me to college and medical school. They wanted for me what they never had for themselves. I understand that.” And the fact that she understood it made it harder.

Cecilia nodded. “You’re an only child.”

“Yes. How do you know?”

“Because if there is more than one child the burden of parental expectation is spread. But whatever your parents want or think, in the end the only life you can live is your own. And that goes for them as well as you.”

“Sometimes it feels as if I am their life. I’m their focus. After I left medical school I went home for a while, but their anxiety made me anxious.”

“And you couldn’t figure out what you needed, because all you were hearing was what they needed. So you came to the Cape.” Cecilia nodded. “Smart move.”

“Was it?” Lily slumped in the chair. “I wanted to prove to them that they didn’t need to worry, that I’m going to be fine, but the truth is I can barely afford to live on what I earn and I don’t see that changing. I’m not qualified to do anything although it turns out I’m great at clearing up after other people. My father wants me to try and go back to medicine. If they’ll have me.”

Cecilia was listening closely. “They do seem persistent. I assume you’re not contemplating returning to a life you knew was wrong for you?”

“No.” The thought of it made her stomach knot with panic. “But I hate the fact that I’m causing my parents so much anxiety and disappointment.”

Cecilia nodded and her smile was faint. “I remember when I came here—I would have been younger than you—my parents were horrified.”

“You dropped out of college, too?”

“No. I graduated, but then instead of finding a job I came to the Cape to paint. In those days we didn’t have so many instantly available forms of communication, although I swear I could feel their worry and disapproval floating in on the breeze every day.”

“But you didn’t change your mind.”

“No. Because the choice was between disappointing them and disappointing myself. I thought the first would be easier to live with.” She paused. “You can’t live your life for your parents, no matter how much you love them. You have to make your own choices. And a person should surely have control over how they live their own life.”

“You make it sound so reasonable.” And suddenly she felt a little less guilty. A little lighter. This was her life. She had a right to make her own decisions. And if she made mistakes, then they were her mistakes.

“You’ve swapped their dream for yours, your old life with a new life,” Cecilia said. “Now you need to make it work. Give yourself time. Experiment a little. Don’t make any decisions in a hurry. For what it’s worth, I think you’ve done the right thing, coming here.”

She thought so, too. This place had been nothing but good for her.

Because of Cecilia, Lily felt better than she had in a long time.

“Thank you for letting me stay,” she said. “It’s generous of you.”

She could stay in the cottage and there would be no more worrying that she might be found out. No more feeling uncomfortable that she was trespassing.

Finally, she could properly relax.

And as no one else in the Lapthorne family knew the cottage existed, there was no chance of them turning up. The probability of awkward encounters was zero.