Eden’s Comfort Kitchen

Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

For the first time since she was fourteen, Eden Sherwood stood on the clifftops and looked out over Sea Glass Bay. Thirteen years had passed since then, thirteen years filled with growing up and making her mark in the world, becoming who she was today – whoever that was. Right now, she wasn’t sure who that was, only that she didn’t much care for her.

The weather was as kind as it had been that day – at least as she remembered it. But then, in her memory of those days, the sun was always warm and gentle, the breeze cooling and the clouds as white as white. Perhaps it hadn’t always been so, but that was the image she recalled now, of a postcard scene in vibrant, happy colours. It was uncanny how little had changed, except for the feeling of dread in her heart that she now carried wherever she went. As a child standing here, she would have been dimly aware that the glorious fortnight of family time would come to an end and she’d go home, disgruntled but already looking forward to the next one. But this time, she stood and looked out over the ocean in the knowledge that she could never go home.

The memory of this place had always been a happy one. So what was she doing here now? Why sully it? Why taint those perfect recollections with her current sense of desperation? What had she hoped to find here? Happiness? To be transported back to those carefree days? Standing here now, she saw how silly that notion was. She wasn’t going to find happiness here – it was too late to find happiness anywhere; things had gone too far for that. All she’d done was ruin one of the few pure memories she still had. Looking out over this perfect bay with eyes that were tired and dry and puffy from weeping wasn’t doing anything to lift her spirits. It had been foolish to hope it would, and, in the end, nobody could say she had anyone to blame for that but herself. Certainly not her family who, rightly so, would never forgive her for the trouble she’d caused.

The black sheep, the bad penny, the wayward child; she’d heard it all over the years, and she’d laughed because, yes, she was all those things, but she was also the youngest daughter, the doted-upon baby of the family, the last surprise for an older couple who had never expected her arrival but had loved her all the more for it. She’d never treated them the way they’d deserved for that love – she finally saw that with painful clarity. And now there was no way to put it right, because her mum was dead and it was all Eden’s fault.

Had it really been a month since the funeral? The images of that day were still seared onto her brain so that it felt like yesterday. Would it always be like this? People said time healed, but was that just a lie they told to make the grief more bearable?

Everyone had been in black – that was the thing that struck Eden straight away as their procession arrived at the chapel. Her mum would have hated that. Whenever Eden pictured her mum, she was in pastel florals: pinks, lilacs, baby blues and soft greens. She loved gentle colour, and she’d filled their home with it. Eden and Caitlin used to joke that their mum could never walk past a fringed lampshade in a store window without going in to buy it. She never wore black – Eden remembered that distinctly – and she wouldn’t have wanted all these people to be in black. Perhaps if her death hadn’t been so sudden, if there had been warning and time enough to prepare she’d have said so.

‘Peonies everywhere.’ Eden’s older sister, Caitlin, had looked around at the floral tributes arranged outside the chapel for their arrival. ‘That’s nice. I’m glad people thought about her favourite flowers.’

‘I don’t ever want to see another peony as long as I live,’ Eden had replied. ‘They’re horrible flowers.’

Caitlin had thrown her a sideways look – weary, beaten, almost impatient. ‘You don’t mean that.’

‘Don’t I?’

Of course she hadn’t. Eden only hated seeing the peonies because she was seeing the flowers her mum had so loved there, of all places. She’d never see them the same way again.

She recalled now the feel of Caitlin’s hand as she’d wrapped it around hers, and the now familiar guilt stabbed at her as she also recalled how she’d pulled so savagely away. At the time, she’d felt patronised somehow, but looking back, she realised Caitlin had needed the comfort as much as she’d sought to give it. Why had Eden really done that? Was it because of the burning shame, the sense that she deserved no comfort or understanding, only punishment and blame? Because forgiveness somehow made her guilt even worse?

As if that hadn’t been bad enough, her dad, following the coffin into the chapel, in the midst of his sorrow had sent the smallest yet sweetest, saddest, most desperate smile her way. He’d sought to somehow reassure her, to let her know it would be OK, that he didn’t blame her in the way she blamed herself.

How could he do that? How could he simply let her get away with it? How could he forgive so easily? It almost angered her. She wanted his hate, she wanted his blame because this was worse. How could he still love her after what had happened? That was the moment when the first seeds of her plan had been sown. She had to leave. She had no right to her father’s affection when she’d never done anything to earn it. Wouldn’t her family be better off without her?

Eden had looked at the coffin, dressed in yet more peonies and decided yes, they would be.

On the cliffs overlooking Sea Glass Bay, Eden lifted her phone from her pocket and checked her diary. Not that she needed to – she had the name of her accommodation burned into her brain. She’d recognised it immediately in the listings online, and she’d looked at her handover instructions with the owner more times than she could count during the previous few days, anxious to get here but dreading it too. Satisfied that the arrangements were as she remembered, she locked it again and turned away from the sea and towards the building that would be hers for the next six months.

Four Winds Cottage. As a child spending two weeks of most summers in Sea Glass Bay at a charming but regular hotel, she’d been enchanted by the sound of the name, a house she only usually saw from afar whenever she and her dad would trek up the cliffs to take advantage of a good wind to fly her kite.

But now the name sounded forlorn, like her happiness, scattered to the four winds, and it felt all too apt for her current mood. But it had been the only long-term rental on the website – the beekeeping, chicken-rearing owners of her childhood long since gone. Perhaps they’d died or moved away. Eden didn’t know, and perhaps it didn’t matter. For the next six months, this was going to be her home. After that, who knew, but perhaps that didn’t matter now either.

The sun was climbing higher as she began her walk to the cottage, standing alone on the clifftop as if it had always been a part of the landscape. After a few minutes, she was forced to take off her jacket – despite the stiff breeze coming in from the sea, the June sun was strong enough to burn through, and the extra work the uneven path was making for her was hardly helping her keep cool. The taxi that had brought her here from the train station in the neighbouring town had gone as far as it could but couldn’t make it right to the front door. There was no road to speak of, only a rough path that perhaps a car could do at a pinch – though this driver clearly had concerns for his suspension – and this made Four Winds Cottage relatively inaccessible. But that was fine with Eden. In fact, it was good. It meant no impromptu visitors.

The path hugged the clifftop for a way before branching off – one direction continuing along the cliffs, the other leading to steep steps and the beach below, and a third taking the walker close to the front gate of Four Winds Cottage. The ivory rocks of the cliff face swept down to a golden ribbon of sand and the sparkling seas below. The grass that carpeted either side of the path was new and sweet and untouched, starred with daisies, clover and buttercups. Gulls swooped overhead, and a sudden change in direction to take them out to sea made Eden look to see what might have been a trawler, going through its catch. At least, whatever the boat was doing, the gulls were keen to crowd around it.

It was then that she caught a flash on the water, something breaking the surface to whip up a spray of sparkling foam, only to disappear again. Dolphins were common in these parts – the pub in the village was even called the Darling Dolphin, as far as Eden remembered. During every childhood visit to Sea Glass Bay, she’d been desperate to catch a glimpse of one, but she never had. Eventually she’d given up the quest, content to swim and play amongst the dunes and trust that if she was meant to see a dolphin, she would, although it had always irked her. Even a few weeks ago, the activity she thought she’d seen out on the water would have stoked more than a little excitement at the thought of finally seeing one, and she wished she could feel that excitement now. But even if she could tell from this distance, even if she could be sure of what she was seeing, in her current mood, she doubted she could have got excited about it.

At the cottage, Eden stopped at the gate. The garden was wild, wind-blasted, and it was clear the proximity to the ocean had some bearing on what grew there, but it was somehow all the more charming for its unruliness. The owners had lain gravel where the lawns had once been, and hardy succulents poked out from it. There were more mature trees and shrubs that seemed well established – a honeysuckle clinging to the trellis around the front door, some gnarled trees shading the windows and a couple of unwieldy rose bushes. It all looked low maintenance – not that Eden knew a great deal about gardening. She supposed it would have to be considering how many people came and went – it was a holiday let, after all, and Eden didn’t imagine many of the visitors who had come before her stayed for as long as she planned to.

It was then the front door opened, and a lady in wellies and a sturdy wax jacket came out, smiling broadly.

‘Eden?’

‘Yes…’ Eden offered her hand, and the lady shook it. ‘Margery?’

‘That’s me. How are you? Good journey down? Remind me again where you travelled from.’

‘Essex. A bit of a trek but not too bad.’

Margery glanced at the path beyond the garden gate.

‘I didn’t come by car,’ Eden said, guessing at her thoughts. She didn’t see the point in adding that she’d sold her car, along with many other belongings, to fund this…what was it? An escape? A new start? Hiding?

‘Just as well, I suppose,’ Margery said cheerfully. ‘It’s a devil to get a car up here. I get no end of complaints even though I’ve made it clear on the rental site. I’ve contacted the authorities about getting a proper road laid, but there’s some mumbo jumbo about planning rules getting in the way. I live in hope, but I don’t think it will be any time soon.’

‘Well, I certainly won’t complain.’ Eden forced a smile she didn’t much feel like making.

‘I suppose it does look prettier the way it is,’ Margery said. ‘And it’s such a stunning view up here – when I bought it from a local family, it needed a lot of work – and I don’t mind telling you I was worried at first that it would be too much – but how could I view a house like this and refuse it? Especially as it was on the market at such a good price. I plan to live here myself when I retire, but I might as well make some money from it in the meantime, eh?’

‘So you live nearby?’

‘Salisbury. I don’t come to meet everyone who rents it from me, of course, because, goodness, that would be a trek every week, but I thought as you were taking it for such a long time, I’d pop over to say hello and talk you through one or two things.’

More like to be nosy, Eden thought, but she didn’t say so.

‘You’re sure you don’t want my cleaner to come in every week and go over the place? She normally does changeover days anyway so it would be no bother.’

‘It’s fine – I can manage it.’

‘Well…’ Margery shoved her hands into the pockets of her wax jacket and nodded. ‘It will save me some money if I don’t have to pay her.’

Eden paused. When it had been discussed during the email exchange, it hadn’t occurred to her she might be making someone’s life more difficult. She’d only wanted to be left alone. But if she didn’t let the cleaner in, the woman wouldn’t get paid. Would that be just another thing Eden had managed to screw up?

‘Actually,’ she said slowly, ‘perhaps it’s a good idea if she comes up every now and again to go over things. I won’t have to worry about it then, will I? And she’ll be keeping an eye on things for you at the same time, won’t she?’

‘Just as you like. I have a good instinct, and I’m sure you’re perfectly trustworthy, but I’ll ask her to come up every Saturday if it suits you. Let me know if you change your mind at any point.’

‘I will.’

‘So…six months in Four Winds, eh? I must admit I was surprised by your email asking to take it for so long. Are you working from here? Artist or writer or something? Looking for inspiration?’

‘No,’ Eden said. ‘Just looking for some peace.’

‘Oh, you’ll find that here. Do you know Sea Glass Bay was voted the friendliest resort on the south coast last year? There’s peace up here if you want it, of course, but the people are so lovely you might decide you want to spend a lot of your time in the town. Lots to do too – the beach, some darling little cafés and restaurants, a good pub with great food. I wouldn’t worry a bit about being alone either – it’s a very safe place.’

Eden nodded and tried to look impressed. First impressions of Margery were good – she seemed stoic and practical and a bit like a teacher Eden had been fond of in high school. She felt like Margery was the sort of woman who would sort any problems with the house immediately and with no fuss. In any other circumstances, Eden might have been inclined to chat with more enthusiasm, but she was finding enthusiasm for anything difficult these days.

‘That’s all good to hear,’ Eden said. ‘I used to come here as a young girl with my family. We used to stay in a little hotel in the town…don’t remember what it was called but I believe it closed down a few years ago.’

‘That’ll be the Sandpiper, I expect. Don’t know much about it but I believe the owners retired. Of course this was before I bought Four Winds.’

‘How long have you owned this place then?’

‘Gosh, now you’re asking! Time goes so quickly but…perhaps four or five years.’

‘When I used to come to the bay as a girl, my dad used to bring me up to the cliffs with my kite because it was so windy. It was brilliant. I remember seeing this place and thinking it was lovely. We bought eggs from here once too.’

‘How long ago was it you last came?’

‘About thirteen years or so.’

‘I believe the owners at that time did sell eggs, yes. They kept bees too and sold the honey. Don’t worry…’ Margery chuckled. ‘There are no bees or chickens now. You can get all that from the shop in town like normal people do.’

Eden’s mind went back to that day with her father, and it almost felt as if she was that girl again, standing in wide-eyed wonder at the threshold as they bought honey and eggs from the owner of the cottage; she’d always been entranced whenever she’d seen it. She’d never been inside before, though, only wondered from afar, but the interior hadn’t disappointed, seeming as romantically fairy tale-ish to her young eyes as the name had suggested, like the scene of an old smugglers’ tale, or the home of the humble and sweet girl who would one day capture the heart of a prince. She might get her eggs from the shop like normal people now, but she was strangely saddened by that notion.

‘I expect you’ll want your keys.’ Margery’s brisk tone broke into Eden’s thoughts. Perhaps it was just as well, because the misery spiral she fell into far too often these days had been looming again. ‘Would you like me to show you around the boiler and whatnot before I go?’

‘I suppose that might be a good idea, though I’m sure I could figure it out.’

‘There is a file in the living room that explains everything, but as I’m here anyway, I’m quite happy to go over it with you. I’ve left you a few bits and pieces to get you started too – washing-up liquid and that sort of thing.’

‘That’s brilliant, thank you.’

‘No problem at all. After all, you are renting from me longer than anyone ever does. I should thank you that I won’t have to worry about empty weeks for the rest of this year. I don’t mind telling you, it makes life a lot easier.’

Margery handed the key to Eden and moved aside to let her open the front door before following her in. As Eden entered, she was disappointed but also strangely relieved to find that it wasn’t as she remembered from her one visit.

She and Margery moved along the hall into the kitchen, Eden vaguely aware of Margery’s constant brisk chatter as they went but not really taking much notice. She was far too distracted by Four Winds itself. The low ceilings and small, sturdy-framed windows didn’t let in as much light as she’d have liked, but they did combine to make it feel cosy and safe. It was hardly the stuff of fairy tales, more a relic of a bygone era, traditional panels of dark wood and stone flooring with dried flowers and pots hanging from exposed beams in the kitchen and an inglenook fireplace in the tiny parlour. It was furnished in solid wood – every cupboard and dresser looked as if it had been lifted from the set of a period drama. But for all that heaviness, it was pretty, and its solidness had a sort of dependability to it that made Eden feel immediately comforted and protected.

She went straight to the windows to let the sea air and warmth in. Despite the fact that it must have been recently occupied by someone on holiday and that the cleaner had obviously been in, there was a faint mustiness and a fine layer of dust on every surface, but nothing that couldn’t be blown out with a good gust and some furniture polish. Eden supposed it was an old house and next to the sea, and so perhaps it would get musty and damp from time to time.

Ten minutes later, Margery had gone, and the house was suddenly and profoundly silent. Eden was alone. Completely and utterly alone, perhaps for the first time in her life. She’d lived by herself in London for a time, building her career, enjoying what she now realised was a privileged life, but she’d always had someone to fall back on. She could go home whenever she liked with a ton of washing and her mum would do it, or drop in unannounced when she felt like it and her mum would always cook her favourite meal. Or if she needed to be at an airport somewhere or other, her dad would always chauffer her there. Those days were gone. Eden was alone now, and she’d have to get on with it.

In her jeans pocket, her phone began to vibrate. She lifted it out to note the name on the caller ID.

Caitlin, her older sister. Ten years older, in fact, and the age gap had always made her seem like a disapproving auntie rather than a sister. Eden watched the display. Just seeing the name hurt. Eden had done many bad, selfish things over the years, and many of those things had been done to Caitlin. The worst of it was, far too often Eden hadn’t cared. Caitlin interfered and lectured and chastised, and Eden had hated her for it. She couldn’t change any of that, but neither did she want to be reminded of it – she wasn’t ready to face her mistakes yet. Even then, her mind went unwillingly back to one of the last times, perhaps the time that had been the beginning of the end.

‘Eden…’ Caitlin’s expression was one of barely contained fury as Eden opened the door to let her into the flat. ‘What’s wrong with your phone?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Maybe you’d like to answer it once in a while then.’

Eden waited for her sister to be in the hallway before closing the door and folding her arms. ‘I take it from your tone this isn’t a social call?’

‘Did you take Grandma’s gold watch?’

‘I borrowed it; I didn’t take it. And Mum said it was OK.’

‘Mum would.’

‘What’s that mean? It’s her watch to lend out, isn’t it? Grandma left it to her.’

‘Yes, Grandma left it to her and it’s valuable. It’s also one of the few things Mum has left of Grandma’s.’

‘Mum said it was OK. If it was that valuable ? —’

‘Mum also says you’ve had it for a month and not taken it back.’

‘If she wanted it, she only had to ask.’

‘She shouldn’t have to ask. You said it was for a wedding reception – you’d only be wearing it for a few hours.’

‘What is this – CSI ? Yes, I wore it for a wedding and I haven’t got round to returning it. What’s it got to do with you? Mum’s not bothered.’

‘Of course she’s bothered. And it has everything to do with me. I’m her daughter too, you know. That watch is a family heirloom. One of us one day will pass it on to one of our children.’

‘Well, it won’t be you, will it?’

A sudden, sharp look darkened Caitlin’s features. ‘What are you trying to say?’

‘You don’t have kids.’

‘Doesn’t mean I’ll never have kids.’

‘You’ve got to get a man to put up with you for long enough first for that to happen.’

‘Classy as ever, Eden. I can always trust you to say the most hurtful thing and not even break a sweat. Do you actually care about anyone but yourself?’

‘You’re the one crashing my house to tell me off about something you’ve no need to be involved in – what did you expect? I’d just curtsy and be like, sorry, sis? If Mum wants the watch, she only has to say. And she hasn’t said, so how am I supposed to know? I suppose she did that passive-aggressive thing of not telling me but complaining to you so you’d do her dirty work?’

‘Don’t be so childish; of course not. I noticed she hadn’t worn it in a while, and I asked her. She did nothing of the sort, and I’m here because I know she’ll never ask you no matter how much she wants to. I love you both but, dear God, where you’re concerned, she’s a doormat, and you take far too much advantage of how much she adores you. Someone’s got to say it.’

‘And you feel like that’s your job?’

‘There’s nobody else who will.’

‘Still don’t see why you have to. I don’t see why anyone has to. If it doesn’t worry Mum, then it’s a non-issue.’

‘Here’s an idea – why don’t you take it back and save everyone going round and round in circles over something that ought to be a non-issue?’

‘Here’s a better idea – why don’t you keep your nose out? Nobody is going round in circles over anything apart from you. But then you’ve got nothing better to do, I suppose.’

‘What? I might not be a city darling like you, but I have a job and a home. I certainly don’t have time to chase after you.’

‘But you’re here anyway. I think you’re a bit obsessed with me, quite honestly. Always have been – hated that I came along and spoiled your party when you thought you were always going to be the only child.’

At this, Caitlin balled her fists. Eden saw the movement from the corner of her eye and she knew instantly she’d gone too far. But would she back down? Say sorry? Admit she was out of order? No, Eden would do none of those things. Instead, she’d do what she’d always done and revel in her meanness. She couldn’t understand why she felt the need to taunt her sister all the time. Perhaps because deep down, she knew that all the things her sister had said about her were true and it hurt to acknowledge. So she kicked back rather than try to understand, rather than try to change. It was stupid and pointless and later she would come to understand that.

‘I know what you’re trying to do,’ Caitlin said, so obviously fighting the urge to slap Eden. ‘And I’m sure you think it’s hilarious, so I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of rising to it. I’m going to leave, and I’m going to trust that at some point during the next few days, you’ll have an adult response to this conversation and take Mum’s watch home to her.’

‘I will. I said that, didn’t I? Go back to your sad spinster life and stop trying to run mine, eh?’

Caitlin looked pained as she turned to go. Eden wanted to pull her back, to say she was sorry, but stubborn pride wouldn’t let her. So she simply watched her sister leave. Then she went to get her phone and sent a text to her friend, even though she knew it was a vain hope.

Hey, sorry to ask but could you have another look for my watch?

There was an instant reply.

Didn’t you think you’d lost it in the taxi?

Yeah, but could you look anyway? My sister is asking about it. It’s kind of an heirloom.

Not to be funny, but I spent an hour last week looking and it’s not here, not gonna look again, no point. Guess you’ll have to buy her another one.

Eden locked her phone and sighed. It was just another thing she’d screwed up. She never meant to upset the people she loved, but somehow she always did.

The watch never did turn up, and when Eden finally owned up to it, her mum didn’t get upset. She only looked so desperately sad that Eden didn’t know what to say. So she did what she always did in those situations – she skipped off back to her flat and took no blame at all. She removed herself from the visible consequences of her actions and hoped that they would be gone by the time she visited again. Until the day would come when there would be no hiding, when the consequences would be so big she’d never be able to escape them.

Eden dropped her keys onto the table and slumped into one of the chairs, looking around the silent kitchen of Four Winds Cottage, not seeing the charm of it, only the misery that had brought her here. She tried to hold on to the hopes that she’d also brought with her. The events of the past month had to mean something. She didn’t know how or what, but she knew something had to change.