Back downstairs she jammed on her hiking boots and reached for her waterproof jacket before looping the dogs’ leads aroundtheir sleek heads. They always knew when she was taking them out, from the moment she even seemed to think about it. Now they pranced around her with nervous excitement, butting her thigh with their noses.
She heard Lucy coming down the stairs; she’d changed into jeans, but she was wearing those ridiculous ballet flats and her jacket was actually velveteen.
“It’s going to rain,” Juliet told her. “Don’t you have proper gear?”
Lucy glanced at her jacket. “Umm . . . I have a winter parka, but it’s kind of heavy, considering it’s supposed to be summer.”
“You’ll need a proper waterproof here unless you want to catch pneumonia.” Juliet reached for one of the spare waterproofs she kept for guests and tossed it to Lucy. “Here. You can use that until you can get something suitable. Those flats will be soaked in seconds. The beach is tidal, you know. The sand is always wet.” Belatedly Juliet realized how stern she sounded.
“Sorry,” Lucy said. Her sister looked like a kicked puppy. She’d looked the same when she’d made that comment in the kitchen about answering phones not being rocket science. And maybe it had sounded a little mean, but honestly. How hard a job could it be?
“You can borrow a pair of boots too,” she said gruffly, leaning down to lace up her hiking boots. “There’s probably a pair your size in the hall.”
A few minutes later they were heading down the high street, bundled up in coats and boots, their heads lowered against the chill wind.
“I can’t believe it’s August,” Lucy said as she dug her hands into the pockets of her coat. “August.It’s ninety degrees Fahrenheit in Boston.”
“Sounds awful,” Juliet answered shortly, and patted her thigh. “Milly. Molly. Heel.”
“I suppose it was pretty muggy,” Lucy allowed. “But it’s bloody freezing here. It can’t be above fifty degrees.”
“I don’t know Fahrenheit,” Juliet answered, “but it’s not that cold. You just have to dress appropriately.”
She sneaked a glance at Lucy and saw she was doing the kicked-puppy thing again. Her shoulders were hunched against the wind, her head lowered, her eyes streaming. But then Juliet’s eyes were also streaming; they were walking straight into the wind.
“So how long have you been living here?” Lucy asked.
Juliet narrowed her eyes against the onslaught of the wind. No matter what she’d said to Lucy, it really was freezing out, even for Cumbria. “Ten years.”
“What made you choose this place? I would have expected you to live in London or something, doing something important. Stockbroker or solicitor or something.”
Juliet let out a bark of a laugh at that. “Solicitor? I didn’t even finish university.”
“Didn’t you?” Lucy’s gaze widened and Juliet gritted her teeth. She didn’t know what annoyed her more: that she’d told Lucy or that Lucy hadn’t known. “Why not?”
“I dropped out. Wasn’t for me.” Juliet dug her hands into her pockets and started to walk faster. “I did a catering course instead.”
“I never knew that,” Lucy said, and Juliet shrugged.
“Why would you? We haven’t exactly kept in touch.”
“I know, but . . .” Lucy trailed off and Juliet didn’t fill the silence. What was there, really, to say? Their mother and Lucy had chosen to make their lives in Boston, separate from Juliet. They’d been perfectly happy in their little bubble of fame and fortune, a far cry from the council flat Juliet had grown up in, when Fiona had been struggling through night classes and jobsworking in pubs. Lucy had no idea of what life had been like before Fiona Bagshaw had becometheFiona Bagshaw.
“So a catering course,” Lucy said after a moment. “Have you always worked in the hospitality industry?”
“I got a job at a big hotel in Manchester right after graduation. I worked there for a few years.” Until her life had fallen apart, though not in the spectacular way Lucy’s had; more of a desperate, quiet crumbling.
“So how did you end up in Hartley-by-the-Sea?”
Juliet dug her hands deeper into the pockets of her waterproof. “I was on a walking holiday up here and I stopped and decided to stay for good.”
“Really? You just . . . stayed?”
Juliet shot her a narrow look. “Why all the questions now, Lucy?”
“Because I’m living with you, and I realize I don’t even know you, not really. We’re sisters—”
“Half sisters.” It popped out before Juliet could keep herself from it, and Lucy blinked, clearly stung.
