It’s only when I get out of the car and draw closer that I realize I’ve seen this building before. If you take a boat up to Lower Hadwell or stand at Whitehaven Quay, you can see a boathouse with a small concrete jetty tucked into the woodland on the opposite bank.
I’ve always wondered who it belonged to, what it looked like inside. It’s not old like many other structures around. Well, not centuries old. From its square shape and flat roof, I’d guess it was built in the 1950s. The exterior looks older, though, because it’s covered in blocks of local stone that echo the colours of the river. The bottom floor lies level with the shore, where large arched doors open onto the water, and possibly is only half the size of the upper floor, thanks to the steep hill it nestles into. Above that is a floor with wide horizontal windows and a balcony that wraps around both water-facing sides of the building. Instead of being a concrete monstrosity out of place with its surroundings, it somehow manages to stand apart yet blend in at the same time.
This is where I’m going to stay? It wasn’t what I was expecting, but it’s breathtaking all the same.
Simon gets the smaller of my two cases from the boot and I follow him to the front door, which is on the upper of the two floors, and he knocks loudly. I’ve only ever seen this place from the river before, so I didn’t realize there was another wing joined to the main house by a flagstone hallway, topped with a glazed roof.
When no one answers, Simon tries the handle. The door swings open and we step into the narrow atrium, which has only an old church bench and a rubber plant for decoration. The walls are an achingly bright white, which makes me think it’s just been decorated.
‘Hey!’ Simon calls out. I hover behind him. It’s not easy meeting new people these days. It never used to bother me making a first impression, because I always knew when I walked out the front door I’d tried my hardest in how I presented myself. But that Erin feels like my prettier, more successful cousin.
Simon walks the length of the hallway and opens the door at the far end. We emerge into a vast space that serves as a living room, dining area and kitchen. It’s been renovated to look modern while paying homage to the mid-century architecture. Perhaps the most unusual feature of the room is that the centre of the ceiling is raised, leaving only a metre or so of a border to meet the walls. Narrow horizontal windows at the top allow light to flood in from above. Back near floor level, two wide windows run down the adjoining side of the large square room, revealing a stunning view of the bend in the river as it widens. The water is dotted with small boats that are moored to bright buoys, and beyond that I can make out the village. ‘Wow …’ I can see why the architect chose not to stick to a traditional house layout and placed the main living space upstairs.
Simon comes to stand behind me and drapes his arms over my shoulders, joining them in front of my chest, holding me tight. ‘You like it?’
I turn in his arms and give him a kiss. ‘I love it.’
There are footsteps in the hallway. Simon grins. ‘Here the owner is now.’
I wait, desperately trying to quell the quiver in my stomach, but when the owner steps through the doorway, I can’t make sense of what I’m seeing.
Simon releases me, walks over, pulls the man into a bear hug, and claps him on the back. ‘Good to see you, mate!’
The guy hugs him back, and then he glances over Simon’s shoulder to me. ‘Hi, Erin.’
‘Hi, um … Hi, Gil,’ I croak.
I’m still in shock as Simon explains Gil just inherited this place, and he’s doing it up for the next few months. ‘You’ve always said how much you love this part of the world, how much you’d like to live here,’ Simon says, coming back to loop an arm around my shoulder. ‘And now you can! For a while, at least. Didn’t I tell you it was the perfect solution?’
Gil is watching me carefully, as if he’s not sure how I’m going to react to him.
‘Are you okay with this?’ I ask.
He gives a curt nod. ‘Sure. Welcome to Heron’s Quay.’
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Five years ago
Do you miss her?
He shifts uncomfortably as he looks at the message that’s just arrived on his phone screen. He knows talking about the night Megan died is the whole reason these messages are pinging back and forth between them, but he always feels a bit queasy when she brings it up.
Yes.
It’s true. He hadn’t known Megan for very long, but she’d been a big-hearted ball of energy that you couldn’t help feeling drawn to.
That helpsshe types back.Knowing I’m not the only one who feels this way. Thank you for taking the time to talk to me about it. I know you didn’t want to at first, but it’s meant the world to me. I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me.
How can you be three thousand miles away from someone but still feel as if you’ve given them a hug? His thumbs hover above his keypad.There’s something I need to tell you …
He deletes it, types it again and deletes it a second time before running a hand through his hair and throwing his phone down on his desk. He’s supposed to be working, but all he can think about is Erin.
He hates lying to her, has been on the verge of coming clean for more than a week, but …
It’s clear as they’ve picked over their memories of that night that she’s not Gil Sampson’s biggest fan. He could live with that if he thought she’d still talk to him, but he doesn’t think she will. And although he wants that for himself, he’d be ready to give that up if it wasn’t for the fact she needs to talk to someone, and Simon is not prepared or able to be that person at the moment.
She said it herself, didn’t she?Nottalking has caused her real psychological trauma. Back then, when Simon gathered the three of them together, suggested they should never mention that night again, even among themselves, Gil thought it was a good idea.
