Mac rubbed his forehead. What was he going to do about Stella? She was his sister, and he loved her, but right now she hated him, and who could blame her? Accepting his inheritance of Watersmeet was bad enough, but when you considered what had gone before…
He gazed up at the dark sky, wondering why his mother had put this on him. She’d known who he was. What he’d done. What if he let her down?
Finding no comfort in the night sky he turned to look out over the river, knowing that across the Humber lay the seaside town of Cleethorpes, and wondering how lively it was right now. Would the cafes, the shops, the amusements still be open? He doubted it, since it was January and out of season.
He felt a sudden stirring of something deep within him and, sickened, he turned away, calling to Carne as he strode rapidly back to the house.
Watersmeetshouldbe Stella’s, but his mother had left it to him. She’d trusted him to do the right thing. If he did as his sister wanted, he’d be letting his mother down yet again. If he sold the place to someone else, it would be just as bad.
He was trapped. The house he’d dreamed of and longed for so many times during the last few years had become his prison.
He had no idea how this was going to work because, unlike his mother, he had no faith in himself.
‘“All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.”’ It was a quote by Mother Julian of Norwich, apparently, and another one that Doug had been fond of, designed to calm him down when his anxieties rose and his mind began racing.
He wasn’t sure even Mother Julian herself would have had a solution to this dilemma.
After slipping off his wellies in the boot room, he entered the kitchen. The heat was comforting, like he’d just put a duvet around his shoulders.
‘Maybe,’ he said to Carne, ‘I’ll have a cup of tea first, and then I’ll see if there’s anything left in the freezer for dinner. I think there are some biscuits in the cupboard I can have while I think about it. I might even let you have one. What do you say?’
Carne yapped loudly and raced to the door that led to the hallway.
‘All right, all right. You want to be by the fire. I get it.’ Mac shook his head. There was no pleasing some people – even the ones that were dogs.
Before he could open the door to let Carne through, it opened and Stella stepped into the kitchen, her dark brown blunt bob cut to just the wrong length for her square face. She was dressed all in black for mourning – or to remind everyone that she’d just lost her mother and so much more besides. She gave the excited Jack Russell a perfunctory pat but her small, hazel eyes never left her brother’s face.
‘What the hell…’ It was a shock to see her there. He hadn’t set eyes on her since the reading of the will.
‘You left the front door unlocked so I let myself in. You should be more careful.’
‘Around here? Since when?’
She rolled her eyes impatiently. ‘Times change.’
‘Kelsea Sands doesn’t. It’s just as I left it. Like I never went away.’
She folded her arms. ‘But you did, didn’t you? For forty-four years.’
‘Bloody hell, Stell. You been working that out in your head while you waited for me?’
‘Didn’t need to. It’s embedded in my mind forever. Forty-four years of me being the only child in this family. To all intents and purposes.’
He turned back to the sink and filled up the kettle. ‘Stop exaggerating. You were never the only child. Do you want a cup of tea?’
‘I might as well have been!’
‘Milk? Sugar?’
‘Are you going to ignore me forever? Because I won’t let you, you know. It’s not fair, Ian! You know that deep down, so what are you going to do about it?’
He succeeded somehow in keeping his voice steady. ‘It’s Mac, Stella. I’ve told you so many times.’
‘Mac!’ She gave a scornful laugh. ‘Since when?’
‘Since I decided I’d had enough of being Ian,’ he said quietly, flicking the switch on the kettle.
‘Well, I can’t blame you for that. I think we’d all had enough of Ian – Mum especially. Which is why this is so unfair.’
