In Sophie’s bedroom at Siren House, St Aidan
Tiger prints and forward thinking
Tuesday
Iusually try to wriggle out of visits to Siren House, and it’s nothing to do with being jealous. Every time I ring Sophie’s original Georgian bell and step through the palatial front door it’s a reminder of the chasm between us, though once I’m inside, the white walls and scrubbed plank floors always feel more down to earth and homely than the outside suggests it’s going to be.
Today I’ve been summoned at four-thirty for a bird’s-eye view of the sea pool, and Sophie waves Shadow and me in, lets the monumental door clunk closed behind us, then turns for the stairs.
‘Nate’s with the kids in the garden, so we’ll go straight up and catch the tide at its highest before it turns. The best place to see it from is the master bedroom.’
It’s Sophie’s voice, but she’s looking slightly freaky with her dark hair, and my leopard-print New Look dress cinched with her wide brown leather belt. When we step into it, I’m reminded that her bedroom is bigger than my whole house, including the decks, but I can’t fault her white cotton bed linen, or the soft fawn cashmere throws and floor rugs.
I smile as we pass the colour-burst of my dresses hanging from a curly limed-oak coat rack.
‘How’s it going, living as me?’
She pushes a piece of dark hair behind her ear. ‘Milla helps me decide what to wear each morning, so that’s brought us together.’ She frowns briefly. ‘She’s still full-on with the criticism in every other area, but it’s bliss that she doesn’t slag off my outfits.’
I laugh. ‘She’s a teenager, she’ll need a few years to come through it rather than a few days.’
‘You’re right, Flossie.’ Sophie does a twirl as she crosses the room. ‘It’s surprisingly liberating, being someone else.’
I catch hold of a dress I don’t recognise. ‘Is this one of mine?’
She looks guilty. ‘We shopped for a few extra ones in smaller sizes. As it’s short and orange I take it you’ll approve?’
‘Defo. Another playsuit too?’
A grin spreads across her face. ‘What a revelation they are! Who knew they’d be so comfy or versatile.’
‘And you’re rocking the thick black eyeliner too.’
She shakes her head as if she can’t believe it either. ‘It takes me back to when I was a teenage goth, but if I’m in this for two weeks I might as well embrace it.’ Her laugh echoes loud around the room. ‘Poor Nate doesn’t know what’s hit him and Maisie’s a little confused, but it’s doing Milla and me a lot of good, so thank you for pushing me into it.’
She walks across to the enormous bay window with sliding sashes. ‘Come and see the sea pool.’
Siren House is built on the clifftop, and its gardens run out to a cliff edge with steps leading down to the beach. From the first floor at high tide we’re looking straight out onto a mass of shimmering blue water that melts seamlessly into the sky out on the horizon. To the left there’s the harbour with the colourful village cottages stacked up on the hillside beyond. To the right where the cliff curves around a hundred yards further along the beach, there’s an outcrop of rocks projecting into the water, which morphs into a man-made wall that surrounds a large space. As the tide rushes up the last part of the sand, it’s spilling into the gap to form a pool.
Sophie’s pointing downwards. ‘You can see, from the line where the old perimeter wall was, the pool is quite a size. And the part at the front is where the dam has collapsed.’
I nod. ‘So when that wall was in place, the water would flow right over and be held there when the tide flowed back out again.’
She nods. ‘It’s an ingenious blend of man-made and natural, only a short walk along the beach from the town, made all the more perfect because it’s a sun trap so the rocks warm the water.’
I laugh. ‘You sound like a tourist brochure – but that’s exactly why it deserves to be re-born.’ I’ve got good news for the fundraising too. ‘Kit’s agreed to do a day for Milla and the gang. He could fit them in next Saturday if they’re free?’
Sophie’s nodding. ‘Great. I’ll let them know! So long as you don’t let them bully you into too many more things you don’t want to do.’
As I’m taking note of that, I’m blinking at the sparkle of sunlight off the water. It’s similar to the outlook from The Hideaway, in that it’s looking out over an expanse of the same bit of ocean, but the height and the massive windows here make it more imposing. ‘It’s cute to see my beach hut nestling over on the far side of the bay. It’s a phenomenal view from here!’
Sophie stares out into the distance. ‘That view over the sea is why I went to hell and back to get this place when we really couldn’t afford it.’ She lets out a breath. ‘It’s all our dad’s fault, of course.’
I’m taken aback to hear the word we rarely say. ‘What’shegot to do with anything?’
‘Deep down I always felt that he left because I wasn’t good enough; that if only I’d been better, he might have stayed.’ She’s wrapping her arms around her. ‘That’s why as an adult I’ve always had to strive – it’s as if having the best company and the most amazing house was the only way I could safeguard against losing the people I love.’
My heart is breaking for the six-year-old Sophie and the loss she must have felt. Even more, that her outwardly solid appearance is founded on so many insecurities. ‘It’s remarkable how two children in the same family can have such different experiences. It sounds awful, but I can barely remember him at all.’
