Valentina gave him a squeeze. ‘I bet we could have one of each.’
Ezzie suddenly felt envious of Valentina having a child of her own. The time had never been right for Ezz. When she’d left Ramsay, it had been a blessing, allowing her to leave him behind with no real ties to cut. Then had come a decade of singledom that was only now beginning to wear on her.
She shook herself. Nobody could turn back the clock. ‘Fantastic news about Thea and Dev being pregnant, isn’t it? I can’t wait to be an auntie again. What do you think about having a little cousin, Barnaby?’
Barnaby pulled an elaborate grimace. ‘So long as it’s not a girl it’ll be OK.’
‘But she’d be your cousin, almost as good as a sister, and sisters are awesome,’ Ezzie declared. Then she was washed by a wave of discomfort. Valentina was right here with her, and Thea would be back after a lovely weekend with Dev’s family. But there were two more sisters she was deliberately keeping out of her life.
As if reading her thoughts, Valentina said softly, ‘Any … family news?’
‘Nothing new.’ Ezzie’s throat felt thick. It must be the dust, she decided, because she couldn’t be sad about sisters she didn’t know and parents who were virtual strangers.She wondered suddenly about her original birth certificate and if Kay and Rick had a copy. If Kay’s mother had been the nightmare she sounded, she might have insisted on ‘father unknown’ to insult Rick and make Kay’s situation seem as awful as possible.
She swallowed. As Barnaby was at the window, peering through the salt-spray to the windswept beach and black clouds flying towards the island, she whispered, ‘I just feel angry.’
Valentina slipped an arm around her, eyes dark with concern. She checked on Barnaby, who’d begun to draw a face on the dust on the inside of the glass. ‘I get that you are, but I’m not exactly sure why.’
‘Neither am I.’ Ezz slipped her arm around Valentina too, enjoying the comfort of the big sister she could never remember being without. ‘At first it was simple. They’d dumped me and kept the other two.’
Valentina protested. ‘Not sure it could have been exactly like that …’
‘I know. I’m harsh.’ She summoned reason and logic. ‘It was a teen pregnancy. A difficult situation. Nobody would have foreseen that eventually they’d end up together in a stable marriage. I understand in principle.’ But it was hard to inject understanding into her voice. She laid her head briefly on Valentina’s shoulder. ‘I’m beginning to think I’m angriest with Kay’s mother, who seems to have scared Kay into giving me up. Then, when I remember her alcohol problem I wonder if I’m being unfair. Then I try not to think about the birth family, because it feels disloyal to Mum and Dad.’ And Mats had certainly distracted her.
‘Are you going to get back in touch with Kay and Rick?’ Valentina’s voice swam with sympathy, her embrace tight:a rock in a storm. She’d followed Ezzie’s lead in referring to her birth parents by name. An adoptee would never use clumsy language like ‘real parents’. They both knew their real parents had been Maxie and Vince Wynter.
‘I haven’t felt the urge yet.’ Ezz sighed.
Barnaby bounded over. ‘Can I go to the beach? I’ll stay really near the house so you can see me, Mum.’
Valentina shook her head. ‘Not alone, darling. We walked along the sand before we came into the cottage. Maybe we can go again, after I’ve talked to the builder.’
Ezz could imagine Barnaby feeling tantalised by the beach being only a few yards beyond his window. Also, she thought of Mats’ intention to bring Astrid and Alvin. Even if that plan was now scuppered by the weather, she suggested, ‘I can go with Barnaby, while it’s not raining. Would you like that, Barnaby? We’ll need our coats.’
Barnaby jumped as if riding an invisible pogo stick, boots echoing in the empty room. ‘Yes, please! Mum, can Auntie Ezzie take me?’
Valentina laughed, slipping her arm from around Ezz to pull the little boy into a fierce hug. ‘Of course. The tide’s ebbing, so you’ll be able to look at rock pools.’
Gary called suddenly from the foot of the stairs. ‘I’ll go for a drive while you speak to your builder. See you later. Bye, Barnaby.’
Barnaby shouted, ‘Bye, Dad.’ Then ran to the head of the stairs. ‘Auntie Ezzie and me are going to the beach.’
Under cover of the subsequent conversation about rock pools and waves, Ezz whispered to Valentina, ‘Is Gary OK?’ which was polite language forWhy’s he going off on his own?
Valentina hesitated, then grimaced. ‘He didn’t want me to buy the cottage because of its dilapidation. And if wewere going to buy a second home he thinks it should be in Spain or maybe Cornwall.’
‘Sunnier,’ Ezzie observed. ‘But a trek for weekends.’
‘Exactly. And not near my lovely sisters.’ Valentina glanced through the window as an engine started up. ‘At least him clearing off will leave room for the builder’s truck.’
Ezz wondered why Gary had needed to bring the car down to the Quays at all, as Thistledome was only a ten-minute walk away, even for Barnaby. Not for the first time she reflected that Valentina saw something in Gary that had passed Ezz by.
Leaving her sister happily consulting bathroom brochures and snapping her tape measure, Ezz located Barnaby’s coat on a nail in what used to be the kitchen and checked he zipped it up against the raw day outside, then shrugged into her own coat and stepped out into the icy wind. At six years old – nearly seven, Ezz realised, as his birthday was in March – Barnaby needed only casual chaperonage on the deserted beach. She wandered behind him as he leapt from rock to rock and then balanced on an enormous pebble before executing a splashdown into a puddle, protected by his rain boots. Strands of lime-green seaweed clung to black rocks surrounded by gritty sand, grey clouds scudded above the bay and the wind dashed Ezz’s hair into her eyes.
‘A fish!’ Barnaby shouted, stooping over a rock pool, his hands on his knees, probably to brace himself against the wind bowling him face-first into the freezing water.
Ezz joined him, holding back her hair and peering at the darting silver-pink form stranded by the tide. ‘That’s a tiddler: a baby fish,’ she observed.
‘Where’s his mum?’ Barnaby sounded outraged at what he obviously saw as fishy neglect.
