Page 57 of You, As You Are

Maisie’s focus snapped to hernain’sslim form retreating into her bedroom, and her worry that something was wrong spiked again. She wished Vera wouldn’t say things like that. Twice in one day she’d brought up the fact that she was still alive, and twice Maisie’s heart had lurched.

This is why you’re here.

Feeling the urge to finally say something, she took a deep breath, preparing for the worst, then entered to find Vera elbow deep in her tall set of drawers.

Beside the bed sat an old-fashioned, open leather weekend bag with a man’s items peeking out. Maisie guessed it wasn’t odd that Ronnie would have clothes here, especially if he would be staying the night. Maybeseveralnights given the volume of socks balled up on top of Vera’s laundry hamper.

The music from downstairs drummed through the walls in a dull hum. Now was as good a time as Maisie was going to get to bring up those morbid comments. “Nain, could we talk about?—”

“Here, I found this when I was moving around some things in the attic earlier?—”

“What wereyoudoing in the attic?”

“—and it’s for you.”

Maisie took the envelope that Vera offered – a thick one made of fancy paper you’d expect to find an equally fancyinvitation in. The slight yellow discolouration said it’d once been white, but it had her name written on the front in a scrawl that felt familiar. She unstuck the fold and gently pulled out the card from inside: a single sheet like a postcard. When she turned it over, she immediately recognised where the image was of, but it wasn’t a photograph. The watercolour-painted picture of Aberystwyth’s beach and the pier was gorgeous. So delicate. Maisie edged closer to the light of the bedside lamp that Vera had turned on, reading the neatly written black ink beneath the painting.

If you ever miss home,

find your way to the water.

The familiar handwriting made her chest constrict one rib at a time.

“Did … didTaiddo this?” The rush of nostalgic emotion that swept from her heart wasn’t what she expected to feel tonight.

“Your grandfather loved painting the ocean,” Vera said fondly, her eyes misty. “You probably won’t remember, but he used to take you up to the beach. You with your paper and pencils, and him with his sketch pads and watercolours. Your brothers were never interested, but you were.”

“I remember him walking up to the water with a cup and coming back with it.” The happy memory made Maisie’s eyes sting.

“For the paints.” Vera brushed her fingertip along the edge of the card that’d been living in the attic for upwards of fifteen years now. “It had your name, Moo Moo. You should keep it.”

“I will.” Maisie’s voice went thick. “Thank you,Nain.”

“You’re welcome. Now off you go. You don’t want to keep Iain waiting.”

With the postcard clutched to her chest, Maisie headed back downstairs. Iain stood exactly where she’d left him, like a guard dog not wanting to leave his post. He must’ve heard her steps because he turned his head, met her eyes, then concern washed over his features.

“You alright?” he asked calmly enough to not draw attention.

“Yes.” Maisie wiped under her eye, probably smearing away her concealer in the process. “Are you ready to go?”

The look he gave her was like he wanted to take her back upstairs to where it was quiet and sit her down until he found out what was wrong, yet Maisie didn’t give him a chance. She moved for the coat cupboard under the stairs to retrieve her jacket, but Iain held out his arm, and there it was, looped over his forearm already.

“Oh. Thank you.” He helped her into it one sleeve at a time, and Maisie kissed her grandma goodbye. “Have a good night,Nain.”

“You too, Moo Moo.” Vera flicked her eyes at Iain with no veil over the insinuation behind them.

Briefly, Maisie said goodbye to the others and then Iain escorted her out. His hand met her lower back on the way through the front door, and her body reignited with the all-encompassing feeling of what it was like to be caressed. Every one of his fingers spread across her spine were each a single reminder of what she missed.

So that’s what he’d meant about touching,she thought.

“Don’t look, but there are ten faces pressed up against the window,” Iain uttered, stepping out with her into the night.

Maisie snorted. “We should’ve seen this plan of theirs sooner.”

* Cheers

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

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