Page 13 of Meet me at the Seaside Cottages

‘Because most of the young people leave . . . and nobody else can find a place to live. Everyone’s house is being turned into—’

‘A holiday let,’ said Ellie straight away. ‘Edinburgh is exactly the same. It’s just awful.’

‘Yes,’ said Janey. ‘As soon as anything comes on the market it gets snatched up by some investor who doesn’t even live here . . . and then it gets rented out for parties and hen nights and people being loud and annoying and who bring their own food and don’t even shop here and then complain there’s no restaurants even though they’re staying in the house the chef used to rent.’

Their faces, for once, look very similar, even though Essie’s long, ringlety hair is streaked expensively in gold and honey, and Janey’s bust is low whereas Essie pays an expensive trainer to try to prevent this exact same thing from happening. Their jaws however are, right now, set exactly the same.

Janey shakes her head. ‘It’s not right.’

‘It isn’t.’

‘You know when someone’s looking to move in the village we have to do it all in secret?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You have to tip people the wink. Otherwise if it goes on the open market it just gets snapped up by someone who doesn’t give a toss and who we’ve never even met. And it’s hard . . . it’s hard for people to resist.’

‘Why don’t you do that with the cottage?’ Essie can’t help asking.

Janey knows she doesn’t mean it in a callous way.

‘Because I already got kicked out of one home,’ she says, shortly, and Essie could have bitten her tongue.

‘Anyway,’ said Janey, parking right outside the cottage; in the city, Essie thinks, that would have been a miracle andthey’d have had to have called the papers, ‘where else would I go?’ And she regards the little cobbled Seagate with pride. ‘And why?’

*

The house is even smaller than Essie remembers. She had whizzed in and out last Christmas, barely stopping long enough to give her mum things she thought she should have, while mostly engrossed in her phone and refusing to eat anything so she could fit into a ballgown for the fancy New Year’s Eve party Connor was taking her to at Gleneagles.

She can’t help but notice, though, what her mum has done to it: the new flooring, wide oak-style beams on the little sitting room floor that Janey is incredibly proud of laying herself, and a floral rug in colours that match the walls.

‘It’s very dark in here,’ she says, looking around. Janey looks stricken. ‘But it’s nice,’ Essie adds quickly.

The two huge suitcases look bigger than the room and wider than the tiny creaking staircase. Janey not mentioning this makes everything even more awkward. She has made up Essie’s bed, which is a lovely wrought-iron three-quarter frame that someone had been throwing out, and she’d managed to salvage it from a skip. She’s made it up with fresh white linen and a soft pink blanket. There’s a small white chest of drawers and, frankly, not much space for anything else. By the time they’ve put the two suitcases in, there’s no room between the bed and the window. Janey’s own bed is just on the other side of the wall, and the bathroom is across the landing. They’ll be sharing it. They’ve never shared a bathroom before; the old house had two.

‘I’ll leave you to unpack,’ says Janey.

‘Where?’ says Essie, despairingly.

‘Do you want my room?’ says Janey, anxiously.

‘No, Mum, I’m not such ahorrible cowthat I want to put you out of your room,’ snaps Essie.

She has been trying to hold off, promising herself she wouldn’t break down, wouldn’t cry and upset her mum, wouldn’t admit to herself that she feels like a failure. But it has been a very long day. Her throat constricts; her eyes fill. She can’t help it. She collapses on her bed and bursts into floods of tears.

‘Baby girl!’ exclaims Janey, taking her in her arms. Of course, this makes things worse. ‘I thought it was just the job.’

This is the wrong thing to say.

‘Well, even if it was,’ howls Essie, ‘my job meant a lot to me!’

‘But I thought you were sick, or pregnant or . . . it’s only a stupid job. You’ll find another one in five seconds, you’re so smart!’

‘The company is moving toSwitzerland! And they didn’t want to take me,’ says Essie.

‘Good!’ says Janey. ‘You’re far enough away as it is.’

This is met with more racking sobs. ‘They didn’t want me. And now I’ve lost the flat too.’

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