Page 2 of Coming Home to Sturcombe Bay
Her mother had no such reticence — tears streamed down her face. “Ah, my baby’s home safe at last.”
“Mum!” Cassie was protesting, though her own eyes were blurring with tears too. “I only went round the world — I didn’t leave the planet.”
“Ten years. Let me look at you.” She held her daughter at arm’s length, then cupped her face in her hands. “You haven’t changed a bit. Except you’re so brown! Did you get that tan in New Zealand?”
“It’s winter there at the moment, though in the summer it was glorious. Hello, Dad.”
She turned to hug her father — big, calm Richard Channing, kindly and much-respected headmaster of the local Community College. “You’re looking well.”
His grey eyes crinkled into a smile as he wrapped his arms around her. “So are you, my lovely. Welcome home.”
“And my big sister!” She laughed. “Though I’m still taller than you.” She caught Lisa round the waist and lifted her off the ground, swinging her around as she had been able to do since she was eleven years old.
“Hey, put me down,” Lisa protested. “I’m a respectable married woman.”
“Huh! You — respectable? I don’t believe it.” Cassie’s eyes danced. “Where are the babies? Have you brought them down to meet their Auntie Cassie?”
“They’re at home with Ollie — it’s a bit late for them to be out.” Lisa beamed with maternal pride. “You can see them tomorrow.”
“Right.” Cassie hesitated, steeling herself for the big question. “And . . . how’s Nanna?”
Sombre looks replaced the smiles. “Not good,” her mother admitted. “I think she’s holding on for you to come home.”
Cassie felt the guilt twist in her gut. She should have come home sooner.
“We can go up to the hospital to see her tomorrow. Anyway, come on indoors,” her mother urged, dropping an arm around her shoulders. “You must be tired after that long flight.”
“Well, yes I am,” Cassie admitted. “I don’t know why, but sitting in an aeroplane seat for twenty-four hours is more tiring than rafting down the Shotover rapids!”
Her sister laughed. “I’ll take your word for that!”
They climbed the steps to the front door. And there in the hall, waiting to welcome her, so eager that his whole back end was wagging along with his tail, was Barney, the small brown Border Terrier who had been little more than a pup when she had gone away.
“Barney!” Cassie dropped to her knees to hug him. “You remember me?”
An enthusiastic pink tongue lapped away the tears that had sprung to her eyes. She hadn’t quite dared to hope for this, to find him still here, the mischievous bundle of fun who had raced with her on the beach, chasing waves and seagulls, or snuck into her bed at night when he was supposed to stay in his basket down in the kitchen.
“Of course he remembers you. He missed you.”
“Oh, Barney. I missed you too.” She fussed the little dog, tickling his ears and reducing him to a bundle of ecstasy. That warm, wriggling body, that coarse brown fur, those eyes still bright with intelligence gazing adoringly into hers.
She held onto the moment until she was sure she wasn’t going to cry, then rose to her feet and glanced around the hall, taking in the changes. “You’ve decorated in here.”
Her mother laughed. “Of course.”
The hall was long and bright, with a gleaming wooden floor and high ceiling. The old wallpaper she remembered had gone — now one wall was painted a rich dark blue, the other ivory cream.
“Very smart,” she approved.
“We’ve done most of the house since you’ve been away. Come and look at the sitting room.”
The walls had been painted a warm terracotta. It could have been overpowering, but in such a large room, running from the front to the back of the house, it had an air of opulence enhanced by the high ceiling and decorative cornices painted the same ivory as the hall.
The light fittings were new — brass and pearlescent globes. Two dark-red leather Chesterfield sofas and two comfortable armchairs were arranged before the fireplace, and the mantlepiece and sideboard were lined with family photographs.
The marble fireplace itself was original to the house, and had been well cared for by the generations — the house had been owned by her mother’s family since it was built, just as Nanna’s family had owned her house three doors up the hill.
“It’s lovely,” Cassie approved, gazing round.
