‘My literary estate will continue to make donations to my own favourite charities, as long as there are sufficient funds for it to do so. I will be leaving Seaglass in my great-granddaughter’s precious hands. I hope we can all agree that Trixie is the future of this family. My home will be held in trust for her alone, until she is older, along with any other royalties and future payments from publishers—’
‘Hang on a minute,’ interrupts Lily, lighting yet another cigarette. She takes a drag, then exhales a cloud of smoke. ‘You’re basically going to leave everything to my daughter, a child, and nothing to me? You’ve finally lost your remaining marbles.’
Rose smiles at the outburst. Unlike the rest of the family, she seems completely indifferent and unoffended.
Nana sighs. ‘Not everything, Lily, and please stop smoking in my home. Before those tiny cogs in your small mind start trying to turn, the will prevents you from taking a penny of what will one day be Trixie’s. Besides, I’m not dead yet. You need to learn to make your own way in life, the world doesn’t owe you anything, and neither do I. But . . . it may or may not please you all to learn that I have started working on one final book.’
‘You haven’t written anything new for years,’ says Dad.
‘Well, I didn’t have anything left to say. But now I do have one last story I’d like to tell. It’s about a dysfunctional family, not unlike ours.’
‘What?’ says Nancy.
‘You’ve written a book about us?’ Lily asks.
‘I’ve started sketching out a few ideas,’ is all Nana says.
Dad slams his glass down on the table without meaning to. ‘Well, I can’t imagine that selling many copies. What I want to know is why? Why invite us here, if all along you planned to leave us out of the will? I’m your son. Your only child—’
‘Please keep your voice down,’ interrupts Lily. ‘Trixie is already asleep upstairs.’
‘Because the future of this family, and what I will leave behind when I am gone, has been on my mind for a long time,’ Nana replies.
I think she’s about to say something else, but she doesn’t.
Instead she is silent and wide-eyed – like the rest of us – when we hear the melancholy sound of the wind chimes outside and the front door slam at the other end of the house.
It’s almost ten o’clock.
The tide is in.
I can tell we’re all thinking the same thing. It’s not possible to walk across the causeway at this time of night, and nobody else was expected to join us at Seaglass this evening.
‘Maybe Trixie woke up?’ whispers my mother.
‘And went for a walk outside in the rain? I don’t think so,’ Lily replies.
I think we all know that it isn’t my niece we can hear out in the hall.
Every member of my family stares at the closed kitchen door in horror, as the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the hallway gets closer. There is a collective holding of breath when the door handle slowly starts to turn.
Eight
30 October 10 p.m.
eight hours until low tide
Dad leans back in his chair, Nancy gasps, and Lily swears as the door bursts open. The candles on the table flicker, casting an eerie pattern over all the faces sitting around it, and only Rose keeps her wits on a tight leash as a man appears in the doorway. He is backlit from the light in the hall, and it takes a few seconds for me to recognize the shape of who is casting a new shadow over the evening.
Conor steps into the kitchen. The man I have secretly loved since he was a boy has been a stranger for too long. I’ve spent a lot of my life in love’s waiting room, not being noticed by those I want to see me. Other people seem to find it all so easy – Lily has never had any problems attracting attention from the opposite sex – but I’ve always been a little awkward in that way. I never know what to say or do when I like someone, so I tend to say and do nothing at all. Still, nobody here would have approved of me having a relationship with Conor. Not then, not now, not ever. I’m about to say something, I think we all are, but Nana beats us to it.
‘Conor, welcome. I didn’t know whether you’d come.’
‘You invited him?’ asks my mother.
‘Conor might not be a Darker, but he is part of this family,’ says Nana.
‘That depends on your point of view,’ says Dad, staring down at the table.
Conor ignores the comment. ‘I tried to call, to let you know that I was running late – I got stuck at work – but there seems to be a problem with your phone.’