‘Tamsyn? Tamsyn?’

I opened my eyes and snapped my head round to look at Edie. It took me a moment or two to work out where I was. Her hand rested on my arm.

My heart pummelled my ribcage.

‘Are you all right? You shouted out.’

‘I’m fine…’

‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

‘No… I…’ I looked over at the pool. The early evening light threw a golden haze across its stillness. There was no kaftan on the terrace. No Eleanor in the pool. And, when I checked the guttering, no raven watching.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Tamsyn

July 1986

Edie sat up at the noise of a motorbike coming towards the house and turning into the driveway. When the doorbell sounded I sat up too. Through the bank of sitting room windows we watched Max emerge from his study and head towards the front door.

A few moments later my brother walked into the house. He seemed uncertain, tentative, his head lowered and nodding. The two of them talked for a minute or two. I wished more than anything I knew what they were saying. I remembered then I was supposed to have told Eleanor that Jago was coming up to talk about the painting she wanted doing.

Max Davenport appeared at the terrace door with Jago following him. My brother caught sight of me and looked expectant, as if I might jump up to see him. But I didn’t. I didn’t want him there. Him standing uneasy and awkward in his ripped jeans and scuffed Doc Marten boots was a stark reminder of where I came from, a cramped terraced house with peeling wallpaper and a sofa covered by a blanket to hide the holes and ancient stains. With my brother there it was hard to escape who I really was and I didn’t want to be me. I wanted to remain the girl who sunbathed beside a pool with steak and champagne in her belly in the company of people who shone as if varnished.

‘I wonder who that is?’ said Edie, lifting her sunglasses off her eyes and squinting.

‘My brother.’

‘Your brother?’

I nodded. ‘He’s come to talk about doing some work. I was supposed to tell your mum but I forgot.’

‘He’s beautiful, isn’t he?’ She lowered her sunglasses and glanced at Tamsyn.

I shrugged. ‘He’s my brother. I don’t know if he’s beautiful,’ I lied.

Edie laughed. She bent one leg and her skirt slipped down to reveal her thigh.

‘How old is he?’

‘Nineteen.’

‘Back from university?’

‘University?’ Nobody I knew had been to university, let alone my brother who left school after failing all but three of his CSEs. ‘No. He doesn’t go.’

‘What does he do?’

‘He’s unemployed. He used to work at the tin mine, but it got closed down. He’s not worked since. Bugger all jobs down here.’ As I repeated his words, my brother’s voice resounded in my head, heavy with all the anger and frustration which drove his fights with Mum whenever she pushed the classifieds across the table towards him. Tiny adverts for jobs he’d never get ringed in red biro that made his fists ball. ‘There’s nothing for us down here. Cornwall might as well not exist. London doesn’t give a shit.’