Back in her room, she undressed with her usual care, separating clothes, folding them and putting them away in the big old dresser. The furniture in the guest rooms was mainly vintage and antique, and had been there since before her parents bought the place. Probably worth quite a bit though, Elle noted. But time had taken its toll, and various guests over the years had left scratches and dents. Wardrobe doors creaked, dresser draws stuck maddeningly. Her parents didn’t know a thing about the maintenance of fine furniture. They’d just thought that you could put things in a room and they would take care of themselves.

Elle smiled fondly. Anna had applied many of those same principles to their upbringing really. She and Penny had been left to run quite wild around the hotel and on the beach. It had been a joyous childhood in that way, almost unthinkable in this day of over-safety-conscious child-rearing. Elle and Penny, separated by only a couple of years in age, had been completely inseparable. They roamed from morning till dusk, Elle in the lead, informally responsible for her sister. They formed gangs with guests’ children and made up great sweeping fantasy games in the gardens. Shipwrecks, wars, hospitals, the garden could be made into anything. Penny often wanted to play the domestic, serene part in these make-believes: mother, nurse or wife; but Elle was always in the thick of things, directing the action, making sure everyone had a part to play.

There had been rainy days too, when they made the hotel itself their castle, much to their mother’s chagrin and the indulgence of the guests. They had delivered tasty treats in the tea rooms, helping Mary the chef and hoping to be rewarded with a slice of the hotel’s infamous chocolate and vanilla cheesecake. Elle sighed, remembering the delicious creamy texture with chocolate buttons on top of the perfectly crumbling base. She’d sampled cheesecake all over the world, and nothing could ever hold a candle to that one. Mary had been dead and gone for many years now so it was unlikely she’d ever taste anything like it again.

Most of all, Elle remembered she and Penny always going to bed happy and exhausted, sometimes still slightly dusty with sand or salt if bath-time had skipped Anna’s notice. Their mother really had given them the best childhood possible, Elle thought, without appearing to meddle much in their tiny affairs.

She got into the shower and stood under the jets, as hot as she could stand them, and closed her eyes. When had things changed between her and Penny? When had that closeness begun to strain and stretch, until they told each other less and less? She guessed when they were teenagers, as is normal. Elle had started to yearn towards something bigger, and even though Penny pretended, it wasn’t what she wanted.