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Back The House by the Sea Save as PDF
Chapters (71)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55
  58. 56
  59. 57
  60. 58
  61. 59
  62. 60
  63. 61
  64. 62
  65. 63
  66. 64
  67. 65
  68. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  69. MORE FROM LOUISE DOUGLAS
  70. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  71. ABOUT BOLDWOOD BOOKS

‘We could be self-sufficient,’ he said. ‘We could grow all our own food. Collect our own water. Recycle everything.’

‘We could do holidays for kids.’

‘Maybe. We could be somewhere people came to…’

‘To what?’ I asked.

‘To heal,’ Joe said. ‘A place where people could come to heal.’

We went to the decking to watch the sun go down. We were still there as the stars began to show themselves, shyly at first, in ones and twos, and then in greater numbers.

For the past ten years, I hadn’t been able to look at a night sky without thinking of Daniel, without feeling, with one heartbeat, love, and with the next, pain. That night, the love was purer and the pain was clearer because it was no longer obscured by the wall of anger and bitterness I’d hidden behind. That night, I realised, the barrier that surrounded my wounded heart was coming down and it was something to do with the villa; with this place.

We sat together, silent. Joe beside me but not touching me.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said at last. ‘I’m sorry for the things I said to you, Joe. I’m sorry I was so cruel. Nothing that happened was your fault.’

I took a breath. I felt lighter for saying those words because although I hadn’t acknowledged them before, they were true.

Joe rested his wrists on his knees. He gazed out to sea.

‘I’m sorry too,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry I was so weak.’

‘Loving someone isn’t weakness.’

‘Falling apart is.’

‘No, Joe,’ I said, ‘no, it’s not.’

I longed to rest my head on his shoulder. I longed to reach out for his hand, but I didn’t dare. I was afraid he would reject me. This was the closest we’d been in ten years. I wished I could tell him that, in all that time, I hadn’t wanted to be close to anyone else, but I couldn’t speak. I was afraid of jeopardising the tentative peace that had come between us, fragile as the skin of a bubble.

The night air cooled and I began to shiver. Joe held out his hand and helped me to my feet. I wrapped my blanket around me like a nomad and we walked, side by side, back towards the villa. We were crossing the lawn when I felt something touch my shoulder and I jumped, but when I looked to see what it was, it was Joe’s arm. He had put his arm around me. It was a kind of miracle.

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