came quickly but there was nothing they could do.” His face is a mask of sympathy; he doesn’t know how to break this sort of news, nor how Nan will take it.
Nan nods slowly. “So this time he is truly dead?” she asks, her voice devoid of all emotion.
“Yes.” Daniel nods. “This time he is dead.”
Nan bends down and lays her clippers neatly next to the trug, straightening up and placing a soft hand on Jess’s head, almost as if to steady herself, yet there is no expression on her face, no sign of any sadness at all.
“I’m going inside,” she says softly. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Nan, are you okay? Shall I come with you?” Jess has jumped to her feet.
“No, child.” Nan looks at her. “I shall be fine. It just wasn’t what I expected to hear.”
“I’m so sorry, Daniel,” Jess says awkwardly, not knowing what else to say. “How’s Bee?” she asks, once Nan has disappeared into the house, the pair of them watching her go. “And the girls?”
“The girls don’t really understand,” Daniel says. “Bee’s a mess. I’m going over there now. Maybe you could come and watch the girls, or give Bee a hand, just make sure they’re all okay.” He doesn’t think that Jess is only thirteen, too young to be given this sort of responsibility, and Jess is eager to help.
“Of course.” Jess jumps up and carries the bowl into the kitchen, scampering up the stairs to find her flip-flops, which are somewhere under an enormous pile of clothing in her room.
“Did you tell your mom we were going?” Daniel asks when she comes back down the stairs, taking them two at a time.
“No. I don’t know where she is,” Jess says.
“She’s on the back porch,” he says. “Reading.”
Jess runs out through the living room doors and startles her mother. “Bye, Mom.” She bends down and kisses her mother. “I have to go and look after the girls. We just heard that Bee’s dad, Nan’s old husband, died last night, and Daniel and I are going over there to see them. Love you,” she calls, disappearing around the side of the house, leaving Daff open-mouthed in shock.
Not because of the news, not because of Everett, but because her daughter spontaneously kissed her, and told her she loves her. Something she hasn’t done for years.
She sits for an hour, replaying it over and over again in her mind, a tear of gratitude rolling slowly down the side of her face before she gets up to wander inside.
Daff knocks on Nan’s door, waiting a few seconds before knocking again.
“Yes?” Nan’s voice is soft.
“Nan? It’s Daff. I’ve brought you a cup of tea.”
“Come in, sweet girl.” Daff pushes open the door to see Nan sitting on the window seat and looking out to the ocean.
“I heard the news.” Daff places the cup and saucer down on a low mahogany table. “I’m so sorry.”
Nan turns her head to look at her. “Isn’t it odd, that we are always sorry when someone dies, but with Everett I don’t know how to feel. I don’t feel sorry. I feel that I got all my sorries out all those years ago when I thought he was dead. I feel . . . I don’t know. Empty perhaps. Relieved. Oh dear, I don’t suppose I’m meant to say that, and poor Bee, she must be in so much pain to have lost her father. I feel as if there has been this huge upset in my life, and I was steeling myself for more, for more pain, yet another tumultuous event, but now, finally, I feel a sort of calm.”
“I can understand that.” Daff sits down gently on the seat next to Nan.
“I loved him so much,” Nan muses. “For so long. As the years went by I built him up into a superman, a demi-god, pouring all my love into his house, into the memories that Windermere held, turning our marriage into something so perfect that of course I would never marry again, never do anything to defile what I convinced myself was the greatest love of all time.” She pauses, looking out of the window again before turning back to Daff.
“To discover the lie, the betrayal, to see Everett again as an old man . . . to see him weak and ill, and, more, to know that he didn’t have the courage to face up to his defects, that he chose running away from us rather than finding