quiet throughout lunch, leaving the talking to her younger sister, Rosie, who always had something to say.
Bethanne shrugged. ‘I’m okay.’
‘Yeah? You sure? Because you look like something is bothering you.’
They walked on a little, Rosie skipping ahead, the wind blowing her hair out behind her from under her hat.
Bethanne looked up at Abi, a frown on her young face. ‘Why doesn’t Mum want me to be an artist?’
Abi puffed out her cheeks as she formulated her answer. ‘Well, she’s anxious about you doing well in life.’
‘And I wouldn’t do well as an artist? Aren’t I good enough?’
‘It’s not that you’re not good enough – it’s just that the world isn’t always kind to artists. It can be a hard life.’
‘Was it hard for you?’
For a moment, Abi wondered what to tell her. On the one hand, she didn’t want to crush her niece’s dreams before they’d even developed, but she wanted to respect her sister too. So she decided to be absolutely honest, which she knew one always should be with children, especially inquisitive ones.
‘It was hard for a while, yes. I couldn’t always pay my rent, you know. I had to sleep on friends’ sofas and borrow money from them.’
‘But you made it in the end,’ Bethanne reminded her.
‘Yes, in the end.’
‘And it was worth it?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Abi said with a smile.
‘Did your mum not want you to be an artist?’
‘We lived with our aunt, remember?’
‘Oh, yes. Aunt Claire?’
‘That’s right.’
‘And did she not want you to be an artist?’
‘Aunt Claire just wanted me and your mum to be working and earning and out of the house,’ Abi confided.
‘Why don’t we see her?’
Abi glanced across at Rosie as she danced across the pebbles of the beach and couldn’t help wishing that Bethanne would join her.
‘You’re coming out with the questions today, aren’t you?’
‘Does that mean you’re not going to answer them?’
‘No. I’ll answer them,’ Abi said. ‘Aunt Claire is what you’d call a tricky woman. She’s not really a people person and I don’t think she was very happy when she had to take care of me and your mother. It’s not her fault, not really, but you wouldn’t want to spend time with somebody who didn’t want to spend time with you, would you?’
Bethanne looked confused that there were such people in the world. ‘I guess not.’
‘Because that wouldn’t make anyone happy.’
Abi bent down and picked a round, smooth pebble up, holding it in her hand, gauging its weight and suitability as a pocket companion.
‘It’s sad, isn’t it?’ Bethanne said.
‘What is?’
‘That Aunt Claire doesn’t want to be friends with us. I mean, she’ll never know how cute Rosie is.’
Abi laughed. ‘Or you!’
‘I’m not cute.’
‘Of course you are!’ Abi said. ‘Just look at those dimples when you smile.’
‘I’m not smiling,’ Bethanne said earnestly.
‘Yes you are,’ Abi said as she tickled her.
Immediately, Bethanne began to laugh.
‘There they are! There’s those cute dimples!’ Abi cried in victory. Bethanne laughed again and then the two of them caught up with Rosie and walked down towards the sea.
‘Are there sharks out there?’ Rosie suddenly asked.
‘Here in Brighton?’ Abi asked.
Rosie nodded.
‘She saw a programme about them on TV,’ Bethanne explained.
‘Well, you don’t need to worry. Not that we’re going paddling or swimming today. It’s much too cold. But it’s too cold for the sharks as well. They don’t like our water here.’
‘So it’s safe?’
‘Yes, as much as the sea can be safe. You’ve always got to be careful with strong tides.’
‘And jellyfish,’ Bethanne added. ‘They can kill you too.’
Rosie frowned.
‘Yes, they can, Bethanne, but not around here,’ Abi told them. ‘There’s nothing lethal in our water except the water itself. That’s why it’s important to always be careful and wear your armbands and to have a grown-up with you.’
They all stared out to sea for a moment. It was rough, grey and moody today with a sky to match. And, as she stood there, Abi couldn’t help thinking how incredibly lucky she was to be an aunt to these two wonderful girls who were so full of life and passion and curiosity for everything. It was almost overwhelming, sometimes, when Abi thought about how much she loved them. And then her memory would assault her with visions of her childhood and how her relationship with her own aunt had been so very different. There’d been no trips to the seaside, no confidences shared or idle questions asked. Had Abi and Ellen been particularly objectionable children? Abi didn’t think so. Perhaps Abi had been a shy