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A Secret Escape

Sep 26, 2024 | Filed under:

CHAPTER ONE

Milly

Why had she said yes?

Milly sat in her car outside the railway station, although it seemed generous to call it that, given that it was in the middle of nowhere and consisted of nothing more than a single platform and a shelter. There was no ticket office. No buzz of waiting people. Just one train an hour.

It was the last place on earth you’d expect to encounter a movie star, which was presumably why Nicole had chosen it.

Milly understood the need for discretion and privacy, but still, this felt like overkill.

There was one other car parked along the narrow country road, but other than that there were no signs of life and she sat in the darkness, trying not to be spooked as she waited for the last train of the day. She’d opened the car windows, but even at this late hour it was stifling and there was no sign of the weather breaking. Back in March when it had rained every day, Milly had dreamed of sunshine, but June had brought with it sunshine and a smothering heat that made her dream of rain.

The makeup she’d so carefully applied before leaving had already melted away, but she didn’t bother renewing it because what was the point? It was dark and there was no one to see her anyway. It didn’t matter how she looked. But when you were meeting someone who many considered to be one of the most beautiful women in the world, it was hard to resist the urge to make an effort.

Not that anyone noticed her when Nicole was around. They never had.

She sighed and checked the time.

Maybe Nicole had changed her mind. Please let her have changed her mind.

She’d heard nothing since that single phone call the night before. Was she wasting her time sitting here? She thought about her child, safely asleep in her grandmother’s house. Milly hated asking her mother for help, and this time she hadn’t even been able to explain why she needed Zoe to do an impromptu sleepover because Nicole had sworn her to secrecy. Zoe herself had protested that at thirteen she was able to stay on her own, but after all the upheaval in their lives Milly wasn’t ready to consider that. Zoe was the most important thing in her life. What if there was a fire? An intruder? Having lost so much, Milly was clinging tightly to what she had left. Also she had a niggling feeling that something wasn’t quite right with Zoe, but whenever she asked she was given the I’m fine response. Milly had cycled through the obvious things: Was it school? The divorce? Moving to a new home? Whatever it was, Zoe clearly didn’t want to worry her with it, which simply increased Milly’s anxiety levels.

She needed to spend more time alone with her daughter, but when you were a single working mother, time was a scarce resource.

And now she had Nicole to deal with. Friendships were supposed to make you feel better, not worse. At what point did you say enough?

She felt guilty because her mother had assumed Milly was finally going on a date and hadn’t been able to hide her delight. “Good,” she’d said. “It’s been eighteen months since Richard walked out, and the divorce has been final for six months. I’m pleased you’ve finally moved on.”

Moved on?

Milly hadn’t moved on. If she’d admitted that the last thing she wanted was another romantic entanglement when she was still tied up in knots about the last one, she would have caused her mother even more worry, and she didn’t want to do that. She kept those thoughts to herself, but the effort required to pretend she was coping well was exhausting.

All she really wanted now was to be the best mother possible to Zoe, but she was pretty sure she was failing at that too. She’d read so many books and articles on how to make divorce easier on kids the advice swirled around in her head. She was trying hard to put everything into practice. She’d been careful not to say a bad word about Richard in front of Zoe (although she used plenty of bad words when she was alone in the shower), and she tried to keep everything around them as normal as possible. She forced herself to get up in the morning and smile and pretend to be fine when she really wasn’t fine at all and would gladly have spent the whole day in bed. She told herself that she was modeling coping strategies for her child, and that was what mattered, wasn’t it? It didn’t matter that inside her head she was a mess.

Between lying to her mother, putting on a brave face for her child and forcing herself to be polite to Richard even when he was being frustratingly unreasonable and uncaring and nothing like the man she’d married, she’d forgotten what it felt like to actually express her true feelings.

There had been a time when the prospect of Nicole coming to stay would have lifted her mood, because if there was one person in the world she could be honest with, it was Nicole. But not anymore.

What was she doing here when the last thing she needed was more emotional stress? She didn’t know if she was a fool or if this was the very definition of friendship: showing up no matter what.

Promises made when you were fifteen didn’t seem to make as much sense when you were thirty-five. They certainly hadn’t meant anything to Nicole.

Hurt and tired, she reached for her phone and sent a message.

Are you on the train?

A flash of headlights caught her attention and she froze in her seat as another car approached. It drove past without stopping, and she let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She wasn’t built for subterfuge.

When Nicole had called her asking for help, she should have said no.

She was particularly frustrated with herself because she’d recently done an online course on assertiveness, thanks to a twenty-minute wait at the hairdresser, where she’d foolishly fallen into the trap of doing one of those magazine questionnaires.

If you answer yes to more than three questions, you may have a problem with being assertive.

Milly had answered yes to all ten questions and had decided right then and there that she needed to do something about it. Her tendency to say yes was the reason she felt pressured all the time. It was the reason she lay awake at night, stressed and hyperventilating with her to-do list racing around her brain. Her inability to be assertive was the reason she never felt able to call out Richard’s unreasonable behavior. (He’d already humiliated and divorced her, so really what more could he do?) She didn’t know if the way he behaved was a hallmark of ex-husbands generally, but she knew she wasn’t handling it well. It had to stop. She had to change.

She was too busy to take a class in person, largely because of her inability to say no, so she’d enrolled for an online course and for two weeks had spent an hour every evening exploring ways to be more assertive. She’d learned about boundaries, about the importance of standing up for her rights and respecting other people’s, she’d filled out worksheets where she’d tried out different ways of saying no. Assertive, but not aggressive. Use the I word, not you. When you do (fill in particular behavioral aberration here)…I feel (describe, without swearing, how it makes you feel)…

She’d passed with top marks and thought that maybe this would be a new beginning. And then her phone had rung.

The name that flashed up was Sister.

Milly had stared at it for so long it had stopped ringing. But it had immediately started again, and this time she’d answered it, even though part of her didn’t want to.

It wasn’t her sister, of course. She didn’t have a sister, but when Nicole’s career had taken off, she’d insisted that Milly store her number under a different name. It had felt exciting at the time. Clandestine. It had made her feel special, because all of a sudden everyone wanted a piece of Nicole, and Milly had her number in her phone.

They’d been in their early twenties, but even at that tender age their lives couldn’t have been more different. Milly was married to Richard and had just discovered she was pregnant. She spent her days helping her mother run the family business, a small but exclusive resort of lakeside cabins nestled close to the water in the beautiful Lake District.

Nicole, on the other hand, had dropped out of college to pursue acting seriously, and by the age of twenty-one had achieved global fame after starring in a movie about a teenager who traveled back in time to save the planet from destruction. It had broken all box office records. Milly had seen the film and agreed with the critics that Nicole had been captivating in the role, but that wasn’t the point where she’d recognized just how talented her friend was. That moment had come a few months later, when Nicole had all but floated onto the stage to accept the most coveted award in acting wearing a custom-made gown that somehow managed to make her look both innocent and alluring. Her speech had been heartfelt and moving, and many of the people in the audience had cried.

Milly had cried too, and that was when she’d realized that her friend wasn’t just going to be big, she was going to be huge. Because the speech was all lies, and Milly knew it was lies. She was, quite possibly, one of only two people who knew it was lies, the other being Nicole’s mother who was unlikely to be watching.

But still Nicole had made her believe every word.

Nicole had called her afterward.

“Did you hear my speech?”

“Yes, I heard your speech.”

“You know the truth. People would pay you to tell my story.”

Milly had rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You have no idea how far people will go to get information on me and tear me down.”

“You’re sounding paranoid.”

But Nicole had said the same thing a few days later when Milly had met her in her suite in a London hotel where she was staying for a premiere of her latest movie.

She’d been escorted to the room by unsmiling security guards with earpieces and overdeveloped muscles, and she’d sat stiffly on one of the white sofas in the ridiculously opulent suite, feeling out of place and desperate to find common ground with her old friend.

She remembered ten-year-old Nicole saying One day I’m going to be famous, and here she was—famous.

And fame had changed everything.

“Seriously, Milly, you can’t have my name in your phone anymore. Someone might see it. We need to agree on a different name.” Nicole had been wired, nervous, talking too quickly, sipping a glass of wine even though it was three in the afternoon. Her hair fell in dark silky waves down her back, and those famous green eyes, eyes that made you lose your power of speech as one smitten critic had put it, were huge in her pale face. In real life she seemed thinner than ever, and Milly, almost eight months pregnant by then, had felt like a baby elephant next to her.

She’d shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable which was almost impossible with a baby stuck under your ribs. “Who is going to see it? And what are they going to do? Mug me and steal my phone? I live in the middle of nowhere, Nic. I’m surrounded by trees and mountains. When I open my windows I hear nothing.” That wasn’t quite true. She frequently slept with the windows open, and she lay in the darkness and listened to the plaintive call of the birds and the occasional hoot of an owl, thinking how much she liked her quiet, predictable life. Unlike Nicole, she’d never had a desire to be famous, and nothing about her friend’s life had given her reason to revise her opinion. “My home isn’t exactly Paparazzi Central.”

Nicole had looked at her with a mix of envy and pity, as if she was wondering how anyone as unworldly as Milly made it through the day.

“Indulge me.” She’d put down her wineglass and taken the phone from her friend. Her slim fingers had flown over the keys. “There. Fixed.”

Milly had stared at it. “Sister?”

“Why not? It’s what we are. It’s the way I feel about you. The way I’ll always feel about you.” Nicole had hugged her then, and Milly had hugged her back, and for that brief moment their old connection had flickered to life. This was the Nicole she’d grown up with, not the new glamorous Nicole who couldn’t walk down a street without being recognized. Still, she hadn’t been able to shake the uneasy feeling that their relationship was about to change in a big way, and it made her sad because nothing was more important to her than their friendship.

“You’re going to forget about me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Nicole had said exactly what Milly had hoped she’d say. “You’re my best friend. You’ll always be my best friend, and when we’re both old, you’re going to come and spend winters with me in California and we’ll sit on the deck and watch the sunsets and talk about that time I drank half a bottle of vodka and dyed your hair purple. You were so upset you threw my favorite bag in the lake.”

Milly knew those weren’t the moments she’d remember when she looked back on their friendship. She’d be thinking of all the times Nicole had walked into a room first because Milly had been too shy to enter on her own. She’d remember the patience Nicole had shown when teaching Milly how to project confidence even when she was quaking inside. She’d think about the nights Nicole had stayed over at her place after Milly’s dad had walked out. The hours they’d lain awake talking about the future and what they both wanted.

And despite Milly’s fears, their friendship had endured. There were frequent phone calls and messages where Nicole would send photos of herself being transformed by hair and makeup into an assassin, an FBI agent, an art thief, a superhero.

Milly had sent back photos of Zoe. Zoe at six months. Zoe taking her first steps. Zoe’s first day at school. She’d sent photos of the four new luxury cabins they’d built by the lake and then felt embarrassed because Nicole owned properties around the world and Milly’s cabins, modest by comparison, were probably of little interest to her.

But despite their very different lives, they’d been in regular contact until eighteen months ago when Nicole had suddenly ghosted her.

Thinking about that brought her back to the present.

Milly checked the time again. The place felt so dead it was hard to believe a train was due to arrive any minute. But even if it did, there was no guarantee that her friend would be on it. Maybe Nicole was going to ghost her again. Maybe she wasn’t going to show up, and Milly would drive back home alone feeling more of a fool than she already did.

And if Nicole did happen to arrive, what was Milly going to say?

Why have you ignored me for the past eighteen months?

Where were you when I needed you?

It had happened right after Milly, Richard and Zoe had visited her in LA. Milly assumed there was a connection and had spent hours going over the holiday in her mind but couldn’t identify a reason. Initially she hadn’t worried because she knew how busy Nicole was, but a few weeks later when Milly had left a message telling her that Richard was having an affair and divorcing her and there was still no response, she’d started to worry. More than worry. Her friend’s silence had hurt. It had been a bitter blow, coming so soon after Richard’s betrayal.

The one person she’d always thought she could depend on, her safety net in life, had let her down.

Milly still couldn’t believe Nicole had ignored something so life-shattering. When had they ever not supported each other? Some long-term friendships continued out of habit, but theirs was real. Theirs was rare and special. Until it wasn’t.

Nicole’s silence hurt more than it should have because not only had Milly been dumped by her husband but it seemed she’d been dumped by her best friend too, and in some ways that felt worse. It had been the lowest moment of her life. So bad that she tried not to think about it because she’d dragged herself back from the edge and didn’t want to risk staring into the blackness again.

She’d survived, mostly thanks to the support of her mother and grandmother, but it had changed things. There was no more believing that Nicole would be there for her in a crisis. No more pretending that the word Sister in her phone was anything more than a way of disguising Nicole’s identity.

Even now, so many months later, that reality hurt.

“Maybe it’s me.” She spoke aloud, as she sometimes did when she was alone in the car. It was the one time she felt able to speak her mind. “Maybe I’m just the kind of person people leave.”

First her father, then Richard and then Nicole.

She’d assumed that was the end of it, and then the night before Nicole had finally called.

The call should have woken Milly up, but she had been lying awake stewing about Richard, having conversations in her head that she knew she’d never have in real life despite the assertiveness course because she was determined to keep things civil for her daughter.

She’d answered partly because it was Nicole and Milly had never not answered a call from Nicole, and partly because a small hurt part of her hoped that maybe Nicole was finally getting in touch to apologize or at least explain.

But there had been no apology or explanation, just a plea.

I need your help.

Nothing for eighteen months, not a squeak, and now she was expecting Milly to help.

During the conversation, admittedly short, not once had she asked how Milly was doing. She hadn’t mentioned Richard’s affair or the divorce or acknowledged how hard it must be for Milly to be going through exactly what her mother had gone through. She proffered neither explanation nor apology for not being there for Milly. It was all about her.

I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. Please, Milly. I’m desperate.

Desperate? What did desperate look like when your life was pretty much perfect? Just how desperate could you be when you were rich, beautiful and the toast of the movie-going public?

Nicole didn’t know the meaning of the word, but Milly did, although she worked hard not to show it. She’d been determined not to put that extra pressure on Zoe.

She was just about holding it together, which was another reason she should have said no to Nicole. She should have put into practice everything she’d learned from her assertiveness course. She should have said No, sorry, I’m struggling enough with my own life as you’d know if you read your emails or, better still (as she’d been taught that it wasn’t necessary to give lengthy explanations), Sorry, I can’t help.

But she hadn’t said any of those things. She’d said yes.

Yes, she’d pick her up. Yes, she’d drive at night to lessen the chances of being seen. Yes, Nicole could stay with Milly. Yes, she’d find a way to hide her.

Which was why she was now, against her better judgment, sitting in the middle of nowhere waiting for a train that was late and a friend she wasn’t sure she wanted to see.

The assertiveness course clearly hadn’t worked. If she was more assertive, she’d demand a refund.

A sound cut through her thoughts, and she saw the train approaching. Finally.

She felt a slight stirring of dread. The fabric of their friendship had been stretched by their diversifying paths and was now torn in so many places it was barely holding together. Their relationship hadn’t just changed, it was unrecognizable.

Usually the only emotion she felt before seeing Nicole was excitement, but tonight her stomach churned with an uncomfortable mix of hurt and resentment.

Where had Nicole been when Milly had needed her?

She was upset and a little bit angry but, most of all, deeply disappointed that their friendship had fallen short of what she’d believed it to be. Never before had she felt the need to protect herself in the friendship, but she did now. And it made her feel lonely.

Not lonely for company, because she had plenty of that, but lonely for that one person she could say anything to in the knowledge she’d be understood and not judged. Someone who knew what she was feeling without Milly having to spell it out.

The train slowed down and stopped, and Milly peered into the dimly lit station, but there were only two people visible. One was a man in his fifties, who immediately strode toward the parked car that Milly had noticed earlier, and the other was a woman of significantly advanced years wearing a coat that had seen better days and a hat that concealed most of her white hair. She was dragging a small suitcase and stooping badly, so bent over she was struggling to walk even with the help of a walking stick.

There was no sign of Nicole, which was confusing because it had been Nicole who had insisted Milly be poised for a quick getaway.

A quick getaway. Was that even possible in a small family hatchback? Milly hadn’t been in the mood for drama. We’re not in a movie now, Nicole.

And Nicole’s response to her. You have no idea what my life is like.

Milly couldn’t argue with that.

She had no idea what it was like to be one of the most in-demand actors of her generation, commanding millions for each movie. And as if acting talent and looks (voted Most Beautiful Woman two years running) wasn’t enough, Nicole’s last blockbuster had required her to sing, and she’d stunned the world with her voice.

Milly sighed.

The last thing you should do when your life was a total mess was to spend time with someone whose life was perfect.

She glanced at the train again. Still no Nicole, and no sign of anyone else leaving the train. Maybe she was hiding in a dark corner, waiting for these other people to leave before emerging. Or maybe she’d changed her mind.

The old woman teetered slightly, almost losing her balance, and Milly shot out of the car, concern for the woman’s safety overriding her promise to keep a low profile.

“Can I help you?” She put a hand on the woman’s arm. “It’s very late. Is someone meeting you?”

The woman lifted her head and looked directly at Milly and Milly stared into those unmistakable eyes and thought I really am a fool.

“You have to be kidding me. N—”

“Shh. Not until we’re in the car.”

Milly would have been impressed if she hadn’t been so frustrated. Part of that frustration was directed at herself for being so easily duped. “We’re in the middle of nowhere, and there is no one around.”

“They’re always around.” Nicole slid her arm into Milly’s and adopted her stoop again. “Help me into the car.”

“Help you?”

How long was this charade supposed to continue?

But she wanted to get out of here as much as Nicole, so she dutifully put her arm around her friend and felt a flicker of shock as she registered how thin she was.

She guided her to the passenger side of the car, hoping no one was watching because she was pretty confident her acting abilities would fool no one.

Nicole handed her the walking stick and Milly tucked it into the back of the car along with the suitcase.

She took another quick glance around the station. “There is no one here.” She slid into the driver’s seat and closed the door. “You’re going to bake inside that coat. Why the heavy disguise? Have you robbed a bank in real life or something? If I’m harboring a criminal, I’d like to know.”

Nicole’s eyes were closed. “I just need a short window of time when no one knows where I am. Can we talk about it later? I’m really not—” her voice shook a little “—I’m not feeling too good. And I’m freezing. I need the coat.”

Freezing?

There was so much Milly had planned to say, but there was something about Nicole’s fragility that sucked all the heat out of her emotions. But then she remembered her assertiveness course.

Her feelings mattered too. This wasn’t only about Nicole.

“There is no one around, Nicole. This place is empty. We are the last people here. And before I drive anywhere, I want to know what this is all about. Why the sudden phone call and why the urgency?”

“You seriously don’t know?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking.”

“Oh, Milly.” Nicole gave a choked laugh and opened her eyes. “You haven’t changed one bit, and I’m so happy about that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Since Richard had walked out taking most of her confidence with him, she felt as if every part of her had changed. She could barely remember the person she used to be, but Nicole didn’t know that because she hadn’t asked.

She felt a pang of loss as she remembered how their friendship used to be. There had been no barriers between them, but now there was a barrier so big she couldn’t see past it.

Nicole turned her head to look at her. “When we were young you always refused to read scandalous stories about celebrities. You thought it was distasteful that someone was making a career out of exploiting a person’s misfortune, and you didn’t want to be part of it. You were always kind, even to people you didn’t know.”

Was that how she’d ended up where she was, with everyone taking advantage of her?

“These days it’s less about my principles and more about the fact I don’t have a moment in the day to draw breath, let alone read gossip. I have a life, Nicole!” A life she was holding together by her fingernails. And suddenly the heat flared to life again. Maybe Nicole was hurting, but she was hurting too. “I don’t have time to read much at all. I wish I did, but between raising my child alone and worrying what all this is doing to her, dealing with my selfish ex-husband, running a business at a time when everyone is watching what they’re spending and wondering if life is going to be this tough forever, there’s not a lot of spare time left for lounging around reading about people whose lives quite frankly seem pretty good from where I’m standing.” She stopped, mortified. Why had she said all that? She’d blurted out far more than she’d intended. She’d told herself that she was going to be polite and give nothing of herself. She was going to show Nicole that this friendship didn’t matter to her any more than it did to Nicole. That she’d moved on, just as Nicole had.

But that wasn’t what she’d done. She’d had Nicole in her car for all of two minutes and already she’d been more honest with her than with anyone else in her life. She’d intended to be reserved and indifferent, and instead she’d shown that she was hurt. So much for protecting herself. So much for holding part of herself back. She might as well have ripped off a bandage and said Look at these raw wounds. Because that was how she felt. Like a giant wound. Any protective coating she might have had once had been eroded by Richard and now by Nicole. Love provided insulation from the cuts and bruises of life, and so did trust. Milly had lost both. She was a tortoise without its shell. A hedgehog with no spines.

She sat there, miserably embarrassed, and then Nicole reached out and touched her arm.

“I’ve missed you.”

Milly felt something soften inside her, but she forced herself to ignore it. “Sure. You missed me so much you didn’t get in touch for eighteen months.”

She was so surprised to hear those words coming out of her mouth that she almost turned around to check there was no one else in the car.

Maybe the assertiveness course hadn’t been such a waste of money after all.

Nicole removed her hand from Milly’s arm. “Don’t be angry. I know there are things we need to talk about, but the whole world is angry with me right now. I couldn’t stand it if you were too.”

“Why would the whole world be angry with you?”

“Perhaps angry is the wrong word. I should have said the whole world hates me.” Nicole’s voice shook a little. “I am currently the most hated woman on the planet.”

She’d forgotten how all-or-nothing Nicole was. People either adored her or hated her. She was either devastated or ecstatic. There was nothing in between. No middle ground. To be friends with Nicole meant strapping in for a ride on a roller-coaster with its steep ups and downs. She couldn’t handle it. “Please, for once, can we leave the drama at the door?”

“For you it’s drama, but for me it’s my life.”

Milly clamped her jaws shut to stop herself from saying something she might regret. “Nicole—”

“I want you to know that what they’re saying isn’t true. Well, some of it is—but not the way they’ve told it. It’s all twisted.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I’m not sure which is worse—having people make up lies about you, or knowing that people believe those lies without question.”

Milly was starting to wish she’d taken the time to do an internet search. She’d had a really bad night and hadn’t had a moment to herself all day. Both her body and brain were tired, and she didn’t have the energy for this. “What lies? What do people believe?”

There was a pause. “According to the press, I’ve broken up the happiest marriage in Hollywood. I’m a home-wrecker. The Other Woman.”

Milly went cold. She thought of Richard. There’s someone else… “You—what?”

“Go to any news site and you can read all about it. Two truths and a lie. Or is it two lies and a truth? I can’t remember. And it doesn’t really matter because no one is interested in the truth anyway. The people who write all that stuff about me just want clicks, and the people who read it want proof that my amazing-looking life isn’t so amazing. Celebrity downfall is a great cure for envy, didn’t you know? Yes she’s rich, but is she really happy? Well, no, she isn’t.” Nicole slurred her words slightly, and Milly felt a growing wave of nausea.

I’m a home-wrecker.

Why did it have to be that? Nicole had a colorful dating history, with a reputation for falling for her costars, but to the best of Milly’s knowledge she’d never been involved with anyone who was married. For Milly the topic was something of a trigger given recent circumstances. She had to force herself to remember that this wasn’t about her.

“You are overthinking this, Nicole. Most people are too busy handling their own problems and making it through each day to worry about what is happening to you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. When people have problems they look around them for someone who has it worse so that they feel better about their own lives. They think Well, at least I’m not her. My problems are a source of entertainment. Remember when we used to play three wishes?”

And just like that she was right back in her childhood, curled up on her bed watching Nicole paint her nails.

If you could have three wishes, what would you wish for?

Milly frowned. “We haven’t played that game for at least two decades.”

“If I had one wish it would be to put the clock back and start again.” Nicole’s gaze was fixed on Milly’s face. “How about you?”

One wish.

“I don’t know. I don’t waste time wishing for things anymore.”

“Why not?” Nicole spoke softly. “Wishing tells you what you really want.”

“Or else it just shows you what you don’t have, and dwelling on that isn’t helpful.” Milly fastened her seat belt and started the engine. “We need to go. I have to be up early. My life doesn’t go on hold just because you’re here. How long are you planning to stay?”

“I don’t know.” Nicole’s voice shook again. “Maybe forever.”

Forever?

That was a joke, surely? Milly glanced quickly at her friend, but Nicole’s eyes were closed again, and there was no hint of a smile on her face.

Forever.

Milly tightened her grip on the wheel. If she had to wish for one thing it would be patience.

The Summer Swap

May 23, 2024 | Filed under:

CHAPTER ONE

Lily

Running away from her life wasn’t something she was proud of, but with a view this good it was hard to regret the decision.
Lily tightened her grip on the handlebars and pedaled harder. Here on the northern tip of Cape Cod while the rest of humankind were still sleepy and had barely reached for the coffeepot, the place was hers alone.
All around her were sand dunes and the ocean stretching as far as she could see. She cycled the same route every day, and every day was different. Today the sky was a deep kingfisher blue, but she’d seen burnt orange, flame red and smoky silver.
It was a place favored by migratory birds and tourists, and generally she preferred the first to the second. The day before, she’d seen a blue heron and two snowy egrets. As far as she was concerned the fewer humans the better, but she owed her current job to the influx of summer people, so she wasn’t complaining.
She breathed deeply, letting the salt air fill her lungs and her mind. She felt free here on this windblown, sunbaked strip of seashore. For the first time in months, she felt better. Stronger. As if she might survive after all. The pressure had eased. She no longer woke at two in the morning drenched in sweat and panic, trapped in her life and hating every moment.
She felt something close to happiness, and then her phone buzzed and the feeling left her in a rush.
She pedaled faster, trying to outrun its insistent demand. She didn’t have to look to identify the caller. It was ten in the morning exactly. Only one person called her routinely at that time.
Dammit.
Guilt and an unshakable sense of duty made her squeeze the brakes and she pulled over, breathless, and dug out her phone. If she didn’t take the call now, she’d be taking it later and the thought of it looming in her future would darken the skies of an otherwise cloudless day. This was the price she had to pay for running away. You could run, but with today’s technology you couldn’t really hide.
“Lily, honey? It’s Mom.”
She closed her eyes briefly.
She’d been expecting this call, ever since she’d declined their invitation to come home and “talk things over.” As if talking it over yet again would change the outcome.
Every time she saw her mother’s name pop up on her phone screen her stomach churned. Guilt sank its fangs into all the soft, vulnerable parts of her. Her parents had made huge sacrifices for her, and she’d as good as slapped them in the face. And she hadn’t even given them a reason. At least, not one they could understand.
They deserved better.
“I’m on my way to work, Mom. I can’t be late.” Never had dirty pots and pans and other people’s laundry seemed more appealing. She’d rather deal with that any day than talk to her mother. Every conversation dragged her backward and left her so twisted with guilt she lost all confidence in her chosen path. “Is everything all right?”
“No. We’re worried about you, Lily.” Her mother’s tone was shaky. “We don’t understand what’s going on. Why won’t you tell us?”
Lily tightened her grip on the phone. “Nothing is going on. And you don’t need to worry.” She repeated the same words she’d said hundreds of times, even though they never seemed to settle.
“Can you blame us for worrying? We have a bright, brilliant daughter who has chosen to throw away the life she worked hard for. And with no reason.”
No reason? As if it had been a whim. As if she’d woken up one morning and decided to waste all those years of hard work just for a laugh.
“I’m fine. This is what I want.”
It wasn’t that her parents weren’t wonderful people, but communicating with them was impossible.
“Are you eating? Have you put on some weight? You were skin and bone when you left here.”
“I’m eating. I’m sleeping. I’m good. How are you and Dad?”
“We miss you, obviously. Come home, Lily. We can cook for you, and spoil you and look after you.”
Anxiety settled on her like a cloak, blocking out sunshine and her hopes for the day.
She knew what going home would mean. She loved her parents, but they’d hover over her with frowning concerned faces until she’d end up worrying more about them than herself. And then she’d do things she didn’t want to do, just to please them.
And it wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried staying at home. She’d done that in the beginning (mostly because her options were limited) and the pressure of pretending to be okay had been exhausting.
“I’m happy, Mom. I just need some space. It’s beautiful here. You know I always loved the ocean.”
“I know. I remember when you were six years old, and we couldn’t drag you away from the sandcastle you’d built.” There was a pause. “Honey, Dad made some calls. He thinks it’s not too late for you to go back to medical school if you want to.”
Lily’s heart started to pound. The sweat of anxiety threatened to become a full-blown panic attack. Her chest tightened. Her hands shook so badly the phone almost slipped from her fingers.
Interference, even well-meaning interference, should be designated a crime.
“I don’t want to. I know you and Dad are disappointed—”
“It’s not about us, it’s about you. We tried so hard to give you all the opportunities we didn’t have.”
Lily stared at the ocean and tried to find her inner calm, but it had fled the moment the phone had rung.
They’d made huge sacrifices for her, and she’d thrown it in their faces. She felt terrible. But staying would have made her feel worse.
“This is difficult for me, too, Mom.” The lump in her throat made it difficult to speak. “I know I’m hurting you and I hate it, but this is where I want to be. I can’t be a doctor. I want to be an artist.”
“You say that, but you’re cleaning houses.”
“To earn money while I try to find a way to do something I love.” While she tried to loosen the knots of stress in her body and untangle the mess in her head. “There’s nothing wrong with cleaning houses. I like it. And it’s a respectable way to make a living. You did it.”
“Because I didn’t have the opportunities you had.”
Lily felt guilt overwhelm her.
Her mother sighed. “Do you need money? We still have some savings.”
And she knew just how hard it would have been for her parents to pull that together after everything they’d already spent on her. She’d vowed never to take another cent from them.
“I don’t need money but thank you.” She didn’t want to think about the dire state of her bank account. She was determined to manage on her own now, no matter what.
“Lily—” her mother’s voice was gentle “—your father would kill me for asking because I know I’m not supposed to ask, but did something happen, honey? Did someone hurt you? Your dad and I always thought you’d make a wonderful doctor. You’re such a kind, caring person.”
“Nothing like that.” Lily’s throat burned. She badly wanted this conversation to end. “Could we talk about something else?”
“Of course. Let me think…not much has happened here. Your father has been busy in the garden.” Her mother spoke in a cheery I’m changing the subject to a safe topic voice. “The hydrangeas are beginning to bloom. They’re going to be stunning. I made the most delicious orange cake last week. No wheat. You know your father. Ground almonds instead of flour.”
“Sounds yummy.” She imagined them at home together and felt a pang. Despite everything, she missed them. Part of her just wanted to run home and be looked after but she knew that feeling would dissipate the moment she walked through the door. Within minutes the bands of pressure would tighten, and she’d be gasping for breath.
“I’m sure there was something I wanted to tell you.” Her mother paused. “What was it? Oh, I remember—I bumped into Kristen Buckingham last week. She’s always so charming and friendly. So normal.”
The last person Lily wanted to think about now was anyone with the name Buckingham.
“Why wouldn’t she be friendly and normal, Mom?” Lily knew how self-conscious her mother was around her friends and she hated it. It reminded her of being back at school and feeling like an imposter.
Her parents had scrimped and saved and worked multiple jobs in order to send her to the best school. They’d believed she’d have a great education and make influential friends. She would absorb their greater advantages by osmosis. It would be her ticket to a better life. They imagined her living her life in a bubble of success, mixing with people whose parents owned mansions and yachts and jets. People whose fridges were loaded with food and never had to worry about making it stretch to the end of the week. People who had drivers, and housekeepers, and staff who cleared the snow from their yard.
And she had met people like that, but most of the time Lily had felt like a stray dog that had somehow wriggled its way into a litter of pedigrees. She’d been afraid to reveal anything about her background, because she knew it was different from theirs. She’d masked her true self because she’d known that she didn’t fit. Despite her attempts to blend, she’d been badly bullied. To make things worse she’d also felt crushed by the pressure of work and parental expectation. To fail would have been to let them down, these people she loved so much and who loved her back. They’d half killed themselves to give her the opportunity. She couldn’t let herself fail.
Panic had hovered close to the surface the whole time, threatening to suffocate her. The only thing that had driven her from her bed in the mornings was the knowledge of her parents’ sacrifice and their pride in her. She hadn’t felt able to tell them how unhappy she was, or that locking herself in a cubicle while having a panic attack didn’t feel like success to her.
She’d been thoroughly miserable until the day Hannah Buckingham had rescued her from a bully who was trying to remove her ponytail with a pair of scissors. After that, everything changed.
Hannah was the granddaughter of the famous artist Cameron Lapthorne. She was a champion of the underdog. She had a fierce urge to protect anything threatened. She wanted to save the whales, and Sumatran tigers, and Antarctica. Lily was added to the list, and they’d become best friends from that moment. Hannah had said Lily was the sister she’d never had. Hannah hadn’t cared about the differences between their household incomes. Hannah hadn’t cared that Lily didn’t have her own bathroom, or a housekeeper to keep her room tidy, or tutors to make sure her grades were the best they could possibly be. Hannah had found Lily interesting. Hannah had wanted to know everything about Lily. She’d wanted to access her every thought. For the first time in her life, Lily had been able to be herself.
They’d been inseparable. Protected by Hannah, the bullying had stopped and Lily had flourished. With Hannah as her friend, her confidence had grown. She’d no longer felt like a misfit.
They’d gone to the same college where they’d both studied biological sciences and then they’d applied to the same medical school. When her acceptance letter arrived, Lily’s parents had cried. They’d been so proud and thrilled. It was the happiest day of their lives.
Lily had been happy and relieved that she’d achieved their goals. That she was everything her parents wanted her to be. That she hadn’t let them down. For a brief moment she’d believed that maybe she could do this.
But medical school had turned out to be a thousand times worse than school. She was surrounded by people who were brilliant, ambitious and competitive.
When the pressure started to crush her brain again, she tried to ignore it. She was going to be fine. She’d survived this far. There were many different branches of medicine. She’d find one that suited her.
It didn’t help that Hannah had no doubts at all. She’d known from the start that she wanted to be a surgeon like her father, Theo. Hannah wanted to save lives. She wanted to make a difference.
On the few occasions she’d met him, Lily had found Theo to be terrifying or maybe it was more accurate to say that she found his reputation terrifying.
Hannah’s mother, Kristen, was equally intimidating. She was an art expert, a whirlwind of brisk efficiency with a life so busy it was a wonder she fitted in time to breathe.
And then there was Hannah’s older brother, Todd, who was smart, handsome and kind, and the object of lust among all Hannah’s friends. Lily was no exception. Teenage Lily had fantasized about Todd. Twenty-three-year-old Lily had kissed Todd in a dark corner during a school reunion.
Lily was in love with Todd, but now Todd was dating Amelie.
Lily had trained herself not to think about Todd.
“I just mean that Kristen is very important, Lily, that’s all,” her mother said. “But she always takes the time to talk to me when I see her.”
“She’s just a person, Mom. A person like the rest of us.”
“Well, not really like the rest of us,” her mother said. “Her father was Cameron Lapthorne. I don’t pretend to know anything about art, but even I know his name.”
Hannah had taken her to the Lapthorne Estate once. It had been the best day of Lily’s life. She’d gazed at the paintings hungrily, studying every brushstroke, in awe of the skill and envious of anyone who could build a life as an artist. Hannah had given her a book of her grandfather’s work, and it had become Lily’s most treasured possession. She’d thumbed the pages, studied the pictures and slept with it under her pillow.
Ever since she was old enough to hold a paintbrush, Lily had loved art. She’d painted everything in sight. When she’d run out of paper, she’d painted on the walls. She’d painted her school bag and her running shoes. She’d said to her parents I want to be an artist, and for a while they’d looked worried. They’d told her no one made money that way and that she was smart enough to be a doctor or a lawyer. Lily knew how much they wanted that for her, and she knew how much they’d sacrificed. She couldn’t bring herself to disappoint them. And so she had dutifully gone to medical school, underestimating the toll it would take on her.
“Lily? Are you still there?”
Lily tugged herself back into the present. “Yes. So how was Kristen?”
“Busy as ever. She was in the middle of organizing a big event at the Lapthorne Estate. Celebrating her mother’s birthday and her grandfather, the artist. It’s happening today, I think. Todd will be there with his fiancée—I forget her name. Amelie, that’s right. And Hannah will be there of course. Kristen invited us, and you, which was generous of her.”
Fiancée?
Lily started to shake. “Todd is engaged?”
“Yes. A bit of a whirlwind according to Kristen. They’d only been dating for a few months, and she thought it was casual. Had no idea it was serious and then suddenly they announce that they’re getting married. I’m sure that wedding will be quite an event. Kristen said it was yet another thing for her to organize, although I don’t understand why the responsibility would fall on her. She’s such an impressive woman.”
Lily wasn’t thinking about Kristen. Lily was thinking about Todd.
She imagined Todd in the gardens of Lapthorne Manor with a glass of champagne in his hand, and Amelie gazing up at him with that flirtatious look that fused men’s brains and made them do stupid things, a large diamond glinting on her finger.
Amelie had been the most popular girl in the school. She’d had the highest marks, the fastest time on the running track and the biggest smile. Amelie was the girl most likely to succeed. She was also the girl who had tried to cut off Lily’s ponytail with a pair of scissors. And now she was marrying Todd. Kind, funny, clever Todd.
Todd had broken Lily’s heart, and he didn’t even know it.
Her palms felt sweaty as she tried to focus on the call. “Are you going to the party?”
“No, of course not. Your father wouldn’t know what to say and I wouldn’t know what to wear. They’re your friends really, not ours. Kristen mentioned that Hannah is enjoying her clinical rotation, but you probably know that as she’s your best friend.”
Lily didn’t know that. Lily and Hannah hadn’t spoken since that terrible fight on the night Lily had packed her bags and left medical school for good.
Every time Lily thought of Hannah she wanted to cry. They’d sworn that nothing and no one would ever come between them, and they’d truly believed that.
They’d been wrong.
“I must go, Mom. I’ll be late for work, and I don’t want to let people down.” She winced as she said it, because she was all too aware that she’d let her parents down. “Don’t worry. I’m happy. I like my life.”
“We don’t want you to waste your talents, honey, that’s all. You’re capable of so much. You could be curing cancer—”
Curing cancer? No pressure, then.
“I hated medical school.” The words spilled out of her. “It wasn’t for me.” And the pressure of trying to keep up had almost broken her. She didn’t expect them to understand. They believed that if you were smart enough to be a doctor, why wouldn’t you be one? And she couldn’t figure out how to make her parents proud, but still live the life she wanted to live. “I want to be an artist, Mom. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. You know that.”
“I know, but where’s the future in that? Your dad and I just don’t want you to struggle financially as we did. Life can be hard, Lily.”
Lily closed her eyes. She knew that. She knew how hard life could be.
“I’m managing fine. And I’m going to pay you and Dad back.”
“That’s not necessary, honey. We love you and remember there’s a home and a welcome here whenever you need it.”
Lily’s throat felt full. It would be easier to disappoint them if they weren’t so decent. If she didn’t love them so much. “Thanks. Give my love to Dad.”
She ended the call, wondering why big life decisions had to feel so difficult and wondering why, when there were so many people her mother could have bumped into, she’d had to bump into Kristen Buckingham.
Her little bubble of happiness had been punctured.
Todd was engaged. He was going to marry Amelie, and no doubt they’d have two perfect children and a dog and live a long and happy life with not a single bump in the road.
But she wasn’t going to think about that now. And she wasn’t going to think about Hannah. Twice in the last few months she’d almost texted her. Once she’d even typed out a message, but then she’d deleted it. Hannah had been furiously angry with her, and Lily had been angry with Hannah. They’d both been hurt, and Lily had no idea how to move past that hurt. Given that she hadn’t heard from Hannah, presumably she didn’t know, either.
The friendship that they’d believed could never be damaged, had been damaged. Broken. Amelie might as well have taken her scissors to it.
But that was in the past now.
Hannah was living in the city, and Lily was here on the Cape, and even though she’d brought all her emotions with her it was still preferable to being in the smothering atmosphere of her parents’ home. And at least it had been her decision to come here. For the first time ever, she was living the life that was her choice.
She just wished it felt easier.
Eyes stinging, she dropped the phone back into her bag and pedaled hard. The call had cost her ten minutes, but if she moved fast she’d still get the work done.
The breeze blew into her face and dried the dampness of tears. One day she’d make it up to her parents. She’d find a way to make them proud, even though she wouldn’t be curing cancer.
She turned into the driveway of a large mansion and cycled up to the house, her sudden stop creating a small shower of gravel. Grabbing her backpack, she sprinted to the front door and waved to Mike, the gardener, who was hauling trays of plants from the back of his truck.
This particular house was a prime beachfront property and was booked solid throughout the summer months. It slept fourteen, and the last fourteen to occupy it had clearly had a good time if the state of the kitchen was anything to go by.
The company she worked for catered to the luxury end of the market and it always surprised Lily that those people seemed never to have mastered the basic art of clearing up after themselves.
She scooped up empty pizza boxes, removed a discarded lobster shell from one of the kitchen chairs (she could be curing cancer, but instead she was clearing up lobster shells) and cleared half a dozen empty champagne bottles into the recycling. She wiped, she spritzed, she mopped, she polished, and once she’d restored the kitchen to its usual pristine state and reassured herself that there was no lasting damage, she headed toward the bedrooms.
By the time she’d finished it was midafternoon.
She took a large drink of water from the bottle she kept in her backpack and retrieved her bike.
“I’m all done.” She pushed her bike across to Mike, who was hunkered down over a flower bed.
Mike had worked for an investment bank until he’d suffered a serious case of burnout. Now he worked as a gardener, and said it was the best decision he’d made. It helped, of course, that he’d made himself a tidy sum of money before changing direction.
He straightened, stepped over a clump of petunias and walked over to her. “Where are you off to next?”
“Dune Cottage.”
“That place is a mystery.” He pulled his hat down to keep the sun from his face. “Have you ever seen anyone staying there?”
“Never. Easiest cleaning job I do all week. A bit of light dusting. Clean the windows, sweep the deck. Freshen the bed linen occasionally. Report anything that needs repairing.”
“Who do you think owns it?”
Lily shrugged. “I’m guessing some billionaire from Manhattan who can afford to keep it empty.”
“Isn’t it a bit small for a billionaire?”
“Maybe he’s a small, single billionaire.”
Mike grinned. “A single billionaire. Does such a thing exist? Money is a powerful aphrodisiac.”
“Not to everyone.” In her experience, money didn’t always bring out the best in people. “I have to go. See you tomorrow, Mike.” She climbed onto her bike and pedaled down the drive and onto the cycle track that led to a remote part of the outer cape. The trail took her over sandy dunes and past salt marshes, and then finally the cottage appeared, nestled among the dunes, separated from the ocean by soft sand and whispering seagrass. Its white clapboard walls and shingle roof had been weathered by the elements, but still the building stood firm. It had become as much a part of the landscape as the shifting sands that surrounded it.
Whoever owned it was the luckiest person in the world, Lily thought. And the most foolish, because who would own a place like this and not use it? It was a criminal waste.
She and the people she worked with occasionally played guessing games. It was owned by a rock star who had ten mansions and never quite got around to using this one. It was an FBI safe house. The owner was dead and buried under the deck (as she spent a lot of time alone there, that wasn’t Lily’s preferred theory).
Whoever it was had made sure that they couldn’t be identified. The management fees were paid by an obscure, faceless company. No one could remember when the cottage had last been inhabited. It was as if it had been forgotten, abandoned, except not entirely abandoned because it was maintained as if the owner might be coming home any day. And Lily was responsible for keeping it that way.
It was, in her opinion, the perfect job and if she was ahead of her workload she occasionally sneaked an hour or more to paint because the light and the views in this particular stretch of the Cape were spectacular.
She leaned her bike against the wall where it would be protected from the elements, hoisted her backpack onto her shoulders and headed up the wooden steps to the deck that wrapped itself snugly around the cottage.
If Lily had been asked to name her dream house, this would have been the one. Not for her, the mansions that were dotted along the coast from Provincetown to Hyannis. She didn’t want marble, or hot tubs, a games room, gym or a cinema room.
She wanted this. The ever-changing light. The views. The feeling that you were living on the edge of the world. When she was here, her misery lifted. Her energy returned and she wanted to grab her sketchbook and record the view so that the memories would stay with her forever.
She delved into her pocket for the keys and opened the front door. Every time she stepped over the threshold, she fell in love all over again. She didn’t care that the place was weathered and worn. To her, that was part of its character. This placed had been lived in and loved. It had history.
She tugged off her shoes and left the door open to allow the air and sunshine to fill the place.
The interior was simple, every item carefully chosen to complement the ocean setting. The sofa was shabby, upholstered in a blue fabric that had faded over time and had once matched the armchairs facing it. There were hints of nautical everywhere. The coffee table was made from timber salvaged from a shipwreck, no doubt a casualty of the dangerous waters and shifting sandbars. It was stacked with books and sometimes Lily curled up in the evening and read while listening to the sounds of the sea floating through the open windows.
The living room opened onto a wide veranda, which Lily was continually sweeping. At the back of the cottage there was a studio, north facing, with large windows that flooded the room with light.
Upstairs was a master bedroom with glorious views across the dunes, a large second bedroom and a third bedroom built into the eaves.
Lily headed upstairs, ducked her head to avoid banging it on the sloping roof and dropped her backpack in the smallest bedroom. She felt a stab of guilt and had to stop herself from glancing over her shoulder to check no one was watching her.
Just one night, she’d told herself the first time she’d stayed here. And then one night had become two, and two had turned into a week and she was still here two months later. At first she’d felt so guilty she hadn’t even slept on the bed. She’d unrolled her sleeping bag and slept on the sofa in the living room and woken when the morning light had shimmered across the room. She’d used the shower in the smaller of the two bathrooms and told herself that occasionally running the shower and flushing the toilets were an important part of her caretaking responsibility.
She hadn’t always lived here. Over the winter she’d shared a room with two other girls in a house in the town, but then the tourist season had taken off and every bed was needed for visitors. Lily’s funds didn’t stretch far enough to cover the cost of a new rental.
That was what she told herself, but the truth was she couldn’t bear to leave this beautiful place. Sometimes she felt as if the cottage needed her as much as she needed the cottage. And who was ever going to know? No one came out this far once the sun had set, and she’d already decided that if someone found her here during the day she would simply say that she was cleaning the place. That was her job after all.
Gradually the cottage had embraced her and made her feel at home. She’d graduated from the slightly lumpy sofa to the smallest bedroom in the eaves (the master bedroom was taking it too far) and now her sleeping bag was stretched on top of the bed and she even kept a few toiletries in the shower room.
Over time she’d started to think of the cottage as hers. She cared for it as lovingly as a family member. She couldn’t do anything about the peeling paint or the slightly tired furnishings, but she could make sure it was clean and always looked its best. Sometimes she even talked to the cottage as she was shaking out cushions and dusting down surfaces.
Why does no one come and stay in you? What sort of people are they that they’d leave you alone like this?
Whenever she was asked where she was living she gave a vague response, leading people to believe that she was couch surfing until she found somewhere permanent. The truth was, she’d stopped looking. Partly because her days were full, but mostly because she couldn’t bring herself to leave and saw no reason to do so as the place was empty.
She loved being alone here. It meant that she could be herself, and not have to pretend to be something she wasn’t. She loved the fact that in the evenings she could sit on the deck and watch the setting sun throw streaks of red over the sky and water. If she couldn’t sleep, she could switch on the light and read without anyone asking her if she was okay. She could eat, or not eat, knowing that no one was policing her food intake. She could feel what she wanted to feel without the added pressure of knowing she was worrying someone.
She didn’t have to pretend to be fine.
Because she wasn’t fine. She hurt, inside and out, and until she stopped hurting she didn’t want to be anywhere but here. She couldn’t think of a better place to be wounded.
The cottage nurtured her, tempting her to sit on its sunny deck, or venture into the cozy kitchen to make herself a sandwich or a mug of creamy hot chocolate. With its old wooden cabinets and butcher-block countertops, the kitchen had a warm, welcoming feel that was a contrast to the sleek, modern kitchens that graced most of the homes she cleaned.
But the biggest comfort for Lily were the paintings. The walls were crowded with them. Sketches, oils and pastels—she’d studied them all closely, examining every brushstroke and every line because they were all extraordinary. And she couldn’t believe that paintings of this quality were hanging on the wall of an almost abandoned beach cottage, because they weren’t prints of the sort that were sold by the thousands in various shops along the Cape, or the work of an amateur. She was sure—or as sure as she could be—that at least some of them were the work of Cameron Lapthorne. His initials were in the corner. CL. And she recognized his style.
The best, in her opinion, was the large watercolor hanging in the living room. She’d stared at that painting for hours, seduced by the subtle blend of colors, intrigued by the figure of the woman standing on the sand, staring out to sea. Who was she and what was she thinking? Was she simply admiring the view, or was she planning on plunging into the freezing waters and ending her misery?
Every time she looked at the painting it seemed different. The shadows. The soft flush of light across the ocean. It was as changeable as the scenery that had been its inspiration. Looking at it made her chest ache and her throat close. It wasn’t just a painting; it was a story. It made her feel. Whoever that woman was, Lily felt an affinity with her.
And if she was right that it was an original then this painting alone was worth millions. But she didn’t care about its monetary worth. For her its value was in its beauty. Being able to gaze for hours at that painting was a privilege. It was like having a private view of the Mona Lisa, or Monet’s Water Lilies.
She suspected Mike was wrong when he assumed the cottage wasn’t owned by someone with pots of money. Maybe not a billionaire, but whoever it was had enough money not to care that they were leaving valuable art unattended.
Or perhaps it wasn’t an original.
She’d studied Cameron Lapthorne’s work in depth but had never seen any mention of this painting, and it differed from his usual style.
She tore her gaze away from it now and headed for the studio where she kept her paints and canvases carefully hidden in one of the cupboards.
She’d skipped lunch, but she didn’t want to waste a moment of the light by preparing a meal for herself and, anyway, the conversation with her mother had chased away her appetite. Instead of eating, she reached for her pad and her oil pastels and headed toward the deck.
She wanted to paint. And even if nothing she produced ever came close to capturing the magical light of the Cape in the way Cameron Lapthorne had when he was alive, she would keep trying.
Food could wait. And so could finding alternative accommodation.
There was no urgency. After all, it wasn’t as if anyone was using the place.