at the hospital with the family doctor. Vivian had been swiftly interred in a clinic for a couple of months whilst her ‘nervous condition’ was treated.
Mia had cried on the phone to Nee about how awful it had been. Mia and Jamie had extended their stay by a couple of weeks, taking Kiki’s older child, Matthew, to stay with them at Jamie’s parents’. The new baby was sick and Kiki had struggled to cope with her and a lively two-year-old. Matty had wanted to play with his new baby sister and couldn’t understand why she and their mummy kept crying all the time. Neil had been worse than useless, refusing to take any time off work to help his wife, insisting that as she did nothing else, the least she could do was manage to look after the children.
It had been a difficult and chaotic time and now that Mia thought about it, she realised that she had not listened to Nee during the fraught conversations they had over what to do about their mother, their sister, their niece and nephew. Mia and Nee had sadly reached the conclusion that they were powerless to do anything about any of it. Nee had been working on an exhibition for her finals and Mia had insisted that she stay in town and focus on that, determined to protect her baby sister from as much of the horror that was going on at home.
Then Jamie had died and she hadn’t had time for anything or anyone else. She’d let Nee drift away. Now Mia needed to talk to Kiki, find out what she knew of their little sister’s new life in New York and then track her down. She’d neglected her sisters for far too long.
***
‘The weather looks promising so I might try and distract them with some hard labour in the garden.’ They’d been rained in for twenty-four hours and Daniel was starting to regret inviting his friends to stay. It was foolish to be jealous, but Mia and Luke had been holed up in the far wing, running through the various design concepts the architect had drawn up. Every laugh from that direction had distracted him from the endless task of painting the first-floor landing. Aaron had smirked at every huff and sigh he’d made so he’d got his own back by making him paint the skirting boards.
Mia glanced up from her notebook. ‘Better wait until Madeline arrives. She’s my self-appointed Head Gardener. I don’t know a hydrangea from a hawthorn, but she swears there is hidden beauty somewhere under the weeds.’ She put down her notes and folded her arms. ‘According to local history, the gardens were famous in the area for attracting insects and wildlife. That’s how the beach got its nickname—Butterfly Cove. I assumed it was an act of whimsy by one of the previous owners, but apparently not.’ She didn’t sound convinced.
Daniel sat back in his chair, trying to imagine the scene. He recalled the half-buried statues hiding in the undergrowth and wondered what other treasures they might find lurking. He’d need to make sure he took his camera with him to capture some before, during, and after shots.
If Madeline was coming, then Richard was bound to join her. Quieter than his wife, he was no less enthusiastic about helping Mia transform the place and Daniel had quickly come to admire his dry wit and steady presence. Once everyone else was busy in the garden, he might try and steal him away for a few minutes to talk about the barn. His stomach gave a little nervous roll. He hoped Richard would approve of the project.
Having the older man was a blessing and a curse. His dad’s death had happened just as things had taken off for Daniel in London and the booze had helped to numb the pain. Properly sober, the hours spent doing repetitive tasks around the house allowed his mind to wander and his thoughts strayed constantly to the stern, reliable man who’d taught him so much. How his dad would have loved the idea of taking something broken down and giving it new life. Oh, Dad.
The sound of footsteps clattering down the stairs heralded the noisy arrival of Aaron and Luke. Grateful for the distraction, Daniel hurried to put the kettle on, giving his burning eyes a surreptitious rub on his sleeve as he did so.
The silence seemed to go on and on, driving Daniel’s nerves close to breaking point. Richard had listened without interruption to his ideas, and now wove his way around the piles of old furniture littering the barn, pausing now and then to flick through the scribbled sketches and notes in his hand.
Say something. Daniel opened his mouth, lost his courage and turned away. Dusty velvet caught his eye and he raised an old oilcloth to reveal an elaborately gilded chaise longue and matching footstool. It was one of the items on the list Mia had given him for the next room she planned to work on. Needing to dissipate some of the nervous energy filling him, he picked up the stool and carried it out into the yard.
He returned inside, to find Richard standing next to the chaise. His neutral expression revealed nothing of his thoughts. He nodded at the piece of furniture between them. ‘Need a hand with this?’
Was he really not going to say anything about the barn? Perhaps Daniel had been too forward in seeking his opinion, presuming on a friendship the other man might not reciprocate. He swallowed his disappointment and forced a smile. ‘Yes, please. Mia has some fancy plans for a boudoir, apparently.’
They carried the heavy chaise out to the yard and placed it next to the footstool. ‘Anything else we need to fetch?’ Richard asked. Feeling thoroughly miserable, Daniel handed him the list and trudged after him back into the barn.
Richard dragged a dust sheet off a matching pair of floral armchairs and sank down into one, nodding to the other one. ‘Before we get started, I think we should talk about your fancy plans, don’t you?’
Apprehensive at his stern tone, Daniel took a seat. ‘You don’t approve.’
‘That’s not what I said, son. Why don’t you tell me a bit about what brought you here? Madeline says I should mind my own business, but Mia is our heart and soul and I won’t have you filling her head with flights of fancy only to let her down.’
Daniel propped his elbows on his thighs and stared at the floor between his feet. What could he say? If he let Richard see everything inside him, then he would have to admit his failures to himself at the same time. He didn’t want to look back; he wanted to move forward. But if you keep hiding from the past, how will you ever get over it?
A warm hand came down on his back and Richard’s voice sounded close to his ear. ‘Talk to me, Daniel. Let me help you, son.’
The words poured out—every ugly hidden thing from the past few years. The drink, the drugs, the faceless girls and his own stupid arrogance. Like lancing a boil. He spoke of his fears. Of the bone-shaking terror that he had burnt out his gift, thrown away the God-given talent his dad had been so proud of. His dad. Oh, his dad. The tears came next, gut-wrenching sobs that shook his entire body. And through it all, that strong hand never moved from his back.
Calm at last, he moved on to his hopes for the future. ‘I want to help people like me. Give them a space to breathe, a safe place where nothing matters other than their art. I’m not the only one, I’m sure.’ Now he thought about it, he could recall the glazed and dazed expressions of at least a dozen other artists he knew. That same jaw-gritting determination to cope because it was what you needed to do to get on. To get noticed, to be a personality rather than letting the work speak for itself. How many youngsters fell by the wayside because they couldn’t hack it? How much talent was lost to the harsh competitiveness of the art world?
‘And Mia?’
He glanced up at Richard through red-raw eyes. ‘I love her. Body and soul. But in the end, it’s not up to me what happens between us. Butterfly Cove is my home now. I’ll work side by side with her and take only as much of her as she is willing to give me.’
Richard patted his shoulder. There was no censure
