The Cliff House: A beautiful and addictive story of loss and longing. Amanda Jennings

there.’

      It was then I noticed she held an envelope.

      ‘What’s that in your hand?’

      She looked down as if confused by it. ‘It’s for you.’

      ‘For me?’

      She hesitated. ‘Their daughter asked me to give it to you.’

      ‘What?’ I squealed and ran down the stairs taking them two at a time and when I got to the bottom I thrust out my hand.

      She didn’t give it to me. Instead her hand moved fractionally closer towards her body.

      ‘Can I have it then?’

      She furrowed her brow. ‘I didn’t even know they had—’

      But I didn’t let her finish. ‘I can’t believe she wrote to me!’ As I grabbed the letter from her an electric charge shot through me. I stared down at my name which was written across it in the neatest writing I’d ever seen, all the letters even and rounded and perfectly joined up. I beamed at Mum but my smile faded when I saw her expression.

      ‘How do you know each other?’ she asked with forced indifference.

      I gripped the letter hard as my brain turned over and over.

      ‘Oh. Well, yesterday…’ I hesitated. ‘You know… when you were working at the chip shop? It was a really nice day so I went for a walk. On the cliffs. And, well, I ended up going past their house, and, this girl – their daughter, it turns out – was on the terrace. And I smiled at her. Like you always tell me to. I mean, you’re always saying I should smile more, aren’t you? Anyway, I did smile and she said something. Hello, I think. Then she said something about the weather. Isn’t it sunny? Or maybe something about rain coming. Anyway, we sort of got talking and then she asked me to come in for a drink. A Coke. One of the fancy American ones from the adverts. I think her name’s Edie. Something like that.’

      Mum nodded vaguely, her face slick with mild confusion.

      ‘She’s here for the whole summer,’ I said.

      ‘Yes, Mrs Davenport told me today. Christ, I nearly jumped out of my skin when I opened the door and the woman was sitting there. I wish I’d known. I’d have worn something a little nicer. You should have seen the way she looked me up and down. Snooty cow. I hated cleaning with her there. So much nicer when it’s just me. Can you believe she actually followed me round? I swear she ran her finger along a windowsill after I’d cleaned it. I mean, even though I know I cleaned it I was terrified it would come up covered in grime.’ She sighed. ‘She said Mr Davenport is finishing a book. Can’t be in London, she said, because it’s too noisy or too crowded or something like that. So they’re here until the end of August. Anyway…’ She took a breath and smiled. ‘Whatever the reason, she’s given me more hours. Three times a week plus more on the weekend if they have guests.’

      ‘That’s good,’ I said, relieved she seemed happy enough with my garbled account of meeting Edie.

      ‘It’s come just when we needed it, to be honest. I don’t think we’ve ever had this little money.’ She rubbed her face. ‘Maybe Gareth will advance me some this month.’

      The letter throbbed in my hand. All I wanted to do was tear it open and I willed her to let me go.

      ‘Mrs Davenport said they need some help in the garden. Painting the railings. She asked if I knew any local tradesmen who might be able to do it. I was cheeky and suggested your brother. Obviously he’d have to fit it in around the yard, but he’s only there every now and then, so it would be ideal. She wants to meet him first to make sure he’s suitable. Whatever that means. Is he still asleep?’

      ‘I don’t think so. I saw him up earlier.’ A lie. He hadn’t emerged from his room yet but she hated him sleeping past eleven and I didn’t want her to storm up there and wake him just so they could fight about it.

      I stroked the envelope with my thumb.

      ‘How’s Granfer doing?’

      ‘Nearly finished the sky.’

      ‘He’ll be pleased about that.’

      We stood in silence for a few minutes. She glanced down at the envelope with an expectant look on her face. I held it behind my back and she nodded imperceptibly then turned to go into the kitchen.

      Clutching the letter to my chest I shot up the stairs like a bullet from a rifle. With the door to my box closed, I fell onto my bed, tore open the envelope and unfolded the single piece of heavy cream notepaper.

       Dear Tamsyn

      Can you come over later? Max is doing a barbecue for supper. I asked if I could invite a friend and he said YES. Your mother didn’t know if you were busy or not.

       I REALLY hope you aren’t!!

       Please say you’ll come! I am LITERALLY going out of my mind with the boredom. I think I might DIE of it soon!

      Call me on Penzance 3483 to arrange.

       Edie x

      To make sure I hadn’t misread a word of it, I read it three times over. Then I held the notepaper up to my face and kissed it. This was the single most exciting thing that had ever happened to me. Had she really called me a friend? I read the note a fourth time to make sure while a heat burnt inside me like a bonfire. An invite to a barbecue? I couldn’t believe it. I’d never even had a barbecue. But there I was – me! – with a proper invitation in blue fountain pen on watermarked paper. No more sneaking around. No more fear of getting caught. I was going to The Cliff House as an invited and welcome guest. It was – as Edie would say – literally a dream come true.

      ‘Mum! Mum!’ I called as I ran down the stairs. ‘Can I borrow ten pence?’

      I grabbed her bag from the hook and took out her purse then hared out of the front door. She called something after me, but I didn’t hear what she’d said so I lifted a hand and shouted, ‘Back in a sec!’

      When I reached the telephone box on the corner I yanked open the door, recoiling a little from the smell inside. Jago said it was where drunk men peed after the pub closed. So disgusting. Breathing through my mouth and not my nose, I pushed my hair off my face and blew sharply upwards against my sweating brow, whilst retrieving a coin from Mum’s purse.

      My hand shook as I picked up the receiver and placed it between my shoulder and cheek. Holding the letter up to read the telephone number, I carefully turned the dial for each digit. As I waited for the numbers to click though I had the sudden fear that this was an elaborate practical joke, that perhaps the number she gave me was made up and she was hiding nearby, watching me make a fool of myself with tears of laughter pouring down her cheeks. My stomach churned so ferociously I nearly slammed the receiver down. But then it began to ring. Two rings in my ear. Two in The Cliff House. Two in my ear…

      I pictured their phone on the hall table. Black and new-fangled with buttons like a calculator. I imagined its ring echoing around the house and Edie walking towards it with her hand outstretched. Nerves catapulted around my body. What on earth was I going to say? I had to keep calm. I’d been invited for tea. If I wanted to go – and, oh God, I did – then I had to get through this.

      Someone picked up the phone. Then the phone beeped demanding its money. I swallowed and pushed in the coin. It dropped into the box and the beeps silenced.

      ‘Penzance three four eight three?’ said the poshest voice I’d ever heard. It wasn’t Edie. It must be her. Mrs Davenport with her creamy skin and honeyed hair. My stomach pitched.

      ‘Erm, hello…’ My throat constricted, forcing my words into a strangled squeak. ‘It’s… Tamsyn.’

      ‘Who?’

      ‘Can I… speak to Edie?’

      There