In a Kingdom by the Sea. Sara MacDonald

Twenty-Nine

       Chapter Thirty

       Chapter Thirty-One

       Chapter Thirty-Two

       Chapter Thirty-Three

       Chapter Thirty-Four

       Chapter Thirty-Five

       Chapter Thirty-Six

       Chapter Thirty-Seven

       Chapter Thirty-Eight

       Chapter Thirty-Nine

       Chapter Forty

       Chapter Forty-One

       Chapter Forty-Two

       Chapter Forty-Three

       Chapter Forty-Four

       Chapter Forty-Five

       Chapter Forty-Six

       Chapter Forty-Seven

       Chapter Forty-Eight

       Chapter Forty-Nine

       Chapter Fifty

       Chapter Fifty-One

       Chapter Fifty-Two

       Chapter Fifty-Three

       Chapter Fifty-Four

       Chapter Fifty-Five

       Chapter Fifty-Six

       Chapter Fifty-Seven

       Chapter Fifty-Eight

       Chapter Fifty-Nine

       Part Three

       Chapter Sixty

       Chapter Sixty-One

       Chapter Sixty-Two

       Chapter Sixty-Three

       Chapter Sixty-Four

       Chapter Sixty-Five

       Chapter Sixty-Six

       Chapter Sixty-Seven

       Chapter Sixty-Eight

       Chapter Sixty-Nine

       Chapter Seventy

       Chapter Seventy-One

       Chapter Seventy-Two

       Chapter Seventy-Three

       Chapter Seventy-Four

       Chapter Seventy-Five

       Chapter Seventy-Six

       Acknowledgments

       Reading Group Questions

       About the Author

       Also by Sara MacDonald

       About the Publisher

       PROLOGUE

       Cornwall, 1971

       Maman is not waiting for me by the front door as I walk up the hill from school. The door is open and slices of apricot sun slant across the coloured tiles in the hall. Inside, the house is unnaturally quiet. I hesitate on the front step, turn to look at the curve of sea glittering below me. I do not want to step inside.

       There has been a tight band round my chest all day. It started last night on my sleepover with Morwenna. I had woken suddenly in the night with my heart skittering inside me, making me want to leap out of bed and run home.

       In front of me the narrow passageway to the back of the house yawns beyond the reach of the sun. The kitchen door is shut. It is never shut.

       ‘Maman?’ I call, but no one answers.

       I step inside and the air plucks and pulls at me in cold little gusts.

       ‘Papa?’ I call. ‘Dominique?’ But I know my father will be working and my sister won’t be back from school yet.

       I run down the dark hall and push the kitchen door hard. It opens with a bang and I jump when I see Maman leaning, silent, against the battered cream Aga. She does not look like Maman. Her face is an angry, grey mask.

       ‘It is no good calling Dominique,’ Maman says. ‘She’s gone …’

       I stare at her. ‘What do you mean … gone?’

       Maman is clinging to the rail of the Aga. She looks ill and old. She is scaring me.