Ellie stared. ‘Is this yours? I mean, is it private?’
‘Er...yeah.’
‘Wow. Your own beach.’
‘It’s not a beach,’ said Abby.
‘Next you’ll have your own boat.’
Abby saw Ellie’s gaze move around the rocks to a simple mooring, off which was tied a small boat.
‘Oh. You already do.’
Abby pulled off her clothes, turning self-consciously so Ellie didn’t see her shoulder. Underneath she was wearing an old bikini.
‘Coming in?’ she asked, and her sister nodded and slipped out of her dress. They both plunged into the blissfully cool water and, as they surfaced Abby gazed around her. It was a view she loved. They could see for miles, the sea stretching out in an endlessly winking blue. Abby sometimes wondered if it moved her soul so much because she’d spent fifteen years in an office in the City of London with no outside window, getting very little natural light and, in winter, never seeing daylight at all.
They swam for a while, then Matteo said he was going to go out further, but the girls preferred to warm themselves in the sun. They lay back on their towels, welcoming the heat on their skin. Ellie had been quiet during the swim and, as they sunbathed and the minutes ticked by silently, Abby felt herself grow nervous, sensing the awkwardness between them. It wasn’t altogether unsurprising. When Abby had emailed the invitation, back in June, it was a spur of the moment thing that had been sent out of guilt for refusing to help her sister in what was, frankly, a ludicrous request. She hoped Ellie had got over it by now, or at least seen that it had been impossible.
‘How’s work?’ asked Abby.
‘Hideous.’
‘Oh. Why?’
‘The usual. No money for the school to buy textbooks for the ungrateful bastard teenagers who don’t want them anyway. And yet, we still have to get the results. It’s a bit like being a potato farmer but you have to dig the field by hand and you spend the entire growing season battling floods and poor top soil.’
Abby smiled. ‘Are you likening your students to spuds?’
‘Not all of them.’
‘Do you hate it?’
Ellie paused. ‘There are moments of satisfaction, especially when you see a kid’s eyes light up. But mostly, it’s tough.’
‘Ever fancy a change?’
‘To what?’
‘I don’t know. Anything.’
‘I was never the high-flyer. Not like you.’
Abby bit her lip. It was true, Ellie had struggled at school. Ever since she’d fallen ill, aged five. There had been recurring bouts of nausea and diarrhoea, which led to time off school.Lotsof time off school. It had also affected her thinking. Sometimes she’d been confused, had looked at them in puzzlement when asked simple questions, such as what she wanted for breakfast. As the doctors had searched for a diagnosis, months had passed and Ellie had fallen behind in her learning. Their mother, Susanna, had decided she was best off home-schooled for a while, something that had made Abby seethe with resentment—
‘I can’t ask you the same question anymore,’ said Ellie, interrupting her thoughts.
‘What’s that?’
‘“How’s work?”’
‘No.’
‘So, how’s retirement? It’s been, what – three and a half months now?’
Abby paused, knew she was on sensitive ground. But still, she didn’t want to lie. ‘Nice. Relaxing.’
‘Is that it?’
