The Summer Seekers

Martha must have recognized that Liza was the one who needed to be won over because she leaned forward. “I promise to take good care of your mother.”

“Thank you.” Liza could hardly argue with her enthusiasm or intention, even if the reality promised to be somewhat different. “What will your parents think of you flying to America for the summer?”

“They’ll be thrilled I’ve got a job.”

That response did nothing to reassure Liza, but Kathleen stood up.

“That’s settled then. Do you have a passport?”

“Yes.” Martha nodded. “I went on a school trip to Italy in my final year of school and it’s still valid.”

Liza was scrolling through the facts in her head.

How many twenty-five year olds would choose to drop everything to drive across America with an eighty-year-old? Why wasn’t Martha spending the summer with her friends, or a boyfriend?

Something wasn’t adding up, but it was too late because her mother was already rummaging in a drawer for the envelope where she kept her cash.

“I’m going to give you some money now so that you can equip yourself ready for the trip.” Kathleen opened a drawer. “I hope you don’t mind not having a bank transfer. I don’t like the idea of my money moving around in space. All you have to do is type one number incorrectly and suddenly you’ve handed over your life savings.”

“Whatever works for you, Mrs. Harrison. B

ut what do you need me to buy? If you make me a list, then I can go and buy whatever you need. Tea?”

“You can leave the tea to me. This is for your personal items. You’ll need comfortable clothes for driving. A soft bag that will squash into a small space. Sunglasses so that we both look cool when we’re driving our cool car. A scarf to stop your lovely curls blowing across your face as we’re speeding along the highway? A couple of dresses?”

Martha tugged at her T-shirt. “I’m more of a jeans girl, but thank you. That’s generous. Are you sure?”

“If I’m expecting you to drive two thousand four hundred miles then the least I can do is make sure you’re comfortable doing it.” Kathleen handed over a thick wad of cash. “Ignore Liza’s frown. My daughter is careful about everything.”

What was wrong with being careful? Since when was it a sin to be reliable?

Where was the virtue in throwing off responsibility giving no thought to others?

Liza felt a hot stinging behind her eyes.

Never mind that she’d spent every other weekend in Cornwall since her mother’s “incident”. Never mind that she’d had little time with her own crumbling family.

None of her efforts had brought her closer to her mother and they never would.

Hurt, she gave a brief smile and walked to the door. “I’m going for a walk. Nice to meet you, Martha. Enjoy the trip.” She almost felt sorry for Martha, who was so smiley and optimistic. Whatever her reasons for agreeing to this, Liza was confident she had no idea what she was letting herself in for. And as for the promise to keep Kathleen safe—well, good luck with that.

Suddenly she badly wanted to go home. Maybe they’d leave after breakfast tomorrow, instead of waiting until lunchtime as planned. She’d make a nice supper for the girls. They’d eat as a family.

As she and Sean walked across the fields to the beach, Liza breathed slowly and deeply. It was beautiful, but she couldn’t ever properly relax here. Part of relaxing was being able to leave all the jobs behind, and here in Oakwood Cottage there were far too many jobs glaring at her. Future complications loomed. Her mother falling. The house crumbling.

Sean stooped to pick up a shell from the sand. “Martha seems great.”

“Mmm.” She watched the waves break onto the shore. She’d always felt a sense of responsibility. Even as a child, she’d felt it. She’d cooked for her father and tried to make up for her mother’s many absences.

Sean looped his arm round her shoulders and tried to kiss her, but she eased away and strolled forward along the beach. She was still upset, and she couldn’t so easily flip the switch from irritation and hurt to affection. His thoughtless words had created a barrier between them and she didn’t know how to reach across it. For her, sex was closely tied to emotion. She’d never been the type to use sex as a way of making up after a fight. She had to feel loved and nurtured, and right now she felt neither.

Sean caught up with her. “I know you’re upset. But that’s your mother being your mother.”

It wasn’t only her mother who had upset her, but this wasn’t the time to have such an important conversation. She was tired and hurt and didn’t trust her own feelings.

They walked together in awkward silence and by the time they returned to the house, Martha was gone.

While Sean called the girls, Liza threw together a selection of summer salads, tearing fresh basil leaves over mozzarella, adding toasted almonds to green beans as she half listened to the conversation.