Page 37 of On Edge

Of course. Tea. Because that makes everything better. “Yorkshire?” I have a hope.

She gives me a look. “No, Fleetwater.”

“Nothing stronger?” I joke. The local tea is the strongest there is. It’s blacker than tar.

Her lips curl as she unscrews the lid, pouring out a cup and handing it to me. “Fleetwater is full of iron.”

A faint smile tugs at my lips, too, as I take the tea from her, trying not to shake. “My mother always used to say that.”

“Then she’s a clever woman.”

I squash down the hollow feeling inside, the one I’ve come to accept as missing my mother, before it takes hold and draws out even more tears.

After our father went bankrupt and cheated on her with one time too many, Mum found a boyfriend, and eventually she moved to our London flat. I hardly ever saw her after that. The house in Templevale is always empty now, unless you count my father’s men prowling the grounds with rifles, looking for reasons to shoot things.

I may miss Nell more; we were closer, but on days like this, I miss Mum too. She was different when I was younger. She listened then, actually saw me.

Mrs. Oakley must see it on my face, because she gives me a look that says she’s decided to look out for me, as though she understands but doesn’t have the words. No one seems to know what to say to me these days, so she’s not alone.

“How did you know where I was?”

“Master Troy said you’d taken a tumble and were likely in the orchard.” I must look surprised that he did, because she sighs. “Would you like to help me make lunch? I’m baking fresh bread.”

“Oh, I love baking.”

“Yes, I know.”

“You know?”

“I used to buy pies from your mother’s bakery back in the day. You worked there, too, didn’t you?”

I smile at her. I did for a little while when I could leave the house. It was the only place my father trusted me to be other than under his supervision, especially after the accident. Apart from the pact, baking is all I have.

She smiles back. “Just call me Kathy like everyone else.” But just as quickly, the smile fades into a frown as I stand up and start walking. “We should get you some fresh clothes, too, if you’re staying,” she says, coming up beside me. “You’re scaring the wildlife walking around like that.” She side-eyes my dress.

I frown, then twist to look at what she’s indicating. It’s then that I see the enormous rip down the back of it.

When we get to the kitchen, I help Mrs. Oakley bake, and I actually have a lovely afternoon, kneading dough, chatting about rising techniques, that I almost forget why I’m even here at all.

There’s even a text later from Laine to cheer me up. Somehow, despite being cut off from the rest of the world, the odd message seems to get through right when I need it.

Remember, tea, sympathy, and pancakes are always available at my house 24/7

I smile and type back a teary-eyed but smiling emoji, remembering that my friends are always there right when I need them.

10

TROY

Why was she even up there?

Was she going to bloody jump? I don’t need the authorities and their dogs swarming my island right now. Thank Christ, I was there to stop her.

My pulse still hammers from those seconds when I thought she might fall, when every carefully constructed wall I’ve built around the memory of Nell threatened to crumble with her.

And then the back of her dress had split and torn on the ledge, revealing the color of her underwear.

Lavenderbloodylace.