The Boy is Back in Town Read Free Page A

and offices and computer server rooms.
    The smiling face of her mother looked back at her from the photograph. She was a tall, slim, pretty woman with freckled skin illuminated by the sunlight reflected back from the water in the sunny harbour of Swanhaven. One of her arms was draped around Rosa’s shoulders. Rosa must have been about fourteen then and so full of life and fun and energy. Her baby sister was always ready to smile into the camera without a hint of embarrassment or hesitation. But this time Rosa and her mother had something to laugh about—because they were watching Kit playing the fool. As always. Seventeen years old and full of mischief, Kit was their hero, full of life and energy and funny, handsome and charming—everyone loved him, and he was indulged and spoiled. Kit would not sit still for a moment, always jumping about, always wanting to be in the action, especially when it came to the water and sailing.
    Mari remembered the day she’d taken the photograph so well. It was the Easter holiday and the sailing club had been open for a trainingday. Of course Kit was the instructor, yet again, but he was not content to simply smile for his younger sister, but had to leap forward onto one knee and wave jazz hands at her, which, of course, made Rosa and her mother laugh even louder. This was her happy family she loved, so natural and so unrehearsed. Just a typical shot of a mum having fun with her three kids on a trip to the marina.
    Looking at the image now, she could almost feel the sun on her face and the wind in her hair on that April morning when she’d captured the precious moment in time when they’d all been so happy together. It was hard to believe that she had taken the photograph only a few months before the yacht race in the annual Swanhaven Sailing Regatta when they lost Kit in a freak accident and the thin fabric of safe, loving little family was ripped apart.
    He had been the golden boy. The much-loved only son.
    Oh, Kit.
She missed him so much, like a physical ache that never truly went away, but somehow over the years she had learned to push it to the back of her mind so that she could survive every day, though the pain of the loss was still there. Coming back to Swanhaven, and seeing the boats in themarina and young people finding such joy in the water, brought back all of those happy memories so vividly.
    They had been such good times with her family all around her.
    Mari ran her fingertip down her mother’s face on the photograph, just as the wind picked up and almost whipped it away, and she popped it back into her bag, made sure that it was safe and pulled on her gloves as quickly as she could.
    Perhaps she was not as ready to see her old home as she thought she was? It had been her mother’s dream that one day she should be able to buy back the home she had loved so very much, but she’d died before Mari could help to make that dream come true. And it broke Mari’s heart to think that she had let her down when they had come so close to making it a reality.
    But she still had Rosa to take care of, so she drove herself to work harder and longer to help her sister, no matter what the cost to her own dreams of running her own business.
    Turning away from the cliff, Mari faced the wild buffeting wind from the sea and skipped down the path back onto the shore, walking faster and faster along the rough large boulders, sliding on the wet surface,squelching against kelp seaweed, until she was at the end of the jetty and in front of her was the curving bay and the rising cliffs of chalk towering above in the distance.
    She took a couple of steps further along the beach and there it was, the low dip in the cliff made by a small river and the sloping grassy bank and the winding path from the shore which led to the cottages where they used to live. Bracing herself, Mari lifted her head, back to the wind, and looked up towards the houses she could see quite clearly now. At this distance, the