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Even on gloomy days their house felt full of light, while on clear days it was possible to see all the way across the Channel to Exmoor. There was no sign of a distant land today, and hadn’t been since long before Christmas.

“Are you there?” Hanna said breathlessly. “Sorry about that. The cat was on the windowsill. I thought she was about to jump. So how are you?”

“Great. How about you?”

“Frazzled, as usual. Got a deadline we have to meet by tomorrow. How’s the weather down there? It’s miserable here in London.”

“It’s just started raining again.”

Sighing, Hanna said, “That’s all it’s done for months. I pity those poor people who’ve been flooded. This must be a never-ending nightmare for them.”

“A couple of houses at the beach have lost their gardens,” Jenna told her. “Jack reckons their foundations too, but no one’s been in yet to check.”

“That’s terrible. Are they holiday homes?”

“Yes, I think so. Huge chunks of the seawall were smashed apart, so they didn’t stand a chance, and you should see the muck the tide’s washed up. The beach is like a rubbish dump at the moment. Anyway, I’m sure you didn’t ring to discuss that.”

“You’re right, I didn’t. I’ve just spoken to Mum. Have you seen her today?”

“No, but Jack dropped in on his way back from the shop this morning. She was all right then. Why do you ask?”

“She’s just told me that she’s going to start taking in washing and ironing.”

Jenna’s eyes twinkled.

“I’ve no idea where this ridiculous idea has come from,” Hanna went on, “but I’m guessing she read it somewhere or maybe saw it on TV.”

“She’s just started
The Book Thief,
” Jenna told her. “The foster mother’s a laundress who also has a foul mouth, so let’s hope no one round here speaks German.”

“Oh, please no,” Hanna groaned. “Do you think she means it? She’s not really going to take in other people’s washing, is she?”

Knowing how unlikely it was, Jenna grinned as she said, “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

Hanna sighed. “Do you think we ought to get her to see someone?”

“You won’t have forgotten what happened the last time we tried….”

“You mean the hunger strike?”

“And it’s not as though there’s anything actually wrong with her.”

“She’s just her own person,” Hanna said, quoting their father, “and maybe a little bit on the autism spectrum. If you ask me, she’s that, all right. Is she keeping to her diet?”

“Religiously. Everything organic, gluten-free, no refined sugars or artificial colorings…It takes forever going round the supermarket with her, and she’s always online ordering some supplement or other. God knows how much good it’s all doing.”

“What matters to her is that Daddy put the diet together. She’ll be on it now till the day she dies—or loses her marbles completely. Anyway, tell me about you. What’s new in your world?”

As they chattered on, catching up on each other’s lives, as they often did on a Sunday, Jenna watched the rain growing heavier, pulling a thick gray veil between the moor and the sea. Fortunately, the wind was nowhere near as violent as it had been over the past few weeks; if it had been, there was no way Jack and Paige could have been out in it. During the worst of the storms they’d been forced to bring all the computers and company paperwork over to the house just in case their garden office got carried off by a particularly lively gust. Luckily, it had remained anchored to its spot, though a window had been smashed by a flying branch (already repaired by one of Jack’s mates from the pub), and the stone path leading across the grass to its door had been washed away twice (both times reinstated by Jack himself).

“So you’re still on schedule for the launch?” Hanna remembered to ask before ringing off.

“Absolutely,” Jenna confirmed. “Putting us in touch with Martha Gwynne and her business management team was the best thing you ever did for us. She’s amazing. Just wait till you see the website they’ve come up with. And they’re full of ideas about how they’re going to promote and market us.”

“I’m thrilled she’s working out so well. As a business consultant, she’s one of the best, and it’s lucky for you she’s based in Swansea.”

“And London. I think she’s there most of the time, with a manager running things here, but as far as I’m aware, nothing gets finalized without her approval.”

“Sounds like Martha. She has a home near you, hasn’t she?”

“On the outskirts of Horton. You should see it. She invited us to a party there about a month ago….I told you, didn’t I?”

“You did, and the place is utterly amazing, with tennis courts, a pool, and its own stretch of beach. That’ll tell you how successful she is, and how lucky you are that she took you on.”

Jenna smiled. “Believe it or not, I think she likes working with us. Apparently we’re not as demanding as most of her clients, or as egotistical or unrealistic. She’s invited me for lunch a couple of times, as friends, but for one reason or another it hasn’t worked out yet.”

“I’m sure it will. She’s a very easygoing sort, a refreshing change to all those executive females who take themselves so seriously—I admit I probably have to include myself in that. Anyway, how about the literary content for your new site? How’s that coming along?”

“Actually, brilliantly. I’m being constantly surprised by how much real talent there is out there, and word is definitely spreading about us. Hardly a day goes by now when we don’t get a new submission, and at least half the contributors are willing to be edited.”

“So you’ve got your work cut out? How much are you charging for the editing?”

“It depends if it’s full-on plot and character editing or just sorting out the spelling and grammar. The prices are very reasonable, though, and you don’t have to pay anything at all if you just want to list your work. Obviously we have to vet those first to make sure they’re not obscene or completely unreadable.”

“So remind me again how you’re going to make money.”

“From the editing, like I just said, and advertising—Jack has done wonders with that locally, everyone from Howells the mobile butcher to some high-flying holiday rental company to the Film Agency for Wales has already bought space. Martha’s team is handling the national campaign. I’m a bit vague about the details of that, but I think they’re about to schedule a presentation to bring us all up to speed. Oh, and let’s not forget that we’re only taking a twenty percent commission on downloads; the other eighty goes straight to the author. Amazon takes seventy percent, and good luck getting noticed on their site. As a contributor, you’re a dust speck in a busy vac, to use one of Mum’s jolly little phrases. Anyway, I’ve just heard a car pull up, so it could be Jack and Paige are back. They’ll be drenched, and I don’t even want to think about the state the dog must be in. I’ll call later to get more of your news.”

After ringing off she quickly unlocked the utility room door, dumped an armful of towels next to the sink, and was about to run upstairs to start a bath for Paige—Jack always took showers—when her mother let herself in the front door.

“Didn’t you hear me knocking?” Kay Roberts demanded in her usual clipped way. Her neat gray hair was glistening with raindrops, while the expression on her small, elfin face was caught in what looked like a dilemma, as though she couldn’t quite decide whether or not to be cross. At almost seventy she was still an attractive woman, with a faintly lined complexion and quick, watchful eyes that were almost the same vivid green as those of her daughters.

“Sorry, I was in the utility,” Jenna told her, turning back from the stairs. “Close the door, you’re—”

“Yes, yes. Why wasn’t it locked?”

“I thought it was.”

“It doesn’t need to be around here, you know. It’s perfectly safe. They don’t have any crime.”

“No, of course not,” Jenna agreed, knowing it was always best not to argue with her mother’s version of facts. “The latch is a bit loose, so I didn’t want the wind to blow it open. Anyway, I hear you’re planning to take in laundry.”

Kay stopped unzipping her lime-green raincoat, her sharp eyes shooting to Jenna’s. “You’ve been talking to your sister. You know her trouble? She doesn’t get a joke when she hears one.”

Jenna’s eyebrows rose. “Maybe it’s the way you tell them.”

Kay regarded her carefully.

“So, would you like a cup of tea?” Jenna asked, going back to the kitchen. “We’ve still got some of the fairy cakes the Brownies brought round on Friday if you want one.”

“I believe they were very good,” Kay called after her, “but I’ll have one of my own, thank you. Where is everyone?”

“Josh and the twins are with friends; Jack and Paige are out making films. Actually, that sounds like them now. Would you mind going up to run a bath for Paige? But don’t put any bubbles in—she likes to choose her own.”

“Am I allowed into her bedroom? I can’t get to her bathroom otherwise.”

“On this occasion I’m sure she won’t mind.”

“You were always a secretive one too,” Kay commented as she started up the stairs. “You made your father put a padlock on your door once.”

“I can hear you,” Jenna called after her.

“You’re supposed to.”

“And it was to keep Hanna out, not you. She was always stealing my stuff.”

“Actually, it was me,” Kay informed her. “We were the same size. Hanna’s bigger.”

Suspecting this was more of her mother’s peculiar humor, Jenna pulled open the utility room door and quickly leapt back as a dog she barely recognized as Waffle, their daft golden Lab, skidded past to his drink bowl.

“Hey, Mum,” Paige cried, bursting in after him. “It is totally crap out there. We’re drenched right through. Is Grandma here?”

“Upstairs running you a bath. You need to get out of those wet clothes.”

“I know, I know.” Tugging down her hood to shake out her damp, wavy dark hair, she clicked on her mobile to read an incoming text.

“Where’s Dad?” Jenna asked, grabbing the dog before he could spread the mud from his paws all over the kitchen floor.

“Still in the car, on the phone,” Paige answered. “Please tell me you haven’t eaten all the Brownies’ cakes. I’m starving.”

“There are a few left.” Banging on the window to get Jack’s attention, Jenna mouthed, “The dog!”

“Coming,” he mouthed back from the driver’s seat.

“Who’s he talking to?” Jenna demanded.

“No idea. What shall I do with my coat?”

“Hang it next to the radiator, and put your wellies next to mine. With any luck Dad will clean them after he’s finished with the dog. Waffle, will you please sit down?”

With instant obedience Waffle slumped to the floor and rolled onto his back for a belly rub.

“Dream on,” Jenna commented as Paige laughed.

“You are too adorable,” Paige told him. “No,” she cried as he kicked at her legs. “I’m not touching you either. Oh God, look what you’ve done to my jeans.”

“It’s not like they don’t already need a wash,” Jenna pointed out. “Now give him a treat, then make sure he stays in here until Dad sorts him out.”

A few moments later Paige came padding into the kitchen in wet socks, once again engrossed in her mobile phone. Her long, matted hair was hanging on either side of her pixie face, shielding the screen from any POS—parent over shoulder—advances.

“What happened to Owen?” Jenna asked. “Wasn’t he with you?”

“Mm?” Paige responded without looking up. “Oh, Dad just dropped him home. Thanks,” she added as Jenna passed her a cake.

“Do you want a plate, Paige?” Kay asked, coming to join them.

“No, this is cool,” Paige replied, blithely dropping crumbs over her front and the worktop.

“So have you decided what to do about Owen?” Jenna ventured.

Paige frowned in annoyance. “What about him?” she demanded, as if the conversation they’d had only that morning had never happened.

“You mentioned earlier that he was interested in—”

“He’s
gay,
Mum!”

“So you said.”

“And he hasn’t come out yet, OK? I don’t think he’s even admitting it to himself, but no way am I making out like we’re in a relationship just so no one’ll suspect the truth.”

“You’re too young to be in a relationship with anyone,” Kay informed her.

Paige’s eyes darkened. “Grandma! I’m fifteen, for God’s sake.”

Kay nodded. “Yes, you are,” she agreed, as if that were the topic at issue. “You know, your grandfather loved Dylan Thomas.”

Paige looked at her mother.

“Where did that come from?” Jenna asked Kay.

“I saw the book on Paige’s desk,” Kay replied.

“You’ve been in my room?” Paige cried. “What were you doing?”

“You see, I told you I wasn’t allowed,” Kay informed Jenna. “A red circle with a white dash in the middle means no entry.”

“I already told you, she was running you a bath,” Jenna said to Paige. “Now you should go up before it overflows.”

“Can I have another cake?”

“You’ll get fat,” Kay warned.

“Mum, look at her,” Jenna cried. “She’s barely a size six as it is. I don’t want you turning her into an anorexic.”

“Don’t talk about me as if I weren’t here,” Paige retorted, “and FYI, I’m planning on being a size four by the end of this term.”

“I hope you don’t mean that.”

Paige flashed her a smile. Helping herself to another cake, she took a bite, put the rest back on the plate, and made as if to give her grandma a hug, giggling as Kay instinctively drew back. “Oh, scary granddaughter trying to give Granny a kiss,” Paige teased.

“Don’t be unkind,” Jenna chided. Paige knew very well that Kay had a problem with physical contact, and it really wasn’t like Paige to be cruel.

“OK, I know where I’m not wanted,” Paige told them. Grabbing the cake, she took herself off upstairs.

“I know it’s her age,” Jenna said quietly once she’d heard Paige’s door close behind her, “but her attitude sometimes—”

“Is just like yours when you were fifteen,” Kay interrupted. “And Hanna’s, although she was worse.”

“She was so sweet this morning,” Jenna continued with a sigh. “We had a lovely chat while Jack was out getting the papers, and now…” She shrugged helplessly. “I never seem to know where I am with her. I don’t think she’s like that with Jack, or not so much anyway.”