Chapter 1: A New Home
The narrow road revealed itself one bend at a time, like a ribbon unravelling, barely wide enough for two cars to pass, flanked by the high hedgerows and unruly wildflowers of the southern Cornish coast. The surface was rough in places, edged carelessly with gravel, and the old Volvo shuddered at each gear change, protesting the ever-increasing incline.
As Jack slowed to let another frustrated local overtake, he saw it, no longer a glimpse but all of it – the full sweep of the North Atlantic coastline unfolding ahead, endless and alive. It was breathtaking.
“Hey, look,” he said, tapping his daughter on the arm. “Nearly there, kiddo.”
He glanced across at the passenger seat, his daughter’s long auburn hair blowing across her face like a shield.
Part of her wanted to look, to see this famous landscape her Uncle Andy had told her so much about. But that would be giving in, she reminded herself, so she kept her gaze fixed resolutely on the glove compartment, arms tightly folded.
She heard her dad sigh as impatient beeping began from the removal truck behind. He waved an apology and started off down the final descent into Porthpenn, the faint scent of salt already sharpening the air.
He pulled up outside the cottage and switched off the engine, stretching his arms out with a tired groan before checking around for the truck. His head did a horrified double take as he found it.
“Oh no,” he said, sinking his head into his hands on the steering wheel. “This is bad.”
She looked up to see the truck stuck at an awkward angle on the narrow road above, too wide to make the last turn, its engine grumbling furiously as if it understood the mistake. Two removal men climbed out, hands very much on hips, shouting angry, contradictory instructions at the driver and each other.
“They’re going to throw our furniture into the sea,” Jack muttered despairingly into his fingers. After a deep breath, he pulled his head up, ready to accept their fate. “Wait here. Keep calm. Ignore whatever language you’re about to hear.”
She watched him walk over, hands raised in penitent apology as negotiations began, knowing he must be tired after the journey and wondering if she should help. Her legs felt unnaturally heavy, though, holding her stubbornly in place. Not long after, he gave her a relieved thumbs up as the disgruntled movers agreed to whatever terms he had offered them and finally got started. That suddenly made it real for her. No more reprieves, no more resistance. They were there, and that was that.
Several hours and a very large cash tip later, the removal van finally drove out of sight, belongings safely inside and surprisingly few of the boxes bearing extra marks of frustration. Jack waved them off and walked towards the passenger door. She stared at him through her thick fringe, jaw clenched, the hollow feeling in her stomach intensifying as he approached.
He opened the door and bent down to her level.
“Sienna Elizabeth. Come on.”
He rarely used her middle name, so she knew he was serious. A barely noticeable nod was all she gave before getting out of the car. Gently, he put his hand on her back, a reminder she wasn’t alone.
Reaching the top of the overgrown path, they both took a moment to look at their new home. This once picture-postcard Cornish cottage was going to need work. Birds had punctured deep holes in the thatched roof, and remnants of old roses clung to its walls. The early evening light was turning golden, settling softly on the texture of the stone as they reached the door.
“It’s going to be good here,” she heard her dad murmur as he led them inside.
A musty smell filled the hallway and continued upstairs to her bedroom. She placed her suitcase on the bed and watched as her dad jiggled the window into submission, letting fresh sea air pour in.
Through the same window, she could see the harbour below. Colourful fishing boats swayed in the water, protected by the barnacle-covered stone of its walls. Undeniably idyllic, she could sense her dad’s relief at finally being there.
“Right then,” he said, his tone motivational. “Aunty Sarah’s done tea for us. Uncle Andy’s still out on a lifeboat shout, but we could always hop over and wait for him?”
Sienna twirled a strand of hair around her finger and looked down.
“Or I can just go myself? Whatever.”
A pang of guilt washed over her. He looked so tired as he took off his glasses and cleaned them on the bottom of his cardigan. She wanted to do better for him, but the current numbness in her soul felt impossible to overcome.
He replaced his glasses and looked at his daughter. Her large green eyes met his and implored him to understand. As always, he did.
“Well, okay then. Maybe tomorrow, eh? I’m sure they’ll understand.”
“Wait. Would this have been Mum’s bedroom?” she asked as he opened the door.
“Yes, bear,” he replied gently as he left.
Sienna looked around her new room. Tiny pink tea roses, once vibrant and joyful, patterned the fading wallpaper. It had peeled off in multiple places, revealing glimpses of the previous decoration underneath. The thin fabric of the curtains matched the same pattern but hung limply against the cloudy, aged glass of the open window. A small sink sat in the corner. The only other furniture was the dark wooden bed with its lumpy mattress and a small cabinet beside it.
She turned to the side and opened her suitcase. A well-worn teddy bear smiled up at her as she unzipped the lid and placed it lovingly on the pillow. The bear was her most treasured possession, the lifelong keeper of her saddest and hardest thoughts. Its once luxurious pink fur was threadbare in places, but, even at fourteen, she could not contemplate life without her.
Next out was a framed photo of the three of them, wrapped in an old t-shirt, which she put on the bedside table without looking at it. She heard her dad head out downstairs and lay back on the bed, pulling her teddy to her chest and closing her eyes, exhausted by it all.
…