Sara MacDonald - In a Kingdom by the Sea

Published by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

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London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2019

Copyright © Sara MacDonald 2019

Cover design by Holly MacDonald © HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2019

Jacket photographs © Nikaa / Trevillion images (woman), RooM the Agency / Alamy Stock Photo (houseboats), Shutterstock.com(all other images)

Sara MacDonald asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008245191

Ebook Edition © June 2019 ISBN: 9780008245214

Version: 2019-05-16

For Michael and for Lizzie who both passed away before I finished this book. You left me so many happy memories of love and support.

For my Pakistani friends and for my friends here at home. Thank you, you all enrich my life.

All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well

Julian of Norwich

Contents

Cover

Title page

Copyright

Dedication

Epigraph

Prologue

Part One

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Part Two

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Seven

Chapter Forty-Eight

Chapter Forty-Nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty-One

Chapter Fifty-Two

Chapter Fifty-Three

Chapter Fifty-Four

Chapter Fifty-Five

Chapter Fifty-Six

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Part Three

Chapter Sixty

Chapter Sixty-One

Chapter Sixty-Two

Chapter Sixty-Three

Chapter Sixty-Four

Chapter Sixty-Five

Chapter Sixty-Six

Chapter Sixty-Seven

Chapter Sixty-Eight

Chapter Sixty-Nine

Chapter Seventy

Chapter Seventy-One

Chapter Seventy-Two

Chapter Seventy-Three

Chapter Seventy-Four

Chapter Seventy-Five

Chapter Seventy-Six

Acknowledgments

Reading Group Questions

About the Author

Also by Sara MacDonald

About the Publisher

Cornwall, 1971

Maman is not waiting for me by the front door as I walk up the hill from school. The door is open and slices of apricot sun slant across the coloured tiles in the hall. Inside, the house is unnaturally quiet. I hesitate on the front step, turn to look at the curve of sea glittering below me. I do not want to step inside.

There has been a tight band round my chest all day. It started last night on my sleepover with Morwenna. I had woken suddenly in the night with my heart skittering inside me, making me want to leap out of bed and run home.

In front of me the narrow passageway to the back of the house yawns beyond the reach of the sun. The kitchen door is shut. It is never shut.

‘Maman?’ I call, but no one answers.

I step inside and the air plucks and pulls at me in cold little gusts.

‘Papa?’ I call. ‘Dominique?’ But I know my father will be working and my sister won’t be back from school yet.

I run down the dark hall and push the kitchen door hard. It opens with a bang and I jump when I see Maman leaning, silent, against the battered cream Aga. She does not look like Maman. Her face is an angry, grey mask.

‘It is no good calling Dominique,’ Maman says. ‘She’s gone …’

I stare at her. ‘What do you mean … gone?’

Maman is clinging to the rail of the Aga. She looks ill and old. She is scaring me.

‘I’ve sent her away to Aunt Laura in Paris …’

‘Why?’ I shout. ‘What did Dominique do?’

My mind darts to the arguments Maman and Dominique have been having about my sister’s clothes. Mostly short skirts. Every morning Dominique rolls her school skirt up to her knickers just to annoy Maman. She rolls her skirt back down to her knees before the school bus arrives, but, of course, Maman does not see that.

‘Your sister is out of control. I’ve sent her away before she gets herself into trouble. That’s all you need to know, Gabriella.’ Maman’s face is closed to me, her voice strange and hard.

Fear begins to shiver inside me like a feather. I have never seen Maman like this. Her anger is like a fire inside her.

‘But … what did she do that was so bad? Why are you so angry, Maman? You can’t send her away. You don’t mean it. What about school? What about her friends? What about me?’

Maman’s mouth is set in an ugly little line that changes her face.

‘I mean it. Dominique is a wicked little liar. Now she must live with her lies. I won’t have her in the house. Aunt Laura will find her a school in Paris. Next year she will be sixteen and an adult. She can do what she likes with her life. I wash my hands of her.’

I cry and plead but Maman’s face remains cold and shut.

‘Gabriella, nothing is going to change my mind. Dominique is gone. I took her to Newquay Airport first thing this morning. Aunt Laura met her in London and they went straight back to Paris. Now, go upstairs and change out of your school uniform.’

I run from the kitchen up to the attic where my sister sleeps. I want to throw myself on her bed and capture the smell of her but Maman has already stripped away the sheets. Dominique is gone. I grasp her pillow and bury my face in it and breathe in the last little bit of her.

In my room, as I tear my school clothes off, I see a twist of tissue paper on my bed. Inside is Dominique’s little silver bracelet, the one I loved and wished was mine. She has left it for me. I cannot do the clasp, so I fold it deep and safe into the pocket of my jeans. Then I run away.