bar.
His head tilted as he peered around Stephanie, blinking to focus. When he recognised Daniela, he put a hand to his chest in over-dramatic surprise.
‘Daniela?’ he asked. ‘Young Daniela Cain? Now, is that really you?’
Daniela waved in acknowledgement. ‘Hey, Chris. How’s business?’
‘All washed up.’ Chris cackled. ‘You’d think everyone would want to drown their sorrows, but most of them have scarpered. All my precious customers.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘So, what can I get you, youngster? Bottled lager only, I’m afraid. The pumps are off. The bitter’s on a hand-pump though, if you fancy.’
Daniela deferred to Stephanie, but the officer had already sat down by the window, where she resolutely faced forwards. She took off her hat, placed it on the table top, then clasped her hands. Her black hair was pulled back into an austere bun.
‘Pint of bitter for me,’ Daniela said to Chris. ‘Better make it a coffee for the big lady.’
Chris nodded as he rose from his chair. ‘You’d think normal rules about drinking at work could be suspended, given the flooding. But she’s a stickler.’
Daniela searched her pockets and came up with enough change to cover two drinks, just. She’d brought only limited funds and had to be careful. She eyed the price list while Chris fiddled with the coffee maker at the back of the bar. That was another thing that’d changed.
She glanced at the lights above the bar. ‘I see the power’s still on.’
‘More or less,’ Chris said. ‘They told us we only needed to shut the electricity off if the building flooded out. Since that’s not happened, I figured we’ll leave it on for now. Plus, we’ve got the emergency generator out back if things get desperate. I reckon we can stay open so long as the toilets still flush. That’s the important thing, right? So, are you staying, or is this a flying visit?’
‘I’m not sure.’ Daniela avoided looking at her sister. ‘It kinda depends. Might be a day, or a couple of days.’
‘Well, if you need somewhere to bunk, we’ve got rooms. Can even give you mates’ rates, since we’re not technically open for staying guests.’ Chris lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘Just don’t tell the rozzers, yeah?’
Daniela returned his grin. ‘I’ll think about it. Thanks, man.’
It felt good to talk to the landlord again. It was as if Daniela had only been gone a few weeks, which was bittersweet. So much had changed for her.
Daniela took the drinks to the table and sat opposite her sister. Stephanie had switched her gaze so she stared out at the flooded streets. She could’ve been thinking about anything. Beneath her chin was a crescent-shaped scar, where she’d been hit with a golf club, years ago.
Daniela sipped her drink then pulled off her boots and turned them upside down in the vain hope they’d dry out. She considered taking her socks off but thought that might be impolite. She circled her weak left ankle, which always ached when it was damp.
‘This place was better before the smoking ban,’ Daniela said. She sniffed. ‘All you smell now is cheap bleach and old alcohol.’
‘That was ten years ago,’ Stephanie said. ‘You weren’t old enough to be in here then.’
‘When did that ever stop us?’
At last Stephanie looked at her. ‘Get to the point,’ she said. ‘I’m supposed to be working.’
‘We’re all supposed to be somewhere. If I had any choice I wouldn’t be here. Not right now, anyways.’
‘Why are you here?’
Daniela hesitated. ‘Well now. What explanation would you like? I can—’
‘The truth would be a nice change.’
‘That goes without saying. But what variant of truth? I can give you a tear-jerking breakdown, or a bald statement of facts, or—’
‘You need money.’
Daniela winced. ‘Okay, we’re going for stark, unvarnished truth.’
‘I’m not giving you money, Dani.’
It’d been years since anyone called her Dani. Heat flushed her face. ‘It’s not as bad as you assume,’ she said carefully. ‘I don’t want your money.’
‘So, why’re you wasting my time?’
‘I want my money, Steph.’ Daniela sipped her drink. ‘The money Dad left me. That shouldn’t be problem, right?’
Stephanie eyed the cup of coffee on the table. Her need for a warm drink was apparently less urgent than her wish to stay angry with her younger sister, and she pushed the cup away.
‘You can’t have it,’ Stephanie said.
‘I understand there’ll be procedures. Paperwork. It’ll take time. What I’m hoping is—’
‘You can’t have it. There’s no money, Dani.’
Daniela’s smile slipped. ‘What d’you mean?’
‘Dad left you a share of the house.’ Stephanie clasped her hands on the table again. A police officer’s pose; demonstrating calm, concern, patience. ‘Once it’s been sold, you’ll get some of the money.’
‘It’s not sold yet? Steph, it was two years ago.’
‘Three. There didn’t seem any hurry to sell.’
Daniela sat back. It was a disappointment, but not unexpected. If the house had been sold and the money released, someone would’ve told her. ‘So, what? It’s sitting empty?’
‘No.’
‘No? C’mon. If I have to drag every answer out of you—’
‘Auryn’s living there.’
Daniela’s eyes widened. ‘Auryn’s here?’
‘She was. She left a few days ago, before the floods got bad.’
‘God, I thought she’d got out long ago. Isn’t she a barrister in London?’
‘Solicitor.’
‘So, what happened? Why’d she come back?’
Stephanie paused. ‘Some kind of breakdown,’ she said. ‘I said she could come home, since no one was using the house, while she got her head together.’
Daniela’s fingers tightened around the glass. Despite everything, she still felt protective of Auryn, the baby of the family, who’d always been quiet and withdrawn, especially compared to the rest of them. Stephanie and Franklyn had looked out for Auryn in their own way, but it’d been Daniela who was closest to her. For a time, anyway.
‘Glad the old house is still in the family,’ Daniela said, with what she hoped was a sincere smile. ‘Lots of memories in that place. I’m surprised you’re not living there as well.’
‘Why would I go back?’
‘Same reason you never left Stonecrop. It’s comfortable and reassuring. Are you still living next to the police station in Hackett or have you found somewhere a bit more … separate from your work?’
Stephanie gave her an unfriendly look. ‘Listen, until the house gets sold there’s no money for you. So, you can take your sob story elsewhere.’
‘That’s harsh.’ Daniela adopted a thoughtful look. ‘But there’s other money, right? Dad’s investments. His savings. You got the pay-out from the insurance company—’
‘That’s nothing to do with you.’
Daniela leaned forwards. ‘I’m