Chapter 5: The East Rail

Saturday, the cliff was bright and the sea was flat.

It had been exactly this bright the last time.

I stood at the edge of the lawn with a glass of sparkling water and a recorder taped under the wrist of my sleeve.

Malcolm's driver had dropped me at the gate and gone to park without a word.

Malcolm himself stood across the lawn, talking to a board member, and he had not looked at me once.

He had looked at the east rail four times.

Sixty guests had come to the summer house to toast my stepsister.

Brynn wore white.

She held Shane's arm with both hands and laughed at everything.

My ring was gone from his finger, and hers had a bigger stone.

Dad stood at the head of the terrace steps and tapped a spoon against his glass.

"A few words from our Lena, who has kindly agreed to give the toast."

Every face turned.

Brynn's smile didn't move.

I went up the steps with my glass.

The terrace was long and paved in pale stone, with a low iron railing on the sea side.

Three weeks of sun had warmed the rail.

I knew each section of it.

The east end stood a little apart, where the rail met a stone post.

It was the section the caterer's tent had been moved to leave bare.

Somebody had set a small white card on the paving beside it.

It said: Speaker.

I picked up the card and carried it to the west end, thirty feet from the post, and set it down there.

"Hello, everyone," I said. "Thank you for coming."

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