TRIS-

The drive to Elaine's house was short, but took quite a while because of the heavy traffic. She went on about the different places to visit in the busy beach town and the type of people that usually stay at the B&B.

"Ooh!" she squealed, leaning across the dashboard to point at a building. "If you ever want a quiet place to go and have a drink and read books from small authors or at cheap low-budget movies then that's the place to go. And, if you ask nicely, they'll give you extra marshmallows on your hot-chocolate."

I just nodded, taking in the new place. Elaine's quick tour was lovely but I was also keen to be able to just explore. I didn't wanna feel like I already knew this place.

Soon enough, we pulled up into the driveway of The Sand Dollar B&B.

Elaine hauled my suitcase out the trunk before I even had the chance to close my door and was already making her way up the wooden steps. She flipped the sign so it read 'Vacancies - ask inside' and then swung open the large blue door.

"Welcome to my castle!"

Inside was the epitome of a summer vacation at the beach.

The front desk was made out of an old row boat that had been flipped upside down, and a pair of oars, that seemed to be from the boat, were mounted on the wall behind, above a calendar and small cabinet made of driftwood that held the room keys.

To the left was a large open sitting room with a few pale blue couches and a large bookcase. As we made our way through, I saw the kitchen to the dining room on the right, and then the double doors to the kitchen lead straight through to it. The staircase was made from a pale wood, and reels of old rope and a few seashells were wrapped around the banisters. At the top was a mural of the beach view right outside the front door.

"Did you paint this?"

Elaine blew a strand of red hair off her face. "Oh me? Nah... When I first opened one of the guests thought there was something missing from the huge space- wouldn't stop going on about it her whole stay, actually. Was rather annoying. Anyway her son was just moving in to the town or something at the time and came to pick her up and drop her back at the train station. Don't think they got along particularly well. Anyway she just had to point it out to him and insisted there must be something to fill such a monstrous space. Turns out the son was an artist and offered to paint a mural for free even though mother dearest insisted it was worth two-thousand dollars - there was no way I could afford to pay him that much and offered what I could but he insisted he didn't want anything. A couple weeks later he came back and would work on it a little at a time, all he asked was that I have a fresh pot of coffee brewed and that if anyone asked, I'd send them his way. Look, in the corner there's his signature. And the dreadfully sunburnt woman right by the water is his mother."

I leaned in, squinting at the squiggly brush marks. "Shaun McNamara?"

"Yeah," she scoffed. "Last name's a bit of a mouthful, isn't it? Anyway, let's dump your things in your room because I think I can smell the pie just starting to burn."

My room was up two more flights of stairs in the converted attic, just opposite Elaine's. I just left everything at the foot of the bed, knowing I'd be able to fully unpack later on.

And sure enough, the pie was just starting to burn at one of the edges by the time we sat down to eat in the empty dining room.

A/N

Heyo! Chapter two is here... finally.

Anyway, here in good old rainy England, we've actually had a heat wave. (Or I think it's a heatwave - whatever it is it's been bloody hot and I don't like it.)

Time to pretend I'm a medical professional: stay hydrated, kids, and make sure you don't bake like a potato in this heat. Because heatstroke fucking SUCKS.

That will be all for today.

As always, I do not own divergent, or a large enough supply of ice-cubes.