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CHAPTER 4
‘Yes? Can I help you?’ Rosie knew she sounded unwelcoming but she was too exhausted to care. Her mother was dead, her childhood home appeared to be falling down, and the last thing she needed was a nosy villager turning up to tell her what a rubbish daughter she’d been.
Plus, she must look a sight. She glanced at herself in the mirror propped up on the kitchen dresser. Her sun-streaked hair was all over the place and even a golden tan couldn’t disguise the bags under her swollen eyes. Was it shallow to care what she looked like in the circumstances? Belinda would certainly think so.
‘Sorry to disturb you,’ said the man on the doorstep. He brushed a hand through his dripping wet fringe. ‘And I’m so sorry about your mum. This arrived for Sofia and I thought it might be urgent.’ He delved into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a large white envelope which he thrust towards her.
‘Thanks.’
Rosie took the letter and turned it over in her hands. There was a return address stamped high on the back of the envelope:Sent on behalf of:Mr Charles Epping, Esq, High Tor House, Granite’s Edge, near Kellsteignton, Dartmoor.
That was strange. Charles Epping, rich local landowner and absentee landlord, was infamous in Heaven’s Cove for both his irritable temper and his total lack of interest in the village. Why was a well-known Dartmoor recluse, and possibly the most disliked man in Devon, sending a letter to – she turned the envelope over –The Family of Mrs S. Merchant?
Rosie slipped her finger under the flap of the envelope. ‘How come this letter came to you?’
‘The local postman, Pat.’ The man shrugged. ‘That’s his real name. Anyway, Pat can’t make it up the cliff to deliver post to Driftwood House any more. He reckons the potholes play havoc with his sciatica. So he’d started leaving Sofia’s post at my place and I’ve been nipping up to deliver it a few times a week.’
‘That’s kind of you.’
‘Not really. I live at Meadowsweet Farm so it’s not far, and Billy can do with the exercise. He’s not as young as he used to be.’
Billy. That was a nice name for a dog. Rosie looked up from the letter she’d pulled from the envelope and studied the man properly for the first time. Young, thick black hair, a scattering of stubble across his square jaw. She knew him, she realised, though they’d hardly ever spoken. He wasn’t the sort of man to bother with her. Yet here he was, on her doorstep. What a strange, surreal day this was turning out to be.
‘It’s Liam, isn’t it?’ she asked, brushing hair from her eyes.
‘That’s right.’ He stepped closer, out of the gloom cast by the stone porch. ‘It’s been a long time. I’m surprised you recognised me.’
Rosie raised an eyebrow at that because Liam had the kind of face it was hard to forget. Back in school, he’d been the good-looking golden boy who was popular with students and teachers alike. And he knew it. He’d had a confident swagger that both infuriated and intrigued Rosie, who could only dream of such self-belief. He was a clever boy with the world at his feet. But the tragedy, in Rosie’s eyes, was that he didn’t want to leave Heaven’s Cove because he was earmarked to take over the family farm.
He hadn’t looked like a farmer when they were teenagers. He’d been tall and slim with pale skin and a thick sweep of dark hair that flopped across his forehead. To her fury back then, his handsome face had made her heart beat faster, though at school he’d never looked twice at her – the weird girl who didn’t fit in.
But he looked like a farmer now, in his boots and wax jacket, with broad shoulders and colour in his cheeks that brought out the cornflower blue of his eyes. He bent down and picked up a dripping carrier bag.
‘You might as well have this, too.’
Rosie peeked into the bag that Liam handed over. Muddy potatoes and dark-green spinach leaves were inside, with a clingfilm-wrapped chicken breast balanced on the top. Liam Satterley, Heaven’s Cove heart-throb, was bringing her food, though he’d never had a reputation for being kind.
‘That’s really… well, I mean, it’s good of you,’ she stammered, annoyed with herself for sounding rattled and even more annoyed for caring.
He shrugged again. ‘My mother insisted I bring them.’
‘That’s good of her, then. Are they from your farm?’
‘The veg is. Not the chicken, though. That came from Tesco.’
His words were deadpan but Rosie almost chuckled before catching herself. The bereaved didn’t laugh, did they? To be honest, she really had no idea how she should be behaving right now. Bereavement was like a foreign country and she was lost without a map.
‘Anyway.’ Liam gave her a straight look before pulling up the collar of his jacket. ‘I’ll leave you in peace to read your letter. And I am sorry about Sofia. It’s a shame you weren’t here when it happened.’
‘Meaning what?’
That came out more sharply than Rosie had intended, and Liam frowned before shaking his head.
‘Meaning nothing more than I’m sorry you didn’t get a chance to see your mother before she was taken ill. Come on, Billy. I think it’s time to go.’
He leaned over to grab his dog’s collar but the animal, having none of it, bolted past Rosie into the kitchen.
‘Billy, come back!’
