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Farming foodstuffs? That sounded only slightly less boring than glue. Lettie sighed before putting her phone away and picking up her book again. Searching for jobs could wait but Boudicca’s sacking of London was getting interesting.
She’d only managed to read a couple of pages when the atmosphere in the pub changed. A group of men had gathered near the fireplace and the buzz of conversation around her faded when they suddenly started singing. The man opposite Lettie raised an eyebrow but kept on typing as their voices filled the old building.
It was an old song that spoke of life on the seas and empty bellies when the catch didn’t come in. Lettie smiled, drinking in the atmosphere. This song must have been sung in this ancient pub for generations. There was something haunting about it, especially when a lone deep voice took up the verse. A man’s voice, clear and strong.
The group of men, pints of beer in hand, joined in with the chorus before the man sang another solo verse. He turned as he sang and Lettie felt a sudden jolt of recognition. It was Corey from the beach. His eyes were closed as his voice filled the room and Lettie had to admit that, for such an unpleasant man, he had a very pleasant voice.
He was wearing jeans and a white shirt, and there was something about the way his dark hair curled where it hit his collar that made Lettie want to brush it away. She was watching him when his eyes suddenly opened and he stared straight at her.
She instinctively glanced away, back to her book, and was careful not to catch his eye again as the song ended and another one began.
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ said the man opposite loudly, before slamming his laptop shut, pushing back his chair and making his way to the bar.
A few songs later, the singing ended, much to Lettie’s disappointment. Listening to the old songs had been soothing. She went back to studying her phone where a message from Daisy had just popped up.
Date night is a disaster. Mum called us back from the pub early cos kids being difficult about going to bed.
Oh dear. More insomniac children. Was that meant to make her feel bad? Daisy was a past master at making Lettie feel guilty. She was considering her reply when a shadow fell across the table. She looked up with a smile, determined to be cheery to the bad-tempered man opposite, but her face fell when she saw it was Corey.
‘Did you want something?’ he asked, brusquely.
She folded her arms and stared at him. ‘What do you mean? I was listening to the songs.’
‘You were staring at me.’
‘Along with half the pub cos you were the one doing the singing.’
Corey looked at her for a moment before he shrugged. ‘Yeah, fair enough.’
‘Are you always this unwelcoming to visitors to Heaven’s Cove?’ asked Lettie, feeling annoyingly flustered.
‘It depends why they’re here. I assume you work with Simon.’
He tilted his head at the empty chair on the opposite side of the table.
‘Do you make lots of assumptions about total strangers?’
Lettie knew that sounded rude but she was already fed up with Corey. If a lot of the locals were like him, no wonder Iris and her family had left Heaven’s Cove and never returned.
The man opposite, presumably Simon, suddenly appeared with another pint of beer and slid into his seat.
‘Are you harassing this lady, Corey?’ he asked levelly, taking a sip of his drink and wiping froth from his upper lip.
‘Surely harassment is more your style, Simon.’
‘I wouldn’t call going about my normal working day harassment.’
‘I certainly would.’
The two men eyeballed each other while Lettie tried to work out what on earth was going on. When the macho staring contest continued, Lettie spoke up. The testosterone level was off the scale.
‘No one is harassing anyone. I’m simply having a quiet drink and looking, without success, for a local man called Claude.’
‘Corey’s probably lived in this little village his whole life, so maybe he can help with tracking down the elusive Claude?’ said Simon with what looked like a smirk.
Corey narrowed his eyes that were so dark brown, they looked almost black. ‘What do you want with him? The only things he owns are a couple of ramshackle cottages.’
‘Whoah!’ Simon held up his hands. ‘It’s not me who’s looking for the gentleman in question. It’s this young lady, here.’
