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‘That’s right. Belinda told me he was a bit of an expert on the village’s past. I’m… keen to do some historical research on the place.’
‘Why?’ asked Corey, turning towards her.
‘My family used to live around here years ago and I thought Claude might have some information on them.’
‘He might, if that’s what you’rereallyafter.’ Corey glanced at Lettie’s book and frowned, as though trying to work her out.
‘Of course that’s what I’m really after.’
Simon smiled. ‘Anyway, Corey, if that’s all you wanted, best not be a gooseberry when this young lady and I are having a cosy tête-a-tête.’
What the hell? Simon had ignored her from the moment she sat down and now he was making out they were on some kind of date. But at least it got Corey off her back.
He shrugged. ‘Claude won’t be in tonight. He’s out on a night fish with a crew from down the coast. A regular crew member went overboard last week and won’t be back at sea for a while.’
Was Corey being serious or saying that for effect? It was hard to tell.
‘Do you know where I might find him?’ asked Lettie.
‘Anyone’ll tell you. He lives near the harbour, in Lobster Pot Cottage. But he won’t thank you for calling round.’
‘So I’ve heard. Thank you very much for your help.’ Lettie was trying to sound level and grown-up, but it came out as though she was being sarcastic. Simon smirked and colour flared in Corey’s cheeks. ‘What I mean is…’
‘I know exactly what you mean. Good luck with Claude, and have a very pleasant evening, both of you.’
Now, thatdidsound sarcastic. Simon whistled softly as Corey walked back to his friends near the bar. ‘He’s a charmer, that one.’
‘You obviously know him.’
‘I do, sadly. Like a lot of people round here, he’s stuck in the middle ages and immune to progress.’ He leaned across the table, showing off his bright white teeth when he gave a creepy smile. ‘Here we are chatting and I don’t even know your name.’
‘It’s Lettie.’
‘And I’m Simon, as you obviously know by now. So tell me more about how you know Mr Corey Allford. You don’t sound as though you’re from around here.’
‘I’m not. I live in London.’
‘Me too, and quite honestly I can’t wait to get back there. I’ve been working around here for a few days and it looks like I’ll be stuck here for a while longer.’
‘What do you do?’
‘I’m a property entrepreneur,’ he announced grandly.
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means I source land for building new homes and businesses and then snap it up.’
‘Is Heaven’s Cove expanding?’
‘I certainly hope so. This area is prime for development, don’t you think?’
‘Maybe.’
Lettie wasn’t convinced. She knew progress was inevitable, but she was already entranced by the olde worlde charm of Heaven’s Cove. The village was much the same as Iris must have seen it, eighty years ago. It was like a living museum, a reminder of a way of life that was fast disappearing.
‘So whereabouts in London do you hail from, Lettie?’ boomed Simon, above the hubbub of conversation around them. ‘Anywhere near my stomping ground, Kensington High Street?’
‘I live a bit farther out,’ said Lettie, being purposely vague. Her ex-council bedsit with its cemetery view was probably very different from Simon’s home. She could picture him in an elegant Edwardian apartment that overlooked a garden square. ‘Does your work focus on Devon?’
