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‘God, no. My business sends me across the country, snapping up land in development hotspots.’
‘And Heaven’s Cove is a hotspot, is it?’
‘Absolutely. Have you seen the views around here? People are desperate to escape to places like this. I don’t get it myself. I’m more of a city boy, and some of the locals round here are batshit crazy.’ He settled back in his chair, giving her all his attention. ‘But tell me whyyou’rehere, Lettie.’
‘In Heaven’s Cove?’
‘Yes, and in this pub on your own, reading a boring book. Did you really mean what you said to Corey, about wanting to find out more about the history of Heaven’s Cove? Aren’t you here with friends or family?’
‘No, it’s just me. I’m in the pub looking for Claude… and I’m in Heaven’s Cove trying to find out more about my great-aunt who lived here a long time ago.’
‘So how did you say you know our charming Mr Allford?’
‘I don’t really,’ said Lettie, who hadn’t expected Simon to be particularly interested in her search but still wondered how the conversation had come back round to Corey so quickly. ‘I bumped into him on the beach this afternoon.’
‘Poor you. What do you think of him, then?’
Why was he asking? ‘I don’t really know him but he’s quite… abrupt.’
Simon laughed. ‘You say abrupt, I say pig ignorant.’ He suddenly leaned across the table. ‘Do you know who might know about your great-aunt? Mrs Allford – Corey’s grandmother. She’s pretty ancient and will be needing care quite soon, I’d have thought. I’ve offered her a good deal on a piece of land she owns but Corey is trying to dissuade her from selling and using up the cash on a fancy care home. He’s thinking of his inheritance when the old lady pops off.’
‘Really? That would be terrible if he was doing that.’
‘It would, and he is.’ Simon brushed a few specks of dust from his shoulder. ‘So, if you get to speak to her, maybe you could mention that you know me and I’m completely trustworthy.’
‘I hardly know you.’
‘Not yet. But we Londoners have to stick together when we’re out in the sticks.’ He sat back in his chair and stared at her until Lettie, feeling self-conscious, went back to her book.
Simon took a few sips of his beer and grimaced. ‘Good grief.’
Lettie looked up from Boudicca again. ‘Not good?’
‘I imagine it’s an acquired taste. It’s a local brew, called Fisherman’s Fungus or something.’ When Lettie giggled, he smiled. ‘Have you heard about what’s happening around here tomorrow?’
He raised an eyebrow when Lettie shook her head. ‘Then you’re in for a treat because it’s the day of the village fete, the only excitement the locals get all year.’
Lettie glanced around her, wishing Simon wasn’t talking quite so loudly.
‘Where’s that happening?’
‘It’s on the green, next to the castle ruins, from two thirty onwards. I dare say it’ll involve Morris dancers waving hankies, apple-bobbing, and sacrificing the odd virgin. You might find Claude there. Or Corey’s grandmother.’
‘I might. Thank you. I’ll give the fete a go.’
Simon nodded, went back to his laptop and totally ignored Lettie for the next ten minutes.
Feeling rather dismissed, she finished her drink before looking round for Claude one last time, and leaving the pub. It wasn’t very late but she couldn’t stop yawning. They could bottle sea air and use it as a sleeping draught.
Outside the pub, the air was cooler and fresher, with a sharp tang of salt. Tourists in shorts were still milling about in the streets but they thinned out as she got to the edge of the village and started climbing the cliff path. The light was fading and throwing boulders on the path into shadow, but a full moon was rising and casting a silvery trail across the dark sea. As she climbed, she could hear waves hitting rock with a dull boom – a sound Iris must have heard as a child; a sound that thrilled and frightened Lettie in equal measure.
At the top of the cliff stood Driftwood House, with amber lamplight spilling from its ground-floor windows. A gusty wind was blowing through the potted flowers and swirling around the corners of the building. Lettie could almost imagine a younger Iris waiting to greet her, but no one was standing in the hallway when she opened the front door and walked inside. Iris was gone for good but the mystery of her final words, and the golden key around Lettie’s neck, remained.
