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‘Lettie.’ She smiled and shifted on the sofa that he remembered was so uncomfortable, he usually left it to Buster. The fabric was covered in long brown dog hairs. Perhaps he should have made her sit at the table. He wasn’t used to having strangers in his home and began to regret asking her inside. It was ridiculous to think she was any kind of link to his past.
‘What’s your dog called?’ she asked, patting him on the head.
‘Buster.’
‘Have you had him long?’
‘Eight years, since he was a puppy.’
‘What breed is he?’
‘No idea. A mongrel. I found him shivering on the quay in a storm and took him in.’
‘That was kind of you.’
Claude shrugged. ‘Not really. He’s no trouble.’
Truth be told, Claude had saved Buster that night, as the rain lashed down and the shivering stray risked being swept away by the waves breaking over the quay wall. But then Buster had saved Claude, in return, from the loneliness that often threatened to overwhelm him. Everyone had someone in Heaven’s Cove, it seemed. Even Florence, a widow for ages, now had her grandson living with her. But Claude had been on his own for forty years, ever since Esther had walked out of his life. His parents, though loving, could never fill the gap she’d left behind.
He brought his attention back to the stuffy room.
‘You’d better tell me what you do know about your family, then, Miss Starcross.’
‘My grandfather, great-aunt Iris and their parents lived at Driftwood House during the early 1940s, as far as I know, but they moved away during the war.’
‘They moved away from Heaven’s Cove?’ Claude slowly shook his head, hardly able to believe their folly.
‘They did. The whole family uprooted and never came back to Devon again. I was just curious about what their life was like here and why they moved. I’m particularly interested in Iris, who died recently.’
‘Close, were you?’
‘Yes.’
To Claude’s alarm, tears filled Lettie’s eyes this time and she blinked furiously. Should he offer her a tissue? He didn’t have any tissues. He was contemplating offering her the hankie in his pocket, and trying to remember when it was last washed, when she sniffed and tried to smile.
‘I’d like to know more about her, if possible.’
‘Why didn’t you ask her about growing up in the village?’
‘I tried but the rest of the family from that time are long gone and Iris didn’t want to talk about it.’
No one, it seemed, wanted to talk about it, and yet this young girl still seemed determined to blithely turn over stones when who knew what lurked beneath them.
‘I’ve tried looking online,’ she continued, ‘but there’s nothing concrete.’
‘Online!’ Claude spat out the word, making Lettie jump. ‘You youngsters spend far too much time searching for fulfilment in your phones and computers. All I ever had was a clear sky and the north star to guide me.’
‘I don’t suppose they could tell me much about my great-aunt though.’
Lettie bit down on her lower lip and started running her fingers across the pretty gold key hanging around her neck.
‘I don’t suppose they could.’
Lettie’s attention was caught by the dresser and Claude got to his feet and shoved the NHS letter on top of it into a drawer. Then he turned the small silver frame next to it face down. He cursed the nostalgia that had prompted him to take the photo from the drawer a few weeks ago. It didn’t usually matter because the only person who could see the picture was him, but now Lettie was looking at it with curiosity. This was why he didn’t usually invite people into his home. They were nosey.
‘Come on then,’ he said quickly, before she could start asking questions.
‘Come on where?’
