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12
Lettie
Lettie started walking. She headed to the edge of the village, where a shallow river had cut its way through the land and was flowing towards the sea. After crossing over a pretty wooden bridge, she climbed higher.
The heat was rising and she took off her cardigan, exposing her shoulders to the sun. She’d have to be careful not to get burned. In London, she sometimes went to the local park but still spent far too much time indoors, either at work or in her flat.
She finally reached the headland – Cora Head, or Lovers’ Link as the locals called it. She was exposed here, high above the sea which rippled in the sunshine to the horizon. Closer to shore, the waves were more defined and filled the air with salt spray that split the sunshine into rainbow colours.
Farther round the bay stood Heaven’s Cove and Lettie noticed how small the community was. It looked like a toy town from up here, with tiny boats bobbing at the quayside, dozens of pretty houses including Claude’s cottage, winding narrow streets and, where the land began to rise, the castle ruins.
The people who lived in the castle centuries ago would have had a view across the village and down to the sea where invaders might arrive at any time. A little like the influx of new holidaymakers if Simon had his way, thought Lettie, before catching herself. That was how Corey and his grandmother thought, but maybe Simon was right and more people would mean more income for the village.
Lettie moved closer to the edge of the cliff to take in the vista and immediately regretted it. She could imagine falling through space into the water below. A familiar sensation of suffocation clamped its way through her chest until she could hardly breathe. If she closed her eyes she would be back there, in the cold Essex sea, being dragged under the waves, her chest burning and water flooding her mouth. She was about to die. She was only eight years old but she knew without doubt that her life was over. No oxygen meant no life, and she couldn’t breathe.
Step back, ordered a voice in her brain, so loudly that she almost fell backwards.
Still shaking, she sat on the grass and pulled her knees up under her chin.
Come on, Cornelius. Did you write the letter? ‘Sit where I sat with the key to my heart and all will become clear.’ Was this where you sat? What did you want Iris to see?
Perhaps there was nothing to see other than the view they had shared, and Lettie really was here in Heaven’s Cove on a wild goose chase. Iris had escaped from the village after the man she loved had died. That was all there was to it. And now, ironically, Lettie was here escaping from a life in London that seemed hollow and empty.
Lettie’s reverie was shattered by the shrill ring of her mobile phone, and she groaned when she saw Daisy’s name on the screen.
She was tempted to ignore it, but it could be an emergency. A childcare emergency, thought Lettie, raising her eyebrows as she clicked on the call.
‘Lettie, there you are. Are you all right? How’s Devon? And when are you coming home?’ Daisy was nothing if not to the point.
‘I’m all right, thank you. How are you, Daisy?’
‘Absolutely knackered, if you’re interested. Mum is doing my head in. Honestly, if she asks me to take her shopping one more time I’m going to crown her. I’ve got better things to do on a Saturday than traipse around Poundstretcher.’
‘So have I,’ said Lettie, but Daisy was too busy complaining to listen. Not that she would rate reading or going to museums as ‘better things to do’ anyway.
‘So what are you actually doing in Heaven’s Cove?’ asked Daisy peevishly.
‘I’m having a rest and trying to find out a bit more about Iris when she lived here.’
‘That was decades ago.’
‘I know but being here makes me feel closer to her.’
Daisy was silent for a moment. ‘I know you were close to Iris and you miss her, Lettie. Is that why you suddenly took off? You’re not suffering from complicated grief disorder, are you?’
Her sister was a would-be psychotherapist. Lettie thought for a moment. ‘I don’t know. Isn’t all grief rather complicated? But I don’t think I have a disorder.’
‘Have you fully accepted the reality of losing Iris and allowed yourself to experience the pain of no longer having her in your life?’
‘I think so,’ answered Lettie, thinking of the tears she’d already shed.
‘I expect you’re all right, then,’ decided Daisy briskly. ‘And she was a very old woman, almost a hundred.’
Lettie flinched. Several people had said that to her, as though the fact that Iris had had a long life meant she should miss her less.
‘So what have you discovered about her? Did Iris have a racy past?’
‘I doubt it,’ said Lettie, bristling at Daisy’s jocular tone. This was exactly why she hadn’t told her about their great-aunt’s final words, or finding the letter in her handbag. ‘I’m just interested in what she was like as a young woman.’
