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Corey regarded her with his dark brown eyes. ‘You could say that.’ The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. ‘What does the key open?’
‘I have no idea. Maybe nothing. I think Iris wanted me to find out, but I don’t know anything about her past here. That’s why I wanted to talk to your gran.’
‘And is that definitely the only reason you’re so interested in my family? You’re not working with Simon, are you?’
Lettie sighed. What was it about Corey and Simon, two men who apparently disliked each other intensely but couldn’t resist bringing one another into every conversation?
‘No, I’m definitely not working with Simon. I only met him a couple of days ago.’
‘I saw you with him in the churchyard yesterday.’
‘I bumped into him by chance and he was pointing out this headland. He seems quite determined to buy it.’
‘Then he’ll be disappointed,’ said Corey, his gaze hardening. ‘Gran could never part with it because of what it meant to her brother and she, like me, doesn’t want it to be spoiled.’
‘If your gran needs the money, maybe Simon would agree to keep this part of the headland untouched and build farther back.’
‘I imagine he would agree but I don’t trust him. Once he’s got the land, he can do what he likes with it.’
‘Surely there are planning rules he’d have to follow?’
‘A man like him will get round them, or stretch them to their limits.’
Lettie turned towards the sea, keen to change the subject and stop talking about Simon. The headland was deserted and all she could hear was the soft whoosh of the waves below them. Even the circling gulls had stopped their screeching.
‘You can see for miles from up here.’
She moved as close to the edge as she dared and looked across the sea. The shade of the water had deepened to the kind of blue you see in adverts for continental Europe, and the clouds in the sky had melted into wispy trails. The view was stunning and the fresh air carried the salty tang of the sea.
‘My grandmother once mentioned that Cornelius used to sit up here and write poetry,’ said Corey, folding his arms and looking towards the horizon. ‘Apparently he was an artistic kind of man. Was your great-aunt artistic?’
‘I guess so,’ answered Lettie, remembering sitting still as a child so Iris could draw her likeness. ‘She didn’t write, but she liked to sketch me sometimes.’
Corey smiled. ‘I’m not surprised. With your striking red hair and pale skin, you look like one of the women painted by Millais or Rossetti.’
Lettie self-consciously ran her auburn curls through her fingers, surprised by the compliment out of nowhere.
‘Does your gran write poetry as well? Does it run in the family?’
‘No, she’s not into poetry but she enjoys art too. She used to take me to art exhibitions when I was younger.’
‘You went to art exhibitions?’
Corey raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m not the uncultured barbarian that you, coming from London, might imagine. We have electricity and running water and everything in this neck of the woods now.’
‘I didn’t imagine anything of the sort,’ said Lettie, colouring at his accurate appraisal of her first impression of him.
‘Hmm.’ He stood with his hands in his pockets, gazing out to sea. He looked strong and solid and a part of this amazing land. Lettie could hardly take her eyes off him. ‘So what are you going to do next in your quest for the truth?’ he asked.
‘I’m not sure. I was rather hoping to speak to your gran but that’s a bit tricky seeing as she hates me.’
‘I wouldn’t say she hates you. Dislikes you intensely, maybe?’
When Corey raised his eyebrows again and grinned, Lettie couldn’t help but smile back. Maybe he wasn’t quite so grumpy after all. His face was very close and she could see the feathery lines around his eyes and the soft curve of his upper lip. You’re in trouble, said a little voice in the back of her mind as she suddenly felt off-kilter.
The distant sound of an emergency services siren brought her back down to earth.
‘Anyway,’ she said quickly, using the no-nonsense tone of voice Daisy usually reserved for her. ‘I’d better head back into the village. There are lots of local places still to see and lots of history to take in.’ She waved the guide book at him, still feeling flustered. ‘I’d particularly love to see Dartmoor which is an ancient landscape and well worth a visit, according to… this.’
She waved the book again, wincing inside. She sounded like a headmistress turned tour guide, talking to a class of truculent ten-year-olds.
‘O-K,’ said Corey slowly, with a look that made her feel even more foolish. ‘Well, thanks again for helping Gran, good luck with your search, and I might see you around before you leave the village.’
‘Mmm, probably.’
Lettie waved and walked off, her face screwed up into a mask of embarrassment.
