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15
Claude
‘Buster, come here, boy.’
What was the daft dog doing? Claude called him again but Buster was pushing his nose up against a woman sitting with her back to him. She was sitting on the bank of the river, with her bare feet in the shallow water.
‘Sorry,’ said Claude gruffly, pushing his fingers through Buster’s collar and pulling him away. When the woman turned, he realised it was the girl who’d called at his cottage a couple of days ago. ‘Lettie Starcross.’
‘That’s me.’ Claude knew he should have recognised her immediately. There was no mistaking her striking auburn hair which shone red-gold in the sun as she pushed it over her shoulder. ‘It’s Buster, isn’t it?’ She patted the dog before turning her face towards Claude and smiling. ‘How are you?’
‘All right.’ Claude pushed his hands into the pockets of his trousers, unused to making small talk in the street with a woman young enough to be his granddaughter. ‘Um, how are you?’
Lettie gave him a sympathetic smile, as though she could feel his discomfort and got to her feet, shaking water from her toes. ‘I’m OK, thanks.’
‘Really?’
There was something about the girl that bothered him. She was smiling but there was a sadness about her, a loneliness. And he knew what that was like.
As Lettie nodded, Claude was aware of Belinda staring at them from the doorway of the village post office.
‘That’s good then. How are you getting on with tracking down information on that local lad you were interested in?’ he asked, suddenly determined to prolong their conversation, if only to confound Belinda’s opinion of him. She’d never said as much but it was obvious she considered him a recluse. Lots of people did, and it was true he preferred the company of Buster and didn’t much like socialising. But he disliked being gossiped about even more.
‘I’ve come to a bit of a halt to be honest, so I’ve just been enjoying the village for the last day or two. It’s a wonderful place.’
‘I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. So have you given up your search?’
‘No. I still want to know more about Iris’s young life.’
‘It won’t bring her back, you know.’
Lettie’s bottom lip wobbled at that and he wished he hadn’t been so brusque.
‘I know. That’s not why I’m doing it.’
‘People disappear from your life but they always leave an echo,’ said Claude quickly. He remembered the woman who left so long ago but still haunted his dreams. Once upon a time they’d been comforting, but more recently Esther had visited his dreams to stare at him mournfully with her big blue eyes and berate him for becoming such a loner. This wasn’t how his life was supposed to turn out. He turned to go – damn Belinda and her stupid opinion – but Lettie touched his arm lightly.
He had to stop himself from flinching. It had been so long since he’d been touched by a woman. The men on the boats were always bumping into him, and they shook hands with him in the pub. But women tended to give him a wide berth. Perhaps they found his good looks and sparkling personality overwhelming. Claude allowed himself a sardonic smile at the thought, because he knew exactly what he’d become over the years – a grizzled, grumpy old bugger who preferred his dog to human company. A loner. The local eccentric.
That’s why he was particularly surprised by Lettie’s next words.
‘Can I buy you a cup of coffee?’
‘Why?’ he asked, narrowing his eyes.
‘To say thank you for helping me find the photo of Iris and Cornelius.’ Lettie shrugged. ‘And, to be honest, I don’t really know anyone around here and I’m getting fed up with my own company.’ Claude hesitated as Lettie bent down and patted Buster on the head. ‘I saw a nice café in the street near the church – The Heavenly Tea Shop or something like that? – and I quite fancied giving it a go.’
‘I’ve never been in there.’
‘Really? How long have you lived in Heaven’s Cove?’
‘All my life.’
‘And how long has the café been there?’
‘Ten years, maybe? Pauline runs it with help from her husband when he’s not on the boats.’
‘Why haven’t you ever been inside?’
