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‘Really? How do you know that?’
‘I saw you going into her cottage yesterday.’
‘Are you following me, Simon?’ asked Lettie, suddenly feeling stalked. Was this why he wanted to go for a drink? To quiz her about Florence?
‘Ha, of course not. This is a very small village and I just happened to be—’
‘Staking out Florence’s home.’
Simon gave a mirthless laugh. ‘You’re very funny, Lettie. I just wondered if the subject of the headland had come up during your conversation?’
‘I’m afraid it didn’t.’
‘Not at all?’
‘Not once.’
When he shook his head, a spicy aroma of aftershave wafted towards her. ‘That’s a shame. It really would be for the best if Mrs Allford – Florence – sold the land to me.’
‘The best for you.’
‘Good for me, obviously, but good for her too because just think what she could do with the money. She could move somewhere far more luxurious.’
‘I don’t think she wants to move.’
‘She just doesn’t realise what other options are available to her.’
‘You really shouldn’t be…’ Lettie stopped walking so suddenly, the man walking behind ran into her. ‘Sorry!’ She winced as the man stalked off, complaining bitterly.
‘Are you all right?’ asked Simon, doubling back.
‘I’m fine, but you need to leave Florence alone,’ said Lettie passionately, surprised at how protective she felt towards the elderly woman. ‘She’s given you your answer and I’m sorry it’s not what you want to hear, but that’s that.’
‘And that is where you’re entirely wrong. You wouldn’t believe how many people have said no to me.’
‘I really would,’ muttered Lettie, desperately looking around for an escape.
‘But after a little persuasion and persistence on my part, they change their minds. Just like that.’
‘Well, you need to leave Florence alone. She’s not particularly well and doesn’t need any extra stress.’
‘Is that right? I didn’t know—’
‘Oh, is that Claude?’ said Lettie, waving wildly towards the quay and determining to give the pub a wide berth tomorrow evening. ‘Sorry, Simon, but I said I’d call in to see him. Maybe catch you later.’
With that, she hurried off as fast as she could, vaguely registering that she might have just escaped from the frying pan into the fire because Claude, sitting outside his cottage smoking a pipe, was looking rather alarmed by her wave.
