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19
Lettie
‘Bye, Lettie. Have a great time,’ shouted Rosie, waving from the doorway of Driftwood House. ‘Enjoy the sandwiches.’
Lettie waved back, wishing she’d kept quiet about Corey driving her to Dartmoor. She’d only mentioned it because Rosie was trying to press a bus timetable on her, and she’d been surprised by the enthusiasm with which Rosie had greeted the news.
‘That’s wonderful,’ she’d exclaimed, smiling broadly. ‘Corey deserves some fun after what happened with his wife. His life is all about work and helping other people at the moment.’
Her comments – as well as making Lettie desperate to find out exactly what had happened with his wife – had made Lettie feel, rather absurdly, that she had to ensure the outing went especially well. So she’d spent longer than usual choosing what to wear, from her limited stock of clothes, and she’d brushed her hair into some semblance of order and had even put on a little make-up. She wore it all the time in London but here, under the summer sun in Heaven’s Cove, sunblock and a slick of lip gloss had seemed sufficient.
The good weather had brought out hordes of meandering tourists today who blocked her way as she walked as briskly as she could through the lanes towards the Allfords’ house.
She glanced at Claude’s cottage as she went past the quay but he was nowhere to be seen. Did he regret telling her his story? she wondered. Lettie hoped not because she felt honoured, as well as surprised, that he’d shared it with her. And even though she now had an extra mystery to try and solve, at least this one involved people who were both – hopefully – still alive.
The sun was hot on her back as she climbed the hill towards Florence’s cottage, looking forward to exploring Dartmoor but feeling anxious all the same. And the flutters in her stomach only got worse with every step until she felt a bundle of nerves by the time she knocked on the door.
She smoothed down her hair and plastered on a smile when she heard footsteps in the hallway, but her smile froze when the door was pulled open by Florence.
‘Oh!’ Lettie involuntarily took a step backwards. ‘I thought you’d be out. Corey mentioned that you’d be seeing a friend. He and I are…’
Lettie petered off, wondering if Florence was about to put the kybosh on their afternoon trip. She’d hardly approve of her beloved grandson fraternising with a Starcross. But the elderly woman pulled the door fully open and stepped to the side.
‘You’d best come in for a minute. He’s out the back, fixing my washing line.’
‘Are you sure?’ asked Lettie, hovering on the doorstep.
‘I wouldn’t have said so, otherwise. You can wait in the kitchen.’
Lettie followed her into the small room that overlooked the garden. Outside, she could see Corey hard at work securing a line to the back wall.
‘The damn thing fell down this morning and brought my clean clothes with it.’ Florence nodded at one of the kitchen chairs. ‘Sit down, will you? You’re making the place look untidy.’
Lettie sat as directed and looked around her. The Shaker kitchen units were painted cream and pots marked coffee, tea and sugar were lined up on the wooden worktop. The teapot was sporting a striped woollen tea cosy and half a dozen yellow egg cups were sitting on a shelf.
Lettie drummed her feet against the chair, feeling acutely uncomfortable. It was awkward being alone with Florence after the way they’d last parted, and it was going to be rather awkward being alone with Corey for the afternoon. She sighed quietly, wishing she’d caught the bus instead. What on earth had made her agree to this?
‘Was it you who left flowers at the war memorial?’ asked Florence, bending to take a golden-brown cake from the oven. ‘The ones I saw this morning.’
‘Uh-huh, that was me,’ said Lettie, wondering if she was about to be berated for it.
Florence carefully turned out the cake onto a wire tray before asking: ‘Why did you do that?’
‘I wanted to pay my respects.’
‘Even though you didn’t know him?’
Lettie thought for a moment as a delicious aroma of cooked currants and sugar filled the kitchen. ‘I might not have known your brother but Iris did and I know that she never forgot him. Whatever you might think of her, I was with Iris when she died and I’m pretty sure Cornelius was on her mind right until the very end.’
‘Hmm.’
‘And I’m so sorry that you lost him when he and you were so young. I can’t imagine how awful it must have been.’
Florence dropped the cake pan into the sink without looking at Lettie and turned on the tap.
‘My grandson says it’s not polite or kind of me to take out what happened in the past on you.’
‘Did he?’ Lettie couldn’t imagine saying anything like that to her. Florence might be a lovely kind old lady beneath her spiky façade, but she still scared Lettie a little. ‘It’s all right, honestly. I understand that you still feel very deeply about it. Who wouldn’t?’
