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28
Claude
Last night’s storm had passed over within an hour or two, but there would be another one today. Claude looked up at the morning sky which had changed in the last half hour from gunmetal grey to navy. The sun was obscured by a thick bank of cloud and tourists on the quayside were shivering in their shorts. Didn’t they ever look at the forecast and dress appropriately for the weather?
Claude rubbed his eyes and swallowed a yawn. He was so tired and his bed was calling, but how could he sleep in the circumstances? He sat on the low garden wall of his cottage and put his head in his hands. He would have to ask for help. Again.
‘Is everything all right, Claude?’
There was a light brush on his shoulder and, when he looked up, Belinda was standing over him, her metal-rimmed glasses on the end of her nose.
Usually, Claude avoided Belinda whenever possible, but her incessant curiosity might be useful for once.
‘You don’t look well,’ continued Belinda, narrowing her eyes. ‘Are you ill or has something awful happened?’
Both, thought Claude. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he steadied himself and opened them, Belinda was sitting beside him on the wall. She brushed small stones from her skirt and turned to face him.
‘Talk to me, Claude.’
If Claude hadn’t been so desperate, he’d have made some excuse and hurried back into his cottage. But Belinda had something he needed – a complete inability to keep anything to herself.
‘Tell me, Claude, whatever it is,’ she urged. ‘Rest assured that I am the height of discretion.’
The sheer hypocrisy of the woman!
Claude gritted his teeth and said gruffly, ‘I need help.’
‘Really?’ said Belinda, sounding excited. ‘What exactly is the problem?’
‘Buster’s gone.’
Belinda blinked behind her glasses. ‘Gone? What do you mean by gone?’
‘Some lads were setting off fireworks last night near the castle.’
‘I heard. I rang the police to complain but I don’t know if anything much was done. I don’t know what Heaven’s Cove is coming to. I used to think it was tourists causing problems but now I’m not so sure. Only the other day, a young lad who lives near…’
She looked at Claude’s face and tailed off. ‘Anyway, Claude. Tell me what’s happened.’
‘I took Buster for his late-night walk and one of the fireworks exploded almost in his face and he took fright and ran off.’
‘That’s dreadful. Where did he go?’
‘I don’t know. It was dark and he was very scared, and then the storm blew up and Buster hates thunder. I’ve been looking for him all night but he’s nowhere to be seen.’
Claude swallowed hard. He thought he might cry through worry and exhaustion and that wouldn’t do in front of Belinda. His reputation as a tough, emotionless loner would be severely dented. He began to shiver with cold.
‘You poor man,’ fussed Belinda, getting to her feet. ‘You need to get some rest and leave it with me. I’ll organise search parties to comb the village and the cliffs nearby.’ She looked around and waved at the nearest passer-by. ‘Hey, Simon!’
It was that property developer who’d been hanging around Heaven’s Cove, upsetting people. ‘Come here, will you?’ she called.
‘Me?’ Simon looked around to see who Belinda was talking to before realising it was him and wandering over. He was immaculately dressed in grey trousers and a pale blue shirt, and Claude was pretty sure he wrinkled his nose when he spotted him in his tracksuit and trainers and snagged black jumper. Typical outsider!
‘Are you busy today, Simon? Only we’ve got a village crisis on our hands and you might be able to help.’
‘What sort of crisis? Only I’ve got a couple of meetings this morning.’
‘Who with?’ asked Belinda, before giving her head a shake. ‘Never mind. Perhaps you can help afterwards.’
