‘Jude, you don’t happen to have Elliot’s dad’s phone number do you?’
‘Umm, nope,’ Jude replied, hesitating at first, then speaking in a low voice which, of course, Radia immediately tuned into. ‘They’re not on speaking terms.’
‘I thought as much,’ said Monty. ‘Am Ireallynot to invite any of his family to the stag do?’
‘Really.’ Jude was emphatic.
‘They’re seriously estranged?’ Monty replied. ‘Seems a shame.’
‘Estranged,’ Radia echoed, like she was saving the word to her memory banks.
‘It happens more than you think,’ Joy added, still busily shelving books. ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to listen in.’
‘You’ll soon know there’s no such thing as secrets here,’ said Jude. ‘No point trying to keep anything hushed up in Clove Lore.’
Joy tried to smile even though the thought alarmed her.
‘Any Andersons?’ she deflected, with a wobble in her voice.
Chapter Eleven
Whilst the shelvers worked, out on the slope, the late summer sun was casting long shadows across the cobbles. The air cooled as the sea breeze came in.
‘Perfect evening for a walk, Letitia,’ laughed James da Costa, while Mrs Crocombe turned the key in the lock of the Ice Cream Cottage.
Bovis – at last out of his T-shirt and back in mossy green corduroys and a checked shirt, like he was on his way to scout the Big House’s estate perimeter looking for signs of poachers, and not in fact heading home alone to heat a can of soup – watched on, his face set in an unimpressed scowl.
‘Good evening to you,’ James threw to him, more as a dismissal than a greeting.
Bovis skulked off up the slope, but not before telling his new boss to ring him if she needed anything. ‘Day or night,’ he added, giving the Captain one last warning look.
James only crooked his elbow for Mrs Crocombe. ‘Will you do me the honour of showing me this beach waterfall I’ve heard so much about?’
A little unsure of herself, she slipped her hand through his arm and off they went, down the slope. She was surprised to find the familiar sights of the village she’d known all her life stood out tonight as vividly beautiful.
Passion flowers, red roses and dancing fuchsia blooms blazed riotously bright and cheerful this evening. Had they been so pretty the day before? She really hadn’t noticed.
Letitia glanced back only once at the windows that looked down onto the slope from her rooms above her shop, fighting the feeling that behind them her Ernest was watching her walking out of doors with a strange man.
She had to concentrate on her step to stop her suddenly-leaden legs stumbling.
James, however, shared none of her awkwardness. He grinned down at her like he was escorting a beauty queen and touched his hand to where her fingers gripped his white jacket.
‘Tell me about your day,’ he crooned, and that was all it took for all thoughts of her dear, soft husband to drift away on the sweet evening breeze. ‘What was your best seller, hmm?’
‘Peaches and cream,’ she told him shyly, all the while wondering how on earth anything about her life could be of interest to him.
‘Ah!’ His eyes sparkled. ‘Like the song!’
Mrs Crocombe stopped outside Jowan’s cottage where the slope levelled out and turned for the lifeboat launch. ‘Johnny Burnette? You know that song?’
‘Of course I do. It was one of the first records I ever bought. I knew you were a little rock and roller.’
Before she knew what was happening, James swept an arm around her in a swaying hold, and he sang fearlessly on the sea wall, about her walking straight out of his dreams at sweet sixteen with lips like strawberry wine, not caring he was getting the lyrics wrong.
Letitia let herself be danced but drew the line when he tried to twirl her, laughing instead and smacking him lightly on the lapel. ‘Oh, give over. It’s a long time since I was sixteen.’
‘But maybe you were a little rebel?’
