‘I think it may have just been the fact they had a summer romance. Hetty may also have confided in Joe about Alf and the situation back home.’ Betty swallowed, her eyes suddenly glistening with tears. ‘I really missed her after she’d left, and she honestly couldn’t have picked a worse time to leave. I could have really done with her friendship because…’ Betty paused. ‘It was the same evening that Joe passed away.’
Verity gave a tiny gasp. ‘Oh Betty, that must have been awful for you.’
Betty nodded. ‘It was awful for everyone. I lost two people I really loved on the same day. I was never sure if your granny knew about Joe’s death. I’m assuming she would have found out as it was reported in the newspapers, but she didn’t get in touch, so I was never certain. Hetty was someone special, and a breath of fresh air around this place.’ Betty reached for a tissue from the box on the table and dabbed her eyes. ‘Look at me, a daft old woman getting emotional. I honestly thought one day she would breeze back through the tearoom door…and now she’s gone…and we’ll never have the chance to speak again. Still, at least I got to meet you.’
‘It sounds like when she chose to go back to my grandfather, she had to try and put that summer behind her and throw herself into married life, but I can tell you she never forgot this place. That summer meant a lot to her.’ Verity rummaged in her bag. ‘Here, have a look at the postcard.’
Betty took the postcard, and smiled at the puffins. ‘Hetty was obsessed with the puffins. She would wander up to the cliff top and sit on the bench, watching them for hours.’ Betty turned the postcard over. For a second, Verity thought she noticed a flicker of uncertainty flash across Betty’s eyes.
‘Who else knows about this postcard?’ asked Betty.
‘Clemmie, Amelia and Sam…and now you.’
Betty nodded. ‘Can we keep it that way for now?’
‘Any particular reason why?’ probed Verity.
‘I’m just thinking with Joe’s vigil coming up… I think it’s best for now. Trust me.’ Betty gave Verity a strange look. Verity was convinced that Betty was holding something back.
ChapterFifteen
Verity was sitting outside her van, the sausages sizzling on the camping stove giving off the most wonderful aroma. They would be delicious with the crusty bread Verity had picked up from Beachcomber Bakery and she couldn’t wait to tuck into her evening meal. After turning the sausages over in the pan, she sat in the camping chair staring out over the sea while thinking about everything that Betty had shared with her. Maybe there was nothing more to her granny’s visit than a young, confused woman who wasn’t sure what she wanted from her future. Verity was certain that her granny would have known about Joe’s death if it had made the newspapers. Betty had told her that Joe had received an SOS call saying a man had been taken by the rip current, and he had dived straight in to rescue him without a thought for his own safety. She felt for her granny, who may well have grieved over Joe’s loss in silence, though at the same time relieved that her secret summer romance would never be revealed.
Verity had concluded that the summer romance was indeed the secret referred to in the postcard and that her granny had probably confided in Joe about her situation at home. Verity was also convinced that her granny must have broken Joe’s heart when she told him she was heading back home, and Joe must have sent the postcard just before his accident.
Suddenly hearing the sound of music on the light breeze, Verity sat up and listened. Someone on the cliff top was strumming a guitar and singing softly. Verity followed the sound, which led her to the back garden of Cliff Top Cottage, where Pete was sitting on a chair overlooking the sea. Verity perched on a nearby rock and listened. After he finished, he gave the guitar one last strum and then balanced it against his chair and tilted his face towards the sky.
‘No wonder you were offered a record contract. That was absolutely breathtaking. Your voice is unique.’ She held out her arm. ‘You’ve given me goosebumps.’
Pete spun around, his eyes full of tears.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you but when I heard you singing and playing I had to come over. I’m sure I’ve heard that song before, but I can’t for the life of me remember what it’s called.’
‘You won’t know the song. I wrote it many years ago and I’ve never sung it in public.’
‘It was beautiful, so heartfelt.’ Verity came over and sat next to him. ‘I think you should sing more. I could sit and listen to you all night.’
‘These days I only sing for me.’
‘Why? You’re so talented! People are missing out. You’ve still got what it takes.’
‘That’s kind of you to say so, but I’m not sure at my age I do anymore. I think I’m a little long in the tooth and my sex appeal disappeared a long time ago.’ Pete gave a little chuckle.
‘Women swoon over a man with a guitar who can sing, no matter how old he is,’ Verity rushed to reassure him, though her words immediately made her think of Sam. The night he’d sung in the pub she’d been in awe, unable to take her eyes off him.
‘Maybe,’ he smiled, ‘but I’ve never sung in public since…’
‘Joe,’ Verity finished off his sentence.
He nodded. ‘It just didn’t feel right. The rest of the band talked about what we should do at the time. The record company didn’t retract the contract – in fact, we could have still gone on tour – but it just didn’t feel right and I didn’t want to leave Puffin Island. It would never have been the same without Joe. I was always used to having him at our side. It was fun and we were a gang. I wasn’t born to be a solo artist.’ There was a sadness in his voice. ‘But let’s not be maudlin. There were times when we hadtoomuch fun,’ he admitted, a wicked glint in his eye.
‘I can imagine!’
Pete laughed. ‘When we first started out, we played to no one. We’d turn up to a working men’s club or a pub and the room was empty, or the pub would be packed but they weren’t there for us and people took no notice of us. We’d finish the set without even a clap or a cheer. But as they say, it’s character-building.’
‘When did you start to get noticed?’
Pete smiled and pointed over to the lighthouse. ‘The lighthouse became famous before we did. The number of lives it saved was phenomenal. A company over in Sea’s End decided to organise one of those sexy calendars to raise money for lifeboats, and needed models. Joe saw the advert in the local newspaper and signed us up because he got wind that the national newspapers would be turning up to report on the story. We got the gig along with some other applicants and we got allocated a month of the year.’
