Page 37 of The Diary at the Last House Before the Sea

‘That’s right. He’s sad about it but he can’t afford to keep the manor going.’

‘So you and your mother will lose your cottage, I dare say.’

Clara nodded. ‘That’s right. It’s going to be all change for everyone.’

‘Not much about to rent in the village, and you won’t want to be moving away from Heaven’s Cove.’

‘Mum definitely won’t want to go far but we might not have a choice.’ Clara breathed out slowly. ‘Brellasham Manor Fete is still going ahead next Saturday, Claude. You should come along, to say goodbye to the place.’

‘I don’t suppose I will but I appreciate the invitation.’

And with that, he stepped into his cottage, ushered Buster to follow him inside, and slammed the front door shut.

‘OK, then,’ Clara murmured to herself.

She glanced at her watch and, leaving Claude’s cottage behind, began making her way towards the village green. It was only just midday but Bartie had brought the time of the picnic forward by forty-five minutes and she didn’t want to be late.

Weaving her way past groups of tourists, Clara thought about the information that Claude had shared. Audrey was rarely seen after moving into the manor, and Edwin was full of himself and claimed that his wife had been swimming on that fateful night.

She remembered River’s words about the stigma surrounding suicide in the 1950s. Perhaps Edwin had lied to save his wife’s reputation, or his own face. Or maybe he was so grief-stricken, he couldn’t bear to admit what had really happened. If that was what had really happened?

Clara tried, unsuccessfully, to calm the thoughts tumbling through her brain, and quickened her pace. The more she delved into Audrey’s fate, the less she seemed to know for sure. It was probably a colossal waste of time when there were more pressing things to occupy her – finding a new home, for one. But her mother was right about her stubborn streak because she couldn’t let it drop.

17

CLARA

Bartie licked his ice cream and shifted on the picnic rug. ‘I bet tourists go ape over that church. What is it, three hundred years old? Four hundred?’

‘Older than that,’ said Clara. ‘Eight hundred, I think. We can have a look inside if you like. And the graveyard’s interesting, if you fancy finding out more about the people who used to live in this village.’

‘No, you’re all right,’ said Bartie, amusement crossing his face. ‘I tend not to visit graveyards when I’m on a date.’

Were they on a date? wondered Clara, lifting hair from the nape of her neck so the breeze blowing through Heaven’s Cove could cool her skin. If so, it was the hottest date ever, though not in a good way. The clouds had parted in the last half hour, the sun was blazing down and the temperature was rising.

Bartie, looking as cool as ever, finished his ice cream, stretched out on the picnic rug and put his hands behind his head.

‘So, Heaven’s Cove is just as I remember it – quaint and pretty, like something out of a fairy tale.’

‘A fairy tale peopled with hundreds of tourists,’ laughed Clara, watching a group of visitors peering at the Mourning Stone, an old stone on the green which marked an ancient local tragedy. The summer season was burgeoning and Heaven’s Cove was bustling. ‘Anyway, shall we start discussing the fete? Or would you rather wait for River? You did tell him that the picnic was at quarter past twelve rather than one o’clock, didn’t you?’

‘Yeah, I mentioned it to him this morning but he was busy at the time.’

‘With his dad?’

‘No, some long-distance phone call from a girlfriend,’ said Bartie airily, wiping drips of ice cream from the neck of his T shirt.

‘Really? I didn’t know he had a girlfriend. He never mentioned it.’

‘He’s keeping it quiet while he’s here. Not too keen on the old man finding out for some reason. But I get the feeling that it’s serious.’

Clara felt bizarrely let down. Of course River had a girlfriend waiting for him in Australia, and there was no reason why he would have mentioned her. Once upon a time, Clara and River had known everything about each other’s lives, but it was different now.

‘Do you know what? I’m not sure River will turn up at all,’ said Bartie. ‘He can be quite unreliable these days, now his life’s elsewhere, but let’s give him another five minutes.’

He sat up and stretched his arms over his head, causing the bottom of his T-shirt to ride up, revealing a toned stomach that had presumably seen plenty of action at the gym. He smiled and shuffled a little closer on the picnic rug.

‘In the meantime, what’s happened to you over the years, Clara Netherway? As my grandma used to say, are you courting?’

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