Page 46 of The Diary at the Last House Before the Sea

‘And the grounds around them?’

‘Yeah, absolutely. There’s nothing to fear. The house will be turned, tastefully and respectfully, into luxury apartments, and the grounds will be preserved as Geoffrey has stipulated.’ He looked at Clara and winked. ‘Maybe the Heaven’s Cove charity fete can still be held here every year.’

‘That would be amazing.’

Bartie hooked his arm through Clara’s. ‘Come on down with me and we can discuss this year’s fete.’

They walked to the staircase and Clara looked back but River hadn’t moved. He was still standing in front of the portrait, watching the two of them.

‘Come on, slowcoach,’ Bartie called, but River shook his head.

‘I’ll be down in a bit. You two go on without me.’

Once they reached the hall, Bartie unhooked his arm and, leaning forward, kissed Clara on the cheek and let his skin rest against hers for a few seconds before straightening up.

‘I hope my cousin hasn’t been boring you to death up there with fun facts about tedious ancestors.’

‘Not at all,’ said Clara. ‘He’s been great, and I find some of his ancestors fascinating.’

Bartie’s brows knitted together. ‘Really? Well, each to their own.’

This was the moment to tell Bartie about how interested she was in Audrey’s story and how much she wanted to solve the mystery of her disappearance, but something held Clara back. Probably anxiety that he wouldn’t understand her interest or, worse, would think she was weird. River already knew she was weird so it didn’t make much difference with him.

‘So, how are the arrangements for the charity fete going?’ asked Bartie, glancing at his phone that he’d just pulled from his pocket.

‘Really well. I think most things are in hand. I need to contact stallholders and make sure they know the fete is still going ahead in spite of the manor being up for sale.’

‘That’s good,’ said Bartie, swiping through emails on his phone screen.

‘Then, it’s just a case of erecting the stalls on the day before the fete.’

‘Yeah, cool,’ said Bartie, still swiping and not looking up from his phone. He didn’t appear to be listening.

‘Though I still need to book the talking llama, of course.’

‘Excellent,’ said Bartie, confirming Clara’s suspicions. ‘It sounds great. Hey. There’s an urgent email here and I need to make a call. Can we catch up about the fete some other time?’

‘Yeah, sure.’

Clara watched him walk away, disappointment blooming. Despite Bartie’s pre-picnic claim that he wanted to help with the fete, that didn’t appear to be the case. He wasn’t interested in the event or, it seemed, in her, particularly. In fact, he’d just been dismissive and quite rude.

Her mum suddenly bustled into the hall, her arms filled with freshly washed linen. ‘Don’t just stand there, Clara. Do something useful. Put that book down and help me to put these sheets away, will you?’

Clara was so focused on Bartie, she’d almost forgotten the dictionary under her arm. The book she’d stolen from Audrey’s bedroom. Not stolen, she told herself. She’d merely borrowed it and would soon return it to the library.

As her mother hurried upstairs, Clara shoved the dictionary into the coat cupboard, beneath a jumble of wellies. She would retrieve it later and try to work out why this unassuming, nothing-out-of-the-ordinary book had been so important to Audrey.

20

GEOFFREY

Geoffrey didn’t often walk into Heaven’s Cove. The place was heaving with tourists and, even worse, locals trying to elicit any gossip emanating from the manor. Not that there was any – not usually.

His marriage break-up had once been the talk of the village, of course. And his stepmother’s disappearance in the 1950s must have set tongues wagging. But, since then, there had been very little to interest people. Just him and Julie and various other helpers and tradespeople rattling round the manor as it gradually fell into disrepair.

But now, his son had returned and the manor was going to be sold, which was rich fodder for locals like Belinda, who was bearing down on him fast.

Geoffrey cursed his decision to walk into the village before dinner. He was supposed to be sorting out paperwork to support a potential sale. But it had become too depressing after a while, and he’d suddenly craved fresh air and the familiarity of Heaven’s Cove’s jumble of ancient cottages and cobbled streets.

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