Page 30 of The Diary at the Last House Before the Sea

‘I don’t imagine it’ll still go ahead.’ Bartie looked at Geoffrey. ‘What do you think? There doesn’t seem to be much point, and do you really want to be overrun with people when you’re trying to organise a move? People won’t be aware of the situation.’

‘I don’t think that’s true,’ said Clara. ‘I imagine your news has already spread around Heaven’s Cove like wildfire. It’s hard to keep anything quiet around here.’

‘Small villages really are a hotbed of gossip, aren’t they?’ said Bartie, curling his lip. ‘Small towns, small minds, I’m afraid.’

Clara frowned. ‘I don’t think that’s fair. Local people like to be informed about what’s going on in their area because they care about where they live.’

‘Yes, of course,’ said Bartie quickly. ‘I wasn’t trying to diss the village. Of course people are interested, and I’m sure the fete would be good fun. But I’m just not sure that it would be a good use of our resources at the moment.’

‘It doesn’t use many of the manor’s resources, other than this place being the venue on the day. The event is organised by a village committee which I belong to, and, as I live here on site, I oversee the final arrangements. Everyone gives their time for free because it’s for such a good cause. A number of local charities benefit from the money raised.’

‘Which is all very admirable,’ said Bartie, ‘but I still think it’s best if the fete is cancelled, now that we’re focusing on selling the manor. And I’m sure Geoffrey and River agree.’

Clara turned to River. ‘Do you?’

River hesitated because it was clear that the fete meant a lot to Clara and to local people.

‘Not necessarily,’ he said, ignoring his cousin’s groan of exasperation. ‘These leads you’re following are going to take some time, Bartie, even if everything pans out as you’re expecting. So where’s the harm in letting the fete go ahead as usual? It can be a swan song, if you like. A final goodbye from the Brellashams to the village that’s been their home for so long, and it’ll raise money for charity, which has to be a good thing.’

‘The harm is that it risks us taking our eye off the ball when there’s a lot to be done regarding a potential sale. Plus, it seems somewhat bizarre to be hosting a happy event, with everything that’s currently going on.’

‘I’m sure Clara will be doing the lion’s share of any work involved in the fete, and there’s no harm in spreading a little happiness, is there?’ River turned to his father. ‘But it’s up to you, of course.’

Geoffrey waved his hand as if he couldn’t be bothered with such an inconsequential issue. ‘Yes, let it go ahead.’

Bartie’s mouth set into a thin line but then he smiled. ‘Of course. You’re absolutely right, and I’m focusing too much on the sale. The Brellasham family have been a part of the local community for years, and the fete would be a fitting end to their association with the village. In fact, as penance for taking such a strong line against it initially, I’d like to help with any remaining arrangements, if I can. Maybe you and I could have a chat about what’s planned, Clara? Somewhere away from the manor, for a change. Is The Smugglers Haunt still open?’

Clara nodded, seemingly unfazed by Bartie’s swift change of heart, as River pictured the pub in Heaven’s Cove where he used to down half-pints of lemonade. It was impossible to drink a sneaky beer when the landlord knew full well that he was only in his mid-teens.

‘We could meet there tomorrow lunchtime to discuss your plans,’ Bartie was saying. ‘Or what about a picnic instead? Everyone loves a picnic in this beautiful weather. I’ll provide the food. We could meet at the beach in Heaven’s Cove.’

‘We could, but it’ll be heaving with tourists.’

‘Ah, that’s a shame, ’cos I’d love to meet up. I was hoping to surprise you with my packed lunch.’

Did River imagine it or did Bartie wink at Clara? The man was shameless. Everything was in turmoil but he was still trying to get off with Clara, using pathetic innuendo. She’d definitely see the funny side and tell him where to get off.

But instead, Clara, eyes widening slightly, said: ‘I suppose we could try Heaven’s Cove green, near the church?’

Bartie smiled. ‘Excellent idea. Lunchtime tomorrow? Does one o’clock suit you?’

‘It does.’

‘Great! Then it’s a date.’

Clara turned towards him. ‘What about you, River?’

The shadow of a frown crossed Bartie’s face. ‘Yes, River,’ he said very deliberately, ‘what about you?’

River knew that Bartie was expecting him to bow out. To leave the coast clear for him to unleash his charms on Clara, who, judging by her lack of reaction to his cousin’s innuendo, seemed to have lost her mind over the last sixteen years. But Bartie’s seduction technique wasn’t why they were here at Brellasham Manor.

‘That time sounds fine to me,’ said River. ‘I’m looking forward to it.’

Geoffrey went into the drawing room after everyone had left and pulled open the bottom drawer of the Victorian dresser that sat in a corner. The dresser was polished to within an inch of its life but no one ever delved into this drawer, which was filled with books deemed too tatty for display in the library.

They should be disposed of and no doubt would be during his move from the manor. As would the dresser that would dwarf any room in a smaller property. It would never fit into sheltered accommodation. He would never fit into sheltered accommodation, either, but he supposed that was the ultimate fate for a man with no wife and no children to take care of him. River would soon be heading back to Australia and so much would remain unsaid.

Geoffrey sighed and pushed his hands beneath the books until he reached a small tin box that had once held toffees. Inside were the photos he had squirrelled away as a boy, while his father was burning pictures on a bonfire, along with images from his own marriage that had not lasted.

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