Page 42 of A Letter to the Last House Before the Sea

‘No, not at all. It’s wonderful. I’d love to hear your stories of how life used to be here, when you were growing up.’

‘It was hard, Miss Starcross, and not quite the romantic picture that you and other outsiders tend to have of it.’

Lettie groaned inside. Her plan to initiate a general – hopefully pleasant – chat before gently asking about Cornelius’s relationship with Iris wasn’t going too well.

‘I’m sure it was very hard,’ she replied levelly. ‘I’m very interested in social history and how the past has affected the present.’

‘Is that right?’ said Florence, brushing a strand of snow-white hair from her wrinkled forehead.

‘I’ve always been interested in—’

‘So what do you know about my brother, Miss Starcross?’ Florence cut across her, slowly stirring her tea.

‘Please call me Lettie.’

‘Hmm.’ Florence sipped her drink, her pale eyes never leaving Lettie’s face.

‘I know very little but I think he and my aunt Iris might have been… good friends a long time ago.’ Florence continued to stare at Lettie until she felt her cheeks flaring red.

‘And what makes you think that?’

‘I found a photo in Claude’s archives of the two of them together.’

Florence blinked rapidly. ‘Did Claude let you into his cottage?’

‘He did, after a little persuasion.’

‘You seem to be rather good at persuading people, Miss Starcross, including my grandson.’ She held out her hand. ‘Let me see.’

Lettie gave her the photo and Florence stared at it for a moment before handing it back.

‘That’s the two of them together, yes. Is that all you have to show me? My grandson was rather enigmatic.’

‘I wondered if Cornelius and Iris went out together?’

‘Out together?’

‘I mean, were they sweethearts, back then?’

Florence sighed. ‘Why do you want to know this? Why on earth does it matter to you?’

Lettie took a deep breath. It was time to tell the whole truth and hope that Florence could shed some light on the mystery. ‘Because of the last thing Iris said to me before she died.’

When Florence carefully set down her cup on the small table next to her, her hand was shaking slightly.

‘When exactly did your great-aunt die?’

‘About six weeks ago. She’d been ill for some time.’

However many times she said it, her voice always caught in her throat. A spark of sympathy flared in Florence’s eyes. ‘She must have been approaching a hundred years old.’

‘She was ninety-nine.’

‘Then she was fortunate to have had so long,’ muttered Florence, her eyes hardening. Lettie bit down hard on her lower lip to stop the tears that were threatening to fall. ‘So what did she say to you before she died?’

Lettie shivered, thinking back to those final few moments when Iris bridged the gap between life and death.

‘She said “Find out for me, darling girl.”’