Page 43 of A Letter to the Last House Before the Sea

Florence frowned. ‘That makes no sense. Find out what exactly?’

‘Find out more about this, I think.’

Lettie undid the clasp of the necklace that was beneath her sundress and passed it without a word to Florence, who studied the small filigree key nestling in her palm.

‘Is this what Corey meant when he said you had something to show me? Where did you get this?’

‘Iris wore it every day.’ The chain dangled through Florence’s fingers, catching beams of sunlight streaming through the window. ‘And I found this in her handbag after she… she passed away.’

Lettie pulled the envelope from her handbag and, taking out the paper inside, handed it to Florence, who read the words before putting her hand to her mouth. To Lettie’s horror, her face suddenly crumpled and a tear ran down her wrinkled cheek. Lettie fished in her bag for a clean tissue which she handed over.

‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Allford. I hate upsetting you, but is that your brother’s writing?’

Florence nodded, dabbing at her eyes with the tissue. ‘It is.’ She read it aloud. ‘Sit where I sat, darling girl, with the key to my heart and all will become clear. All these years I’ve wondered what he said.’

The words were uttered so quietly, Lettie had to lean forward to catch them. ‘Did you know about the key and this letter already?’

Florence crumpled the tissue into a ball and drew back her frail shoulders.

‘I delivered that envelope from my brother to your great-aunt on the day that he went off to war. The last day that I ever saw him.’ She stared at her hands for a moment. ‘I peeped inside. I wasn’t supposed to but I was curious. What was my brother sending to Iris Starcross? I saw the necklace but I never read the letter. I already felt guilty enough for peeking.’

She picked up the letter again, her mouth moving slightly as she re-read the words.

‘Do you know what it means?’ asked Lettie gently.

Florence shrugged. ‘A declaration of love, I presume.’

‘And the key? Do you know what it opens?’

Disappointment flooded through Lettie when the elderly woman shook her head. ‘I have no idea. Perhaps it opens nothing and you’re here, raking up the past, for nothing.’

‘Perhaps.’

She should leave it. Lettie knew she should stop asking questions now she’d ascertained that Florence was as much in the dark as her. But having a chance to find out more about Iris as a young woman and the man who’d seemingly loved her was too tempting. ‘I’m so sorry that your brother never had the chance to live a long life. What sort of a man was he?’

‘A good one.’ Florence gave a long sigh that seemed to hang in the air. ‘He was annoying at times, as all older brothers are, and always playing jokes on me. Things were never quite what they seemed with Cornelius. But he was kind and gentle and artistic. He was training to be a carpenter, and he was a poet. He’d sit for hours up at Cora Head or at his desk upstairs when the weather turned, writing his poetry. He made the desk himself. He had real talent.’

‘Did he write poems for Iris?’ asked Lettie gently.

‘Probably.’

Florence steepled her fingers in her lap and closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in and out so heavily, Lettie began to get worried. Was revisiting the past too much for her?

But then she opened her eyes and there was the hint of a smile.

‘Cornelius was my big brother and the apple of my eye. Do you have an older sibling, Miss Starcross?’

‘I have an older brother and sister.’

‘And are you close?’

Lettie shrugged. ‘Fairly close, I suppose.’

‘Cornelius and I were very close, even though he was a lot older than me. My mother was always busy working so Cornelius helped to bring me up. He’d take me swimming and walking across the headland, pointing out the wild flowers and the seals swimming in the bay. I adored him.’

‘You must have been devastated when he died.’

‘It was a difficult time for many reasons.’