Page 92 of A Letter to the Last House Before the Sea

When he shrugged again, his dressing gown opened slightly and the scar that trailed down his abdomen shone silver in the torchlight.

‘Is that how you got your scar? Were you hurt during a rescue?’

Corey sat suddenly on the edge of the bed, his body heavy against her leg, crushing the papers beneath the covers.

‘I was fishing from the rocks years ago, near the ones you were trapped on today, and I slipped and fell. My dad was with me and carried me to his car and took me to hospital. There was a lot of blood.’

‘I can imagine.’ Lettie hesitated. ‘What happened to your dad? You’ve never mentioned him.’

‘He died of a heart attack when I was twelve. He was a member of the lifeboat crew when I was growing up.’

‘Is that why you joined up too?’ asked Lettie, her heart breaking for young Corey. She thought of her own solid, dependable dad at home and suddenly missed her family. She’d give her mum a ring in the morning to check they were all OK, carefully omitting any mention of her Buster rescue mission.

‘I guess so. I wanted to follow in his footsteps. What about your family? I heard that your sister had gone home.’

‘She left yesterday morning.’

‘But you didn’t go with her?’

‘No, not yet. I thought I’d have a bit more time on my own. My family are a bit in your face. Well, in my face. And quite controlling. And loud.’ She laughed. ‘I’m not painting a very good picture, am I? They’re lovely, really. They’re just…’ She shrugged. ‘You know.’

‘Yeah, I know. Gran drives me nuts sometimes, but I wouldn’t be without her and on my own.’

He suddenly looked so vulnerable, Lettie had an urge to throw back the covers, pull him into the bed and give him a huge hug. But, quite apart from being totally inappropriate, he would end up lying on the bundle of papers that were currently digging into her hip.

Guilt suddenly made her cheeks burn. He and Florence had been kind enough to give her a bed for the night. He’d literally saved her life only hours before. So how would it look if they found out she’d been rooting around Cornelius’s writing desk in the small hours?

‘I do appreciate you and your gran letting me stay here overnight,’ said Lettie. ‘And the whole rescuing me from certain death thing, too.’

Corey shifted in the gloom. ‘You’re welcome. I couldn’t have let anything bad happen to you.’

Suddenly, he picked up a curl of her hair that was resting on the eiderdown, and ran it through his fingers. The action was so unexpected, so sensuous, Lettie caught her breath. What would happen next? What did she want to happen?

Without catching her eye, he dropped the curl and leaned forward. ‘Good night, Lettie,’ he said, quietly.

His lips brushed the corner of her mouth as he gave her a kiss on the cheek, before standing up.

‘Good night,’ squeaked Lettie, fighting the urge to ask him to stay.

Lettie watched Corey go, her breathing still ragged. Would she have asked him to stay if the papers from the desk weren’t still under the covers?

She pulled out the papers and placed them on the bedside table, before squeezing her eyes tightly shut. Part of her ached to read them. But what might she find out? That was not a decision to be taken in the middle of the night when she’d just had a near-death experience and a visit to her room from Corey.

She was so close to solving the mystery that Iris had bequeathed her. But the closer she got to answers, the more complicated life seemed to become.

The storm was fading into the distance. Lettie could still hear the sea roaring but the lightning flashes were farther apart now, and the thunder was grumbling in the distance. She would go to sleep and sort everything out in the morning.