A Light Between Oceans Episode 03
“Sandy, darling! What a wonderful surprise! Just a moment – I’m making bread. I’ll just turn off the radio . . .”
“Shall I phone back?”
But Hattie had already set down the phone, wiped her hands on her apron and reached across the flour-strewn counter to switch off the transistor.
“Hattie, if this isn’t a good time –”
“It’s fine, sweetheart,” Hattie interrupted. “Are you all right?”
“I’m OK. I had that awful nightmare again last night. I haven’t had it for ages.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Have you had breakfast? Maybe you should take a day off?”
“I can’t,” Sandy replied. “Things are so busy, and Libby can’t really cope on her own.”
“How’s she doing?” Hattie asked. “More hindrance than help?”
“She’s quite a hoot, and very sweet. She really is trying, though she gets very distracted and loves to talk.
“We have a lot of stock coming in this week for spring. I want to set up new window displays, too.
“I’d rather not let Libby loose with that – heaven knows what she might come up with!”
Hattie smiled into the phone, relieved to hear a lightness coming into Sandy’s voice.
“You work too hard, but you certainly have made a success of the place,” Hattie remarked.
“Pegasus Fabrics has really taken off like a flying horse, that’s for sure!”
“It’s all because of you, Hattie,” Sandy reminded her.
“Nonsense! It was fate, that lady fetching up here that weekend.”
Hattie had always suspected that if Sandy were handed the right opportunity, she’d discover that being in charge would bring her the confidence she needed.
“I guess I’m just feeling a little shaky today.”
Hattie bit her lip, remembering the terrible nights when she’d looked after Sandy – the screams of terror and the wild eyes of the little girl as she twisted and turned in her bed.
“It isn’t just that,” Sandy said slowly. “A strange letter arrived from New York. It must be some sort of mistake, but . . .”
“A letter? What about?”
“It has to be a mix-up of some kind. It’s about the lighthouse and the cottage.”
Hattie felt her hand go cold as she clutched the receiver, a sickening guilt washing over her and piling itself on top of her anguish about Sandy’s recurring nightmare.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed. “I meant to tell you –”
“Oh, Hattie!” Sandy cried. “Is it true?”
“Yes. I heard about it a few weeks ago. I wanted to ring, but I kept putting it off.”
“It was such a shock,” Sandy replied. “The man who wrote the letter – Lucas Brook – is coming from New York. He wants to buy them.”
“I didn’t know anything about that part,” Hattie admitted. “Only that they were on the market.”
“It was very strange and upsetting, hearing about it this way,” Sandy murmured.
Hattie heard the tightness in Sandy’s voice.
“I’m sorry. I should have told you right away. I guess it was a shock for me, too, but I knew that you’d always wanted to leave Belmouth and the cottage.
“You were very against staying here,” Hattie continued defensively.
“Yes, I know,” Sandy acknowledged.
“How do you feel about it?”
“I’m not sure,” Sandy admitted slowly. “I feel very confused. Maybe I just thought it would never change.
“Do you know if there are other people interested apart from this Lucas Brook?” she added.
“I don’t know, but I can try to find out. It was bound to happen some time.” Hattie sighed.
“I wish you’d come down for a visit. Perhaps it would be the best thing right now – for you to see the lighthouse and the cottage again.”
“I don’t know, Hattie,” Sandy replied. “I have so much to do here.”
“As soon as you get that stock unpacked and your new displays up, couldn’t you just bite the bullet and leave Libby in charge?” Hattie suggested.
“How much damage could she do in a week?”
Hattie heard Sandy chuckle and she relaxed a little.
“There’s no telling what Libby might get up to, but I suppose I could phone her every day – or every hour, more like.”
“The phone bill is on me,” Hattie replied with a grin.
“It would be wonderful to have you here, and to get to spoil you a little.
“Apparently we’re in for a long stretch of glorious sunshine.
“I’ll make your favourite fish chowder,” she added in a singsong tone.
“Hattie – that’s unfair temptation!”
“And homemade scones, with berries and clotted cream and –”
“Stop!” Sandy laughed. “I need to think about it.”
There was a little silence, and Hattie sensed she must resist continuing the light-hearted approach.
“Would it be possible for you to get everything organised by the end of the week?” she asked.
“I think I could . . .”
Hattie heard what sounded like the rustle of paper as Sandy continued.
“There’s something else in the letter. Lucas Brook says that he’s coming to Belmouth soon, and wants to meet with me.”
“That sounds like a good idea, too,” Hattie declared. “Meeting face to face.”
“I’ll read you what he says: I am keen to learn as much as possible about Belmouth and its history from locals, particularly those who were living in Belmouth during the war.
“You should talk to him, Hattie,” Sandy went on.
“You’ll remember more about that time than anyone else.”
Hattie felt a flutter of dread snaking its way through her as she tried to think of a reply.
Nothing came.
“Hattie?”
“Yes. Sorry – I think the connection went fuzzy for a moment. I suppose I could talk to him.
“But it really would be so lovely to see you. What do you think?”
“I’d love to come,” Sandy confessed, her voice brighter. “Gosh – how long has it been?”
“We’d have to figure that out, wouldn’t we?” Hattie mused. “Let’s see . . .”
But her thoughts cast themselves back much further than Sandy’s last visit.
Hattie gazed out of the sunlit window and watched the gulls wheeling in a cloudless sky, but a shadow seemed to spread slowly across her line of vision, seeping into her heart as she gripped the phone.