A Light Between Oceans Episode 08
Sandy silently reviewed the list of questions that she’d drawn up in her head. This was her chance to find out all she could.
She took a breath, then looked across the table, her gaze as steady as she could manage.
“How long did you live in Belmouth, Sandy?” Lucas asked before she could speak.
“I lived here until I was seventeen. What about you? Have you always lived in New York?”
“Just about,” he replied vaguely, quickly steering the focus back to her.
“What was it like to grow up in a lighthouse cottage?”
There it was again – the impossible-to-answer question that she had been asked so many times.
Over the years she’d compiled a catalogue of responses to choose from, according to the circumstances.
Only very rarely had she ever allowed crucial parts of the truth to trickle out.
“It was very different from the life any of my school friends had,” Sandy said lightly.
“We didn’t have electricity until I was ten.
“But it was home, and I was extremely proud of my dad, and always will be.
“His job was of the utmost importance, of course.”
“No electricity? What did you do about light? And how did your mom cope with the cooking and everything?”
“We had oil lamps, and Dad cooked on an old Rayburn. My mother died when I was a toddler, so a family friend looked after me a lot.”
She talked quickly, not pausing long enough for him to comment.
“Now,” she said, assuming a businesslike tone.
“In your letter, you said you’re making a bid to buy the lighthouse and the cottage.”
Lucas had picked up his cup of coffee, but now he held it in the air as if frozen into position as he looked at her, his composure clearly ruffled.
“That’s right. I saw an advertisement in a magazine and . . .” He faltered for a moment, then seemed to regain his poise.
“I decided to take a look and make an offer.”
“Had you been looking for a lighthouse to buy?”
“No, but the photo struck me. It’s quite a sight, isn’t it? The cottage must be charming.”
He smiled, leaning back in his chair, and Sandy felt a twinge of resentment.
She knew it was unfair for her to feel it, but there was something about his casual air when the reason they were here was so emotional for her.
“What do you plan to do with the lighthouse?” She was determined to keep to the point.
He ran a hand over the back of his head, and Sandy thought she detected a flicker of unease in his expression.
“At the moment I want to find out everything I can about it,” Lucas explained. I’d like to learn some Belmouth history. Is there a tourist board here?”
“Not really. Belmouth has never been a big draw for holidaymakers,” Sandy replied.
“There’s a library, so you might find something there.”
Lucas nodded thoughtfully.
“I’ll look into that. What I’d really like to do is talk to some people who’ve lived here for a long time.
“Is there anyone you could suggest?”
He was talking more quickly now, his tone urgent.
It had begun to feel rather odd.
This elegantly dressed American had travelled all the way from New York and wanted to find out everything he could about a little seaside town in England.
He wanted to buy the lighthouse, but he didn’t seem to know what he wanted to do with it.
He smiled again, this time with an unnatural brightness.
Sandy found herself wondering if he was hiding something.
“There’s one person who might be able to help you,” she told him.
“Who’s that?” he asked, leaning forward.
“Hattie Crocker – the lady I mentioned earlier. She’s lived here all her life.”
If anyone could get the truth from him, Hattie could.