Secrets of the Lighthouse by Santa Montefiore

Author:Santa Montefiore [Montefiore, Santa]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
ISBN: 9781471100987
Publisher: Simon & Schuster UK

Chapter 18

Ellen sat in front of her blank computer screen, chin in hand, dreaming about Conor. So far she hadn’t written a word. She was much too excited to concentrate. She pictured his generous features and his wide, infectious smile, and found herself grinning as she recalled their telephone conversation line by line. She didn’t know how she was going to last until Thursday.

Frustrated at the lack of inspiration, she went to find her aunt. Peg was moving the sheep into the next-door field, with the help of Mr Badger. ‘I thought you were meant to be writing?’ Peg said when her niece approached.

‘I can’t think of my plot,’ Ellen replied.

‘Your head is full of other things,’ Peg said with a knowing smile. ‘Why don’t you go for a walk and clear your head of Mr Macausland?’

Ellen smiled. ‘I can’t, Peg.’

‘Well, sitting in front of your computer won’t do you any good either. At least you’ll get some fresh air.’

‘I’m afraid I’ll get lost again.’

‘And your knight in shining armour isn’t around to rescue you. I tell you what. If you walk along the coast you won’t get lost.’

‘That’s a good idea.’

‘Keep to the path with the sea in your sights and you’ll always know where you are.’

‘I’ll do that,’ Ellen replied happily. ‘I’ll see you later.’

‘If you don’t, I’ll send Oswald out to find you. And be sure to wear a coat, pet, that wall of cloud is coming this way.’

Ellen set off up the hill behind Peg’s house and joined a well-trodden path that cut through the grass like an old scar. It was a damp day. Light drizzle floated on the breeze and every now and then a hole was burned through the cloud and the sun shone through, flooding the sea with soft pools of light. She listened to the birdsong and watched the slow wheeling of gulls and allowed her mind to still in the quiet serenity of her solitude. The more time she spent in the countryside, the lighter her spirit grew. Her chest filled with a fizzy kind of joy she had never experienced before in the concrete wilderness of London. Out here on the hills, she truly felt that anything was possible, even her novel, her burgeoning relationship with Conor, her newfound independence, happiness. Somehow she sensed that everything would sort itself out.

After a while she turned a corner to see a pretty little chapel on the horizon. It looked old and abandoned from where she stood. There were gravestones dotted about and a surrounding stone wall that protected them from the winds that blew in off the sea. A path led down the slope to a little wooden gate that had swung open. Curiosity propelled her forward and she hurried along the path.

As she walked through the gate, a few blackbirds hopped about stones half buried in the long grasses. The sun shone a spotlight onto the chapel and Ellen noticed that the front door had been carelessly left ajar. She

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