The grocer beamed. ‘Is your husband here?’
‘No. He is away on business.’
‘I didn’t realise the Cliff House had been purchased. I thought the man who inherited it still had it,’ Mrs Strong murmured with a frown.
‘No, my husband purchased it from him a few weeks ago. I am here to sort through everything before we move in. He will be joining me soon,’ Carlotta replied. She turned to look at the shelving behind the shop keeper, hoping they would accept that the conversation was over.
‘Well, it will be a pleasure to meet him when he arrives. Everyone has been aware that someone has been up there because the lights have been on at night. It will be a blessing to everyone’s peace of mind to know that it is you up there, especially after what has been going on around here lately.’
Carlotta frowned out of the window. ‘Are there many strangers around here? Does everyone carry guns? I saw two rough looking gentlemen just now and they were armed.’
‘Were they? Where were they?’ Mr Strong stomped over to the window and peered outside.
‘They were in the bakery. One of them had a gun strapped to his belt beneath his jacket. They are after some girl, apparently. God only knows what they should want her for. I hope they don’t find her. They look dangerous.’ Carlotta looked at the shop keeper with wide eyes and hoped and prayed that God would forgive her for her deceit. ‘Do you think they have something to do with what happened to Bladley Weeks?’
‘I don’t think it is coincidence that we have two men with guns in the village at the same time that Bladley Weeks is turned into a battlefield, do you?’ Mr Strong murmured.
‘Shouldn’t we tell the magistrate?’ Carlotta whispered. ‘That’s them.’
‘The magistrate is busy with Bladley Weeks at the moment. I doubt he would bother anyway. Jenner is useless.’ Mr Strong winced when his wife jabbed him in the elbow.
‘The village is usually such a nice, calm place to live. It is usually a very safe place,’ Mrs Strong assured her.
Together, Mr and Mrs Strong and Carlotta watched the thugs leave the bakery. They both tucked into the food they had just bought as they ambled down the main street toward them.
‘They aren’t from around these parts. I heard them talking the other day, they don’t have a local accent,’ Mrs Strong whispered.
‘Neither do I but I don’t carry a gun,’ Carlotta replied.
Mrs Strong nodded.
‘Do you think it is safe to leave?’ she whispered, knowing it wasn’t.
‘Wait until they have gone,’ Mr Strong advised.
‘I just need a few things,’ Carlotta began, turning away from the window just as the men passed it. She made sure she kept her back to the thugs and her head lowered in case either of them looked through the window at her.
‘Of course. What can I get you?’ Mr Strong asked as he rounded the counter.
Carlotta forced herself to appear nonchalant as she gave him her order. Unfortunately, she only purchased a few things and wasn’t in the shop for long. Reluctantly, she took her leave and stepped outside. One glance down the road was all it took to warn her that she was still facing the huge problem of how to get home safely.
‘I cannot go back yet because they will follow me,’ she whispered.
Carlotta watched them cross the road and begin to make their way toward her. Thankfully, they were far enough away that she had a good couple of minutes before they reached her.
‘I have to get back to the house,’ Carlotta decided, well aware that she could spend her entire day walking the village’s streets trying to avoid them.
Ducking her head, she crossed the street and headed straight into a narrow side-street which led down to the harbour. She had no business down in the harbour but knew there was a small path she could take that led to the woods which bordered the gardens of Cliff House. As she began to make her way toward it she desperately wanted to look over her shoulder, but daren’t. She had no idea what she would do if she saw the thugs behind her, or they saw her.
Stay calm. Appear normal. Everything will be all right. I just need to get back to the Cliff House.
As she stepped onto the path that led around the harbour, Carlotta took a deep breath but immediately regretted it as her lungs were attacked by the heady stench of fish. It permeated her lungs and filled her nostrils and made her feel sick. She stepped warily around several flapping fish. When she moved back onto the path, she glanced up and mentally cursed when she saw one of the thugs leave the same side-street she had just walked down.
‘Have you heard about the gunfight that has damaged the fishing vessels in Bladley Weeks?’ Carlotta asked of a fisherman who was trying to scoop the flapping fish back into his basket.
‘Aye,’ he grunted with a dark glare. ‘A lot of lives have been destroyed because of that. It’s a damned disgrace, that’s what it is. They all ought to be shot.’
‘They have guns. Are they local?’ Carlotta whispered with a nod to the two thugs who were heading toward them.