‘I can’t do it all myself,’ Josie said. ‘I mean, I can clean, and probably figure out how to patch a few things up, but I can’t do a place like that on my own. It’s too big.’
‘Hang on a sec.’
Nathaniel put down his knife, turned and stumbled, seemingly from memory, back to his shack. He went inside, then emerged again five minutes later.
‘Here’s what I’ve got, maid,’ he said, grinning. ‘This’ll start ’e on right path.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Transistor radio. You can listen to the cricket. Keep yer mind busy, free yer hands up for the task.’
‘It’s April.’
‘Ah, start them games early these days, don’t they?’
‘But—’
‘No need for no fancy tinternet down there, is there?’
‘Internet.’
‘Twas what I said. Tinternet.’
‘Right.’
‘And I got these for ’e.’
A gnarled old hand reached into his pocket and took out a keyring. Fingers as twisted as the driftwood he carved held up a key attached to a silver Cornish pasty.
‘What does that open?’
‘Barn. Inside, on left, you’ll find key for the shop hanging up. All other keys inside.’ He grinned, a gold tooth glinting in the sun. ‘Big on me security, me.’
‘But I need cleaning goods, tools. I just sold everything I owned to pay for a divorce lawyer who lost me everything.’
‘Who needs money?’ Nat said. ‘Get a bit of barter going. Tit for tat. But if you do go up garden centre, this’ll sort ’e out. Found him on the beach yesterday.’
He reached into his other pocket and held up a crumpled twenty-pound note which he handed to Josie.
‘You … found that on the beach? How? I thought you were—’
Nathaniel grinned. ‘Like any good wolf, I can smell the old spondoola.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Nah, ’twas in a bottle.’
‘Really?’
‘Uh huh.’
‘You found a bottle washed up on the beach with a twenty-pound note in it? Was there anything else inside?’
‘Yeah, message. Didn’t read it. The eyes, you know.’ He grinned, tapping the side of his sunglasses.
‘What did you do with it?’
‘Threw it back. Ain’t no one gonna find it down there. Give it six months, current’ll take it down Mount’s Bay.’