"Who's that, then?" Alec said, motioning towards a woman who sat on a bench opposite them several hundred yards away. He sat on the bench next to Miller, she in her bright orange jacket, he in his oversized overcoat—both were exhausted from the Trish Winterman trial, and a bit uncomfortable at how close to home the case had come. Both Tom and Daisy had been impacted by people involved in this one.
"Once again, you're determined to believe I must know everyone in Broadchurch," Ellie said as she rolled her eyes.
"This time I think I'm right—who is she?"
"I've never met her, thank you very much—but I do know of her," she responded, both of them looking at the woman. They were far enough away, she'd not notice, plus she was too busy looking out over the cliffs.
"Ah, but I was right then."
"She's an American, just moved here a week ago."
"American? Why'd she move to Broadchurch?"
"It is a rather beautiful place, you know. Nice people, too—generally speaking."
"Yeah—right," Alec responded, taking a close look at her. "But really—America's a big place—why move to England? Much less to Broadchurch?"
"I've not heard the details, just that she had some tragedy in her life there."
They were both quiet a moment, and Alec continued to observe the woman. She wore blue jeans and an oversized cream colored jumper. Her boots indicated perhaps she had planned to go for a hike later, unless, he considered, that perhaps she was wearing them in the hopes to be fashionable. If there was one thing he had learned from his teenage daughter, it was that women tended to wear things for all the wrong reasons.
He wasn't all together sure why, upon saying goodbye to Miller, he headed the opposite direction of the car park, towards the American woman. Not that he was necessarily headed towards her, he told himself, just that general direction. It was nice weather, perhaps a stroll down the sea wall and some fresh air would do his mind and his body good before he went back home to Daisy. He was walking along, considering his own actions, paying more attention to the ground in front of him than what, or who, was ahead of him, when suddenly he ran right into someone. The American.
"Oh, excuse me, I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going," he said apologetically. He quickly glanced to see that she held in her hands a brochure, and from the look of the pictures, it was about the cliffs.
She glanced at him, and back down bashfully, her cheeks red. "I'm sorry too, I shouldn't have been standing here, reading, in the middle of the walkway."
He smiled at her American accent, it was definitely a change from the typical around here. It was—refreshing—in a way.
"No harm done." He glanced at the brochure, and back to her. "New here?" He knew the answer, of course, but it seemed like the appropriate way to make friendly conversation. Since when did he make friendly conversation?
"Yes, I am. I suppose I look like something of a tourist, don't I? But I've just moved here. From the US. I suppose that's pretty obvious, too, isn't it?"
"Your accent does give you away a bit, yes. Have you visited here before?" he asked as he motioned for them to step towards the railing for a closer view of the cliffs.
"No," she said as she looked down awkardly. "I suppose that seems silly too, doesn't it? Moving somewhere you've never visited?"
"You do a lot of 'supposing', Miss—?" he asked, hoping to finally reveal the mystery of her name.
"Mrs. Alana Reynolds," she answered, holding her hand out.
He shook his head. "I'm Alec Hardy. Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Reynolds." He released her hand then, but continued. "So, you're married then?" Married? Awfully straight forward of you, Hardy! What are you playing at? he thought to himself.
"Oh…," she said, looking downcast again. "I, um, I was. I was married."
"Sorry, none of my business, I shouldn't have asked anyway." Alec glanced at his watch, then back up. "Sorry, I've got to get going. My daughter will be getting home soon and I promised her we'd have dinner together. Again, it was nice to meet you, Mrs. Reynolds."
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Hardy."