A Perfect Cornish Escape

by Phillipa Ashley

  ‘Hi there!’ she called. ‘I hope you don’t mind but I’m from the lookout station on the cliff. I don’t want to spoil your fun but it’s not a great idea to launch craft from this spot. It’s much windier than it looks, and the tide is going out.’

  The middle-aged man took in her uniform and smirked. ‘Thank you, my dear. We know you’re only trying to help but we know what we’re doing. We’ll be fine.’

  Dear? Marina resisted the urge to tell him she wasn’t old enough to be anyone’s ‘dear’.

  ‘This cove can be dangerous,’ she said more firmly. ‘There are submerged rocks and currents around the headland. It seems calm here but there’s a big swell and the surf could easily carry you onto the rocks.’

  ‘We’ll consider ourselves warned. You’ve done your duty now, so you can go back up to your mates,’ he said, and turned away from her. ‘Jacob, you can leave the wheels up here.’ He beckoned to his son. ‘I doubt anyone will take them with this lady watching.’

  Jacob nodded. He took the kayak off the wheels and dropped them above the tide line.

  ‘We can’t mind people’s property,’ Marina said, boiling with frustration. The father could do what he wanted but she was fuming that he was so blasé about putting his teenage son in danger. ‘Why don’t you put off your kayak trip until you’ve hired some buoyancy aids from Porthmellow sailing centre?’ she said, determined to do her best to stop the man risking his son’s life, if not his own. ‘Or you could launch from the main beach where they have lifeguard cover? You’ve no idea what could go wrong out there!’ Her voice rose in desperation. ‘You can see the waves breaking. They’re getting stronger by the minute.’

  ‘We’ll think about it next time,’ the man snapped, before turning his back on her. ‘Jacob! Let’s get going!’

  With that, he picked up two paddles and marched off towards the water.

  ‘Wait!’ Marina said, following him. She didn’t care if he was annoyed. She couldn’t let him go without trying one more time. If there was the slightest chance she could prevent another tragedy. Another Nate …

  His son was already in the kayak, as the man pushed it into the surf. It lifted and wobbled as the man tried to climb aboard. ‘Wait!’ she called again, her feet getting wet in the small wavelets. ‘You’ve no idea how dangerous it is here!’

  The father turned his head, a furious look on his face. She thought she heard Jacob say something to him but the man shook his head and they paddled off through the surf towards the open sea.

  Tears of frustration stung Marina’s eyes. She was breathing heavily and her heart was racing.

  She spoke into her radio: ‘I t-tried to stop them, Gareth, but it was no use. The father wouldn’t listen to me. Please keep an eye on them until I get back!’

  Torn between anger and concern, she hurried back up the steps. It was hot work and her blouse stuck to her back. Before she’d reached the station, she realised that she’d probably let her loss of Nate cloud her professionalism. She’d wasted her breath on the father … and the likelihood was that they’d be back safe and sound. At least she had warned them, and maybe a tiny nugget of her advice had sunk in – though she doubted it.

  Marina forced herself to simmer down and try to put the incident into perspective, slightly ashamed about having shouted at the father. Gareth logged the kayakers until they disappeared out of sight, presumably exploring tiny coves and strands further up the coast, which were inaccessible by land. She hoped they didn’t disturb the seals which frequently hauled out to rest in one of the coves, or worse, try to get out onto the rocks for a closer look.

  They had to come back into range sooner or later and it was almost impossible that she and Gareth would miss them. They remained vigilant, noting the wind had freshened and brought a big swell. Some large clouds came over and Marina couldn’t help but think it would be very cold on the water in the short wetsuits.

  An hour and a half later, when they hadn’t returned, Marina became anxious.

  She reported their absence to the coastguard, on the off-chance that someone else might have seen them in difficulties. No reports came in and she tried to relax. She couldn’t worry about everyone and all she could do now was ask the incoming Wave Watchers, Trevor and Doreen, to keep an eye out when they turned up.

  ‘Porthmellow Station. Be advised. Two kayakers have been sighted off Seal Cove. Reports of a person in the water. Porthmellow lifeboat on its way.’

  The radio message made Marina’s heart stop momentarily, but she had to stay calm to make her reply. She had no idea who was in the water, the father or son. Either way, that person was in deep trouble. The water was only around twelve degrees this early in the summer and, given their lack of full-length wetsuits, they might have only minutes before hypothermia set in. She shuddered to imagine the fear and panic of both men.

  Did Nate feel that fear and panic?

  Marina had to summon all her strength to keep calm. She held out her hand. It was trembling.

  But she told herself that the lifeboat would do its job, and, five minutes later, she received a call to say that both the boy and his father had been found clinging to the capsized kayak. A few minutes later and it would have been washed onto the rocks. Though the boy was cold, he seemed unharmed, but the crew said they were very concerned about the father.

  She took a few soothing breaths, praised Gareth for his vigilance and managed to make it through the rest of the shift, hoping for an update from the lifeboat crew but knowing they probably wouldn’t receive any further information on the casualties. You often didn’t find out the outcome of a rescue until much later – if at all. However, on the way home, the shock hit her. They could have drowned. They might have drowned without the lookout station. Imagine the boy’s mother? What if she’d lost her son and her partner?

  She knew all too well how that felt.

  She quickened her step, keen to reach home, have a cool shower and calm down.

  ‘Marina!’ Lachlan was running towards her. ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she said, with a forced smile.

  ‘You look upset. Are you OK?’

  She stopped dead and let out a cry of frustration. ‘No, I’m not. Two people, a father and son, almost drowned on my watch. They went off in a bloody inflatable kayak with no life vest or safety equipment. I did everything to stop them going out. They almost died. The man’s in a bad way apparently. Oh, hang on …’ She pulled her mobile from her pocket, dreading what she might hear.

  Her heart thumped crazily as she listened to Dirk’s voice. When he’d rung off, she let out a massive sigh of relief.

  ‘The guy’s out of danger but it was touch and go. He was a few minutes from giving up and he’d swallowed a lot of water and had hypothermia. Stupid, stupid idiot! Why would you do that? Why be so bloody stupid and risk your life and your son’s? Argh.’

  Lachlan seemed to reach for her but quickly dropped his arms. ‘You did everything you could. You can’t save everyone.’

  ‘I let my personal feelings take over but they wouldn’t listen. I would have done anything to keep them from getting into trouble, but I just couldn’t stop them. I should have tried harder, but I got caught up in what happened to Nate. I shouldn’t have let my own life intrude.’

  ‘Why not? Don’t be sorry. You tried your best, and you don’t have to be “together” all the time. You’re entitled to feel upset when something triggers bad memories, no matter how long it’s been … time isn’t always the great healer they say, is it?’

  She took a breath. He seemed to understand her. ‘Not always. I was thinking about him a lot today. The weather is so lovely, and he disappeared on what was a sunny day in July – yet a squall blew in very quickly.’

  ‘That can happen in the mountains too,’ Lachlan said. ‘Conditions change so fast. You can never let down your guard.’

  Marina managed a ‘hello’ to a couple strolling past. It was so British, keeping up the niceties wh
ile her heart was in turmoil.

  ‘Shall we find somewhere quieter?’ he asked. ‘There’s a bench near here that’s tucked away in the gorse. I saw it when I was running and sometimes I go there if I need some peace. If you want to tell me more about what happened that day,’ he added.

  She nodded and followed him up a ribbon of a track away from the main coast path. They sat on the granite bench with its pale green coat of lichen. It was slightly elevated and afforded a beautiful view over the sea while shielding them from the coast path below. Marina inhaled the scent of the gorse and pushed her hair from her eyes. Lachlan sat next to her, evidently waiting for her to take the lead.

  ‘I wish I could tell you what happened,’ she began. ‘I only know fragments of what took place in the time leading up to his disappearance. He hadn’t had the fishing kayak long. It was his new thing; he was hoping to make a bit of extra cash.’ She allowed herself a brief, bitter smile. ‘He was always looking to make a bit of cash. We’d been married almost two years and, actually, I hadn’t known him long before we were married. He’d moved to Porthmellow from Newlyn.’

  ‘He was from a fishing background, then?’ Lachlan put in.

  ‘His father worked on the trawlers apparently, but Nate had never seen much of him. He kind of abandoned Nate after his mum passed away and Nate was left to his own devices in his teens. He didn’t go to sea that often. It’s a hard life after all, and many don’t take to it, but the fishing kayak … well he seemed to enjoy that and went out on it a couple of times a week.’

  ‘So the man knew what he was doing?’

  ‘He thought he did. That was him all over. You might say he was always a glass half full man, even when the glass was obviously almost empty. He was funny, the life and soul. I thought he had a real zest for life when I first met him at a mutual friend’s wedding in Porthmellow. He was popular even though he was relatively new here. He was always first to buy a round in the pub, he told a great story, and he’d help people out if he could, but he owed money too. He had debts I didn’t know about until after he disappeared.’

  Lachlan simply listened, nodding from time to time.

  ‘I shouldn’t go on about him …’

  ‘I asked. And you obviously still need to get this off your chest,’ he said.

  ‘I thought I’d done that long ago. But yes, I understand only too well what it’s like to want to walk away from a situation that triggers bad memories,’ she said.

  A lightbulb flicked on in her mind … maybe, she thought, that’s what Nate had sought to do: flee from a situation that he found intolerable. She’d always refused to entertain any suggestion by her close family that Nate may have wanted to harm himself, always believed it was a tragic accident, but if his debts and responsibility were getting on top of him, perhaps that’s why he went off on his own so often. If that was the case, she wished he’d been able to talk to her. It was too late now.

  ‘I guess I’ll never know what really happened, which is why I find stuff like what happened today so difficult. But I’ve tried to stop asking “what if”. It’s only this milestone and the finality of the legal declaration that’s making me focus on it again.’

  She paused to collect herself, eyes resting on the panorama of the coast stretched out before her. The pink thrift rippled as one in the breeze and the gorse thrummed with bees.

  ‘You’re bound to miss him, despite everything. It’s obvious you loved him.’ Lachlan spoke softly. He waved away a bee and smiled at her. There was warmth in his smile, but sadness too. Was it sadness for her or himself?

  Marina pressed her palms against the cool granite. ‘Life wasn’t boring with him, that’s for sure. It was a rollercoaster ride. You never knew what he’d do next. He had big ambitions, but no real plan, and he was always getting bored and moving on to the next exciting scheme.’ She smiled ruefully at the reminder of their topsy-turvy existence.

  ‘He was going to buy his own trawler, or have a betting shop, or … He and I were very different, but opposites attract, I suppose. When we met, I’d not long come out of uni and I was doing my adult teaching certificate while I worked part-time in the Co-Op in Porthmellow.

  ‘By the time we were married, I’d managed to get my first job teaching English at Mount’s Bay College. I loved it and we managed to buy a flat in Penzance. Then my grandma passed away and she left me enough extra to put down a deposit on the cottage. It was rundown and ramshackle but we did it up together and made plans, the way you do …’ She paused.

  ‘Aye.’ He didn’t elaborate.

  Marina wondered if she should stop … but it was too late. ‘We were young, and I bought into Nate’s optimism and the excitement of not knowing where life was heading … but as the years went by, I began to realise that that was Nate.’ The bees buzzed on the thrift near her feet. ‘He was a bit like these bees, flitting from one gaudy flower to the next. That’s why I fell for him in the first place I suppose: he seemed fun and ready to take a risk. It was romantic at the start, and so I guess later on I just felt I should stick it out and that things might get better. Something would come up, as Mr Micawber would say.’ She laughed.

  ‘Whit’s fir ye’ll no go by ye,’ he said. ‘In other words, if things are meant to happen, they will.’

  ‘Do you believe that? I think you can change your fate.’

  ‘I’m not sure. Before the accident, I thought I was master of my fate, but since then, I’m not so certain.’

  His smile was deep and reflected in his eyes. What kind of a man was he before he had the scars? The same as she was? Naive, trusting, never believing anything bad could happen to him? She’d no inkling that there was a cliff edge waiting to collapse beneath her.

  ‘Even when we think we’ve put the past behind us, some things – some people – stay lodged in our hearts,’ he added.

  She wasn’t sure if he meant Nate, or that someone was still lodged in his own heart. Had he realised how much that person meant to him while he was back in Scotland?

  ‘Let’s go home,’ she said. ‘You’ve just got back from your trip, and I’ve had a day and a half.’

  He made no mention of the text he’d sent with the dinner invitation and she wasn’t in the mood to remind him.

  It was frustrating. She wanted to make a fresh start. She was attracted to Lachlan and she thought he liked her. There should be nothing stopping them from taking things beyond friendship, but it felt as if the ghosts of the past were determined to haunt them both.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Tiff had seen a lot of Dirk in the week or so since their café conversation had been left hanging.

  Saw being the operative word, because on none of those occasions had she actually spoken to him. Instead, she’d actively tried to avoid Dirk, attempting to cure herself of her craving for him. But every sighting left her more frustrated at her weakness, and more in lust than ever.

  The previous day, however, she’d seen him three times: outside the lifeboat station (that was hardly unprecedented), in the post office again, and then, bizarrely, he’d entered a boutique next to the Harbour Café when she was in there taking some details from the owner for an ad feature. Dirk didn’t even seem to have noticed her, heading straight to the rear of the shop, where there was a display of what Tiff considered to be vastly overpriced swimwear. What he was doing in the smart ladieswear boutique was anyone’s guess. Still, you never know, maybe he really did need some ladies’ swimwear. Dirk was full of surprises.

  On the Friday evening, almost two weeks after their ‘chat’ at the café had ended so abruptly, she walked into the Chough Gallery. It was a damp evening and drizzling, so she was grateful to scuttle inside the building, which was tucked away in a warren of streets behind the harbour. She’d been invited to attend an exclusive exhibition by a local artist, and report on it for Cream of Cornish. By the time she’d arrived, the room was buzzing with the artist’s friends and family, along with some of the gallery’s favourite customers, lo
cal media and townspeople from the festival organising committee.

  She recognised several of the faces and they greeted her like an old friend. Having had no dinner, Tiff discreetly hoovered up as many canapés as she could get away with and sipped her Prosecco. The artist was a lady of at least seventy, renowned for her abstract pastels and oils of the Cornish landscape. Her silver hair was enhanced with rosy tones and she wore a leather jacket that Tiff recognised as vintage Belstaff.

  Tiff enjoyed doing the interview with her, vowing to choose a print, even though she still had no idea when she’d ever be able to return to her own flat to hang it. She certainly couldn’t keep living off Marina’s hospitality – even though she was paying her way, Marina would want her own space sooner or later.

  After the artist gave a brief speech, the chatter and Prosecco-chugging resumed, while orders were placed for some of the originals and prints.

  Tiff wandered over to one of the paintings, admiring the dreamy take on a low-tide morning at Pedn Vounder beach … She adored the view and had made more than one detour to gaze down at the white sands and turquoise waters while in the far west. That was the one she would love for her wall. She wondered if she really did dare indulge in a small print … perhaps she could buy one for Marina as a birthday gift.

  ‘I’ll admit – that’s a stunner.’

  She swung round and came face to face with Dirk. He looked smoking hot in a white shirt and black jeans. For a moment, Tiff was stunned herself.

  ‘Um. Yes. It is.’ She recovered and waved her glass in his direction. ‘Dirk. Is there any reason why I keep bumping into you? Or rather you keep bumping into me?’

  ‘No idea what you’re talking about. We live two doors away from each other, if you hadn’t forgotten.’

  ‘How could I?’ she said in honeyed tones. ‘And yet, here’s the thing. I can understand why you might have come into the post office when I was there. Twice,’ she added. ‘Or that your car needed fuel at the exact same time as mine. I can even take the fact that you just happened to be here tonight for this gallery launch. I know you like the arts, albeit you did let slip to me that you hated abstract—’