The Newcomer

by Fern Britton

  ‘A garden party!’ Angela threw her arms around her husband.

  ‘It was Mamie’s idea too. By the way, you’re strangling me. And you’re all sweaty from your run.’

  ‘Sorry.’ She released him with a kiss. ‘What made you think of a garden party?’

  Robert’s eyes slid towards Mamie, begging for help.

  ‘Well, it sort of came to us,’ Mamie said easily. ‘We were sitting in the garden, chatting, and it came to us.’

  ‘And,’ said Robert improvising, ‘so much nicer than going out for dinner or to the cinema. We can do that any time now that I’m the food writer for the Trevay Times.’

  ‘Such happy times!’ Angela grinned, then frowned. ‘The garden needs tidying. I must ask Tony if he would jolly it up a bit. Maybe put some extra colour in with bedding plants? Is that what you put in? And hanging baskets.’

  ‘Leave it all to us,’ Robert said smoothly. ‘There’s plenty of time to plan.’

  ‘And if it rains, we’ll need shelters of some sort. Actually shelters anyway, if it’s too hot.’

  Mamie put a hand up to stop her niece. ‘Darling, I have organised more parties than I’ll ever remember. Leave it all to me and Robert.’

  Angela relaxed. ‘It’s the nicest thing to happen to me. Thank you both.’ She picked up her the trainers she’d kicked off. ‘I’m going to have a shower.’

  ‘Do you want anything from Truro?’ Mamie asked. ‘Only I promised Queenie I’d take her to M&S. She wants to complain about the quality of their knickers or something.’

  ‘No, thanks, Mamie. I’ve got a lot of planning to do. I’ve got to do the order of service for the pet blessing, find someone to lead us in the dancing round the maypole … That reminds me, we’ve got to get the old maypole painted and re-ribboned. The mice got to it in the village hall over the winter. And I must see if there are any prayers for cyclists. The Sunday school young bikers have their first lesson this Saturday afternoon.’

  Robert looked at Angela then at Mamie. ‘See. She’s doing too much.’

  Angela gave them both a stare. ‘No, I’m not, I’m loving it.’

  Mamie held her hands up in peace. ‘Go and have your shower.’

  Robert got up. ‘See you both later then. I have an important village meeting on the other side of the green. Helen and I are working on the website all afternoon.’

  16

  Angela was out of the shower and heating up a can of tomato soup before getting to work in the office, when there was a tentative knocking at the front door.

  ‘Robbie!’

  ‘Am I disturbing you?’

  ‘Not at all. How are you after this morning’s run?’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘I’m sorry that Evelyn didn’t make it.’

  ‘She was sorry but she had a lot to do on the farm. My brother, her husband …’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘He’s been away for a few days.’

  ‘She must find that hard?’ asked Angela, thinking that Robbie might be about to confide in her.

  ‘Yeah. I worry about her. And she worries about me.’

  Angela remembered the pan of soup on the Aga. ‘Come through to the kitchen. Would you like to share some soup with me?’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I have come at the wrong time.’ Robbie moved as if to go but Angela pointed her towards the kitchen.

  ‘Sit down. The soup can wait. How about a coffee?’

  When they were seated opposite each other at the kitchen table, Angela coaxed the obviously anxious Robbie into conversation.

  ‘How can I help you?’

  Robbie twisted her fingers around her coffee mug. ‘Now I’m here, I feel you might think me a bit silly.’

  ‘I’m sure I won’t.’ Angela smiled gently. ‘Give me a try.’

  ‘Well.’ Robbie took a deep breath and spilled her secret. ‘I think I might have a lump in my breast.’

  Angela’s heart missed a beat as memories of her own mum telling her the same thing in the same words, flooded her brain. She swallowed hard. ‘Have you seen the doctor?’

  ‘No.’ Robbie shook her head. ‘I don’t want to bother him if it’s nothing.’

  ‘But that is what he’s there for,’ Angela said gently. ‘His job is to be bothered. And seeing him will put your mind at rest one way or the other. What has your husband said?’

  ‘I haven’t told him. He doesn’t like hearing about things like that.’

  ‘I’m sure he’d want to know.’

  Robbie fiddled with her coffee spoon. ‘I told Evelyn but she got so upset that I lied and told her I was fine. Told her the doc gave me the all-clear. But I didn’t see him. She has so much to deal with at the moment. Her husband, my brother, doesn’t treat her right.’

  Angela understood now the look that Evelyn and Robbie had exchanged the other day.

  Robbie began to cry. ‘She relies on me, you see. I’m the only person what knows how hard her life is.’

  Angela went to her and put her arms around her. ‘The best thing you can do for Evelyn then is to see the doctor. I’ll come with you if you’d like me to?’

  Robbie crumpled. ‘Would you?’

  ‘Of course. You can phone the doctor right now. Here. With me. Tell the receptionist you need an emergency appointment.’

  ‘It’s not an emergency.’ Robbie wiped her nose. ‘I can see him next week.’

  Angela reached for the kitchen towel and tore a piece off to dry Robbie’s face. ‘No. Not next week. Today. Monday at the latest. Just to get checked out. We could go this afternoon.’

  Across the green at Helen’s cottage, Gull’s Cry, Robert and Helen were working together on the village website when Robert’s mobile pinged a text from Angela.

  ‘Gone to Trevay. Taking Robbie. Back later,’ he read aloud. ‘Good God, the woman never stops. She told Mamie and me that she had a ton of work to do in her office. Why is she going to Trevay?’

  Helen looked up from her computer screen. ‘A trip to Tesco or something. Robbie doesn’t drive.’

  ‘Which one is Robbie?’

  ‘She’s in the running club. Tall? Slender? Gasping Bob’s wife. Very quiet. Bob never talks about her. I was surprised when she came to the women’s group. Probably glad to have people to talk to.’ She returned to her screen. ‘Message here from Mike Bates. He’s got Digger Pete to lend a hand for no charge.’

  Robert was amused. ‘Digger Pete?’

  ‘I know. Can you guess what he does for a living? I love it. All the locals have nicknames. Flappy the Fisherman. Skippy Keith. Fred the Fence.’

  ‘So does Digger Pete dig by hand or does he have a digger?’

  ‘He has both. He’s the grave-digger.’

  Robert leant back in his chair. ‘God, I hope it’s worth all this fuss.’

  Helen laughed. ‘Cynic.’

  ‘Well, all this crap with the village witch wanting a ritual midnight cleanse or whatever. And we don’t even know if the bloody pond is there.’

  ‘Polly? She’s a brilliant paramedic, actually.’

  ‘Polly Wolly Doodle Noodle, in my opinion.’

  ‘Oh, come on, it’s all a bit of harmless fun.’

  ‘I don’t want my wife, a respected clergywoman, involved with it all. Believe me, being a vicar’s husband is hard enough, particularly if you don’t entirely buy into the mysteries of Church belief yourself.’

  ‘Don’t you?’ Helen was surprised.

  Robert gave Helen a guilty look. ‘Well, not all of it. No. But … I do believe in what she’s doing. I see the goodness she has and uses in wonderful ways. I’m in awe of her, to tell the truth. She’s a much nicer person than me.’

  ‘And me.’ Helen smiled. ‘How about I make some lunch? Beans on toast?’

  ‘How about I take you out to lunch?’ asked Robert. ‘We’ve worked hard this morning.’

  Helen hesitated, looking at her watch, then made her decision. ‘That would be nice. It’s such a glorious day.’
/>   ‘I know just the place.’

  Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up to a small wooden building nestling into the lee of the headland overlooking the Atlantic.

  There was a large sign with the words ‘SeaBay Café’ spelt out in light bulbs.

  ‘What a great place,’ said Helen, locking her sporty Mini.

  ‘It’s only been open a couple of weeks. I’ve been asked to review it. This is on the Trevay Times expense account. I value your opinion.’

  ‘Fabulous!’

  Today the sea was emerald green with patches of deepest blue. Small waves curled and thumped onto the rocky beach below and seagulls displayed their consummate flying skills, gliding and hovering on the unseen breeze.

  Inside, the shack was pleasingly gloomy, low-lit and peaceful, while outside the sea-facing terrace beckoned them.

  They chose a sheltered outdoor table, and settled down with interesting-looking menus.

  In the Trevay Health Centre, Robbie and Angela were waiting to be called.

  Angela could feel Robbie’s tension and tried to distract her with small talk. Eventually a door opened and a good-looking man peered round.

  ‘Roberta Gower?’

  Robbie stood up and clutched for Angela’s hand.

  ‘Do come in.’ The doctor disappeared back into his consulting room, Robbie and Angela following.

  ‘Take a seat. My name is Adam.’ He gestured to the two chairs in front of him and folded his hands. ‘How can I help?’

  Robbie’s hand, still holding Angela’s, was shaking as she began to explain about finding her lump.

  ‘Well, I think I should take a look. Just pop behind the curtain and take your top off. Lie on the bed and tell me when you’re ready.’

  As he examined her, apologising for his cold hands, he chatted about living in Pendruggan. ‘I know it well. My cousin and his wife live at Marguerite Cottage. Do you know them? Kit and Ella?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Robbie, trying not to feel as vulnerable as she was, lying topless under the hands of this handsome doctor.

  ‘I have my alternative health clinic in the garden there. I do a bit of acupuncture, hypnotherapy and stuff …’ His moving fingers stopped. ‘Ah. Is that it?’

  Robbie nodded.

  He continued to feel the lump then progressed to the centre of her breast and nipple. ‘OK. Now can you sit up? Hands above your head.’ He looked from one breast to the other. ‘OK. Pop your clothes back on and come out when you’re ready.’

  He returned to his desk. A worried Angela gave him a quick encouraging smile. He unwound the lid of his fountain pen and made a note on Robbie’s file.

  Robbie returned, tucking her T-shirt back into her trousers. She sat down and fixed her eyes on Dr Adam.

  Finally he stopped writing and put the lid of his pen back on, screwing it tightly. ‘Well, Mrs Gower, I think we need to get that lump looked at.’

  Helen lifted her cider shandy. ‘Thank you, Robert, for the nicest lunch I’ve had in a long time. Cheers.’ She chinked her glass against Robert’s.

  ‘My pleasure,’ he replied. ‘Where do you and Piran like to go?’

  ‘Out for dinner?’ Helen reached for a strand of her auburn hair, blown by the light breeze, and tucked it behind one ear. ‘We never go out for dinner. Piran likes to cook and so mostly we eat at my house or his.’

  ‘Really?’ Robert said, surprised. ‘I love to spoil Angela when I can. Well, I used to, but she’s always on the go with some parish activity or another, and the only time I get her to myself is to take her out. Mind you, I haven’t had a chance yet. She’s always got something on.’

  Helen turned to look at the sea sparkling under a bright sun, whiskers of spray blown from the wave tops, and thought about her relationship with Piran.

  ‘That’s nice of you. Angela is very lucky. That’s not Piran’s thing at all.’

  ‘And are you happy with that?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said slowly. ‘I am. I was married for a long time to a gorgeous man, Gray, utterly charming and utterly unable to keep himself faithful to me. Piran is loyal and that’s worth a lot.’

  ‘Well, your first husband sounds like a fool.’

  Helen laughed ruefully. ‘Yes, but a charming one. We are still in touch. We share a son and a daughter and we are grandparents to a sweet little girl too.’

  ‘What does Piran make of it all?’

  ‘Oh, he loves our granddaughter, but he can’t stand Gray.’

  ‘And neither can I!’ Robert smiled into Helen’s eyes and she noticed again how handsome he was. She switched her gaze to the sea and its horizon, pulling her sunglasses down to shield her eyes. ‘And I remember from Angela’s sermon, you met at work?’

  ‘Manchester Evening News, in the newsroom. She was a cub reporter and I was on the politics desk. I can see her now. Bundled up in her duffel coat carrying a huge bag. Elfin haircut, luminous skin and the sexiest innocent smile I had ever seen. Believe me, the newsroom was a tough place to be. Heavy on testosterone with the added frisson of three chain-smoking alpha female hacks, all talons and high heels, who were ready to eat her alive. Honestly, I feared for her. This tiny sparrow being circled by vultures. She had nothing to defend her, apart from the duffel coat. No lipstick. No breasts. An innocent in dangerous territory. She was a hard worker, though. Constantly chasing stories that never made the front page. Or the back page. Or the middle page, come to that.

  ‘The editor, an unreconstructed medieval, sexist bully, allotted her a desk in the dingiest corner and delighted in humiliating her when and as he fancied. But, as in all good fairy tales, the heroine finally got her chance to prove herself. She was given a story that everyone else had rejected. An old tramp had been fished from the canal half dead. She sat by his hospital bed for over a week. Nursing him and coaxing his story out of him. Turned out he was a war hero. Had won a VC in Egypt. She came back with the front page, reunited him with old comrades and got him a place in one of the British Legion’s care homes.’

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘Yes. She’s a hell of a woman.’ Robert waved at their waitress and Helen reached for her purse. ‘Put that away,’ he said easily. ‘I told you, this is on the Trevay Times expense account. You can dictate your review to me on the way back.’

  Angela glanced at Robbie’s pale face as they drove from the surgery back to Pendruggan.

  ‘I think it best to let your husband know.’

  ‘Yes. But I might wait until after the tests.’ Robbie’s hands were clenched tightly in her lap, her knuckles bloodless.

  ‘It’s none of my business, I know, but I think he should know before that.’

  Robbie swallowed hard but said nothing.

  Angela tried again. ‘Is there no one else you can confide in? You are sure you don’t want to tell Evelyn?’

  Robbie shook her head. Angela kept her eyes on the road before gently asking, ‘I’m a good listener and I promise anything you want to tell me would go no further.’

  Robbie’s eyes filled with tears. ‘My brother is messing her about and I can’t bear to see her so unhappy. We grew up together and now, because of his carrying on with some woman on the side, Evie and I can’t talk like we did. He’s come between us. He’s such an arse. It’s not the first time either. She’s stood by him twice before, but I told her she should leave him now. But she’s scared. The farm couldn’t be sold. She wouldn’t want to take that away from her boys. So where would she go? What would she live on? I’ve told her she can come and stop with me and Bob, but Bob is one of my brother’s best mates and Evie says she wouldn’t want to make things awkward and now … I don’t know what’ll happen if I’m ill.’ Her tears flooded down her face.

  Angela stopped the car in a grassed-over gateway halfway down the lane. The sea on the horizon was frothing and fierce but beautiful nonetheless. Angela sat silently next to Robbie, instinctively knowing she just needed to cry it all out; sometimes words weren’t needed, it was enough to be there. Slowly
Robbie’s tears stopped and the two women simply sat in the quiet, watching the gulls swirl on the wind and listening to the distant waves crashing into the cliffs, both losing themselves in a moment of true peace.

  ‘The air is so mild today, shall we take the top down?’ asked Helen as she approached her flashy little Mini hunkered in the car park.

  ‘I’d love that,’ Robert said with genuine joy. So unlike Piran, thought Helen, he hated her car; it was ‘too small’. He never wanted the top down – ‘If I’d wanted fresh air I’d go out on my boat,’ he would say, not knowing how much that hurt her.

  She turned the key in the ignition and pressed the roof button.

  ‘So cool!’ Robert laughed next to her. He bent over and aimed to kiss her cheek, but as he did so, she moved slightly and his kiss landed on her lips.

  ‘Oh!’ She pulled away, hand on her mouth.

  He held his hands up. ‘I’m so sorry. How embarrassing. That was meant to be a peck on the cheek to thank you for being such great company today. I am really so sorry.’

  ‘It’s fine, really.’ Helen smiled broadly, refusing to look flustered. ‘It was a lovely lunch and thank you again.’

  He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a small leather notebook and pencil. ‘Can we take the slow road home? Only I need to write down your thoughts on today’s food.’

  ‘OK. We’ll take the coast road. I hope you don’t suffer from car sickness. There are many bends!’

  The high hedges gave way to tantalising glimpses of the sea beyond – the flashes of blues and greens were breathtaking, occasionally distracting Robert from questioning Helen on her opinions on the quality of the lunch and location.

  ‘Out of ten?’ asked Robert finally.

  ‘Nine and a half.’

  ‘Aha. And how did they lose that half a point?’

  ‘The Ladies’ loo had run out of loo paper.’

  ‘A game-changer?’

  ‘Definitely.’

  ‘And would you go back there again?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He closed his notebook and put it with his pencil into his jacket pocket. ‘Excellent.’ He relaxed back into his seat. ‘God, what a great day.’

  ‘Would you like some music?’