‘Won’t Gran mind if I’m late?’
‘It’s fine. I told her I’d meet you here first. Sorry the drinks took so long. I got talking to an old guy sitting at the bar. Tom King, do you know him?’
Emily shakes her head. ‘Don’t think so. Should I?’
‘Probably not. He’d have been working when you were around. He’s retired now. It seems sad.’
‘What does? Being retired?’
‘No, seeing him in there just propping up the bar and staring into his pint. He always seemed so busy – dashing here and there. I don’t think he knows how to fill his time now.’
‘I guess that’s how Gran’s feeling. Everything’s changed so much.’ Emily sighs. ‘It was lovely of you to come and get me. Just like …’
‘I know. She said he always did that. I didn’t want you to feel worse than you already do about missing him.’
Emily swallows the painful lump in her throat that’s threatening to choke her, noting as she glances down at her phone that there’s still nothing from Max. Heartless git. Her head’s throbbing now.
She reaches for the end of her plait and takes the bobble off it, then gently eases her hair free with the hand that isn’t holding the glass, shaking it loose with a sigh of relief. Andy makes a strangled noise in his throat and she looks up, startled.
‘Did you say something?’
‘N-no. Just … erm … clearing my throat. Hay fever, probably.’
‘Oh, do you get it badly?’
‘No, not really. Not at all, usually. Allie used to get it. I don’t know why I told you that, sorry.’
Emily searches for a way to change the subject to something more neutral. ‘I can see there have been a few changes in Pengelly since I was last here,’ she says, peering up the road. ‘Has the shop had a face-lift?’
Andy grimaces. ‘Yes, Vera’s moved upmarket, or so she thinks. She’s got a deli counter and she stocks posh designer gins and marinated tofu and locally sourced wonky veg.’
‘Hasn’t the village hall been painted too?’
‘We had a work party for that. George and Cliff at the fish restaurant sponsored it and we raised money for new curtains.’
Emily sighs. ‘It must be great to live in a village. I don’t know any of my neighbours. We’re all working silly hours.’
‘It’s OK most of the time, so long as you don’t mind them knowing your business almost before you know it yourself. Have you heard about Ida Carnell’s Adopt-a-Granny scheme?’
‘No, but tell me now!’
‘It was Ida who bullied your gran into taking May under her wing. That’s going well so far but some of the pairings have been a bit … volatile, you might say. Tom, the one who I just saw in there –’ he gestures to the pub – ‘well, Ida’s noticed he seems a bit lost too, and he’s been teamed up with George and Cliff, but he’s taken a fancy to their other protégée, Joyce Chippendale. He likes older women, he says.’
‘Oh, so it’s not confined to ladies, then?’
‘Never let it be said that Ida isn’t inclusive. Apparently Tom propositioned Joyce the very first time they all met up at the restaurant for lunch. And then Marigold – she’s being adopted by Vera – allowed her Pekinese to relieve itself in a big way on Vera’s gravel drive. It all got a bit messy after that, in more ways than one.’
‘Right.’ Emily’s giggling now.
‘So don’t think that just because we live in a sleepy backwater, nothing ever happens here.’
‘Absolutely not. I wouldn’t dream of assuming such a thing.’
Even though they’ve reached the end of their conversation, the silence following it is friendly. Emily concentrates on her drink and Andy watches a small tabby cat walking down the road towards them. When it gets nearer, it stops and washes its face.
‘Where have you come from, you pretty little thing?’ Emily asks the cat, reaching down to stroke it.
‘Be careful, it’s a stray. It’s tried to follow me home several times. I made the mistake of giving it some tuna once because Tamsin was worried about it, and now it wants to move in.’
‘Aren’t you a cat lover then?’
‘Well, yes, I like them well enough. We never had one before because Allie was allergic to cats and dogs in a big way, so I thought Tamsin might be, too. She already gets asthma.’
‘It doesn’t follow that cats will make her wheeze, though.’
The cat is purring now, winding herself around Emily’s legs and bashing her head against the outstretched hand. ‘He’s probably got fleas,’ warns Andy.
‘He’s a she. Look at her belly. She’s pregnant.’
‘Is she?’
‘Yes, I know she’s skinny but her tummy’s all swollen, look.’
The cat lies down and rolls over on her back obligingly. Andy stares, fascinated. ‘You can actually see the kittens moving,’ he says.
‘Yup. She’ll be having them any day now, I think.’ Just then a silver Jeep comes careering down the road towards the pub. It slows down, horn beeping, and Emily sees an arm waving madly and a shock of white-blond hair. The woman in the car is wearing oversized sunglasses and her lipstick is red and glossy.
‘Hi, Andy,’ she yells.
Emily thinks she’s going to stop but a tractor is approaching from behind her and there’s a van coming the other way.
‘Laters, hun,’ the woman screeches, pulling away with a squeal of tyres.
‘Who was that?’ Emily asks. ‘She looked kind of familiar.’
Andy looks at his feet, suddenly red in the face. ‘Candice. Just Tamsin’s friend’s mum. We sometimes take turns with the school run.’
‘Oh, yes. I remember her. The hair’s a different colour but the voice is the same. She never liked me when you were at school together and I used to come to the beach with you all.’
‘You’re imagining it. Candice is OK. Just a bit … well, loud …’
‘If you say so.’
They’ve nearly finished their drinks now, and Andy yawns and stretches his arms above his head, rotating his shoulders. ‘That was a great way to start the evening, but I’d better go and rescue Julia and May. They’re looking after Tamsin at May’s cottage, and she should be having her bath and supper around now. I’ve got a babysitter all lined up for tomorrow night, though, if you’re still up for dinner along the coast? We can watch the sun set over the bay and eat the best seafood in Cornwall.’
Emily nods, almost too weary to speak. They finish their drinks and the last few nuts, and Andy picks up Emily’s bag. As they turn the corner down the steep cobbles of Memory Lane, Emily looks back. ‘The cat’s coming with us.’
Sure enough, the little animal is trailing along behind them, not too close, but she clearly means business. Andy sighs. ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ he says. ‘I’ll give her some more tinned fish and let her in for a little while. But if there’s even the slightest sign of Tamsin’s breathing suffering, that cat’s on her way, OK?’
Emily grins up at him. She’s glad she wore her flat sandals – it’s a change to have to crane her neck to look at a man. Then, just when the warm glow from the beer and the relief of being here safely are making her relax at last, she has to go and spoil it.
‘Don’t you think you might be being a bit overprotective of Tamsin?’ she says.
Chapter Twelve
Julia looks across at her granddaughter’s white face and wonders if it’s exhaustion that’s making her look so grim or if there’s more to it than that.
‘Have some more salad, darling?’ she says.
Emily shakes her head. ‘This is lovely, Gran. I’ve eaten loads already. A proper old-fashioned tea. It’s years since I’ve had sliced cucumber and onion in vinegar.’
Julia frowns. She’s not sure if she likes being called old-fashioned. It’s almost as bad as fuddy-duddy, isn’t it? What’s wrong with traditional food anyway? Emily looks up, seeming to realise she’s said the wrong thing.
‘I didn’t
mean it wasn’t perfect,’ she says. ‘Oh, I can’t say anything right tonight. I’ve already managed to upset Andy. Why are men so touchy?’
‘He isn’t usually like that. What did you say, exactly?’
Emily repeats the last part of the conversation. ‘And then he asked me how come I knew so much about bringing up kids. I never said I did! He left me at the door without saying anything else. Rude, wasn’t it?’
‘Well …’
‘Don’t say you’re going to stick up for him, Gran? I was just making a point. You can’t mollycoddle children. If he never lets Tamsin have a pet, how will he know if she’s allergic to animals? It’s not fair on the poor girl.’
‘Being a parent isn’t that straightforward, sweetheart. He’s already lost his wife. I expect he spends a lot of time being terrified that he’ll lose Tamsin too. I know it’s not rational, but then love isn’t, is it?’
Emily shrugs, reminding Julia of the teenager who used to want to come and stay with her grandparents in the holidays, but then spent most of her time moodily stomping up and down the beach or shut in her room writing reams of poetry. She begins to clear the table, with what Julia considers to be an unnecessary amount of clattering.
When they’ve loaded the dishwasher, Emily follows Julia outside to sit on the swinging seat overlooking the bay. The evening sun is still warm, and the tide is coming in.
‘Who’s that man with the dogs? He looks familiar,’ says Emily, bad mood forgotten as she relaxes into the cushions and gazes out across the bay.
‘Oh, that’s Tristram. You remember, Em, he was a great friend of your grandfather’s. I’ve known him for years – ever since we came to Pengelly when we married. Tris was still a teenager then. After Gramps retired a group of the older men used to play bowls together on the park. They’re very competitive, and Tristram often won. I’m sure you must have met him.’
‘Oh, yes, I can see his face properly now he’s taken his hat off. He’s the guy with the fish restaurant over on the headland. I thought that was where Andy was taking me tomorrow, but we’re going to the other one. That’s if he’s still speaking to me after tonight.’
‘Yes, that’s Tris. He’s had The Shellfish Shack for years but when his daughter came home for good they decided to branch out and move to the beach place. They specialise in freshly caught fish and seafood. Gina runs it and his son-in-law’s the chef, but Tris is the one who’s in charge. Everybody knows that.’
‘Isn’t he a bit too …?’
‘Old? Yes, he’s nearly eighty, I guess, but he’s full of beans.’
‘Talking of which, you’re looking a lot better than I expected, Gran. I thought you’d be sort of … well … droopy, somehow.’
Julia laughs. ‘I was feeling that way, darling, but the last few days have livened me up no end. Although … anyway, I’ve been working with May to get the letters sorted, so Andy can catalogue them. That’s if you approve of the idea,’ she adds hastily, ‘involving the other two, I mean.’
‘Fine by me. I really like May, but I kind of got the impression you two didn’t get on so well before? I didn’t imagine that, did I?’
‘A person can change their mind, can’t they?’
‘Don’t you get huffy with me, Gran – I feel like I’m walking on eggshells around here tonight.’
‘Sorry. I’m just finding that I like May a little bit more than I thought I did. She’s cranky sometimes – we all are – but she’s got her good points. I reckon I let my feelings about her husband get in the way. He was a horrible man. I … hated him.’
‘Why? I thought May was single. I can’t remember her ever being married.’
Julia ignores the question. ‘It was a long time ago. Charles and May married late and he died before he was even sixty years old.’
‘Oh, that’s so sad – what happened?’
‘He went out in his boat one night in a storm and never came back. It was days before his body was washed up. Nobody missed him for a while. Apparently May just thought he’d gone off on one of his jaunts around the coast. The boat turned up first … well, what was left of it. The rocks round here are pretty fierce.’
Emily shivers. ‘How awful. Why would anyone go sailing in bad weather?’
‘Who knows? He’d been making it known he thought he’d got something seriously wrong with him. There was talk of him doing away with himself at the time, but unofficially. It was all rather mysterious. The night was so wild and the sea so rough, you’d have had to be mad to go out in a boat just for fun.’
‘The poor man. And poor May.’
‘To be honest I don’t think May was too sad. They had a very spiky relationship. Charles preferred men.’
‘Ah. And May knew about that?’
‘She pretended not to. I don’t think she realised the village had guessed long ago, but Charles played away quite often, and he left a trail of destruction behind him. He wasn’t the kindest of people. He was the sort who gives gay men a bad name. His cruel streak was nothing to do with whether he liked men or women best, but some of the older villagers judged him on that.’
‘It happens.’
‘Good job we’ve got George and Cliff to redress the balance now. They’re just the opposite.’
‘The couple from the other fish restaurant, you mean?’
‘Yes. They’d do anything for anybody. They married last year and had a huge party. It was wonderful – everyone was there. But Charles … he was a bad lot through and through.’
There’s a chill in the air now, and Julia wraps her cardigan around her more tightly and heaves a huge sigh.
‘Sorry, Gran, I’ve made you depressed now. Tell me some of the things you’ve been reading about in the letters?’ Emily says, reaching for Julia’s hand. ‘I can’t wait to have a look for myself.’
Julia opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. Emily waits. After a moment or two she says, ‘Gran? What’s the matter?’
‘Oh, it’s nothing. My memory isn’t what it was, that’s all. Must be my age catching up with me. It’s better you see the letters for yourself.’
‘If that’s what you’d rather I do. I just thought …’
‘It’s hard to remember specific points, darling, there are so many. Elsie was always writing, and so were the others.’
‘Is May enjoying it too, this research?’
‘Yes, she loves it. I think she’s been as lonely as me just lately. When she lived in the middle of the village she was always in and out of her neighbours’ houses, but she’s not so good on her legs now. Mind you, for someone who’s a hundred and ten, she’s doing pretty well.’
Julia breathes a sigh of relief, hoping that the tricky moment has passed.
‘Look, here’s Tristram and his boys – Buster and Bruno. I hoped you’d get to meet the dogs,’ she says, wanting Emily to be diverted enough to drop the subject of the letters for now. The ploy works.
‘That little one’s so cute. Even from a distance I can see it’s got a really worried face. Look at its tail, all curled up like a question mark.’
‘That’s Buster. He’s a puggle.’
‘Pardon?’
‘A cross between a pug and a beagle. I hadn’t heard of it either. He’s so naughty.’
‘In what way?’
‘He steals food,’ says Julia, pulling a face.
‘Oh, come on. Don’t all dogs try to do that?’
‘You haven’t met Buster. He’s a master thief. Bruno wouldn’t lower himself to such antics. Although he is partial to eating blackberries straight from the bramble bush.’
Tristram’s coming towards them now. Buster is having one last splash in the waves, joyfully biting the breakers as they come in. The more dignified Labrador is avoiding getting wet, plodding along sniffing at the seaweed and other tempting smells. Tristram whistles, and after a moment of indecision, both dogs gallop up the beach and over the ridge of slippery rocks and pebbles near the road.
‘Hello there
! Have you got time to say hello to my lovely granddaughter?’ shouts Julia, waving madly. If Tristram doesn’t take Emily’s mind off asking awkward questions, she doesn’t know what will.
‘Good evening, ladies,’ Tristram says as soon as he gets near enough. He stops in front of them, doffing his battered hat and bowing. ‘A chat would be most acceptable. Dogs are all well and good but their conversation is uninspiring on the whole.’
He shakes hands with Emily and sits down in the seat opposite them. Julia has the bizarre feeling that she’s seeing Tristram as if for the first time. His neat grey beard and matching hair indicate that he’s not in the first flush of youth, to say the least, but nothing else about him seems elderly in any way, and his smile is like sunshine. There’s a look of Gandalf after a trip to the barber’s shop about him. Wise, but probably a bit of a maverick. Really, she thinks, this debonair gentleman with the mischievous eyes is a pleasure to behold.
‘It’s good to see you again, Emily,’ he says, ‘and looking more stunning than ever. New York must suit you. Not working too hard? Or is that a silly question?’
Emily smiles back. ‘It’s great to be having a break. What gorgeous dogs,’ she comments, as Buster, barking madly, starts to bound up and down Julia’s small garden, and Bruno flops down with his head on Julia’s shoe, drooling slightly in a friendly way. ‘The small one seems a bit distracted, though.’
‘I bet he’s seen a cat. He always reacts like this. Has Julia recently got one?’
‘No, but …’ Emily leans forward to peer across the road. Yes, there’s the little tabby sitting on the pavement washing her whiskers. Andy comes out and glances across to see where the frenzied barking is coming from.
‘Hello, my friend,’ calls Tristram. ‘Long time, no see. Is that your feline creature?’
Andy hesitates and then crosses the lane to shake Tristram’s outstretched hand. ‘Hi, Tris,’ he says. ‘I need to get back in two minutes because Tamsin’s waiting for a story. She’s watching out of the window to see if I’ve found the new member of the family.’ He glares at Emily. ‘Vi’s with her. I suppose some people would call me overprotective, but she’s only a little girl.’
59 Memory Lane Page 8