‘What are you doing out of bed?’ says Julia, tutting as Emily comes over to make coffee. ‘You need at least another day of resting to set you right.’
Julia’s cheeks are pink, and Emily thinks she heard her singing as she came down the stairs. She stopped abruptly when she was interrupted but her eyes are still sparkling. The back door is standing open and there’s a faint breeze that brings in a fresh, seaside smell. There are a few old-fashioned roses from the garden in a jug on the table giving out their own subtle fragrance, and the equipment for jam-making is set out on the worktop – the old preserving kettle, battered but still as functional as ever, the giant wooden spoon, the labels and a new set of empty jars. Julia is wearing what she would probably call a day dress in chintzy cotton, with an open neck and short sleeves. It’s bottle green, patterned with tiny sunflowers.
‘You look amazing, Gran. What’s put the smile on your face today?’
‘Oh, I was just glad the sun was shining and that you’re on the mend.’
Emily’s not convinced. ‘Are you sure that’s all?’ As she speaks, she hears footsteps coming down the side of the house and a familiar voice shouting, ‘Hello?’
Julia stirs her saucepan of scrambled eggs vigorously, not looking towards the door. ‘Come in, Tristram. Have you had breakfast already?’
He comes in, beaming when he sees Emily. ‘At last! The patient is recovering. Fabulous news. As for breakfast, yes I have, but it was very early and those eggs smell so good I’m tempted to start again. That’s if I’m not in the way?’
‘Of course you’re not, and Gran’s made enough for a small army, as usual,’ Emily says, her eyes on her gran. The older lady is still studiously not looking at their visitor, busying herself slicing more granary bread for toast and refilling the kettle. It seems much has happened while Emily’s been out of action.
There’s an almost tangible crackle of electricity between Tristram and Julia. Emily’s heart aches when she thinks of her grandpa and how happy he’d been with Gran, but that’s no reason to throw cold water on a new relationship, especially when he’s such an old friend. But people will talk, and the talk won’t all be positive. The village may sniff and say Julia’s not taken long to replace Don. Is Julia strong enough to withstand the muttering?
‘I’m here for the masterclass in jam-making,’ says Tristram happily, sitting at the table. ‘Julia was horrified when she found out that I’d never made any sort of pickle or preserve in my life.’
‘Call yourself a chef?’ says Julia. She dishes up soft, creamy eggs on toast and Tristram gets up to make tea. He seems very much at home here.
They eat in silence for a little while. Emily has to restrain herself from gobbling her breakfast down too quickly – it’s so good to feel really hungry again.
Tristram finishes first, and sighs blissfully. ‘I’m no mean shakes at scrambled eggs myself,’ he says, ‘but I’ve got to say those were the best I’ve ever had. So many people cook them for too long, and forget to add enough salt and black pepper. And you didn’t stint on the butter either, petal.’
Julia blushes. Emily tries not to stare, but really, Julia’s acting very oddly today. ‘I’ll load the dishwasher when everyone’s finished,’ she says, ‘and then I’m going to take a really hot bubble bath with no salt in it, if you don’t mind, Gran? My hair is in serious need of washing.’
‘You go ahead now and enjoy it,’ says Tristram. ‘I’ll clear away while Julia gets ready for my lesson. You need to rest today. It’s tempting to do too much after you’ve been poorly, and this has been a nasty bout of the pox.’
Emily yawns hugely and doesn’t argue. She feels somewhat in the way, and anyway she’s more tired than she likes to admit. The much-delayed phone call to Colin can wait until tomorrow. She’s still officially on leave, so they won’t be expecting to hear from her yet.
‘Are my spots going away at all, do you think?’ she asks hopefully as she heads for the stairs.
The others both look at her and then at each other.
‘I’m guessing that’s a no then,’ she says. ‘Oh, well, I’m not intending to see anyone else but you lot for a while, am I?’
As she says this, the doorbell rings. ‘Now who can that be?’ asks Julia, pointlessly, as she always does.
Julia goes to find out and as her grandmother opens the front door Emily freezes with a mouthful of coffee ready to swallow as she hears the last voice she was expecting boom down the hallway.
‘Hello! You must be Emily’s glamorous grandma? I’m Colin Dennis, her boss. I thought as I was flying over to England to see my sick uncle it would be rude not to call and see how she’s doing. I got the message about the chickenpox, so I knew we’d need to talk about how long she’d need to be convalescing. I’ve touched base in Devon at my parents’ house, and hospital visiting isn’t until later, so now … well, here I am.’
Julia’s answer is lost in the coughing fit that overtakes Emily. Colin is in the kitchen before she can recover, his genial face, generous girth and shining bald head set off by a very smart grey business suit. Eyes streaming, and with Tristram patting her back helpfully, Emily doesn’t present the picture of a calm, competent employee that she might have hoped for.
‘Em, my goodness, you look even worse than I expected,’ he cries, coming over and taking Emily by the shoulders. Her nose is running now and she can feel her spots beginning to glow and itch again. Colin drops his hands and takes a pace back.
‘But … you said you’d had a message?’ gasps Emily. ‘I was going to ring you, but I hadn’t got round to it. Who …?’
‘A lovely old lady gave me a call and filled me in. She said her name was May. I’m not sure how she got my number, but she seemed very worried about you.’
Tristram hands Emily a tissue, putting out a hand to shake Colin’s. ‘That’s our May for you. If she really wants to know something, she can find it out. She should’ve been a detective. I’m Tristram, by the way, it’s good to meet you.’
‘Oh, and you’ve got to be Emily’s grandfather?’
There’s an ominous silence. Emily wipes her eyes and nose and takes a deep breath to get her breathing under control. ‘My grandpa died, Colin – remember?’
Colin slaps his forehead. ‘So he did. I’m so sorry. I totally knew he passed away and of course that was why … oh hell, this is really crass of me. It’s just that you look so … I mean you two look … I just forgot for a minute …’
‘Quit while you’re ahead, Colin,’ says Emily through gritted teeth. Tristram and Julia are both avoiding her gaze now.
‘I tell you what, let’s start again,’ says Colin. He goes out into the hall and comes back seconds later, smiling broadly. ‘Hi there, everyone. I’m Emily’s boss from New York City but I’m almost a local lad really because I’m originally from Plymouth and I have a great talent for opening my big mouth and putting my foot in it. I mean well and I’m quite harmless really. Even my mother says so.’
Tristram laughs, a great burst of amusement, and the others join in. Colin mimes huge relief and squares his shoulders. ‘Right, now we can move on. I just wondered if I could have a chat with Emily, but even a goon like me can see that I’ve come at a bad time.’
‘If you can stand looking at the spots and you don’t mind waiting while I have a quick bath, now’s a very good time,’ says Emily. ‘Is that OK with you, Gran?’
‘Of course it is. Colin, sit down here at the table. Tristram will make you a pot of tea and I’ll rustle up some breakfast while Emily gets ready. Then, if the sun’s still shining, you can have coffee and some of my chocolate fudge cake outside later and enjoy the view while you chat.’
Colin opens his eyes wide. ‘Emily Lovell, I can now entirely see why you love to come to this place. A beautiful lady to attend to your every whim, home-made cake to order and sunshine and a sea view on tap. Take your time in the bath, I’m in heaven.’
Emily goes upstairs to do her best with her appearan
ce, carefully avoiding looking in any mirrors until she’s plaited her clean, wet hair and dressed in her favourite jeans and a soft cotton shirt that doesn’t irritate the spots.
When she re-enters the kitchen, Emily’s confronted with the bizarre spectacle of the others absorbed in a production line of jam-making. Colin has taken off his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. He’s wearing Don’s best navy and white striped pinafore, and Tristram has on an older, more faded version. Julia is bustling around organising her troops as they sterilise jam jars and top-and-tail gooseberries. Even more surprisingly, May is now sitting at the table too.
‘It’s nice to see you up and about, dear,’ she says to Emily. ‘I saw this gentleman coming to the door and I just wondered if it might be the nice Mr Dennis I spoke to on the telephone. And it was!’ She beams at them all. ‘I rang to see if Tristram might have time to fetch me over in the wheelchair we borrowed. It’s really proving very useful.’
‘I don’t know why I didn’t think of tackling jam-making this way before,’ says Julia. ‘It’s so much easier with kitchen staff. They had the fruit picked in next to no time and now look at them. All they need is the promise of cake and they’re happy.’
‘Can I help?’ asks Emily, rather feebly. She’s suddenly feeling shattered and all this activity looks exhausting.
‘Why don’t you sit down with May at the table and design the labels for me? By the time that’s done, Colin can have his coffee-break.’
Colin winks at Emily and carries on preparing the gooseberries as she settles down with a couple of felt tips and a strip of sticky labels to decorate. May is humming to herself happily, clearly delighted to be back in the midst of the action. Soon, Emily’s into the swing of it, doing her best flowing script and drawing a tiny gooseberry complete with bristles in the corner of each one. She takes her time. It’s a very satisfying job. The tangy scent of boiling gooseberries is like a blast from the past. Gramps always let her do the labels.
‘Have you been a jam-maker in your time, May?’ she asks.
‘No, but I did have a reputation in the village for making very fine blackberry vinegar. I used to make it for the church fund-raisers.’
‘Oh? What do you use that for? It’d be a bit odd on chips.’
May chuckles. ‘You are silly. Blackberry vinegar is good to have on pancakes or sweet dumplings. It’s also excellent mixed with hot water and sipped slowly as a remedy for coughs and asthma.’
‘Your Charles suffered badly with asthma, didn’t he?’ says Tristram.
‘Yes. He was addicted to my special vinegar. I never touch it myself. Gives me heartburn.’
May stares into space, as if looking right into her past. Her expression is unreadable.
‘Are you OK?’ asks Emily. May’s plucking at the gingham tablecloth now, a deep furrow forming between her eyes.
‘Yes, dear. Memories of old times can sometimes be painful, you know.’
‘It must have been lovely to make something your husband enjoyed so much, though?’
‘I … well, yes, of course. Lovely.’ She bites her lip. Emily is intrigued. What’s this all about? She’s just about to take it further when Julia steps in, having completely missed the strange undercurrent.
‘Right, off you go now, Colin, and take Em and May with you. Coffee will be served in five minutes,’ she says. ‘I’ve added the sugar so the jam needs to simmer for a while before I test it to see if it’s ready to set. We can’t do any more for the time being.’
Emily stands up stiffly and leads the way into the garden, with Colin pushing the wheelchair. The breeze has died down and it’s pleasantly warm, but she shivers as she goes towards the swinging seat that has the best view of the cove.
‘I’m getting the feeling that you’d rather be back in bed?’ Colin says. ‘I’m so sorry to put you on the spot like this.’
‘Please don’t mention spots,’ Emily groans, scratching a hard-to-reach bit of her back.
They sit soaking up the sunshine and listening to the cry of the gulls.
‘I can totally see why you love it here, Em,’ Colin says, when Tristram has delivered steaming mugs of milky coffee and huge slices of fudge cake as promised.
May leans forward to reach her coffee. ‘I think you two will probably want to talk in private,’ she says. ‘I’ll drink this as quickly as possible and let Tristram take me home. Or … I tell you what, could one of you push me over to that other little table where I can look at the sea? Then you can say whatever you like and I won’t hear you.’
Colin is too gentlemanly to agree to this without question, but Emily can see that May is determined not to get in the way so they reorganise themselves and May settles herself contentedly to watch a few holidaymakers making camp with windbreaks, deckchairs and numerous bags and baskets.
Emily sits back down again and takes a gulp of coffee. An unpleasant skin has formed on top of it, and she pulls a face. ‘Why didn’t you let me know you were coming, Colin?’ she asks, playing for time.
‘I like surprises, don’t you? So, let’s talk about your gran. She looks great to me, but you clearly didn’t always think that.’
‘She wasn’t coping, or so we thought.’
‘We?’ This is through a mouthful of cake, but Emily gets his meaning.
‘Erm … well, the other person who was worried was her neighbour across the road. His name’s Andy. He’s been very good about keeping me up to date.’
Colin raises his eyebrows but carries on eating.
‘And also, May was worried, too. Gran was confused and very sad, and she’d almost become a recluse.’
Colin takes a large swig of coffee and burps contentedly. ‘Whoops, sorry – that was so good I think I might just move in myself.’ He turns to give Emily one of his more piercing stares. ‘So, are you and this Andy together?’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Come on, sweetie, I’ve learned to read your face.’
Emily pulls her mouth down. ‘No, he’s a single dad and he needs to focus on his daughter just now. Plus there’s an overbearing ex around and I think there’s more to that than he’s letting on. But I’d like to get to know him better even if we only end up as mates. He makes me laugh … and stuff …’
‘Hmm. And what happened to our old buddy Max?’
‘You never liked Max, did you?’
‘It wasn’t a matter of liking him. I just knew he wasn’t good enough for you. Any man who cheats on his wife, and twice over too …’
There’s an ominous silence, and Colin slaps his forehead again.
‘Twice?’ she repeats.
‘Oh, um …’
‘You mean he wasn’t just unfaithful to his wife, he was cheating on me as well? Colin, don’t look so pathetic, just tell me.’
‘I haven’t got any proof.’
‘Just tell me, OK?’
Colin leans forward and puts his elbows on his knees, lacing his fingers together and resting his chin on his linked hands so that he doesn’t need to look at Emily. The tweeting of the birds in the garden seems unusually loud as Emily waits for his answer. Her head is spinning slightly and the scent of honeysuckle is almost too powerful today.
‘I’m pretty sure he was seeing Renata from accounts,’ Colin eventually says. ‘I saw them leave together a couple of times when you were away on business, and he’s still hanging around her.’
Emily waits for the new pain of betrayal to hit her, but nothing happens. Can it be that she really doesn’t care any more? She doesn’t want Max for herself. Pint-sized, angry Renata is welcome to him. It doesn’t matter. Relief floods her. She hoped she was over Max, but this proves it. The thought of Andy with Candice fills her with venom and jealousy, but Max can do whatever he likes, with her blessing.
She smiles reassuringly at Colin as he makes himself meet her eyes to check on the damage he’s done. ‘It’s fine,’ she says. ‘Max is history. But I do need to talk to you about the future sometime. Not
just now, but soon.’
‘I was afraid of that,’ says Colin. ‘I’ll take the tray back in now, shall I, and come back for May? We don’t want either of you getting chilly.’
Emily stands up and goes over to where May appears to be dozing in the sunshine. May sits up straighter.
‘Finished?’ she says innocently.
‘Were you listening, May?’ asks Emily. ‘You were, weren’t you?’
‘There’s nothing wrong with my hearing, dear. I wasn’t intending to eavesdrop but Colin has got such a nice clear voice. That American person does seem to be rather a snake in the grass, doesn’t he? I don’t want you to get lumbered with a time-waster. Life’s too short. I can tell you that from experience.’
‘Oh, May,’ says Emily, laughing. ‘You don’t miss much, do you?’
‘I like to keep my finger on the pulse, as they say. So, everything’s falling into place. Now all you need to do is to deal with That Candice.’
Chapter Thirty-Six
News travels fast in Pengelly. So far, Andy has never minded the way life in a small village means everybody knows everything about each other, but the bush telegraph really has been working overtime lately. He hears the gossip about Emily’s possible miscarriage in the village shop the next day from Vera. How on earth has this news got out? Only the doctor, Julia, Tristram and Andy know about it, or so he thought, and none of them will have been shouting their mouths off.
‘Of course, it’s only a rumour,’ says the rather poisonous shopkeeper, who has never, as long as Andy can remember, had a good word to say about anybody. ‘I’ve always thought she was no better than she should be, swanning around with her fancy ways. She was a sulky one when she was a teenager and now she’s got big ideas and bigger fish to fry.’
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