The Island Legacy

by Ruth Saberton

  So as always when she was upset, Lucy turned to music.

  “Let’s play a duet,” she suggested, sitting beside Josh and nudging him to budge up. “How about the opening cadenza of the Island Suite?”

  Thinking about it, playing Armand’s most famous piece on an out-of-tune and very tired piano probably wasn’t the most tactful way to deal with Josh’s indignation, but before long their four hands were flying over the keys and Armand’s notes were filling the room. Lucy was soothed to realise that although Jamie had taken the Steinway away, he couldn’t rob her of the music or the pleasure it gave her. That was something she’d shared with her uncle and could now pass on to Josh; it was a gift from Armand far more valuable than shares and expensive pianos. The memories this piece brought back were indelible. Exhaling, Lucy lost herself in the music. For the next ten minutes nothing else mattered.

  It was only when they reached the end of the piece and the final notes had trembled into the air that Lucy noticed she and Josh were not alone. A stranger had stepped out from the shadows and was clapping his hands.

  “Well done!” he cried. “That was absolutely wonderful!”

  Oh! With a jolt of recognition, Lucy realised this wasn’t a stranger at all but the stonemason she’d met in town, the same one who’d told her she ought to buy the polka-dot dress. His thick blond hair was dusty and his combat trousers and Metallica tee shirt had seen better days, but the brown eyes were just as twinkly and his smile every bit as warm as she recalled. But what on earth was he doing in the Small Hall?

  Josh answered this question for her by leaping off the piano stool and hurtling into the visitor’s arms.

  “Dad! Cool! Did you like it?”

  The stonemason was Josh’s father; of course he was. Now that she saw them together Lucy realised that the similarities were obvious. They shared the same mop of butter-coloured hair, big melting Malteser eyes and crinkly smiles, as well as freckles and tanned skin. Josh’s father had lines fanning out from his eyes – and judging by his lean frame he didn’t eat quite as many biscuits as his son – but otherwise there was no mistaking the resemblance.

  “I’m so sorry to turn up unannounced, but this monkey’s turned off his phone and I couldn’t get hold of him,” the man was saying, ruffling Josh’s hair.

  “The battery ran out, Dad!” Josh protested.

  “Not good enough, mate. It has to be kept charged otherwise I’m going to worry. Embarrassing but true,” he added as his son rolled his eyes and groaned. “You know the rules.”

  Lucy pushed the stool underneath the piano and closed the instrument’s lid before turning to face Josh’s father.

  “I’m so sorry you were concerned, Mr…” Her voice petered away as she realised she had absolutely no idea what Josh’s surname was. Goodness. That was awful. Here she was with the little boy practically a member of the family and she didn’t even know his full name. That was definitely a St Pirran thing, of course. She couldn’t remember what Fern’s surname was either, and most of the other people she could think of here were known by their trade. It was usually “Fred the Gardener” or “Bryan the Chippy”, or something of the sort. All the same, not knowing someone’s name must look odd to an incomer.

  But Josh’s dad didn’t look perturbed. Instead he was holding his hand out and still smiling that sunbeam smile. Lucy took it and they shook hands politely. His was strong and rough from physical work, which made her feel a lot better about her own tatty nails and the calluses from gardening.

  “Lucy Penwellyn, I presume?” he asked. “I’m Adam Miller and I’m really pleased to meet you properly at last. Josh talks about you all the time and he’s spot on: you are very pretty and nice, and you’re definitely a wonderful music teacher too. I could hardly believe my ears just then.”

  Lucy blushed. She didn’t think she’d ever received so many compliments at once. In fact, when was the last time she’d received even one? Probably when she’d first met Adam outside the dress shop.

  “I haven’t done anything,” she insisted. “Josh has an amazing talent.”

  Adam nodded. “Yes, yes he does, but you’ve nurtured it. I can’t begin to say how grateful I am. Coming here has changed so much for him. He’s started to get his sparkle back.”

  “Dad! Yuk! Stop it!” Josh groaned, raising his eyes to the beamed roof.

  “Am I embarrassing you again?” Adam asked. His brown eyes met Lucy’s and he gave her a rueful smile. “And there I was thinking I was a cool dad. I even brought the boat over in case you wanted to sail back, mate. But if that isn’t cool then I’ll just go home.”

  “It’s cool, Dad! I’ll get my bag!” His son punched the air in delight and tore out of the Small Hall and into the kitchen, where Lucy knew he’d also be helping himself to a couple of her cookies before he returned. Once his son was out of earshot, Adam turned back to Lucy – and now his expression was serious.

  “I mean it, Miss Penwellyn, you’ve done a wonderful thing for Josh and I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate it. Coming over here and finding the heart for music again has really made a massive difference to him. Did you know that after his mum died he stopped playing the piano?”

  Lucy didn’t but this made sense. Josh played the piano like a swimmer gasped for air after a deep dive. “He told me his mum played the piano but I had no idea he’d stopped.”

  “Elly was a wonderful pianist,” Adam said, keeping his voice low in case Josh reappeared. “She taught Josh and always said his talent would outstrip hers, which from what I’ve just heard today seems to be coming true already. I think when we lost her he couldn’t bear to play the piano without his mum – but he must have missed it dreadfully. Here, with you and in this beautiful place, he’s found his way back to it. It’ll never be the same as it was, but do you know what? Sometimes different isn’t all bad, is it? We just have to look for the parts that are good.”

  Lucy thought about Armand’s death, the loss of the grand piano and the times in the night when she woke up panicking about money and her uncertain future. These things were undeniably difficult, but without losing Armand she would never have found her cousin Ness, of whom she was growing very fond. Adam was right – and if someone like him who had suffered dreadfully could still face the world with a smile and find the good in things, then she certainly could.

  “Absolutely,” she agreed. “And please, call me Lucy. Miss Penwellyn sounds like a character from a Dickens’ novel. I feel I should be wearing a tatty wedding dress and presiding over a rotting feast!”

  “Hardly,” said Adam. “By the way, did you ever buy that spotty dress?”

  She pushed her hair behind her ears and looked down at her shabby trainers, about as far from strappy sandals as it was possible to get, and laughed awkwardly. “No, of course not.”

  “Of course not? What do you mean by that?”

  “I live here,” Lucy said simply. “If I’m not baking then I’m gardening or cleaning. I don’t go anywhere that needs a dress like that.”

  “Well, that’s got to change. We need to take you somewhere to wear it,” Adam told her firmly. He had a way of saying things that suggested an air of command, and his chin was now raised at the same determined angle that Josh always tilted his when his mind was made up about something. “I’ve been very remiss here. I should have been over to visit before rather than relying on Merryn to do all the collecting and picking up, and I apologise for my total lack of manners. My only excuse is that I’ve been working flat out, but that’s coming to an end now and I’ve got some free time before the next job begins.”

  “Wonderful,” Lucy replied politely, while her brain whirled round like a hamster on a wheel. So the slave-driving Max had another job lined up for Adam, did he? And what was that? Developing a castle?

  “So in some of that spare time I’d very much like to take you out for dinner,” Adam said, adding quickly when he saw the look of terror flicker across her face, “as a thank you for all the
help you’ve given Josh. Not for any seedy reasons, I promise. I’m not cracking onto you or anything. Not that a man wouldn’t want to crack onto you… I, err…” Now it was her visitor’s turn to blush and Lucy started to laugh because the more he floundered the worse it was becoming.

  “Oh dear,” Adam groaned, clapping his palm to his face and peeking out through his fingers. “I’ve just made a total idiot of myself, haven’t I?”

  “Of course not,” Lucy said, feeling sorry for him. He was only being kind. Of course he wasn’t cracking onto her; she knew that. Adam Miller would have no trouble choosing from his pick of women in the town, so she knew she was safe from his attentions. “It’s a very kind offer, but really there’s no need. I’ve enjoyed having Josh here and he’s reminded me just how much I love to play too. My uncle was really very ill towards the end: he had cancer and it was quick but pretty savage. I suppose I just slipped out of the habit of playing the piano myself because there was so much else to do.”

  “You nursed him? Here?”

  She nodded and Adam looked grave.

  “That couldn’t have been easy. Not many people would be able to do it.”

  Lucy looked into his eyes and saw an understanding she rarely encountered. Had Josh’s mum had cancer too? It was somehow too intimate a question to ask, but she felt the tug of mutual sympathy and suspected that he knew just how hard her task had been.

  “It wasn’t, but it was the least I could do for him. My uncle gave me a home when I needed one and he might have been a strange old soul – cantankerous probably describes him best – but he was family. Yes, it was hard, but in a way it was a privilege too.”

  “And on top of all that you’ve been lumbered with my son,” said Adam, breaking the sombre mood as Josh returned, his cheeks bulging suspiciously and with crumbs dotting his mouth. “I dread to think what piano lessons would cost, so I think one dinner is the least I can do. No arguments. If Josh is going to carry on coming to the castle I won’t hear of you saying no.”

  “Please can I keep coming?” Josh asked, through a mouthful of pilfered cookie. “Please, Dad? I’m teaching Lucy to use her iPhone too, so I am useful.”

  “He certainly is,” Lucy agreed. “I’m hopeless with it but thanks to Josh here I’m able to text now.”

  “I’m going to show her iMovie and Facebook,” Josh said, “so I have to keep coming, don’t I?”

  “It’s up to Lucy,” his father replied, those brown eyes crinkling. “She knows what the deal is if she wants to escape from the digital wilderness!”

  Now two pairs of beseeching brown eyes were trained on her. Lucy would have needed a heart of stone to say no. Luckily for Josh her heart was more like melting butter and all she could do was throw her hands in the air and agree that yes, she would have dinner with Adam.

  “Make sure you go to a restaurant: he’s a terrible cook,” Josh warned as the three of them walked out into the warm evening.

  “You ungrateful child! I make wonderful beans on toast!”

  Outraged, Adam pretended to cuff him and Josh retaliated by trying to trip his father up. They scuffled and play-fought all the way down the path that led across the lawn, past the tea room and to the pier, where a pretty sailing boat was waiting. There was no mistaking the closeness between father and son, and Lucy found herself wondering how Jamie would have turned out if he and Maudsley had enjoyed a similar relationship. Their father had been distant and troubled, given to bouts of black depression and introversion, and had rarely had time for his children. Lucy couldn’t begin to imagine what Adam had been through, but she could see that Josh was his world. It was a shame Max Reynard worked him so hard; it was another black mark against Max, to add to all the others in Lucy’s book.

  The wind was freshening in east and the sky now had an ominous purple hue, as though the clouds were bruises flowering against pale flesh. The sunshine was still bright but had taken on a sickly yellow intensity, ripping through the clouds and stippling the sea with patches of light and shade. A sense of unease ran down Lucy’s spine. A storm was threatening, and judging by the white horses now cantering across the bay it would break soon. Having lived in St Pirran all her life Lucy knew the signs. If Adam and Josh were to make it across the water before the weather turned they would need to leave now. Merryn’s boat was already moored, the extra bowline telling Lucy that her instincts were spot on.

  “The weather’s closing in,” she told Adam.

  He nodded, his expression growing serious. “The forecasters were saying there’d be a storm, but they reckoned it would be later.”

  “Never mind the forecasters. See those rocks to the east?” Lucy asked, pointing to the farthest headland.

  Adam shaded his eyes against the bright light and then shook his head. “No.”

  “That’s because the rain is already falling there so you can’t see them for the squall. Usually that happens about ten minutes or so before it reaches us,” she explained. “Don’t bother with the sails; just use your outboard motor and get across as fast as you can. This looks bad.”

  Adam didn’t question her judgement or sneer as Jamie would have done. Instead he nodded again and immediately began loosening the moorings in preparation for casting away.

  “Hop in, Josh, and start her up,” he called to his son who was on deck in an instant, donning a life vest. Soon the engine was running and the boat was poised to race for the mainland.

  “I’ll throw the bowline down to you,” Lucy called to Adam as he untied the stern. “You guys get going.”

  Adam leapt onto the deck and, landing with ease and with his legs braced against the motion of the waves, grinned up at her. “Aye aye, captain!”

  Fat spots of rain were falling now, spattering lazily on Lucy’s jeans. The sun had disappeared behind orange-edged clouds, and the sky seemed to swell and press closer to the earth. Lucy’s fingers, deft from years of sailing, eased the reef knot loose – and then the boat was free, its rope flying towards the deck. Adam, tugging on his life jacket, gave her a thumbs up before taking the wheel and turning for St Pirran.

  “Bye, Lucy!” Josh called. “Thanks for having me!”

  She waved. “It’s a pleasure. See you soon! Now get going!”

  “We will, just don’t forget that dinner!” Adam called. “And buy that dress!”

  Lucy had no time to reply; the little engine roared into life and the boat was zipping across the bay, leaving behind a white slash of wake in water that was now the same dark colour as the castle’s walls. She stood on the pier waving until her arm ached and their boat was no more than a smudge dashing towards the town.

  Only when she could no longer see them did Lucy stop and turn for home – and even then, the heavy raindrops and driving wind couldn’t steal her smile. She was experiencing an unusual emotion, and it was only as she ducked through the gate and hurried across the grass that Lucy identified the feeling.

  She stopped dead in her tracks, halted by surprise and oblivious to the slicing rain and her soaking clothes. The unfamiliar sensation driving out the cold and warming her deep inside was happiness. Wet and bedraggled she might well be, but Lucy Penwellyn was feeling happy.

  Goodness. What on earth was that all about?

  Chapter 17

  After Max Reynard’s visit and his mind-boggling offer of seven million pounds, Ness’s composure had vanished along with the sunny afternoon. Still seething from his utter nerve – how dare he just turn up on the island and try to buy her off with obscene amounts of money – Ness had decided that the only way forward now was to try to figure out how to make St Pirran pay for itself. She’d stomped back through the gardens, underneath the Pilgrim’s Gate and back into the castle with his words ringing in her ears and her skin prickling with irritation because, no matter how much she wanted to deny it, some of what he’d said was spot on.

  “The castle’s falling into disrepair. You must see that?” he’d said, and Ness hadn’t been able to think of a suita
bly stinging reply. Of course she could see it. Lucy and the others might be able to kid themselves that everything was wonderful, but as a newcomer to the island Ness’s gaze was fresh. It was obvious to her just how much work was needed.

  Max’s comments about the huge expenses involved in maintaining, let alone restoring, the castle had also hit home. His observation that she lacked the funds to cover these costs couldn’t be denied, and in spite of her brave words Ness was worried. There was no missing the crumbling walls, broken windows and cracked masonry. Just as it was impossible to ignore the crack in the pier, or the fact that the flowerbeds were overgrown with nodding valerian, or that dog roses and ivy now stitched the castle’s stonework. Everything was looking shabby and tired.

  Actually, forget tired. The place looked ready to collapse from sheer exhaustion.

  In spite of this, Max’s utter confidence infuriated Ness beyond belief. Did he really think that once he waved a big enough sum of money under her nose she’d smile sweetly and then take the cash? He’d regarded her with that penetrating grey gaze and, even when she’d refused, had remarked evenly that everything was for sale.

  Well, not her! He could offer a billion trillion gazillion pounds and she wouldn’t take it. Max Reynard would soon discover that Nessa Penwellyn couldn’t be bought. And as for the bare-faced cheek of him asking her out for dinner? As if that would ever happen! No wonder she’d laughed at him. What did it matter that he was handsome enough to take her breath away or that, as hard as she tried, she couldn’t quite put aside the memories of that moonlit evening on the beach? Rich and arrogant and selfish, Max was everything she despised; Ness would rather starve than have dinner with a man like him.