Daisy’s Vintage Cornish Camper Van

by Ali McNamara

  Lou shakes his head. ‘Can’t trust anyone, can you?’

  ‘No,’ Noah agrees. ‘You can’t.’

  I glance at him, while Frankie continues, ‘It was after that second time that my family suddenly decided to leave St Felix for pastures new. More my father’s doing, I think, than my mother’s, but she had to go along with what he wanted. It was 1945, and she didn’t have a lot of options back then. Even though she never said as much, she probably knew what I was like. They say mothers always know.’

  ‘We missed each other terribly,’ Lou says, picking up the story. ‘I just couldn’t imagine my life without Frankie in it. I was fifteen and it felt like the end of the world when he left. We were, of course, banned from contacting each other, and any letter I attempted to get to Frankie was simply returned unopened. Luckily, my mother, who I’m sure guessed what had happened, kept me updated with any gossip or news she heard about Frankie and his family. That’s why I was able to follow what he was doing for so long. Our mothers kept in touch for years.’

  ‘I had no idea,’ Frankie explains to us. ‘My mother kept the fact she was writing to Lou’s mother very quiet. My father would have hit the roof if he’d found out. He had a filthy temper on him, which my poor mother fell foul of many a time.’

  Frankie looks sad as he remembers.

  Lou takes his hand. ‘So I decided I would write to Frankie anyway by postcard. I think originally my idea was I might send them to him at some point in the future, but as time went by it became obvious that wasn’t going to happen. I’m not sure why I kept writing them over the years… possibly a part of me used them a bit like therapy – a way of getting my thoughts down on paper. And another part simply enjoyed feeling like I was still speaking to Frankie even though he was so far away from me.’

  They look at each other again, gazing into each other’s eyes in a way I was more used to seeing young couples do, but I guess Frankie and Lou were living their honeymoon years out now they were finally together again.

  ‘You married, didn’t you, Frankie?’ I ask, eager for them to continue with their tale.

  ‘I did,’ he answers, turning back to me. ‘In 1955. It was just expected of you in those days to get married and have children, so I did as society expected and toed the line. I did love my wife, though,’ he insists, looking at a sideboard behind them with a large collection of photos displayed on it. ‘She was a wonderful woman, but I always knew I was gay, and I think, god rest her soul, a part of her knew too. Nevertheless, we were happy in our own way and it tore me apart when she got ill.’

  Frankie heaves himself up off the sofa and goes over to the sideboard; he lifts one of the framed photos and brings it over to show us.

  ‘This is Lillian,’ he says, glancing at the photo before handing it over to me. ‘A better woman, mother and grandmother you will never meet.’

  I look at the photo and see an attractive middle-aged woman. It has been taken on a beach, and the woman is laughing because her sun hat is blowing off in the breeze.

  ‘Juliet said you know what happened to my business.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Noah insists. ‘You don’t have to tell us about that.’

  ‘No, I want you to know everything. I know how much trouble you must have gone to searching for us to return the postcards. It’s only right you should know the whole story.’ Frankie sits back down on the sofa again, and I stand the photo frame on the table next to my armchair. ‘Lillian had breast cancer – a real nasty strain of it that wasn’t responding to any of the treatments the NHS could offer. We were desperate to do something, the whole family was, and no one could bear to watch her going through the torture she was enduring day in, day out. Have either of you known someone with cancer?’

  ‘I have,’ I say quietly. ‘My best friend.’

  ‘Then you’ll know you’d do anything to try to ease their suffering.’

  I nod.

  ‘It was my daughter who found a clinic in America that offered an alternative treatment, but the cost was astronomical, more money then I earned in a year. We talked about fundraising, but it was going to take for ever to raise that sort of money, so I told everyone I’d get it and that was when I took the money from the business. Not the whole lot at once – I’m not that stupid – but I had to get it quickly and I was careless about where I took it from, so as you both know I got found out.’

  Frankie looks so ashamed of himself that I want to go over and comfort him, take his hand and tell him it’s all right, but luckily Lou is there to do it for me.

  ‘You did it for a good cause,’ Lou says, patting his hand.

  ‘The courts weren’t going to see it that way, though, that was the problem. According to my lawyer it was looking very bad for me. So I did the only thing I could, I disappeared. It broke my heart leaving Lillian, but I couldn’t risk going to prison and never seeing her again. I thought, stupidly perhaps, that if I disappeared for a while things might blow over, and one day I might be able to return to Brighton and my home. But sadly that never happened. Lillian’s health deteriorated rapidly after I left. I don’t think she knew I was gone she was so desperately ill. My children looked after her and kept me updated on her progress, but she never recovered. I couldn’t even attend her funeral when it came just a few months later. I could only visit her grave afterwards to tell her how sorry I was.’ Frankie actually begins to cry now. I grab a box of tissues next to me and take them over to the sofa.

  ‘Thank you,’ he sobs, pulling a tissue from the box. ‘I’m so sorry to break down on you like this. The last thing you’ve come here for is to see an old man cry.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ I tell him, kneeling down next to him. ‘Your story is inspirational. The only ones who should be ashamed about any part of this are the people who gave you up to the authorities. They should have understood and stood by you, not dropped you in it. People can be so cruel.’ I glance back at Noah, wondering if he realises I’m referring to his past as well as Frankie’s, but his face only shows concern for Frankie.

  ‘You’re a good girl,’ Frankie says, patting me on the shoulder. ‘I hope your friend’s story had a happier ending?’

  I shake my head. ‘Sadly, no. But I’m coming to terms with it a little better now. St Felix is an amazing place – it has really helped me heal since I’ve been there.’

  ‘St Felix is very special,’ Lou says wistfully. ‘I loved living there. I travelled all over the world with my paintings, but I never found anywhere that was as special as that little town.’

  ‘I know. Your postcards documented so well how your career progressed over the years. It was amazing to read about.’

  Lou looks towards the unopened box. ‘No,’ he says, like a dieter resisting the temptation of a cream cake, ‘I must be good until we’ve told you the rest of our story.’

  I get up and go back to my chair.

  ‘So, after Frankie disappeared, he moved around a lot, didn’t you?’ Lou adds, prompting Frankie to continue.

  Frankie nods. ‘Yes, I couldn’t really settle anywhere for very long, but I always felt a tremendous pull for Cornwall, the place of my birth. I didn’t dare return to St Felix – too many memories and too much chance of someone recognising me. Even though I’d left as a boy, there were still people alive that might know me, so I settled here in Newlyn. Big enough so I could blend in without anyone taking too much notice of me, but small enough so I could enjoy living here. What attracted me the most was the big artistic community that exists here. Unlike Lou, I’d never been much of a painter, but I liked looking at other people’s work and it was that interest that helped reunite me with my first love once more.’

  This was the part I was looking forward to. I sit forward a little in my chair.

  ‘Did you see one of Lou’s paintings in a gallery?’ I ask eagerly. ‘Is that how the two of you met again?’

  ‘You’d think, wouldn’t you?’ Frankie says, smiling again. ‘But no, it wasn’t that. Do you want to tell them, L
ou?’

  ‘It was Rose,’ Lou says, ‘my old camper van. I was here painting one day – nothing odd in that as I’d often come down to Newlyn over the years to sketch and paint – but on this particular day I was just packing up after Rose and I had been parked on the harbour all day when she suddenly started behaving oddly.’

  ‘How does a camper van behave oddly?’ Noah asks, smiling.

  ‘I still don’t really understand to this day, perhaps she short-circuited or something, but suddenly her lights started flashing, and her horn – which was a manual one – began beeping. Then she began to move.’

  ‘On her own?’ I ask in astonishment.

  ‘Her engine wasn’t running, but she began to roll forward. I swear I didn’t leave her handbrake off as I was always so careful about that, but roll forward she did. I just panicked. I was hardly a sprightly young thing – this was in 2001 so I was already seventy-one – but luckily I had my guardian angel on my side that day.’

  ‘You did?’ This story gets more amazing by the moment.

  ‘Well, my guardian angel in the form of Frankie anyway.’

  ‘I was just taking my daily stroll along the harbour,’ Frankie joins in. ‘I’d noticed a man painting earlier and had every intention of stopping to look at his work on my way back, but when I heard a horn beeping and saw the lights flashing on his camper van, I knew something must be wrong. But it was when the van started to move slowly forward on its own that I realised I had to do something, so I moved as quickly as I could along the harbour, which wasn’t very fast even in those days, I can assure you. Oddly, that day I seemed to be able to sprint, so I caught up with the van, pulled open the door and jumped inside, and then I pulled on the handbrake just before the van reached the harbour.’

  ‘Rose’s front tyres stopped about this far from the edge,’ Lou says, holding his hands a tiny way apart. ‘It’s a miracle Rose didn’t end up in the water that day. I went to thank the kind gentleman who had saved us, and you can imagine what a shock I got when Frankie climbed out of the van.’

  ‘I still can’t believe you recognised me,’ Frankie says, looking lovingly at Lou.

  ‘I’d have recognised you anywhere,’ Lou replies. ‘But remember I’d seen that photo of you in the paper. The question is, how on earth did you recognise me?’

  ‘You hadn’t changed one bit,’ Frankie says.

  ‘Charmer.’

  ‘And you’ve been together ever since?’ I ask. ‘And it’s all thanks to Daisy-Rose.’

  ‘Daisy-Rose?’ Lou asks. ‘Is that what you call her now?’

  ‘Yes, I’d started calling her Daisy after my friend before we discovered the name Rose painted on her. So we decided on Daisy-Rose.’

  ‘I like it,’ Lou says, nodding, ‘it suits her.’

  ‘Would you like to come outside and see her, Lou?’ I ask.

  ‘Oh, lovey, I would, very much so.’

  We all head outside, and as we walk down the front path together I hear Lou gasp.

  ‘Are you all right?’ I ask.

  ‘Yes, yes, I’m fine, dear. I just can’t believe how good she looks. Almost like the day I bought her.’

  We walk out of the gate and stand on the pavement in front of Daisy-Rose.

  Lou walks forward a little and places his hand gently on the side of the vehicle. ‘How have you been, girl?’ he asks. ‘You’re looking well.’

  It’s such a simple, yet heartfelt gesture, I feel tears spring into my eyes.

  ‘Malachi, the mechanic who restored her for me, has done an amazing job.’

  ‘He has indeed. Wait, what did you say his name was?’

  ‘Malachi.’

  ‘What a coincidence. The young lad I sold Rose to was called that.’

  ‘Are you sure? What did he look like?’

  ‘Oh, it was quite some time ago, wasn’t it, Frankie? I never really wanted to sell Rose, but my eyesight isn’t what it used to be and driving was becoming difficult. Luckily, I’m short-sighted so I can still paint.’

  ‘It was in 2010, just after you turned eighty,’ Frankie says, steering the conversation back on course. ‘She was the star of the show at your eightieth birthday, remember?’

  ‘Oh yes, that’s right. Your great-grandchildren loved playing in her.’

  ‘Do you remember what this Malachi looked like?’ I ask again. It can’t be the same one, surely?

  ‘He was tall,’ Frankie says, trying to recall the details. ‘He had dark curly hair and he was Irish too. Yes, I remember, he was a bit of a charmer.’

  This was a pretty accurate description of Malachi, but maybe it was just a coincidence.

  No such thing as coincidence, Ana, Malachi’s voice echoes in my head.

  ‘It was all a bit strange,’ Lou continues. ‘This young fella just bowled up on our doorstep one day and asked if we’d be interested in selling Rose. I immediately declined saying she wasn’t for sale, but he was persistent, wasn’t he, Frankie?’

  Frankie nods.

  ‘Like Frankie said, this Malachi was a bit of a charmer. He’d certainly kissed the Blarney stone several times, I’d say, and by the time he’d finished I knew he’d be the ideal person to take on Rose. I couldn’t drive her any more and I didn’t want her to rust away outside the house – that would have been just too sad to watch – so we decided to let someone else have the joy of owning her.’

  ‘He certainly seemed to know his stuff, that’s for sure,’ Frankie adds. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone wax so lyrical on the delights of owning a VW camper van.’

  ‘How old would you say this guy was?’ I ask. After all, this had taken place eight years ago. If it was Malachi, he’d have had to have been pretty young at the time.

  ‘I’m not sure – early, mid-twenties perhaps?’ Frankie says. ‘It’s so difficult to tell these days with young people. I guess he might have been thirty at a push. He had a lovely dog with him, though. Oh, what did he call it?’

  ‘Ralph,’ Lou answers. I remember because he said he’d named it after Raphael. Another great painter, that’s why I remember.’

  Malachi had Ralph eight years ago? He must have been a puppy in that case then.

  ‘Was the dog a puppy? I ask, hoping they say ‘yes’ so I can make some sense of this.

  ‘Oh no – a fully grown golden Labrador. Lovely fella he was too, very gentle nature.’

  I look at Noah. He looks as dumbfounded as I feel.

  ‘Anyway,’ Lou says, not noticing our bewilderment. ‘We sold Rose, I mean Daisy-Rose, to Malachi and never saw her again. I’m surprised you bought her in such a bad state, though – he promised to look after her. If it is the same guy, maybe he felt guilty and wanted to help you restore her to her former glory. But this’ – Lou runs his hand over Daisy-Rose’s paintwork again – ‘this is much better than her former glory. This is a whole new level of heavenly glory.’

  Putting my many questions about Malachi aside, I show Lou around the rest of Daisy-Rose, including her spotless interior.

  ‘Magnificent,’ Lou declares. ‘Truly magnificent.’

  ‘We found the first batch of the postcards stuffed inside one of the seats, then some others hidden around the rest of her,’ I tell him, as we make our way back inside the bungalow. ‘The rest I managed to buy at auction to make the full set.’

  ‘Amazing,’ Lou says, shaking his head. ‘I can’t believe you found them all. Obviously I hid them because I didn’t want anyone to read them. What I was writing was private, and even several decades later I was still worried someone would see them and realise who they were written too – old habits die hard, I suppose.’

  ‘But didn’t you think to retrieve them before you sold Daisy-Rose?’ I ask.

  ‘After Frankie and I met up again, it was nine years before I sold the van. In that time I hadn’t needed to write any more cards, plus, amazing as it might seem, I was a little shy of showing them to Frankie, so I kept them secret. So when the van went my old brain had fo
rgotten that they were even in there.’

  ‘Would you like to see them again now?’ I ask, going over to the box on the table.

  Lou and Frankie sit down next to each other, and I place the box between them on the sofa, then they lift the lid off it together and begin to read the first few cards.

  Noah and I watch them, enjoying being part of such a special moment in their lives. I feel Noah’s hand reach across the chairs to take hold of mine and he squeezes my hand. As I glance across at him I notice he has tears in his eyes.

  I look at Frankie and Lou and realise they also are finding it difficult to hold back their emotions, so I give in and join them.