by Nicola May
‘This is Devon, my dear, not Dulwich. Anyway, it’s good to see you.’ Joe took a sip of his beer. ‘So, are you any nearer to naming the big day?’
‘That’s a bit forward, isn’t it? I’ve only just met you.’
‘Ha! Quite the little comedienne. But once bitten, twice shy on that front, lady - when you’re going through the sort of divorce I am.’
‘Oh dear.’
‘The thing is,’ he fingered his wedding ring, ‘despite what she did, I can’t take this off.’
‘Was it really that bad? Sometimes I think people just need to chill out a bit.’
Joe laughed. ‘Blimey, where were you when the compassion gene was passed around? And to me, yes, it was. She slept with someone else.’
‘A proper affair or a one-off?’
‘She says a one-off, but I just can’t trust anything she says any more.’
‘I hear you on the trust. I don’t give people second chances. Saying that, I do see sex as just sex. Life isn’t black and white, Joe. There is no rule book – well, apart from the one bloody society throws at us.’
‘You’re right there. That’s why I like being down in the sticks. I do feel I can be more myself here. Away from all the stress.’
‘Look, I’m no love guru,’ Rosa told him. ‘In fact, I haven’t managed to combine the sex thing with whatever that love thing is yet. No man has ever made me cry and I’ve never really hankered after anyone when I’ve split with them in the past. They say you haven’t experienced love until you get your heart broken, don’t they?’
‘I think you’re more likely to get an answer out of that seagull that just pooped on the window than from me about love. Right, let’s order some food. My treat.’
The two of them tucked into house burgers and chips.
‘Heard from that Lucas again?’
‘Er . . . no, why should I?’
‘Just wondered. Was he really just sorting out your plumbing when he came out of your house looking sheepish on New Year’s Day?’
‘Joe - what is your obsession with Lucas?’
‘I’m a reporter, Rosa.’
‘And how did you get my number?’ Rosa suddenly felt suspicious. ‘You gave your card to me, remember, not the other way around.’
‘Must be a good reporter then, eh?’ Joe smiled and took a slug of his beer. ‘Going back to Lucas, I think there were too many dodgy inconsistencies with his hit-and-run story. He’s a wily little shit, as well. Needs taking down a peg or two.’
Joe then looked at Rosa, right in the eyes, as before. ‘And . . . I know I don’t know you that well yet, but I like you, Rosa. You’re different from anyone I’ve met recently down here, and I wouldn’t want to see you getting hurt by someone like him.’
Butterflies did a little dance around Rosa’s stomach. ‘Aren’t we here to talk about my opening?’
Joe nearly choked on his chip. ‘I’d love to talk about your opening, madam.’
Test two already passed, Rosa relaxed. She loved a bit of innuendo. ‘Now, where shall we start?’
CHAPTER 27
Rosa got in, threw her keys on the side in the kitchen and made a fuss of a very animated Hot. She had enjoyed her flirtatious lunch with Joe and it was nice to be treated. However, despite the frisson she had felt between them, he was obviously affected by what was happening in his marriage.
She was relieved that Titch was out as she so needed a night in with some peace. On entering her bedroom, she noticed a piece of paper poking out from under her untidy bed. With everything that had been going on, she had completely forgotten about the bundle of letters she had found in the top of the wardrobe. She stood on the bed, reached for the letters, closed the secret hideaway and picked the stray letter up from the floor. Then kicking off her boots, she lay on her bed and began to read.
2 June 1954
My Darling T
It breaks my heart to know you are so unhappy. We’ve made it through a terrible world war. In fact, thinking on it, I’ve made it through two! So, this is just a mere blip in the ocean. It’s you who I love. We can do this our way.
Do not forsake me. I need you and only you.
Meet me where the sky touches the sea.
Your loving Ned X
Rosa felt her eyes well up. She sniffed and quickly swung her legs over the side of the bed. She had begun to realise what real love sounded like at last, and felt sad that she could never imagine anyone saying those words to her.
So, who was T? Rosa’s mind was working overtime. Dotty and Ned had evidently been here for years, well before Dotty’s sad demise that Queenie had been so touched by. But then again, that was a long time ago. She reread the last sentence then hurried to get the necklace which she had moved to the desk in the spare room. She was sure that the engraving on it had said something like meet me where the sky touches the sea.
So . . . the necklace had belonged to T, and whoever she was, Queenie must know - or why on earth would she have said not to sell it? It had to be Dorothea’s: maybe he had a pet nickname for her?
She pushed her hand to the back of the drawer, which was also now full of bits and pieces she had ordered to sell, but the necklace wasn’t there. She tried the drawer on the other side; nothing. Thinking she might have forgotten and put it in the safety of the cubby-hole in the top of the wardrobe, she stood on the bed and scrabbled around in there; still nothing. It was late and Rosa, both tired and worried now, put the letter back in with the others for another day and got down off the bed.
In the kerfuffle of Titch arriving and bits of new stock being delivered every day, maybe the necklace had just got misplaced. She would have a good look tomorrow when she was cleaning the flat.
Rosa was just about to drift off when she could hear knocking at the door. She was sure she had left the key under the stone frog round the back for Titch. Pulling on joggers and a T-shirt, she made her way downstairs, shivering in the night chill. Titch was making a face at her through the window.
‘I need your help, look.’ She pointed to a bicycle with a single mattress tied haphazardly over the seat. Rosa opened the door. ‘My boss at the cafe was chucking it out, and it looks perfectly clean. I can sleep on this in the other bedroom now. ‘
‘OK, great. But do you know what - I’m knackered. Let’s leave it down here indoors for now and we’ll sort it in the morning.’
‘Really? You’ll let a woman in my condition sleep on a sofa for another night?’ Titch insisted.
Rosa huffed. ‘Oh, come on then, let me take the weight, you just guide it. And we need to talk in the morning, please.’
‘What, about getting a TV?’
Rose was just about to blurt out everything she had been building up to throw at Titch, when the teenager handed her some £10 notes.
‘Take this, Rose. Put it towards food, et cetera, yeah?’
Rosa kept her mouth shut. Maybe she had judged her a little too quickly and after all, the poor girl was in an unenviable pickle.
She placed the mattress on the floor in the corner of the small bedroom and shifted the desk so that it was right at the end of the room and not in the way. She hadn’t noticed before but from its little porthole window you could see right down the street towards the beach. Titch appeared with bedding from the sofa in the lounge and immediately got herself cosy.
‘Thanks for having me, Rose,’ she said sleepily.
And before Rosa had a chance to reply, Titch was already curled on her side, snoring gently.
CHAPTER 28
‘What do you mean, you can’t find it?’ Josh said.
Rosa balanced her mobile under her chin whilst she emptied her washing bin into a holdall. ‘Honestly, Josh. I’ve searched high and low and it’s nowhere to be seen.’
‘Have you tried down the sofa again?’
‘I’ve tried everywhere.’
‘Well, you weren’t going to sell it anyway, so it’s no loss.�
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‘I know that, but it’s just weird. It can’t have disappeared into thin air, and what’s more, now I’ve read that letter I told you about, I feel a strange connection with the necklace. It’s as if I need to look after it.’
‘Bloody hell, that sea air really has gone to your head, hasn’t it?’ Josh paused, then went on: ‘I hate to say this out loud, but you don’t think Titch has taken it, do you? I mean, you said her mum had chucked her out and that she’s lost her job at the pub, so she must be feeling the pinch.’
‘Hmm. I did think of that, but no - for all her faults, I don’t see her as a thief. And to give her her due, she did hand over some money for food and is going to pay me forty pounds a week rent, moving forward.’
‘Forty pounds! Are you going mad, Rosa?’
‘Oh, Josh, stop it. I’m not in London and she’s currently on a single mattress in a room with nothing but that and an old desk. That’s plenty for now and the money is really handy.’
‘And did you speak to her this morning like you said you were going to?’ Josh bit his lip – he sounded just like one of his old teachers.
‘Josh, what is this, Twenty Questions? But, no I didn’t, as she must be on an early shift at the café.’
‘Why did you say she lost her job at the Ship again?’
Rosa huffed. ‘Right, I’m busy. I’ve got to go.’
‘So, have you started setting the shop up yet? It will be February before you know it.’
‘I know, I know. Stop nagging me! I realise I’ve been procrastinating slightly, but lovely Joe has suggested a Valentine’s Day opening. I’m going to get some heart-shaped doggie chocolates to give away, plus I’ll be handing out a ten per cent discount voucher for anyone’s next visit. I plan to make the window display look really colourful. In fact, I have some fun ideas for the window in the summer that the kids will love.’
‘Remind me who Joe is again?’
‘He’s the reporter stroke Editor guy from the Gazette.’
‘Ah, yep.’
‘He’s going to put an editorial in the paper the week before with another voucher that can be spent on Valentine’s Day in the shop.’
‘Great. So, is Valentine’s Day a Saturday this year then?’
‘Yes, and it also falls in half-term so I think it’s perfect timing as there may be a few tourists down here then too. I just hope it won’t be too cold.’
‘So, do I get an official invite?’
‘Yes, here is a verbal one. Are you going to come?’
‘Of course I bloody am, with bells on. Carlton said he may come too as one of his old uni mates plays for Falmouth RFC. So the plan is that he will drive down here with me on the Friday and stay with his friend on the Saturday night.’
‘Ah, the elusive Carlton – it’ll be good to meet him at last. You’re welcome on the sofas, both of you, but you might want to get a B&B.’
‘Yeah. Can you see if Jacob has got anything at the Lobster Pot, please?’
‘I expect he’ll offer you his bed when I tell him it’s you and another rugger bugger.’
Josh laughed. ‘This man ain’t for turning.’
‘How’s your new chick anyway?’
‘I take her out for dinner occasionally, it’s nothing serious.’ He waited for just an incey wincey hint of jealousy, but Rosa remained silent. ‘Like I said, it’s nothing serious. Anyway, more importantly, do you have any men to mention? I don’t recall there ever being much of a man drought when you lived with me.’
‘Tragically, Cockleberry Bay is not exactly a hotbed of talent, like London town used to be.’
‘What about this lovely Joe?’
‘He’s going through a divorce.’
‘Rebound chances then.’
‘Ha! Let’s hope so.’
‘So, the necklace, what are you going to do about it? Report it to the police?’
‘God, no. It will turn up. There is no sign of a break-in. Maybe the Cockleberry Coven have magicked it somewhere safe, so I can’t sell it.’ She replicated a witchy laugh.
‘Can’t wait to meet all these new friends of yours.’
‘Don’t lie. But it will be lovely to see you.’ At that moment Hot came bounding into the kitchen, barking.
‘Aw, there’s my boy,’ Josh said fondly. ‘Can’t wait to give him a big smoochy kiss.’
Rosa giggled. ‘Right, Mr Smith, me and the hound are off to the launderette. If your mum happens to be chucking out a washing machine, let us know.’
‘You cheeky monkey.’
‘You love me really.’ With that she hung up.
CHAPTER 29
Titch took a deep breath and let herself into the Ship. Sporting a face like thunder, Sheila Hannafore was polishing tables in the bar.
‘Hi, Sheila.’
The landlady jumped. ‘Whatever do you think you’re doing, creeping up on me like that! And what do you want?’
‘I’ve actually come to see if I can have my cleaning job back. I won’t be drinking on duty from now on, I promise.’
‘You, not drinking?’ The woman snorted. ‘The only way I might believe that from you is if you were pregnant.’ She threw her head back and laughed.
Titch’s face twitched, and she looked up to stop tears from falling.
Seeing this, Sheila Hannafore clutched at her chest. ‘Oh my God. You are bloody pregnant!’
‘No, no, I’m not.’
Sheila looked her up and down. ‘You can’t fool me, dear. You may be only a few weeks gone, but you’ve got that look.’ She said contemptuously, ‘It was bound to happen, the number of men you throw yourself at.’
Titch’s face went pink. She said tightly, ‘I’ve worked hard for you, Sheila, and maybe drinking on duty isn’t right, but I always put the money back in the till. I’m certainly no thief.’ She slammed the door key onto the nearest table. ‘I don’t deserve for you to speak to me that way either. It’s my business what I do.’
‘What - be a filthy slut?’ Sheila said under her breath and started dusting furiously again.
‘Maybe not so filthy, Sheila, when it’s highly likely it’s your grandson in here.’ The girl pointed to her stomach and went to storm out. Sheila grabbed her arm with force.
‘You wouldn’t dare stoop that low, to lie about something like that.’
‘Ask him then - ask your precious Lucas. I’m surprised he hasn’t used me as an alibi, in fact. I bumped into him, you see, as he was leaving the Corner Shop on the night of the accident. He did more than fix my pipes in the back of his van, I can tell you.’
Sheila was breathing heavily with outrage as she demanded: ‘I take it you haven’t told your mother?’
‘Yes, and she stands fully by me.’ Titch hoped she sounded convincing. To be fair, her mum had started sending olive-branch kind of signals via text messages, and she was going round to see her later on.
‘What - you’ve told her you think it’s my boy’s?’
‘Not yet.’
‘I don’t believe Lucas would behave like that, especially with Jasmine coming down the same day too.’
‘At least it discounts him from running her over, I suppose.’
Sheila ignored that. Instead she said, ‘You have options, Titch. You are just eighteen years old. Don’t ruin your life.’ Titch snatched herself away as a now-softened Sheila went to put her arm around the girl’s shoulders.
‘Yes, I know I have options, but like I said, it’s my business what I do.’
With that, she walked out through the pub door, head held high. Taking a deep breath in of the chilly sea breeze, she threw a little fist bump into the air and mouthed, ‘Yes!’
CHAPTER 30
Rosa was surprised to see how busy the Lobster Pot was when she pushed the door open, all set for her Friday-night shift. Both Jacob and Raffaele were sitting on the wrong side of the bar.
‘Did I miss the memo?’ Rosa asked, and lifted
Hot up for a stroke from the men.
Jacob leant forward on his stool and kissed her on both cheeks, explaining, ‘Raffa’s brother is staying with us this week. In fact, here he is now. He’s a singer. Said he’d do a night for us. I put one post on our Facebook page today and you know what it’s like down here.’
Raffaele chipped in. ‘Yes, news spread like a wildfire. Live music in the bay, and I think the photo helped. But he’s not as handsome as me.’
Jacob put his young husband’s hand to his lips. ‘Or course not, my darling. I do fear a woman-fest in here tonight though. Mary Cobb might even take her slippers off for this one.’
‘I doubt that,’ spoke up an old woman, with deep-set wrinkles and wearing a black headscarf. She looked directly at Rosa and said: ‘She doesn’t touch the drink any more, that one, not after what happened to her.’
Thinking that the old lady might be the same one who had helped her open the door on Christmas Eve, Rosa was about to question her, when the microphone Alyson was testing let out a deafening screech, setting Hot off barking. Amidst the kerfuffle and noise, the old woman downed her drink and quietly walked out of the bar.
When Rosa had settled Hot in with the pugs upstairs, she came down and asked Jacob, ‘Who was that?’
‘Who was who?’ Jacob was distracted by further punters coming in.
‘The old lady with the scarf.’
‘I’ve not seen her in here before. Can’t help, sorry. Right, where is Enrique Iglesias when you need him?’
Rosa laughed. ‘He’s Spanish, isn’t he?’
‘Who is Spanish?’ said a new voice. And with pretend indignation: ‘Sono italiano, io.’
Jacob greeted his brother-in-law, saying, ‘Angelo, meet Rosa. Rosa, Angelo.’
Angelo took Rosa’s hand. ‘Ciao, principessa.’ He was a lot louder than Raffaele, with a trimmed goatee beard and cheekbones to die for. He put a finger to her scar. ‘Ecco, a perfect little lightning flash. Bellissima.’ He lowered his voice. ‘You have been touched by angels - and now by an Angelo.’