by Liz Eeles
‘I have and Emily’s lovely but she doesn’t start for another two weeks and she’s not – well, she’s not family.’ I feed more coins into the call box. ‘Plus I feel bad about leaving the choir because they’re nice people and I enjoy singing with them. I’ve asked Josh to take over running the choir and he’s said he’ll think about it.’
There’s a squeak from Harry in the background and Maura lowers her voice. ‘Is this the Josh you’ve mentioned a couple of times? The one you can’t stand.’
‘That’s the one. And he kissed me so it’s got even more confusing. And then there’s the practical issue of getting all my stuff back up to London, and getting Gracie out of the flat, and—’
‘Whoah! Hold your horses, Trebarwith. Let me get this straight.’ Maura is no longer speaking quietly. ‘Are you telling me that Josh, the bloke who you told me more than once was a total dickhead, kissed you? The one who looks like a cross between Poldark with his shirt off and Richard Armitage?’
‘How do you know what he looks like?’
‘I tracked him down on the Internet, of course. When a friend keeps talking about a bloke she says she can’t stand, you Google him. That’s the law. He was in a local newspaper pic of a football team, and I was impressed. Very dark and brooding. Cracking legs. So was the kiss a corker?’
‘It was lovely.’
‘That’s great.’
‘But then he said he was sorry it happened.’
‘Not so great.’
‘And now I’m confused because coming back to London is best and what I wanted, but for some stupid reason I keep thinking about the people here and how much I’m going to miss them.’
‘Oh Annie.’ Maura chuckles. ‘It’s finally happened. You’ve got attached to people and let them in. Welcome to the real world. You’ve been running away from getting close to people for so long, but you can’t escape forever.’
‘But I’m a free spirit,’ I splutter, realising as the words leave my mouth that they make me sound like a wanker.
‘You were a free spirit, Annie, but now you’ve got family and roots and a boyfriend who looks eminently shaggable and might be “the one”. I’m dead jealous. Anyway, why should you escape the daily annoyances and frustrations of being shackled to people forever?’
‘Paul still not doing night feeds, then?’ I ignore the boyfriend jibe.
‘Nope. He says I’m more genetically primed to cope with disturbed sleep than he is. Let’s hope I’m not genetically primed to brain him with a frying pan while he’s snoring. Oh great, here we go.’ The adorable squeaks coming down the line have turned into a blood-curdling yell.
‘The kraken awakes,’ yawns Maura, ‘I’d better go. Keep in touch and let me know what you’re doing.’
Maura’s right, I admit to myself while I’m stomping back to Tregavara House. I’m stomping because I’m cross. Really furious that my plan to visit Alice for a day or two and then get the hell out has gone hideously wrong.
It’s Alice’s fault for needing me. And the choir’s for being good fun. And Kayla’s for being such an excellent friend. And Josh’s for being so unexpectedly, annoyingly sexy. But most of all it’s mine for letting my guard down. I’m an idiot.
By the time I get home, I’ve calmed down so I sit on the harbour wall and have a long think about things. A skinny black cat wanders along, gobbling up pieces of discarded fish, while I go over my options. It’s simple really – on one hand there’s cosmopolitan London, a new job and my old, uncomplicated life; while on the other, there’s back-of-beyond Cornwall, family responsibilities and lots of complications. The old Annie would say it’s a total no-brainer, but Salt Bay has changed me.
The cat bats its head against my legs and stretches out on the smooth, cold stone while the pros and cons of leaving or staying ping round my brain. At last I come to a (probably) final decision. I’ll stay at least another fortnight until Emily has moved in. That will give me longer with Alice and more time for Gracie to find another flat.
It will also give me a chance to make sure the choir will survive without me. Toby’s job sounds dead boring anyway and something else will come up; it always does. Maybe I can tackle Josh about what happened in the garden, too. Jeez, I’ve got to stop thinking about him because it makes me hyperventilate. I deliberately slow my breathing down and, stepping carefully over the cat, make my way back to the house.
It’s almost nine o’clock and I can hear the bath running upstairs and Alice singing softly on the landing. She’ll be pleased that I’m staying at least until Emily moves in.
While I’m waiting for her to come downstairs, I lay the table for breakfast. It’s become a ritual that we sit together over cereal and toast and tell one another our plans for the day. This morning I make a special effort and find a clean cloth, pour orange juice into a glass jug and lay out plates. For a finishing touch, I pick some greenery from the garden and put it into a jam jar in the centre. The table looks lovely. I truly am a domestic goddess.
I’m pouring Rice Krispies into my bowl when the phone starts ringing in the sitting room. The box jolts and Krispies scatter across the worktop and disappear down the gap next to the Aga. Who’s calling this early? Fingers crossed it’s not Toby ringing about his job offer.
‘Hello madam.’ Yay, it’s definitely not Toby. ‘My name’s Melody and I’m calling about today’s appointment.’ Melody sounds very young and as if she’s reading from a script. ‘I’m afraid Dr Fulton is unwell and therefore unable to see Mrs Trebarwith this afternoon as planned. We apologise for the inconvenience.’
That’s weird. I went to a hospital check-up with Alice last week but she hasn’t mentioned this one.
‘I’ll let Alice know and ask her to call to rearrange. Thank you for ringing.’ I’m about to end the call when something strikes me. ‘By the way, she’s Mrs Gowan, not Trebarwith.’
‘You what?’ There’s the sound of fast typing. ‘The appointment is for Mrs Trebarwith.’
‘She was a Trebarwith but now she’s Gowan, Alice Gowan.’
Cue more frantic typing. God, this girl’s a bit dozy.
‘The computer definitely says that Dr Fulton was due to see Mrs Trebarwith at three o’clock. Mrs Sheila Trebarwith.’
‘Sheila?’
‘Yes. S-H-E-I-L-A.’ I can hear the sigh in Melody’s voice as she spells out the name.
‘You’re telling me that Mrs Sheila Trebarwith has an appointment this afternoon?’
‘No, as I said, the appointment has been cancelled.’ Melody says this painfully slowly in her sing-song voice because she’s obviously talking to a total moron. ‘Do you understand what I’ve just told you?’
I’m not sure that I do but Melody is super-keen to end the call so there’s no time for more questions. I’m not sure what I’d ask anyway: ‘Tell me Melody, are you cancelling an appointment with the deceased Mrs Sheila Trebarwith?’
‘Who was that on the phone?’ Alice appears in the doorway, her face glowing from the bath and her damp hair flat against her scalp. I’m still standing with the receiver in my hand although Melody rang off five minutes ago.
‘It was someone ringing about this afternoon’s hospital appointment.’
‘Really?’ says Alice, her eyes growing wide. She plumps up the cushions on the sofa. ‘What did she say?’
‘She said that the appointment has been cancelled.’
‘Never mind. I can reschedule it. Shall we go and have breakfast?’ Alice takes the phone and places it back in its cradle.
‘She also said that the appointment was for Mrs Sheila Trebarwith.’
‘Oh.’ Alice stops dead in her tracks and sucks in air through her teeth. ‘That’s awkward.’
‘And surprising.’ I’m trying really hard to keep my voice level but my stomach is turning somersaults. ‘Tell me Alice, was the appointment for my grandmother?’
Alice exhales slowly and sinks onto the sofa. ‘Yes, it was.’
‘You never said that m
y grandmother was still alive.’
‘You never asked.’ Alice sits quietly for a moment, biting her lip and struggling with a decision. Then she speaks quickly, her words tumbling into each other. ‘Sheila is living a few miles away in a home for people with dementia.’
What the feckin’ – what? Alice and I have discussed all kinds of crap over the last few weeks – who’s leaving Coronation Street, is taupe really a colour, Boris Johnson: villain or hero. But did she mention that my grandmother is still breathing? Nope, not a peep.
‘And you didn’t think to tell me this?’
‘Yes, I thought about it and almost told you many times.’ Alice pulls herself up slowly. ‘But you don’t seem to want to know about your family. You’ve shut us out, Annabella. So I thought I’d tell you when you were ready.’
‘When would that have been?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe never. I can see how much your childhood has affected you. It can’t have been easy, just you and your mother.’ Alice touches my shoulder but I shake off her hand.
‘So when you went to visit “Penelope”?’ I put ‘Penelope’ in air quotes even though people who do that are knobs.
‘I was really visiting Sheila.’
‘And you never thought of taking me with you.’
‘Absolutely not.’ For the first time since we’ve met, Alice is angry. Her jaw tightens and bright spots flare in her cheeks. ‘How long were you ever going to stick around, Annabella? It would have been cruel for you to see Sheila once, maybe twice, and then to disappear, like your mother did. Sheila couldn’t cope with that again. She’s a very vulnerable woman.’
Bringing my mum into this deception stings, and my voice gets louder. ‘Just like my mother was vulnerable when Sheila and Samuel threw her out, because she was pregnant with me.’
Hot guilt bubbles up inside. I’m the reason that this family is fractured. It’s all my fault.
‘Your mother was no saint, Annabella.’ Alice sighs heavily, all the fight gone out of her as quickly as it arrived.
‘Because she dared to have sex when she wasn’t married?’
‘We’ve all done that,’ murmurs Alice. ‘Look, I admit that Sheila and Samuel didn’t behave well when Joanna broke the news of her pregnancy. Salt Bay is a small place and times were different then. They were terribly shocked. Oh, Annabella.’ She wipes a veiny hand across her pale, thin mouth. ‘I didn’t want to get into all of this but I suppose you have a right to know. All right.’ She sits on the arm of the sofa and wraps her arms round her waist. ‘Samuel was an old-fashioned man. Words were said in the heat of the moment and Joanna took herself off to London. But it broke Sheila’s heart and she contacted your mother just before you were born and asked her to come home.’
‘That’s not true. Mum told me she was thrown out and her family never had anything more to do with her.’ When I was a child, I’d hug her and promise that I’d never abandon her. We’d be together forever; two Trebarwiths against the world.
‘I’m afraid it is true. Joanna refused to come back or to have anything more to do with her parents. She always was headstrong and troubled, even as a child.’
‘It can’t be true, because Sheila would have kept on trying. She wouldn’t have given up on her daughter.’ My bottom lip is wobbling because my mum would never have given up on me. I’m sure of that.
‘Your mother kept moving house and Sheila lost track of where she was. This was in the days before you could find people on the web thing, when people could easily disappear, even if they had a distinctive surname.’
I do remember Mum telling people her surname was ‘Smith’, particularly when she was unwell and convinced we weren’t safe. But what’s wrong with wanting to be anonymous in a big city? It doesn’t mean that what my mum told me about the Trebarwiths was a lie.
Alice is looking at me intently, her dark brown eyes glinting in pale light from the window.
‘Samuel was too proud to keep on trying to find Joanna. He was a stubborn man and told Sheila to leave her be. But after he died so tragically, Sheila was hopeful that Joanna would finally come home, with you. But she never did.’
‘She would have if she’d heard about her dad’s death. She obviously didn’t know.’
‘It was headline news, Annabella. She must have known,’ says Alice sadly. ‘Come and eat breakfast and we can talk some more.’
But I don’t want to talk. Alice has deceived me about Sheila and now she’s accusing Mum of being a heartless liar. Everything’s a jumble in my head. The lid has been wrenched off a big box of secrets and bad things are tumbling out with no way for me to shove them back in. This is why I hate fucking families. All they do is ruin your life.
‘I need to get some air,’ I gulp, brushing past Alice and rushing out of the house.
Chapter 25
Walking out seemed a good idea at the time; a symbolic gesture as well as a chance to breathe. A metaphorical two fingers up to Alice’s version of the truth. But it wasn’t well thought through. In the last half hour, clouds have bubbled up and covered the sun and a stiff breeze is whipping off the sea. Meanwhile, I’m standing at the front gate with bare feet. Who grabs her jacket as she storms out of a house but forgets her shoes? A total eejit, that’s who.
I could sneak back in for my trainers but I don’t want to see Alice until I’ve had time to think about what she said. Not that I believe all that stuff about my mum. She was abandoned by the terrible Trebarwiths, just like she said. Why else would she have deprived herself of having a family? Why would she have deprived me?
My feet are freezing on the cold path so I start walking towards the village. Spots of rain start falling from a steel sky as I trudge along. Does it ever stop raining in Cornwall? Stupid Cornwall, stupid families… and stupid pavements! I’ve never noticed it before but the tarmac is scattered with super-sharp pieces of gravel, like teeny landmines. Another shard pierces my skin but I grit my teeth and keep on walking. At least physical pain is easier to cope with than the emotional maelstrom in my head.
After a while, I realise I’m walking towards the pub. The Whistling Wave must be my autopilot sanctuary: when the world’s going to hell, I need Kayla and a ginormous glass of gin. And maybe Josh will call in later and give me a hug. How I’d love his strong arms around me, pulling me tight against his muscular chest, and his lips… oh no, my breathing has gone weird again. I must stop thinking about Josh Flaming Pasco because it makes things worse.
When I get to the pub, I nip round the back so no one will see me. Luckily, the door to the kitchen is propped open with a beer barrel and I slip inside. Plates of clingfilm-wrapped ‘nibbles’ are lined up next to the industrial-size fridge – cheese and pineapple chunks on sticks, mini sausages, tiny puff pastry cases overflowing with pink stuff. At the sink, Kayla is washing glasses and whistling along tunelessly to the radio.
‘Jeez!’ She jumps and soapy water splashes over her orange Crocs. ‘You’ll frighten someone to death sneaking up on people like that. What’s with the shoe-less look? Is that what people do in London? In February?’ She peers at me more closely. ‘Not meaning to be rude or anything, but you look terrible. What’s going on? Alice hasn’t carked, has she?’
I balance against the crockery cupboard and rub the soles of my frozen feet on my jeans.
‘No one’s died but there has been a resurrection of sorts.’
‘Nope.’ Kayla wipes her hands on the tea towel slung over her shoulder. ‘You’re going to have to give me more of a clue if you’re talking about resurrection. Crikey!’ Her eyes open wide. ‘You’re not going all religious on me, are you?’
I shake my head. ‘I just found out some news about Sheila Trebarwith, my grandmother.’
‘The one who chucked your mum out and died a few years ago.’
‘That’s the one, only it turns out she’s not dead.’
‘Cool! Is she one of the undead, like a vampire? Is Salt Bay full of zombies? I’ve had my suspicions about C
yril for a while.’
‘I’m not joking, Kayla. Sheila isn’t dead.’
‘Don’t be daft, of course she is.’ The tea towel falls to the floor and Kayla scoops it up. ‘She’s buried on the cliff.’
‘Her husband is, and I presumed she was buried in the churchyard. But Alice told me this morning that she’s actually living near here in a home for people with dementia. When Alice was visiting Penelope, she was really visiting Sheila.’
‘Feck me sideways!’ exclaims Kayla, her jaw dropping. ‘And Alice didn’t mention this before because…?’
‘Because it would upset Sheila if I visited her and then went back to London.’
‘Good point,’ says Kayla, starting to nod but turning it into a shake of the head when I glower at her.
‘No, Kayla, not a good point. Alice has been lying to me about my family from the start. This is why I don’t do family. It’s all lies and subterfuge.’
‘Well, not exactly lying, more…’ Kayla glances at me and shrugs. ‘Yes, you’re right. Families – pah! I spit on them all, or I would if it wasn’t terribly unhygienic in a kitchen. Look, Annie Sunshine.’ She puts down the tea towel, comes over and puts her arm round my shoulder. ‘I can understand that the lying and the not being dead was a shock. But maybe it’s a good thing to find out you still have a grandparent who’s alive. Are you going to see her?’
‘Alice has made it very clear that wouldn’t be a good idea. Toby found me a job starting on Monday but I’d decided to stay here longer, but now I don’t know what to do.’ I relax against Kayla and stifle a sneeze when her long, red curls tickle my nose. ‘Also, something else happened this week with Josh, who—’
‘Hey Kayla, how long does it take you to get a few more glasses?’ Roger sticks his head into the kitchen from the bar area. His face is red and there are damp patches under the arms of his blue T-shirt. ‘Hello Annie, I didn’t realise you were in here. Kayla, chat later and get yourself back round here. We’re going to be mega busy later and need to get things ready now.’ He notices my bare feet and frowns. ‘You shouldn’t have bare feet in here. If you cut yourself, there’s no point in suing me.’