A Cornish Carol

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A Cornish Carol Page 6

by Fern Britton


  ‘Audrey, I—’

  ‘Please make this quick. It is rather cold out here.’ She made no move to invite him in.

  ‘I came to tell you that I deeply regret the things I said the other night.’

  Audrey regarded him coldly. ‘There are things, Mr Ambrose, that once they are said, cannot be unsaid.’

  ‘I appreciate that, Audrey, and I know that you’ll find it hard to forgive me. But I want you to know that we all feel … I feel … that this village wouldn’t work without you. You’re the oil that keeps the wheels turning and if it wasn’t for you, this would be one more Cornish village like many others instead of the special place that we all know Pendruggan is.’

  Audrey didn’t speak for a moment, but Piran thought, or prayed, that he saw a softening in her eyes.

  ‘Actions speak louder than words, Mr Ambrose.’

  ‘I agree, Audrey, and that’s why I’m going to prove it to you. One day a week, I’m going to put myself at your disposal. Whether it’s ferrying pensioners to the old folks’ lunch or weeding the flower beds on the village green, I’ll do whatever you want me to.’

  Audrey considered his offer. ‘One day a week, you say?’

  ‘I’ll make it two!’ he added recklessly.

  She put her head to one side and after a short pause appeared to make up her mind.

  ‘Very well. But I shall hold you to this – as your word of honour?’

  ‘I won’t let you down, Audrey. I promise.’

  ‘Good day to you,’ she said, and made to close the door but then added, ‘Mr Ambrose …’

  ‘Yes, Audrey?’

  ‘A Merry Christmas to you.’ She gave him a small smile.

  ‘And a very Merry Christmas to you and Geoff,’ he said, returning her smile.

  This time, Piran found that he meant every word.

  ‘Why, Piran, they’re beautiful!’

  Simon examined the figurines from the wooden Nativity set that Piran had set down on the steps of the altar. As vicar, he’d been up for a while; Christmas Day was the busiest day of the year for him, but he had a quiet couple of hours before the midday service and then afterwards there would be mulled cider outside the church, drinks in the vicarage and lunch with family and some of the key church helpers.

  ‘I made this years ago for the children in the hospital. Jenna’s idea.’

  Piran picked up the wooden Baby Jesus in the manger, which he had finished painting in the small hours. ‘I thought you could put them under the tree for your Jenna, Simon.’

  ‘Where did you find them?’ asked Helen.

  ‘In my shed. When Jenna was killed, nothing else mattered for a long time. And by the time it did, I’d forgotten about these. Until last night.’

  He and Helen held each other’s gaze for a moment. She squeezed his hand tightly.

  ‘And now?’

  ‘Now they need a new home. Will you take them in, Simon?’

  ‘Nothing would give me greater pleasure.’ Simon thought of his own daughter, also called Jenna, and of how her face would light up at the sight of these beautiful figures. ‘They’ll have pride of place here at the front, where everyone can see them.’ He turned his eyes from the manger to his friend. ‘And, Piran …’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Welcome back!’

  They exchanged warm smiles.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Piran. ‘It feels good.’

  ‘Where are you both off to now?’

  ‘Ah!’ said Piran mysteriously. ‘We are going – and this includes you, Reverend Canter – for a swim. Grab your trunks!’

  As they left the church, Piran asked Helen to wait for a moment.

  ‘There’s one more thing I’ve got to do. You don’t need to come with me.’ She gave him a puzzled look, but let him go.

  Piran walked towards the churchyard. It seemed different in the weak winter sunshine and he was worried that he wouldn’t find what he was looking for. But there it was, in the same place as last night – the final resting place of Perran Ambrose.

  Piran knelt before the grave and read the inscription again. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head, unable to believe that what he was seeing was true. But no matter how many times he blinked and read it again, the words were there, literally carved in stone:

  Perran Ambrose.

  Born 1843. Died 1893 aged fifty.

  Below was an inscription:

  In loving remembrance of Perran Ambrose who on the twenty-fourth day of December 1893 attended the shipwreck of the HMS Firebrand,

  which foundered off the coast of Pendruggan.

  Perran Ambrose and other Pendruggan men selflessly set out in their fishing boats to rescue as many as they could and toiled for hours in order that they might save those who lay in the water.

  A mighty storm raged and while other boats were beaten back, Perran Ambrose continued his quest, though he was thrown from his boat and drowned, but not before many men were saved who owe their lives to his sacrifice.

  This headstone was donated by the men and woman of Pendruggan

  and is dedicated to his memory.

  In paradisum deducant te angeli

  How could this have changed in one night? Perhaps he had misread the headstone in the darkness, but Piran thought not. Other things had been at work last night and Piran was grateful for the change in his heart and for the new ending for Perran Ambrose. Perhaps it was best if he didn’t question events too deeply.

  As he turned to leave he spotted a small snowdrop growing in the grass beneath the headstone. It seemed to him a symbol of hope and of new beginnings.

  ‘Rest in peace, Ambrose,’ he said gently and made his way back to the car.

  ‘You can’t be serious – that water is freezing.’ Helen and Penny watched horrified as Piran and Simon stripped down to their trunks on Shellsand Bay.

  Sean, Terri and Summer, along with little Jenna and Simon’s family, all marvelled at the throng of people lined up along the shore, eager to see who would win this year’s Christmas Day swim.

  ‘Helen, you haven’t lived until you’ve swum out to the buoy on Christmas morning,’ Piran said, laughing, jumping up and down to keep warm.

  ‘I’ll take your word for it!’ she replied, snuggling deeper into her warm fleece-lined coat. She couldn’t help thinking that he looked pretty darned good for a man of his age, six-pack still in evidence.

  ‘Piran Ambrose, as I live and breathe!’ Don’s voice boomed out and he gave his old adversary a slap on the back. Don was now landlord of The Dolphin and was as much a fixture of Pendruggan life as he had always been.

  ‘Don! Not taking part yourself this year, I see?’ Don was well wrapped up in winter outdoor gear and Piran could see that he and his wife, Dorrie, were manning the barbecues.

  ‘The days of freezing me bollocks off are well behind me. Think the doctor would have a fit if I even so much as contemplated it – dodgy ticker and all that.’ He tapped his chest with a finger.

  ‘Rubbish, Don. You’re scared of the competition – like always.’

  After a bit more joshing and banter, there was no time for further chat as Peter, still officiating after all these years though long since retired, rang his bell for the off.

  Piran and Simon lined up with the rest of the competitors.

  ‘Remind me why we’re doing this, again?’ questioned Simon through chattering teeth.

  Piran gave him a dazzling smile. ‘Because it’s Christmas, of course!’

  To the sound of deafening cheers, Piran raised his pint of Christmas Ale to his lips and took a long, satisfying draw.

  ‘Now that, is pure Ambrosia – excuse the pun!’ Piran thought that nothing had ever tasted so good before.

  Helen threw her arms around him for the hundredth time.

  ‘I can’t believe you won!’

  ‘Neither can I!’

  ‘It was incredible, you were miles ahead of everyone else. How on earth did you do it?’

  ‘I’ve no id
ea – perhaps this year I’m just blessed. I feel blessed, anyway.’ He gave her a loving kiss on the head and then raised his voice to be heard above the crowd of voices in The Dolphin.

  ‘To make up for being such a grumpy old wanker, I promise that if Audrey will let me, I’ll give Pendruggan their best ever Window Twanky in next year’s panto!’ This news was greeted by whoops and cheers from the whole pub.

  ‘And I’d like to dedicate my win and this wonderful pint of Pendruggan Christmas Ale to all of the Piran Ambroses past, present and future who never forgot and never will forget what goodwill to all men really means.’

  He downed his drink. ‘Merry Christmas!’

  Keep Reading

  If you enjoyed A Cornish Carol, then why not buy Fern Britton’s latest heart-warming novel, A Seaside Affair, available in physical and ebook now?

  When the residents of the Cornish seaside town of Trevay discover that their much-loved theatre is about to be taken over by coffee chain, Café au Lait, they are up in arms. It is up to Penny Leighton, hotshot producer and now happily married Cornish resident, to come up with a rescue plan. Armed with only her mobile phone and her contacts book, she starts to pull in some serious favours.

  The town is soon deluged by actors, all keen to show their support and take part in a charity season at the theatre. One of the arrivals is Jess Tate, girlfriend to TV heartthrob Ryan Hearst. His career is on the rise while hers remains resolutely in the doldrums. But when opportunity comes calling, it isn’t just her career prospects that are about to change. Trevay is about to put on the show of its life – but can the villagers, and Jess, hold on to the thing they love the most?

  Click here to buy now

  And make sure you look out for the brand new warm and witty Cornish adventure in Fern’s latest book, A Good Catch, coming soon in 2015!

  Greer Penhaligon and her husband Jesse seem to have it all. Greer – beautiful, blonde and slender – is used to being adored and is fond of getting her own way. Her marriage to Jesse joined two dynasties of Cornish fishing families together and now their son, Freddie, is following in his father’s footsteps.

  For her friend, Loveday Chandler – plump, brunette and down-to-earth – living in the shadow of her more glamorous and successful friend has become a way of life. She channels all of her energies into her husband Jimmy and son Jamie, both of them working on the Penhaligon fleet of boats.

  But things are never quite as they seem. When Jesse’s brother, Grant, turns up, like the proverbial bad penny, he is about to upset the apple cart quite spectacularly. Because even happy families have their little secrets…

  Click here to pre-order now

  About the Author

  Fern began her career as a television presenter in 1980 after completing a stage management course at the Central School of Drama. In 1985 Fern became the presenter of the popular Coast to Coast, which led to presenting roles on prime time television shows, the most iconic of which was on ITV’s flagship show This Morning. Fern’s warmth, humour, and empathy have made her incredibly popular and she has become a much sought-after presenter. In 2008 Fern released her autobiography Fern: My Story, which was a huge bestseller, and her first novel, New Beginnings, was the biggest selling debut of 2011. Fern is deeply committed to a number of charities, in particular those working with and for women, children and childbirth. She lives with her husband Phil Vickery, the well-respected chef, and her four children in Buckinghamshire.

  Also by Fern Britton:

  Fern: My Story

  New Beginnings

  Hidden Treasures

  A Seaside Affair

  The Stolen Weekend (short story)

  About the Publisher

  Australia

  HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.

  Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street

  Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia

  http://www.harpercollins.com.au

  Canada

  HarperCollins Canada

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  http://www.harpercollins.ca

  New Zealand

  HarperCollins Publishers (New Zealand) Limited

  P.O. Box 1

  Auckland, New Zealand

  http://www.harpercollins.co.nz

  United Kingdom

  HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.

  77-85 Fulham Palace Road

  London, W6 8JB, UK

  http://www.harpercollins.co.uk

  United States

  HarperCollins Publishers Inc.

  195 Broadway

  New York, NY 10007

  http://www.harpercollins.com

 

 

 


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