‘I’m impressed,’ says Tilly. ‘Well, I can always scoot down to Camborne to pick you up. You can pay for the petrol.’
‘You’ll still be around?’
She glances at him, disconcerted. ‘Why not?’
‘Oh,’ he shrugs. ‘Just wondering. You said Sarah is moving soon and I don’t know what your plans might be.’
He notes with interest the colour rising in her cheeks and wonders if she’s thinking about Clem.
‘I can carry on even if she goes,’ she says. ‘Though I’m not sure I’d want to.’
‘Running the business from Mr Potts’ bedroom?’
She laughs. ‘Why not? As long as Dom doesn’t chuck me out.’
‘He won’t do that. He loves having you there. You know he does.’
Tilly pulls into the Chough’s car park and they get out.
‘It’s an awfully long time to sit about, Hal,’ she says anxiously. ‘I hope you’ll be OK.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ he assures her. ‘I’ve got a book and I’ve got some texting to catch up on. It’ll be great to chill out.’
She nods. ‘OK. See you later.’
She disappears through a back door and Harry goes round to the bar. To his surprise and delight a fire is already crackling in the wood-burner and a man is sitting at a table reading a newspaper. The landlord appears from the room behind the bar and grins at him.
‘Tilly says you’re up for some coffee,’ he says. ‘Anything special? Filter? Cafetière?’
‘Cafetière, please,’ says Harry. ‘Thanks.’
‘Newspapers on the rack behind you,’ the landlord says, and disappears.
Harry glances round, catches the eye of the man sitting beside the fire and does a double take.
‘Hi,’ he says. ‘Didn’t we meet before? Weren’t you delivering something to Mellinpons over near St Tudy?’
The man is staring at him with an odd expression, a mix of amusement and disbelief.
‘Yes,’ he says. ‘Yes, we did. My company is carrying out market research in the area. Solar power, wind farms, energy, that kind of thing. I’m staying here for a bit. Are you going to join me or are you a “newspaper in silence with your coffee” kind of man?’
Harry laughs. ‘I don’t really do silence. But I don’t want to disturb you.’
‘Christian Marr.’ He casts aside the newspaper and holds out his hand. ‘Most people call me Chris.’
Harry takes his hand. ‘Harry de Klerk.’
Chris raises his eyebrows. ‘South African? You don’t look it.’
‘I know. I live in Jo’burg but the Cornish part of my family comes from round here,’ says Harry, sitting down at the table. ‘I’m staying with my grandfather, Dominic Blake. I don’t suppose you know him? Or the St Enedocs?’
Chris shakes his head. ‘Doesn’t mean anything to me. So are you on holiday?’
They sit down together, companionably. Harry is pleased to have someone to talk to, with whom to share the next two hours. He likes the look of Chris: there is a continental touch to his tanned skin, and his black high-necked cashmere jersey and narrow jeans. The expensive-looking leather satchel hangs from the arm of his chair and he has a cosmopolitan air. He looks more like a musician or an artist than a market researcher.
Harry’s coffee arrives, and a plate of chocolate brownies. ‘On the house,’ says the landlord with a wink. ‘Enjoy.’
When Tilly puts her head round the door and smiles at Harry, Tris raises his hand to her. She comes further into the bar.
‘Good morning, Mr Marr,’ she says. ‘The flat’s all done. Come on, Hal. We’re going to have to hurry.’
Tris and Harry stand up and shake hands, and Tilly and Harry go out together.
Tris sits down again and begins to laugh quietly to himself. He simply can’t help it. Chance has given him the opportunity to sit here, talking to Dom’s grandson, Billa and Ed’s great-nephew, finding out more about them in two hours than he’s been able to discover in nearly two weeks. He’s stayed in pubs and B and Bs in a ten-mile radius of the old butter factory, resisting the temptation to move into the flat at the Chough until two days ago because he feared that it was too risky to be actually staying so close. And now he’s been given it all on a plate; the boy was so open, so artless, so trusting. How easy it’s been to get information from him. Now he knows that Billa is a widow with no children and that Ed is divorced and also childless. Dom is widowed, and his children, with their children, live in South Africa. Tilly is the daughter of an old colleague and the boy, Harry, will be leaving soon. In short, there are no tough younger members of the family to come hurrying to question and confront him when he finally turns up at the old butter factory with the will Elinor made all those years ago.
Tris begins to laugh again. He’s taken the chance and it’s paid off.
‘Good joke?’ asks the landlord as he collects the coffee things.
Tris nods but doesn’t enlarge. He orders a gin and tonic and asks to see the lunch menu. As he studies it, he broods. Harry is the thorn in the flesh; the fly in the ointment. Tris knows that he’ll have to continue to lie low until after next weekend and this might be tricky now he’s moved to the Chough. Apart from that, the coast is clear. All he has to do is wait for Harry to go.
* * *
Later, much later, Tilly sits at the dressing table in Mr Potts’ bedroom and thinks about the meeting with Clem and Jakey. Downstairs, Dom and Harry are playing Scrabble; arguing over every word, disputing each double or triple score letter, as they have always done since Harry was six years old.
Slowly, Tilly begins to brush her hair with long sweeps of the brush, staring at herself in the glass, thinking about Clem. It was disconcerting to see him in his jeans, Jakey in tow, like any young dad on a day out with his son. Jakey looks just like him and was very well-behaved, fun, quite at his ease with three adults. He and Harry immediately hit it off and after the fish and chips they’d gone ahead, wandering round the harbour, leaving Tilly with Clem.
Tilly puts down the brush, thinking about it. Jakey’s presence changed things. Up at the convent she and Clem approached each other as equals; two young people, attracted to each other. Today, Clem was a young father, a widower, with an important past relationship. Perhaps if she, too, were divorced, or just out of a long-standing relationship, with a child of her own, they’d be on more equal terms: but she isn’t. She’s had boyfriends, one slightly serious relationship, but she is still looking for the big one: the right man, romance, special holidays together. How does that work with a widower who has a child already?
She and Clem strolled together, still very aware of each other – all the right vibes – but as she watched Jakey dancing ahead at Harry’s side she was filled with fear. She remembered Sarah’s pejorative words and feared they might be true. Her confidence slowly ebbed from her and it was a relief to catch up with Jakey and Harry, who were talking about Newquay Zoo. Clem had promised to take Jakey to see the Madagascar experience and he was longing to see it.
‘It sounds brilliant,’ Tilly said, smiling at his eagerness. ‘I love the film.’
‘Well, why don’t we all go?’ suggested Harry. ‘What about this afternoon?’
Jakey, silenced by such an amazing opportunity, stared up beseechingly at Clem.
‘Well, why not?’ he answered, slightly taken aback by such a sudden proposition. ‘It’s my day off so we could go, if you’d like it?’
He glanced at Tilly – who was just as surprised as Clem at Harry’s suggestion, but grateful, too. It prolonged the afternoon and gave her the chance to try to sort out her feelings. Jakey jumped about, punching the air, utterly delighted at the prospect of such a treat. They left Tilly’s car in the car park and all went in Clem’s car, Jakey and Harry in the back, old friends now, joshing and laughing together. Clem and Tilly sat together, talking much less easily, still painfully conscious of the other. They’d been in time to watch the penguins being fed and Harry and Jakey a
greed that the penguins were their favourite characters in the film. On the way back to Padstow one or the other would say: ‘Smile and wave. Smile and wave,’ and they’d shout with laughter and do high-fives.
‘It was really weird,’ she said to Harry later as they drove home together. ‘It wasn’t like going out with a boyfriend at all. I think Jakey’s an absolute darling but whatever we do it’ll be like having a chaperon with us, won’t it? Clem gets one day off a week, Saturdays, so he can spend time with Jakey, which is perfectly right. But when would Clem and I get time together? How would it work? And even if it did, then there’s that second wife thing people talk about when the first one has died so young. Like she’ll always be perfect and enshrined in blissful memories because she didn’t get the chance to grow boringly familiar or irritable or picky or jealous.’
Harry was silent, which somehow made her even more defensive.
‘You can see what I mean, can’t you, Hal?’
‘Yes,’ he said, after a moment. ‘I can. But you really like Clem, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ she said, almost irritably. ‘Yes, I really like Clem.’
‘And it’s clear that he really likes you. It’s just that it’s, like, a terrible waste, that’s all.’
‘But you see my point?’ she insisted. ‘OK, I admit that I could easily fall in love with Clem but I’d want to be romantic and happy and silly with him. How do you do that with a seven-year-old watching? I don’t want a sensible, motherly role. I’m not ready for that, Hal. I want children but after I’ve had fun first. I’m not ready to move from complete single freedom into being a stepmother.’
‘Then it all comes down to whether you do actually fall in love with Clem, I suppose,’ Harry said thoughtfully. ‘You’d have to love him enough to want to make some kind of compromise work. Clem knows that, which makes it tricky for him.’
‘What d’you mean?’ She glanced sideways quickly at Harry.
He shrugged. ‘I like Clem. He’s reserved but he’s got a great sense of humour and it’s clear he really fancies you. He’d be much more proactive if he wasn’t bringing so much baggage with him. It must be really difficult for him, too. Would you rather we hadn’t arranged to go over for tea tomorrow?’
She shook her head. ‘No. And anyway, Jakey really wants you to see his toys or whatever. You certainly made a hit, and it’s easier with you there, Hal.’
‘Well, I shan’t be for much longer so you’d better make the most of it, Tills,’ he said.
Now, she wonders how it will be, meeting Clem at the vicarage tomorrow; seeing him in his home. It will be so difficult to act casually. The door at the foot of the stair opens and Harry calls up to her.
‘Supper’s ready, come and get it,’ and Tilly goes out and downstairs to join them, determined to put her anxieties aside for the evening.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
When they arrive at the vicarage for tea, however, Clem isn’t there. Jakey is bouncing on the trampoline, watched by a woman with that familiar silvery-gilt fair hair, those narrow dark blue eyes that sometimes look brown. She turns quickly as Tilly and Harry come in through the gate and Jakey shouts a welcome and bounces even higher. The woman waves, coming to meet them.
‘Clem’s a bit late,’ she says. ‘I’ve just brought Jakey back so we’re waiting for him.’ She holds out her hand. ‘I’m Dossie. Clem’s mum.’
Tilly and Harry introduce themselves whilst Jakey shouts louder, bounces higher still and does clever tumbling tricks, showing off.
‘You’ve made a huge hit,’ says Dossie to Harry. ‘He tells me that you live in South Africa and you’ve seen elephants and tigers and lions in the wild.’
‘Courtesy of Kruger National Park,’ says Harry, grinning. ‘Hi, mate,’ he calls to Jakey, and goes to admire his acrobatics, leaving Tilly with Dossie.
Tilly feels ludicrously shy; for once she can think of nothing much to say, but Dossie is quite natural.
‘Rather a dreary little place, isn’t it?’ she murmurs, indicating the bungalow. ‘The sixties were such a terrible time for building. You can see why Clem can’t wait to get back to the Lodge. He and Jakey nearly froze to death this last winter. Appalling metal windows that don’t fit, and wait till you see the lino in the kitchen.’
Tilly is surprised and amused. ‘It’s not very pretty,’ she agrees cautiously.
Dossie snorts expressively. ‘Never mind. It won’t be for long. Would you like a cup of tea or shall we wait for Clem? He had a baptism, and I expect somebody’s pounced on him. One of the drawbacks of the job. Everyone wants a piece of you.’
When Dossie smiles she looks like Clem, and Tilly smiles back at her.
‘Let’s wait for Clem … Or will he have had enough tea, do you think?’
‘He’ll be awash with it,’ says Dossie cheerfully. ‘Let’s get the kettle on. Or I could leave Jakey with you and go on home.’
Tilly hesitates, confused. She doesn’t know whether Dossie would rather go and whether Jakey would make a fuss if she did. How late might Clem be?
‘Well, let me show you where everything is,’ says Dossie, seeing her hesitation. ‘And we’ll take it from there. The kitchen’s dire, I warn you.’
‘Where do you live?’ asks Tilly, following her into the bungalow.
‘We’re at St Endellion. My parents and I run a B and B. We’ve been there for centuries but it’s a nice old place. It’s about twenty minutes away so we have Jakey at half-terms and holidays, and when Clem needs a break.’
Tilly thinks about this as she stares round the small kitchen: so Clem has a support group close at hand and Jakey has a grandmother and great-grandparents.
‘There’s a cake in this tin,’ Dossie is saying, as she fills the kettle. ‘I cut a couple of slices off for Mo and Pa, but there should be enough. Clem tells me you’re in IT and doing clever things for Chi-Meur.’
‘Well, not quite yet but I’m working on it. And there is certainly lots of material to work on. It’s a fantastic place, isn’t it?’
Tilly looks for cups or mugs and Dossie swings open the door of a Formica cupboard above the working surface, indicating the piles of crockery.
‘Chi-Meur is gorgeous. Everyone wants to make a success of it and there’s so much support.’ Dossie finds teabags and brings milk from the fridge. ‘Have you met the Sisters yet? Oh, that sounds like Clem.’
There are voices in the garden and shouts of greeting from Jakey. Tilly turns almost apprehensively, wondering if Clem will mind her rootling in his cupboard, and sees him standing in the doorway watching them. His wary expression is so utterly that of a young male wondering if his mother has put her foot in it with someone that matters to him that Tilly nearly bursts out laughing. It is clear to Tilly that Dossie is thinking exactly the same; she is looking at her son with amusement.
‘Hi,’ he says. ‘Sorry I’m late.’
‘We thought we might start without you,’ Dossie says. ‘But now you’re here I can get back to Mo and Pa. I’ve booked Wednesday out for Jakey. It is Wednesday, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. Thanks,’ Clem says. ‘He’s having tea with a friend tomorrow, and Sarah’s offered to have him for Tuesday straight from school. If you could do Wednesday it’ll be great. I’m OK Thursday and Friday.’
‘Fine,’ she says. ‘I’ll see him on the way out.’ She smiles at Tilly and passes Clem in the doorway, reaching up to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. ‘’Bye, Tilly. Respect the cake.’
‘Oh, I shall,’ Tilly assures her, suddenly wishing that Dossie wasn’t going.
After her initial reaction, her amusement at his wary expression, Tilly is struck now with the difference between the Clem in his jeans, eating fish and chips, and this tall young man in his clerical collar. He looks austere, remote – and she is seized with another attack of shyness.
‘It must be difficult,’ she says at random, ‘trying to juggle your work and Jakey.’
He nods, coming right into the kitchen, putting
his small case on a chair. Tilly turns to make tea, deciding to take the initiative, feeling extremely surprised at herself standing here in Clem’s kitchen with mugs and spoons and teabags as if it’s all quite usual.
‘I’m lucky to have Dossie and Mo and Pa so close,’ he says. ‘I couldn’t manage without them. Sarah helps after school sometimes, and so do some of the other mothers, but holidays and Sundays would be impossible.’
He leans with his back to the sink, watching her.
‘Dossie’s made a cake,’ she says, ‘but we wondered if you might have overdosed on tea.’
He grins, and at once the austere, remote Clem vanishes. She beams back at him, suddenly at ease.
‘I’m on a permanent caffeine high,’ he admits, ‘but I’d like a cup of tea. And some cake. Thanks.’
Neither of them remark on the fact that she’s making herself at home and Clem opens a drawer and produces a cake slice and some forks.
‘Does Jakey drink tea?’ she asks.
‘I try to keep him on milk,’ he says, ‘but the Sisters got him into bad ways, I’m afraid.’
She laughs. ‘Sister Emily?’
‘The same,’ he agrees ruefully. ‘Her experience of small boys was limited and he rather got the taste for tea and coffee early on. If we’re lucky he won’t think about it and he’ll just drink his milk. He tends to show off in front of company and he’s developed a huge crush on Harry.’
‘So where do we have tea?’
He opens a door into a big room, which doubles as a sitting-room and dining-room. A rather beautiful old merchant’s chest stands against one of the walls, which have been freshly painted, and there is a sliding door opening into the garden. Tilly puts the cake and some plates on the pretty, drop-leaf table; Clem follows, carrying the mugs of tea and Jakey’s milk on a tray.
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