by Fern Britton
She stayed where she was, horrified and ashamed that she’d played her hand so openly.
‘I’ll join you in a minute.’
He looked down at her and held out a large hand. ‘Come on, you. We all say silly things when we’re pissed. I promise not to tell. Now take my hand and let’s go back.’
*
The party had degenerated into several couples clinging to each other in a slow dance. Around the edges sat groups of people chatting or snogging. The fire pit for the hog roast had died down to a mellow glow and the hog itself was just a charred carcass. Greer glanced around to find her parents. She saw them through a window sitting inside in the bar.
Her feeling of relief was swiftly abated when a breathless Loveday ran up to them in distress.
‘Jesse, your brother’s challenged Ricky the DJ to an arm-wrestling match. He’s ever so drunk and I’m frightened he’s going to hurt him.’
‘Oh shit,’ said Jesse, and he sprinted off into the pub.
A crowd had gathered around Grant and Ricky. Ricky was a big lad with strong arms and a beer belly, and he was holding his own. Grant’s tattooed muscles, though, were as dense and hard as granite. He was staring into the DJ’s pudgy face and through bared teeth said, ‘Come on, fat boy. You can do better than this, can’t you?’
Ricky dug deep and strengthened his grip. ‘You don’t scare me, soldier boy. I was in the Falklands. I’ve killed people.’
‘Yeah?’ grimaced Grant, pushing his muscles till they quivered. ‘Well, you’re a tub of lard now, aren’t you?’
There was a sudden parting of the crowd as Mickey and Jesse pushed through. Their arrival momentarily broke Grant’s concentration and Ricky, seeing his chance, slammed Grant’s arm down. The crowd cheered but quickly quietened as they saw Grant smash his fist into Ricky’s face. There was the sickening sound of crunching bone and a splatter of blood arced from the DJ’s nose across the crowd.
Someone must have dialled 999 because within minutes two police cars and an ambulance had arrived, their sirens and blue lights strobing the peace of the harbour.
A few of the more drunken and troublesome teens lingered on the harbour, looking for trouble, before they were herded away by the police; the party quickly broke up, with only the hardened rubberneckers lingering. Ricky the DJ was put in the ambulance with a police officer and driven off to Truro and Treliske Hospital.
Grant was handcuffed after attempting to resist arrest and was being questioned in the bar. It wasn’t long before a Royal Marines Police vehicle arrived and he was locked in the back for the return journey to his Plymouth barracks. Jesse could only watch helplessly as Grant was driven away. Thanks to him, the night had ended on a downer and all the excitement and expectation that had been flowing through the crowd had now drained away, just like the remains of the punch that Pete was pouring down the sink.
Jesse was left with the difficult of job of going home to tell his parents that Grant was, once again, in trouble.
8
1989
Greer stepped off the train at Bodmin and walked out to the pavement, where cars were parking ready to collect her fellow travellers. She shielded her eyes against the dazzling June sunshine and stood her suitcase and two canvas ‘overspill’ bags at her feet, face turned to the sun, inhaling the scent of clean Cornish air.
‘Greer darling!’ Her mother’s voice carried on the breeze. Elizabeth was stepping half in and half out of the passenger seat of Bryn’s latest car. Her left leg was still in the footwell, her right on the tarmac, and both hands holding onto the top of the open car door. She was beaming and waving frantically.
Greer could see her father pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head and then opening the heavy door of the big BMW. He got out and walked to the boot. He opened it and then strolled towards her, giving Greer a chance to admire how fit and tanned and successful he looked. ‘Darling, welcome home.’ He kissed her and picked up the suitcase and one of the canvas bags. ‘You can manage that one, can’t you?’ He nodded his head to the remaining bag.
‘I’ve managed all of them from London, Dad.’
‘Hope you haven’t gone all women’s lib on us?’ He laughed.
Greer was thinking that her dad was being as embarrassing as usual and was struggling to come up with a suitable retort when her mother bustled up. ‘Darling Greer. You look so lovely! So slim in that dress. But what have you done with your hair?’
Greer’s free hand flew to the back of her neck where perfect feathers of hair lay short. ‘I got bored with the bob.’
‘But it was a classic cut. You’ve had it since you were three.’
‘Exactly. I’m eighteen years old. I needed a change.’
Her mother sniffed disapprovingly before saying, ‘Never mind. It will grow.’
Her father loaded her bags into the boot and Greer stepped into the back seat. As with all her father’s cars it was the best he could afford. Top of the range, walnut, soft leather and deep-pile carpet.
‘I like your new car, Dad.’
‘Only picked it up two days ago. Wanted to collect you in style.’ He put the gearstick into drive mode and pulled away from the kerb. Her mother craned round to chat to her daughter.
‘Congratulations on your typing speed and shorthand. And how you’ve mastered the word processor, I’ve no idea. Your father has two in the office. The girls were showing them to me but it’s all so complicated.’ Her mother turned back to face the road.
‘Not when you know how, Mum.’ Greer was looking out of the window, enjoying the sights she hadn’t seen for two long years. The valley to her right held woodland and fields. To her left were the steep lanes leading to Lanhydrock House.
‘There’s a job for a secretary in the office at the moment.’ Her father caught her gaze in the rear-view mirror. ‘Tessa’s going off on maternity leave in a couple of weeks. She says she’ll be back, but she won’t. Women don’t come back once they’ve started a family. But I have to pay her while she’s away. It’s a government con.’
Greer tried to let her father’s misogynistic stream flow over her. She had got what she’d wanted. She’d done a two-year course in interior design at a smart private college in Surrey, and, to keep her father happy, studied for a secretarial course in London during the holidays. That had left her no time to return to Cornwall while she focused on gaining her qualifications, but it meant she’d achieved them as quickly as possible.
‘I got a distinction in my design course.’
There was a tight silence from the front seats.
‘Good,’ her mother finally said.
Greer persevered. ‘Actually, I have a surprise for you.’
Silence.
‘I got Student of the Year.’
She saw her father raise his eyebrows in a look that said, ‘What’s the bloody use of that?’ before her mother managed: ‘That’s nice.’
Greer said nothing more. She knew that she’d done extremely well, despite their dismissive attitude. They could ignore it if they liked, but Greer had worked hard for that distinction and it wouldn’t go to waste, no matter what her father might think. She continued to look out of the window, content to watch the familiar landmarks slide by. Trelawney Garden Centre, the bridge over the river at Wadebridge, and the Royal Cornwall Showground. They continued along the dramatic and romantically named Atlantic Highway until the first sign to Trevay came into view.
‘Nearly home now, Greer.’ Her mum turned back to smile at her.
Greer’s heart was starting to pound and butterflies were battering away inside her stomach. Nearly home. Nearly. She opened her mouth and asked the question she’d been burning to ask since she got off the train. ‘How’s Jesse?’
*
Loveday was forking a chip into her mouth and lapping up everything Greer was telling her about her two years up country. The girls had stayed in touch with occasional letters and postcards, but Greer hadn’t come home for the entire two years that s
he’d been away at college. She had been determined to get her head down and finish the course as soon as she possibly could. She’d asked Loveday to come and see her, in the hope that Mickey and Jesse might tag along too, but Loveday never seemed to have enough money or time to make what she appeared to regard as an epic journey.
Greer had vaguely entertained the thought of staying on, but when she’d tried to find a position in one of the interior design companies up there, she never seemed to have the right connections. Despite the Clovelly name meaning something in Trevay, she had quickly become aware it stood for nothing in Guildford or Woking. The Surrey set she’d mixed with had all been very sophisticated and well-to-do; the girls who had found positions all had posh dads with serious connections. Greer realised she missed that feeling of being part of an influential and wealthy family, getting what she wanted when she wanted; being envied by people around her for her style and wealth. In short, she missed being in Trevay.
‘I shared a flat with another girl, Laura, who was on the same design course. You should have seen how we did the place up! We painted the kitchen warm terracotta and hung garlands of fresh hops around the top of the wall units. Our landlord had never seen anything like it. He said he’d get twice the rent for it now. Laura taught me how to make curtains and we bought yards and yards of ticking fabric in the market and made the longest drapes you’ve ever seen. Really theatrical with swags and tie-backs.’
‘What’s a tie-back?’
Greer got out a little notebook which held her sketches for ideas and showed it to her friend. It was about time Trevay had its own interior designer and Greer knew her mother had lots of wealthy friends who would jump at the chance to have their houses improved by someone with her talents and training.
‘Bleddy hell. No wonder you got Top Student,’ Loveday said with real wonder. ‘I bet the boys loved you.’
Greer put the notebook back in her bag. ‘It was a virtually all-girl course and the boys we did have were gay.’
Loveday’s eyes virtually popped out of her head. ‘Gay? You mean like they had boyfriends?’
‘Yes. Don’t be so parochial.’ Greer frowned, taking a sip of her coffee. There had been a few casual boyfriends and nights out, but nothing serious, and there was no one who could give her the same thrill of excitement as she felt when she thought about Jesse. ‘Do you want my biscuit?’ She pushed her saucer with its small round of shortbread on it towards Loveday.
Loveday had finished her fish and chips and shook her head. ‘No, thank you, I’m on a diet.’
‘Are you?’ Greer said archly. ‘I thought Mickey liked you just the way you are.’
‘Mickey’s just Mickey. There’s never going to be anything between him and me.’
‘Is he seeing someone else?’
Loveday absentmindedly picked up the shortbread biscuit and popped it in her mouth. ‘I know he wants to go out with me but, as I keep saying no, Jesse and he are playing the field. Every spare minute they’re in Newquay or St Ives, doing the clubs, picking up girls. We don’t hang out like we used to.’
Greer clutched her coffee cup and hoped that Loveday didn’t notice her hand shaking at the mention of Jesse.
‘Is he seeing anyone special?’
‘No, they’re just being idiots.’ Loveday hoped that Greer didn’t see how much it hurt to know that Jesse had become a bit of a wanker, ‘making hay while the sun shone’, as he called it. That was one way of making it sound nicer than it was, she thought darkly.
Both girls stared out of the window of the little café in one of Trevay’s side streets. Across the road, in the window of the dress shop, Doreen’s, a woman was dressing a dummy, pulling up the elasticated waist of a pair of white trousers, and adding a short-sleeved nautical T-shirt.
‘Talk of the bleddy devil.’ Loveday banged on the glass café window. ‘Jesse!’ she shouted in a voice that carried around the restaurant, out of the open door and onto the pavement.
Greer saw him as he looked around, trying to work out who was calling him and from where.
‘In here!’ Loveday was banging and shouting until he saw her. He gave a small wave but kept walking. ‘Greer’s home, look!’ she shouted again, embarrassing Greer and eliciting tuts from customers who merely wanted to eat their lunch in peace. Loveday pushed her chair back with a screech and ran out onto the pavement, physically stopping Jesse. Greer couldn’t bear to watch in case Jesse shrugged and walked on. She’d seen him only twice, briefly, since the night of the hog roast, and whenever she thought about how she’d virtually proposed to him a cold river of shame poured over her.
In spite of herself, she took a quick glance through the window and out to the scene on the pavement. Oh my God, he was walking towards the café with Loveday grinning and chatting by his side.
He came in and walked up to her table. He looked taller; his muscles had filled out and he was a ton more handsome, if that were possible. Suntanned, with a chiselled jaw and his unruly blond hair just a little longer, he stood over her, smiling, making her insides do funny things.
‘Hello, Greer. It’s been a long time. I wouldn’t have recognised you with your short hair.’
Again her hand flew to her head. ‘Do you like it?’ Oh God, what kind of question was that?
He appraised her steadily before saying, ‘It’s all right. Do you girls want a cup of tea?’
‘I’d like a milkshake,’ Loveday announced, noisily pulling her chair back up to the table.
‘Flavour?’
‘Banana.’
‘Right. You, Greer?’
‘No, thank you.’
‘You’m skin and bone, maid.’
Greer looked at her narrow thighs in their tight black jeans. ‘Oh, OK. I’ll have another coffee. Thanks.’
Jesse laughed and showed his good teeth. ‘Black no sugar?’
Greer hated him laughing at her. ‘White coffee with sugar,’ she said defiantly, even though he’d been right in the first place.
The waitress brought the order to the table.
‘So, how have you been?’ Greer asked stiffly.
‘Brilliant,’ said Jesse. ‘I’m on the boats full time now. Hard work, but the pay is good. I’ve bought a car.’
‘Gosh. How grown-up.’ Greer was seething with jealousy. A car meant he could pick up as many girls as he wanted. ‘What sort?’
‘Ford Capri. I’m doin’ it up right now. Want to come and see it?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Well, don’t if you don’t want to.’ He looked rather crestfallen. ‘I expect you saw plenty of nice cars up country.’
‘No, I would,’ she said quickly, afraid of losing this chance to be with him. ‘I’d love to. Where is it?’
‘Up the sheds.’ He spooned three sugars into his tan-coloured mug of tea. ‘What’s new with you then, Greer? Been a long time since we clapped eyes on you. How was it at college?’
‘It was good. Quite fun.’
‘Only got Student of the Decade and all her secretarial stuff too,’ interjected Loveday, proudly.
Jesse raised a blond eyebrow appraisingly and nodded slowly. ‘Right, well, when I get my house I might let you do it up for me, then.’ He looked at her with a smile playing around his lips.
Greer felt he was trying to bait her. And was irritated by his attitude. ‘I’m very expensive.’
He smirked. ‘Oh, really? How much?’
‘It would depend on what you wanted.’
Loveday jumped in. ‘Tell him about the curtains.’
‘Well, I could do a set of curtains at about three hundred a window.’
He roared with laughter. ‘No. How much really?’
‘Three hundred.’
‘Straight up?’ He looked amazed.
‘Or flounced and tied back,’ joked Loveday.
Her joke flew over his head and he looked at Greer with fresh interest. ‘Three hundred? Fools and their money are easily parted!’ He drained his tea, pushed his chair
back and stood up. ‘Anyway, I gotta go back to work. Dad wants me.’ He walked to the door. Greer refused to turn and watch him. At the last moment he said, ‘Mick and me will be up at the sheds about half six if you want to see my car.’ And he left.
*
Mickey looked the same but even taller, if that were possible. He gave her a huge bear hug.
‘Greer, you’ve gone all posh an’ that, ’aven’t you?’
Greer smiled. ‘Have I?’
‘Yeah, look at you. London clothes and haircut and that.’
Greer looked down at her jumpsuit with its padded shoulders and wide belt and supposed that she was rather more on trend than the rest of Trevay. ‘Oh, it’s only Chelsea Girl.’
Loveday had already quizzed her friend on her new wardrobe and was planning a trip to Plymouth to update her own clothes. ‘Don’t she look good? And what about her hair?’
Mickey took in the urchin cut but said nothing other than: ‘It’s good to see you. I thought you’d dumped your old mates.’
The thing was, once Greer had left Trevay, she hadn’t really missed her friends that much; there was too much going on and the thought of going back home and being treated as a kid by her father was unappealing. Besides, her mother loved the shopping in Guildford, and even at Christmas they’d been quite happy to come and have their Christmas lunch at a posh hotel in Surrey. She smiled. ‘I know I haven’t been home for two years but I was busy, and Mum came up to see me all the time. She kept me up to date with all the Trevay news, though.’
Jesse walked over to the Behenna’s Boats shed and pulled at the big doors. ‘’Ave a look to this beauty.’ The doors opened and behind them in the workshop was Jesse’s Ford Capri. Bright blue with the Cornish flag painted on the roof.
‘Wow!’ Greer said sarcastically. ‘Who did the paintwork?’
‘Me and Dad.’
‘It’s lovely.’
‘Want a ride?’
Greer caught her breath. The thought of sitting next to Jesse after two years of dreaming about him made her giddy. She managed to say, ‘Sure.’
‘Right,’ said Jesse. ‘You two girls hop in the back and we’ll all go for a ride.’