What Happens In Cornwall...

by T A Williams

  ‘He is. I can see that. You’ll miss him when you go back to the US.’

  ‘I’m thinking about asking if he’ll come back with me.’ Ann caught Sam’s eye. ‘Freddie’s brilliant company and so reassuring, and I’d be really pleased to have him around. He reminds me of my father in all sorts of ways. He died last year and I still miss him loads. I could talk to him about pretty much anything and I always got a straight answer, even if it was to tell me my skirt was too short.’ She grinned at Sam. ‘I haven’t known Freddie long, you know. I only just met him a fortnight ago.’ Sam looked up in surprise as Ann explained. ‘The building work was only completed a couple of months ago and the staff were all recruited through an agency. I really couldn’t have asked for a better choice. Apparently he was top dog at some amazing luxury hotel in London until last year and the agency managed to lure him out of retirement to look after me.’

  The two of them chatted and soon Sam found herself talking about the latest developments in the saga of Neil and her. Ann was sympathetic, but positive.

  ‘Don’t worry about who said it first. The fact is you’ve got the result you wanted and that’s all that matters. Now, a lovely-looking girl like you must have some other hunky man on the horizon, I’m sure. Have I told you? I’m terribly jealous of your green eyes.’

  Sam blushed, impressed to hear one of the world’s most beautiful women refer to her as attractive, but she was quick to respond. ‘No, Ann, not for now. It’s going to take a while to get Neil out of my hair. I’m not interested in any other men.’ Or was she? Unbidden, James Courtney’s face came into her head and stubbornly refused to budge.

  They chatted for the best part of an hour before Henry leapt to his feet and ran off to greet Freddie Griffiths, who had appeared on the skyline and slowly started to make his way back down towards them. Ann caught Sam’s eye. ‘Thanks, Sam. It’s good to talk. You know something? It’s great to just chill out and chat with a friend like a normal person for a change. I’m really glad you got washed up on our island.’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t the ideal way to start a friendship, but it worked. For what it’s worth, I enjoy hanging out with you, too.’

  Ann placed her hand down on top of Sam’s. ‘Anyway, that’s why I took the decision to ask you and Virginia to get involved in the bone hunt. We’ll be able to chat more often and I’ll look forward to that.’

  ‘Me, too.’

  Chapter 18

  Lorna’s cousin was a tough-looking man; not tall, but very broad. His powerful arms were covered in tattoos and his jeans were stained and torn. His rubber boots had no doubt started life yellow, but a combination of salt water and fish guts had reduced them to a desert camouflage pattern. His gold earring looked as if it had just come off a pirate. In fact, all he needed was a wooden leg and a parrot and he would have looked the part. He brought a distinct smell of fish into the pub with him. From the expression on his face, it had been a long day and he was thirsty.

  Giancarlo and Beppe were waiting for him at half past five, as arranged. Beppe had already drunk a pint of bitter while waiting. Giancarlo was drinking lemonade. He had plans with Lorna later that evening and alcohol would only slow him down. He caught her eye and blew her a kiss. She smiled, beckoned to her cousin, and made the introductions.

  ‘This is Dave. He’s my cousin. Dave, these are my Italian friends.’

  Dave gave them a nod of his shaggy blond head and a grunt.

  ‘Ask him if we can buy him a drink.’ Beppe gave the man a broad smile as Giancarlo asked him what he wanted.

  ‘I’d kill for a pint of Old Bastard.’

  Giancarlo hadn’t got a clue what he said, but Lorna was already drawing it from the keg. Beppe was most impressed when Dave took the glass from her, upended it and swallowed the lot in one go. He set the empty glass back down on the bar and looked around hopefully.

  ‘Get him another.’ Giancarlo was already reaching into his pocket and Lorna was at the keg. This time only half disappeared immediately. Dave wiped his mouth with the back of a weather-beaten hand and grunted. ‘That’s better.’ Remembering his manners, he looked across at Beppe and growled his thanks.

  Beppe waved them away. ‘Ask him about getting out to the island.’ He knew he was stating the obvious, but he was impatient for a response. Giancarlo gave him a look that told him he knew what he had to ask. He turned back to the fisherman.

  ‘Lorna says you know Rock Island very well.’

  ‘Like the back of my hand.’ Instinctively Giancarlo glanced down at the huge paw holding the glass.

  ‘Good, very good. We are photographers of birds. We need to get onto the island, but it is prohibited.’

  ‘It’s private.’ The rest of the glass disappeared down Dave’s throat and Giancarlo and Lorna sprang into action once more. Beppe drained his and added it to the line. The fisherman and he exchanged mute smiles. Dave turned back to Giancarlo. ‘Doesn’t worry me though. I can get you out there any time you want.’ He glanced out of the window. ‘Well, most probably not for two or three days. There’s a depression coming through. Sea’ll be too rough to allow safe access to the cove where I’ll put you ashore.’

  Giancarlo didn’t know what a cove was, but he took an educated guess. He could only just get the gist of what the fisherman said. A Cornish accent this thick was not something he had ever encountered before.

  ‘Could you take us there? Maybe one morning when you’re on your way out fishing, and then you could pick us up again on your way back?’

  ‘No problem. What are we today? Monday.’ Dave screwed up his eyes and stared out of the window at the sky. ‘Say provisionally Thursday or Friday morning, weather permitting. I’ll leave a message with young Lorna. All right?’

  ‘Tell him we can pay him whatever he wants.’ Beppe tried the Old Bastard, as Giancarlo translated. It went down very easily. Too easily, Beppe thought to himself.

  Dave pointed to the beer in his glass. ‘That’s all right. You’re friends of Lorna’s. I won’t take your money. I won’t say no to a beer or two, though.’ He held his glass up in salute to Beppe. As a matter of Italian pride, Beppe felt he had no option but to drain his in one go.

  Three more pints of bitter later, Dave remembered he had a wife waiting for him with his evening meal. He gave a wave of his massive hand and promised to meet them on the quay at seven o’clock on Thursday or Friday morning. Giancarlo was impressed to see that he left the pub with a remarkably steady gait.

  The two Italians ordered their own evening meal. Lorna recommended the sea bass, not least as Dave had just brought them. By the time the meal was finished, Beppe was very mellow, chatting away to other guests in Italian, blissfully unaware that they couldn’t understand a word he was saying. Giancarlo was very happy to see him in this state. His intention was to take Lorna back to his room at the guest house later that night, and if Beppe in the room next door was comatose, so much the better. He had already discovered that she had a tendency to squeal at moments of high passion.

  Chapter 19

  Samantha’s phone rang at the very worst moment. She had completed her regular evening run and was sprinting the final two hundred yards towards an imaginary line and Olympic triumph. She was giving it her all and the phone call was the last thing she needed. Reluctantly, she slowed to a stop, bending forward and breathing deeply for a few seconds before scrabbling in her pocket for the phone. She checked the caller ID but didn’t recognise it. She took a few calming breaths and swiped the green button.

  ‘Yes, hello.’

  ‘Hello, Samantha. I hope I haven’t caught you at an inconvenient time. It’s Miles Vernon.’

  Her heart sank and she cursed Becky under her breath. ‘Oh, hello, Professor Vernon. How nice to hear from you. I’m afraid I’m out on a run at the moment.’

  ‘Becky told me you were a very sporty girl. I’m very impressed. I do a bit of jogging myself, but I’m happier on the golf course these days.’

  Sam nodded to h
erself. That figured. She had a sinking feeling that she knew why he was calling. She was not to be disappointed.

  ‘I was wondering if I might be able to persuade you to come out for dinner with me one evening this week. It’s such lovely weather, I thought maybe we could take a trip down to the coast.’

  Sam did a bit of quick thinking. The fact that he hadn’t specified an evening made it more difficult for her to plead a prior engagement. Ill health was rendered void by the fact that she was out for a run. That left her with bereavement, holiday, visitors, or honesty. She opted for honesty.

  ‘That’s very kind of you, Dr Vernon, but to be quite honest, I’m not feeling very sociable at the moment.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I can do all the talking. This is nothing to do with the university. It’s purely personal.’ He wasn’t giving up without a fight. However, the thought of his upper class drawl going on all night spurred her into a more determined refusal.

  ‘No, really, I would spoil your evening, I’m sure.’ She was quite sure it would spoil hers. ‘Thanks very much for asking.’

  ‘Oh, come on, I would so love to see you again, and do, please, call me Miles.’ Now it was beginning to get a bit annoying.

  ‘Sorry, Professor Vernon. I’d really better say no, if you don’t mind. And anyway,’ she had a moment of inspiration, ‘I believe fraternisation between staff and students is frowned upon.’ She paused, unwilling to be too rude. ‘I wouldn’t want to screw up my chances of getting my PhD next year.’

  There was a pause. ‘There’s fraternisation and fraternisation, Samantha. Still, if that’s your decision, goodbye, Samantha.’ He hung up, sounding rather stuffy. Clearly, Professor Miles Vernon wasn’t used to refusal.

  She stuck the phone back into her pocket and set off at a slow jog over the pedestrian bridge that spanned the River Exe and up the last few hundred yards to her house. She was barely halfway when the phone rang again.

  ‘Oh, for Christ’s sake…’ She pulled the phone back out of her pocket. This time she recognised the caller.

  ‘Hi, Karen. How’re you?’

  ‘Hello, Sam. You sound a bit out of breath. I haven’t caught you in bed with some young stud, have I?’ This cheered her up.

  ‘Nothing could be further from my mind. In fact, I’ve only just put the phone down on a not so young stud who had precisely that on his mind. I’m panting because I’m out on a run.’

  ‘Well, if you’re not rushing off to have wild sex with some hunk, how about meeting up? I was phoning to see if you’re doing anything tonight.’

  ‘Tonight? Why, are you still down here?’

  ‘Just for tonight. I’ve been doing a story in Devon and I’m staying over with a friend. How about meeting up?’

  Samantha glanced at her watch. A shower and a change wouldn’t take too long, particularly as it was Karen she was meeting. ‘Sounds good to me, but it’ll need to be somewhere cheap and we split the bill. I could make it for eight o’clock. Same place as last time, OK?’

  She managed to get to the Wobbly Wheel a few minutes before eight. As she walked in she checked the room, just in case James Courtney might be there, but there was no sign of him. She felt almost annoyed at the sensation of disappointment that flashed through her. Three or four men were standing at the bar, drinking pints, but otherwise the place was empty apart from Karen, sitting in the far corner. She had arrived in advance with enough time to buy a bottle of white wine. Two glasses stood beside it on the table in front of her. She waved at Sam and beckoned her over.

  ‘I’m glad you’ve got here. Our friends at the bar were beginning to get a bit annoying.’ Sam glanced back and saw the heads all turned in their direction. As she did so, one of them murmured a comment to his mates and they laughed. Sam shook her head and turned away. The last thing she felt like tonight was flirtation with a group of drunken men. She summoned a smile for Karen. ‘Your evening exercise looks as if it’s doing you good. You’ve got more colour in your face than last time I saw you.’

  Then a funny thing happened. The pub door opened and a familiar face appeared. As he did so, a raucous cheer went up from the men at the bar.

  ‘That’s the same man you were checking out last time we were here, isn’t it?’ Karen didn’t miss much.

  Sam shook her head in annoyance. ‘I wasn’t checking him out.’ Realising that this sounded a bit too dogmatic, she qualified her remark. ‘I know him from the university, but he’s already hooked up with some woman, even if I were interested.’ She paused and then added, for emphasis. ‘Which I’m not.’ Karen looked unconvinced.

  As she was talking, James Courtney walked over to the group of men and was greeted with bear hugs all round. His back was turned towards Sam so she was able to watch without fear of being observed. A pint was pressed into his hand and he raised it in some kind of toast. Suddenly serious, the men repeated his words quietly, before the mood changed back again and they all started laughing, joking and talking loudly.

  Sam and Karen ordered some food and then chatted as the level in the wine bottle went down. Sam gave her the news that the boil, as she put it, of her relationship with Neil was now firmly lanced. As she talked, she watched the men at the bar. James Courtney still hadn’t noticed her and she looked on, feeling rather disappointed that it would appear that the newly-arrived historian was little different to Neil and his mates. Then, after a bit, Karen relayed her more positive news.

  ‘Since I last saw you, I’ve found myself a very nice new man.’ She caught Samantha’s eye. ‘He could be The One, I think.’ Sam gave her a look of amazement.

  ‘The One? After only a week or two? Talk about love at first sight!’ She asked for more detail, but Karen was unusually reticent to reveal any more, not even his name. All Sam discovered was that he lived in Exeter, and Karen was staying with him that night. Sam was surprised.

  ‘So how come you’re out with me then? Why aren’t you and he canoodling in some little bistro somewhere, eating oysters by candlelight and sipping champagne out of his shoes?’

  ‘Work. He’s got some meeting. He won’t be home till ten, so rather than just sit at home and watch the TV, I thought I might go out for a few hours.’ Then she changed the subject and Samantha got a surprise. ‘Have you ever heard of Rock Island?’

  ‘Rock Island?’ Remembering her promise to Ann, Sam tried to sound as casual as possible. ‘Yes, it’s off the Cornish coast; south Cornwall, not far from Plymouth. I was down there quite recently for the weekend. It’s a beautiful-looking place.’

  Karen nodded. ‘And very historic, I believe. I thought you might know it, as it’s supposed to have an absolutely marvellous old abbey. Know anything about it?’

  Sam kept to the minimum of detail. ‘It was a Cistercian abbey until Henry VIII came along. I’m reading up about the Cistercians at the moment. Unfortunately the university’s never been allowed out there. I believe it’s privately owned.’ She regretted having to conceal the truth, but a promise is a promise. Also, she was beginning to smell a rat. Somehow, this seemed to be too much of a coincidence.

  Mercifully the conversation was interrupted by the arrival of crab salad for Karen and ham with melon for her. Karen looked dubious. ‘Is that all you’re eating?’

  Sam gave her a smile. ‘You’re not exactly stuffing yourself with carbs either.’ After her conversations with Ann, she had been trying to cut out some of the more fattening things in her diet. They fell silent as they tucked into their food. After a while, Sam got up and, ignoring Karen’s weak protests, went over to the bar to get another bottle of wine. As she stood there, she caught the eyes of one of the group of men. She saw him glance sideways and his lips move. Two seconds later, the men around him turned round to check her out. Among them was James Courtney, a half-empty pint glass of beer in his hand. As the faces beside him grinned at her, the expression on his face rapidly changed from relaxed to self-conscious. She summoned a smile and he nodded vaguely in her direction. By the time she had p
aid for the bottle of wine and returned to their table, he and his mates had drained their glasses and left.

  ‘Was it something you said?’ Karen was smiling, but Sam could see she was puzzled. She affected incomprehension.

  ‘Search me. Maybe their mummies are expecting them home early.’ In spite of her light tone, Sam felt a keen sense of disappointment that James would appear to be no different from the rest. She dropped her eyes to her plate of food.

  They had finished their food and were halfway through the second bottle when Karen once more steered the topic of conversation round to the abbey on Rock Island.

  ‘They say Rock Island’s been bought by a millionaire. Have you heard anything?’ This time Sam noted a distinct spark of interest in her friend’s eye. So that was what this unexpected visit was about. Sam began to feel a bit peeved, as well as puzzled.

  ‘I really wouldn’t know, Karen. Like I said, the department’s never had access to the place.’ She gave her a few seconds to stew before asking. ‘So who exactly is saying this? And why ask me, anyway?’ She clearly saw Karen drop her eyes guiltily. Who had been talking to her?

  ‘Oh, just people. And I just thought you might know something, seeing as it’s so historic.’

  ‘So’s the cathedral, Karen, but you haven’t asked me about it yet?’

  Clearly uncomfortable, Karen glanced rather theatrically at her flashy gold watch. ‘Lord, is that the time? I really should be going.’

  Sam was still feeling annoyed at the subterfuge so she had one more go at her. ‘Go on, you can tell me, Karen. What’ve you heard? Who’s out there on Rock Island?’ For a moment it looked as though she was about to get an answer, but then Karen changed her mind and clammed up. They finished their glasses, but left the rest of the wine, such was Karen’s hurry to be off. They said goodbye on the pavement outside, but without a hug this time.