The Cornish Escape: The perfect summer romance full of sunshine and secrets

by Lily Graham

  I was furious. ‘No, I don’t understand why you are punishing me like this – you can’t keep me locked up!’

  ‘Yes, I can.’

  ‘For how long?’ I asked.

  ‘For as long as necessary.’

  Chapter Thirty

  Present day

  ‘Adam?’ I called. It was the morning after the kiss when I came knocking on his door. I hadn’t wanted him to leave the night before, but after I’d fallen asleep, he’d gone home for the night. When I woke up, I missed him. Every day for the last week we’d had breakfast together. Since I’d moved into the houseboat community, spending time with Adam almost every day had become one of the easiest things in the world. I was finding that my first cup of morning coffee didn’t taste as good unless he was having one with me.

  Usually, it was him at my kitchen door, so this was a change. I was looking at his collection of potted herbs with a grin, thinking of how much Gerald had grown since I’d given him his name.

  I heard footsteps then the door opened a crack. A woman with long red hair was looking at me with a curious expression.

  ‘Can I help you?’ she asked. She had a silky, American drawl.

  I looked at her in shock, and frowned. ‘Um, yes, I came to see Adam,’ I said, wondering if I’d gotten onto the wrong houseboat, though I knew I hadn’t.

  She raised a pale red brow. ‘Oh, well, I’m afraid he’s not home right now.’

  I nodded and took a step back.

  ‘Shall I tell him you came past?’

  ‘Er, yes, can you tell him Victoria came by?’

  The door opened wider. ‘Oh – you’re the biographer, right?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Yeah, he mentioned you,’ she said with a smile. Her teeth were very white and even. She was tall, and willowy. Her skin was flawless. I saw her eye my T-shirt with some amusement. ‘He said you were so funny with all your T-shirts. I thought he’d made that up, actually,’ she smirked.

  I wished I wasn’t wearing the Supergirl one.

  ‘He did?’ I said, not sure if she was trying to be offensive. Wondering what he’d said about them. Wondering if for once I should start listening to my mother about my wardrobe.

  ‘I’m Jenna, by the way, Adam’s fiancée.’

  I felt my stomach drop. ‘I, er, thought that you and he…’ I cleared my throat as she shook her head.

  ‘Oh that? God, cold feet, you know how it goes, right?’

  My eyes widened. ‘Do I?’ I said in surprise. ‘Um, it was quite definitive from what I heard. I mean you… left him, for someone else.’

  She nodded. ‘Right, well… like I said, we’re sorting it all out now.’ She said it as if it were some small misunderstanding at the grocery store, instead of an affair with her boss that had gone on for years.

  ‘Is there something you wanted from him?’

  ‘Yes. Well, I just wanted to speak to him.’

  She cocked her head to the side, looking me over. ‘There wasn’t anything between you guys, was there? Adam didn’t say there was – I mean, he said you were friends, but that’s it. I hope he didn’t give you the wrong idea.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘I’d hate to have to beat up his new little friend,’ she added with a wink.

  I was fairly sure I could take her, but still, my mouth flew open in surprise. I didn’t give her the satisfaction of telling her Adam and I were just friends. ‘Um, just tell him I need to speak with him.’

  ‘Okay, sure,’ she said.

  I backed away.

  ‘Nice meeting you,’ she called.

  ‘Er, yeah,’ I said, hightailing it out of there.

  I made a beeline for Angie’s bookshop, and when I got inside, I closed the door and put the little closed sign up in the window.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked in surprise.

  ‘Sorry, but my need is great. There’s no one here anyway.’

  She shrugged. ‘Okay. Do you want to talk about it?’

  I leant against the door. ‘Have you got any more of that bargain-bin wine – you know, the one that got us pissed in under ten minutes?’

  ‘The one that made you feel hungover for two days?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Of course, bought ten bottles.’

  I gave a short laugh. ‘Good, I need it.’

  What I loved about Angie was that she didn’t say things like, ‘But it’s still morning.’

  Ten minutes later, I’d filled her in about Jenna.

  ‘Aha! I knew you had the hots for him.’

  ‘No,’ I denied. ‘I’m barely divorced,’ I added with dignity. I had some more wine, and then squinted at her. ‘Of course I have the bloody hots for him! Have you seen him?’

  ‘McBlondeshell? Course I have.’

  ‘Exactly.’ I pulled a sad face. He was more than that. We were friends; he made me laugh, he thought I was fun. ‘Also… there was this kiss…’

  ‘A kiss?’

  I nodded, topping up my cup of wine as I thought of it.

  ‘Just a kiss?’ she asked, as if it were nothing. ‘You haven’t slept together yet?’

  I shook my head. ‘You don’t understand, Ang. It was more than that. It was one of those rock-your-world, weak-at-the-knees, forget-your-own-name kind of kisses.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘Shit.’

  I felt like crying. ‘I know.’

  She cut me an enormous slice of orange polenta cake. Angie seemed to think she could solve the world’s problems with sweet treats.

  ‘And she was funny about my clothes,’ I said, stabbing at the cake with my fork.

  ‘WHAT?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘Nothing bad exactly,’ I admitted. ‘But there was a look.’

  ‘A look?’

  ‘A look. You know the one.’ I sighed. ‘He just can’t take her back. She’s mean. A mean, mean girl,’ I said, slurring slightly already.

  ‘O-kay,’ said Angie, taking the bottle of wine out of my hands. ‘No more wine for you.’ I sighed, and she patted me on the arm. ‘Did he say they’re back together?’

  I shook my head. ‘No, she did. Then she made a little joke about how she was going to beat me up.’

  Angie looked at me. ‘I could take care of that for you, you know. I know a guy.’

  I laughed. ‘What?’

  ‘Well, I do.’

  ‘Someone who offs people, Angie?’

  ‘No… Well, never mind. Do you want to go back to your place and watch Waterworld?’

  ‘No,’ I said glumly.

  She shrugged. ‘How about Back to the Future?’

  ‘No, I just want to stay here and feel sorry for myself.’

  ‘I have a better idea,’

  ‘What?’

  Ten minutes later, we were in the Tremenara community allotments, playing poker with Gary – aka the Bishop – Jason, Derron and Dave, Sue’s husband, who ran the allotment gardens.

  ‘So this is what the Tremenara men do in the day,’ I said, looking at my hand of cards. ‘And Angie.’

  Dave lit a cigar. ‘Only on Thursdays,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah, on Friday it’s bingo,’ said the Bishop, and we all laughed. ‘By the way, you’re sure you don’t want me to go to your cottage and perform a cleansing ritual?’ he added, his dark eyes serious. ‘I think it would be a good idea. Help get rid of any negative energy. I did it for The Endeavour and it worked well, didn’t it, Dave?’

  ‘What’s a cleansing ritual?’ asked Derron, shuffling the pack of cards.

  ‘Waving around a bunch of burning sage?’ said Jason, shaking his head.

  ‘No,’ said the Bishop haughtily. ‘There’s candles too.’

  I snorted. ‘It’s fine, thank you.’

  ‘I know Gaz is a bit…’ Dave searched for a word while every one of us tried not to shout out suggestions like mad, crazy, off his head. ‘Alternative,’ he supplied.

  ‘Good one,’ said Angie.

  ‘Than
ks,’ said Dave, while the Bishop shot her an offended look. ‘But there may be something to it. Our barge used to give us endless problems. We went through three different motors, there were always these random leaks – cost us a fortune. Till, when we were at the end of our rope, Gaz came by and did one of his cleansing rituals, and it’s been perfect ever since.’

  ‘Was your own fault,’ Jason told Dave.

  ‘How’s that?’ I asked.

  ‘He renamed the boat,’ said Derron, almost in a whisper.

  I shrugged. ‘Yeah?’

  Everyone gasped, even Angie.

  ‘’Tis the worst luck ever,’ explained Jason.

  ‘If you’re going to rename it, you have to take it out of the water… bad juju,’ said Angie.

  ‘Juju?’ I said with a laugh.

  ‘It’s not funny,’ said the Bishop. ‘I had to go through eight bunches of sage before it was cleansed.’

  I wasn’t the only one whose mouth twitched.

  Jason gave me a look. ‘So you don’t believe in any of that stuff? Is that why you bought the cottage?’

  I shrugged. ‘Sort of. It’s not that I don’t believe in bad energy…’

  ‘So you haven’t seen any ghosts, then?’ asked Derron.

  I shook my head. ‘Nope, not one.’

  ‘Just lost fifty pounds,’ he said sadly. ‘Had a bet going.’

  ‘So you think it was all bollocks then, the rumours about your cottage?’ asked Jason.

  I shrugged, thinking of Tilly and of Fen. ‘Not completely,’ I admitted. ‘Just not what everyone thinks.’

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Cornwall, 1908

  Tilly

  The calluses on my palms went away, my French improved, and I was more miserable than I’d ever been in the whole of my short life.

  Celine took her role as my jailer seriously. Except in my prison, my keeper kept up a running commentary about why I couldn’t be a friend to a boy like Fen.

  ‘What did you think was going to happen?’ she asked me one day, while I was staring pensively out of the window. ‘You’re young now, which is the only reason it is forgivable. But if you’d been older, well…’

  I looked away. It was typical of adults to think that only they had the right or the capacity to feel. I was tired of being told that something was wrong for no other reason than we had more money than they did. As if that made any sense at all. I’d never thought of myself as radical. Until I met Fen, I’m not sure I really thought about things like that at all.

  ‘It’s better this way – for you to forget about him. It’s kinder. I hope you can see that someday.’

  How was forgetting your best friend a form of kindness?

  Still, in her own way, she meant well. I could not say the same for Rose, who, as usual, only seemed to think of herself.

  ‘It’s tiresome being around you, Tilly. Lately even more so than usual.’

  I didn’t answer her. But she continued, losing all patience. ‘You can’t tell me that you are this surprised at how they reacted. I mean, what on earth were you thinking? Did you even think about how it would look – running around with that boy? I heard he’s a cripple too. Honestly, you would think you could have aimed a little higher when you took leave of your senses.’

  My world turned red.

  Something wild and deep and shocking took charge. I flew at her with my fists and my teeth and my feet, each part of my anatomy at war with hers. My throat grew hoarse from the screeches I was making. It took all of Celine’s strength to pull me off.

  ‘What is the meaning of this?’ roared my mother, tearing into the room.

  I was unable to speak beyond my sobs and over Rose’s hysterical wails.

  ‘She’s an animal! You god-awful little savage! This is what happens from letting her run wild,’ Rose flung herself at Mother, as I gasped for breath. When my vision cleared, I saw the blood welts I’d left behind on her face.

  My mother’s voice was barely a whisper, but I could hear her as if she was shouting. Her voice was high and cold and I felt a sudden prickle of fear at what I’d done. ‘How dare you attack your sister like this!’

  I looked at her, tears making steady tracks down my face. ‘She called him a cripple,’ I said, trying to get her to understand.

  My mother looked at Rose for a second, then back at me. I waited for her to say something, for some sort of emotion to be revealed behind her cold eyes, something that would let me know that she understood. But there was nothing there. They only narrowed further as she said, ‘But isn’t he?’

  It wasn’t long afterwards that I planned my first escape. I waited until Celine was in her bed before I snuck in and stole the key. I knew there would be trouble when I got back, but I didn’t care. If I could at least explain to Fen what had happened, why I’d disappeared without a trace, it would be worth it.

  I carried my boots and tiptoed out the silent nursery in the chill of the night and ran towards the river. I didn’t know how I would sneak into the cottage, or which room was Fen’s, but I had to try. I slipped through the concealed entrance and made my way silently into the garden.

  I hesitated when I saw a light on in the potting shed. I could only imagine how much trouble Fen would get into if his father caught me sneaking around here. I took slow steps and held my breath, but just as I was about to make it past the shed unseen, en route to the stone cottage, my foot bumped an overturned flowerpot, and made a dull thudding sound.

  A figure peered out of the shed and my heart began to race.

  ‘Goose?’

  I was halfway back towards the wall when I turned.

  ‘Fen?’

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he whispered.

  I swallowed. ‘I just wanted to, well, to come and say sorry.’

  ‘Why are you sorry?’

  ‘For getting you in trouble… for everything.’

  ‘You didn’t break the window.’

  I stepped forward to see him better. His hair was still as wild as ever, though he seemed slightly taller. He was wearing an old knitted jumper; it was blue like his eyes.

  ‘What?’ I asked.

  ‘The window – didn’t you know? I thought someone told you.’

  At my blank look, he continued, with a throaty laugh. ‘Well, I wasn’t going to say goodbye without a fight, so I tried to visit you the other night.’

  ‘What? You didn’t! When?’

  ‘A few nights ago. Me mam told me that she’d gone to your mother to tell her that you’d been here, but I kept looking out for you… I never realised that they’d actually lock you up for it. So as the weeks went by, I thought well, enough, you know? I asked one of the maids which one was your bedroom—’

  ‘You didn’t!’

  ‘Oh yes, I did,’ he laughed. ‘Thought it was right romantic too, I must say. Very Shakespeare.’

  I laughed.

  ‘Yes, well, you should laugh. It was your sister’s room, and instead of a soft tapping on the glass, I broke the whole pane.’

  I gasped. ‘Why didn’t anyone tell me?’

  ‘I’m sure they thought you’d do, well… this,’ he pointed out.

  ‘I would have.’

  We shared a grin. ‘Come inside,’ he said, beckoning me to the potting shed. ‘Come see all the seedlings.’

  I followed him into the shed, breathing in the scent of potting soil, honeysuckle and wild lavender.

  ‘What happened after you broke the window? Did you make a run for it?’

  ‘Ah, yeah…’

  His face was close to the lantern light, and that’s when I saw the greenish bruise that covered most of his eye socket.

  I gasped. ‘What happened?’

  He shrugged. ‘Me da.’

  ‘Oh my God, because of me?’

  He frowned. ‘No, because I was an idiot who broke your da’s window. Doesn’t matter.’

  ‘It does matter!’

  ‘No, it doesn’t. At least now your da knows that
I’ve been punished, so all is well.’

  I let out a heavy sigh. ‘No, it’s not. It’s my fault.’

  ‘It’s no one’s fault,’ he said, squeezing my shoulder. ‘And I’d do it again.’

  ‘You would?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘So what did you want to tell me?’

  ‘Tell you?’

  ‘Yes, if you’d got the right window, and hadn’t broken it, what did you want to say?’

  ‘That I’ll always be your friend, Tilly Asprey, even when you can’t be mine.’

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Present day

  The next day began with a hangover that would last until midnight the following evening.

  I made some coffee, fed the ducks outside my window and got dressed. When I left, I passed Adam’s houseboat and felt my shoulders slump – I didn’t want to think of him with Jenna.

  I hadn’t gotten back until late, after playing poker with the guys and Angie until well into the evening, when we took the party back to the Bishop’s boat and finished off the rest of his homemade beer.

  I felt like death warmed up.

  At the cottage, I lost myself in work, the manual labour helping to combat my fatigue and hangover. Today was a momentous day as, after weeks of work, which had involved laying down cables and drilling holes into walls and beneath the floors, for the first time in its over one-hundred-year history, there was now electricity at the cottage, along with a brand-new front door. Alas, my old brass key would be only an ornament.

  I unpacked my new kettle. There were no floors just yet, but at least I could have a cup of tea on the premises. I made the vow then to avoid alcohol for as long as possible. ‘Forgive me, liver,’ I said. ‘For I have sinned.’

  So far I had one cup and no sugar but still, it didn’t matter.

  I took my tea into the garden and stood by the shed, wondering if it was the same one where Tilly had found Fen that night. It would be incredible if it were. I opened the door and for a second I could imagine the scent of wild lavender.