by Fern Britton
‘Then, yes, I like him. Darling, you are a fully fledged adult now. Go out and try the world for size. I chose to marry and have you and Sean at your age. I don’t regret any of it, but I am so glad I am spreading my wings now.’
‘Hmm.’ Chloe looked at her mum. ‘So what’s the deal with Piran? He’s not over here as much as he was.’
‘We speak on the phone and anyway, he’s busy, I’m busy. It’s a good thing. I really like him, but I don’t want to be owned by a man any more.’
‘Have you told him that?’
‘No.’
‘Don’t you think you should? So that he can be free to do what he wants?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, he might think you playing it cool means you’ve gone off him. His eye might wander.’
Helen hadn’t thought of this and was discomforted by the idea. ‘Do you think it might?’
‘It might.’
*
Piran called a bit later. ‘Fancy a drink in the Dolphin, girl?’
‘Great. What time?’
‘I’ll meet you in there about seven.’
‘You’re not going to pick me up?’
‘Not tonight. I’m a bit tired. See you later.’
He hung up. Oh my God. He’s getting tired of you, Helen, she thought to herself. When was the last time he stayed over? When was the last time you made love? At least a week ago. Blimey. What’s going on?
She dressed very carefully for him. Pretty, matching bra and pants. Nothing too sexy. But not too ordinary either. She pulled on her new three-quarter-length jeans and added a heel. Then took them off and put on a rope-soled wedge. Better. She shrugged into a well-cut white T-shirt and added a hip-length navy cashmere cardigan. She knew he liked this look.
Chloe whistled as she came down the stairs. ‘Looking hot, Mum.’
*
It was a gorgeous late April evening. As she turned her little Mini into the Dolphin car park, she could see Piran sitting at one of the outside tables with a group of male friends.
He had a thick jumper tied round his shoulders, over a blue-and-white striped shirt. His denim-clad legs were planted wide apart and his dark curls were hanging over his collar. As he laughed at someone’s story, he saw her, but didn’t acknowledge her. She got out of the car and joined him, feeling faintly annoyed. He reached up and squeezed her bum.
‘Hello, Helen. This is Mick, John and Merv.’
They all said hello and then carried on talking to each other. She interrupted, ‘Anyone want a drink?’
‘No thanks. Just got one in,’ they replied, and again ignored her.
She pursed her lips and went inside to the bar. Dorrie was serving.
‘Hello, Helen. Long time no see. How are you?’ She stretched over the bar to kiss Helen. ‘Piran’s outside, didn’t you see him?’
‘Yes, I saw him, but he’s busy chatting.’
‘Like Don. When men get together they gas worse than any woman. What’ll you have?’
‘A large gin and tonic, please.’
The rest of the evening swam in a blur of juniper berries and quinine. And when Piran finally came into the pub, about an hour and a half later, she was less than gracious.
‘Oh, hello, Piran. Fancy seeing you here. I was just enjoying a little drink on my own.’
He looked at her with his ocean eyes. ‘Well, I won’t disturb you. I’ve just come in for a pee.’ And he walked off to the gents’.
‘Another G and T please, Dorrie.’ Dorrie obliged and, as she put the drink down in front of Helen, said, ‘’E’s a man, that’s all. Just flexing his muscles. Drink up and I’ll get Don to run you home. Collect the car tomorrow.’
Humiliation swept through Helen. Another man was deserting her. She got in the car with Don, finding the seat-belt buckle impossible to do up.
‘Here, let me do it for you, Helen.’ He started up his car and began the short journey down to Pendruggan.
After a few minutes, Helen sighed and said, ‘What’s wrong with me, Don?’
Don shifted uncomfortably. Women were a mystery at the best of times, but when drunk …
‘Nothin’ wrong with you, maid.’
‘Then why is Piran ignoring me?’
‘I’m sure ’e’s not. He didn’t want to disturb you while you were chatting with Dorrie. That’s all.’
‘Huh. You’re sticking up for him.’
‘No. I think you’re a bit tired and in the morning it’ll all look all right.’ He stopped the car. ‘Here you are. Do you want me to take you to the door?’
‘No thank you. I don’t need a man.’ And Helen swaggered off up the path to her front door.
It took a long time for her to fall asleep. Her mind was in a mess. Yes, she wanted Piran, but no, she didn’t want him living with her, but yes she wanted him to be hers exclusively, but no that didn’t mean he could control her, and yes it certainly meant that he had to be faithful to her …
Finally she slept and woke with a whopper of a hangover.
48
She’d had a bath and a large coffee but was feeling a bit sick. Thank God Chloe hadn’t stayed over last night. She’d have been unbearably sanctimonious about her mother’s drinking.
Taking a moment’s respite, Helen sat at the top of her stairs looking out at her garden. What a difference a year makes. What had been an overgrown heap was now tidy and verdant. The beds were bursting with the new growth on her lavender, lilies, roses and peonies. Tony was already weeding the immaculate vegetable bed. He was determined he’d get a prize for his early peas.
Helen roused herself. She had to get up to the pub and collect her car. Standing up, she walked gently down the stairs, her poor head feeling as if a marble was rolling and banging around the inside of her skull.
She steadied herself at the front door, then stepped out into the bright spring day. It burnt into the back of her eyeballs. She shut her eyes in reflex and walked straight into a large, familiar body.
‘Ha ha. Poor old Helen. You look terrible!’
‘Piss off, Piran.’ She opened one eye, her hand shading the other and squinted up at him.
‘Lovely welcome.’ He put his hands on his hips and looked up at the sky. ‘Thing is, Helen, I think we need a chat.’
Helen’s stomach squirted adrenalin into her already contaminated system. A wave of nausea passed over her. Was he going to dump her?
‘I’m just going to walk over to the Dolphin to get my car, actually.’
‘I’ll give you a lift after we’ve had a chat.’
He led her back into the cottage and sat her on her little sofa, while he took the armchair.
‘Helen, I think a lot of you. You know that.’
‘Do I?’
‘Don’t be petulant. Yes, I do think a lot of you.’
‘Then why have you never invited me round to your place to stay?’
He looked surprised, ‘Because it’s not as comfortable as here and—’
‘You wanted to get your feet under my table. Gray was right.’
His ocean eyes turned stormy. ‘The reason I have not invited you to stay at my place is because … no woman has. It was meant for me and Jenna.’
‘So now I’m competing with a dead woman.’
He stood up very fast and stepped towards her. ‘I’ll shake the teeth out of your head if you ever speak like that again, do you hear?’
She held her own and met his gaze. ‘You wouldn’t dare!’
He sat back down and sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Helen. But I’m not used to the idea of another woman around and I like my own space.’
‘And so do I,’ she replied hotly.
‘And I don’t want to have to share my house and my life with anyone a hundred per cent of the time.’
‘Nor do I.’
‘But I am a loyal man.’
‘And I am a loyal woman.’
‘So, what I am trying to say is …’
‘You don’t want a relati
onship with me.’
He looked at her, exasperated. ‘No. Listen. You are a lovely woman and, for all your stupidity, I am really fond of you. But, I like things the way they are. You and me. Separate houses, separate friends, but … together. Loyal. Nobody else.’
‘So you want your cake and to eat it, too?’
‘That’s not what I’m saying and you know it. And anyway, you’ve always given the impression that you like your independence.’
‘I do. So if that is all you have to say, then I don’t think there is anything left to talk about.’
Piran looked exasperated. ‘Helen, you’re not listening to me.’
‘No, I don’t want to hear any more.’ Helen’s voice caught in her throat. ‘Just leave.’
‘All right, I will, but you’re making a big mistake.’
With that, Piran walked out of Gull’s Cry and drove off in his car.
A couple of hours later, when she had finished crying, she called Chloe on her mobile and asked her to come and pick her up with Mack so she could collect her car. She was sombre when they came for her and didn’t speak for the entire journey.
*
Over the next two or three weeks the carnival committee swung into the final countdown. Helen buried her heartbreak and tried to concentrate on the event. She knew it could never work with Piran; he was the most irritating and pig-headed man she had ever met, and she told herself she was glad to be rid of him. But deep down inside, Helen didn’t feel glad.
Raffle prizes were collected from local businesses, the WI were cadging empty jam jars off everybody for their preserve and pickle stall and the children were thinking up their fancy-dress costumes. Helen spent a lot of her time at the vicarage, sitting at Simon’s desk working on coordinating everything from Simon’s end. Apart from everything else that had to be sorted out, the church needed a spring clean because it would be open for a local art sale on the day of the carnival.
She turned over a page of her notebook and began a fresh To Do list. The phone rang:
‘Hi, Ma, how are things?’
‘Hi, Sean, darling. How did you know I was on this number?’
‘Chloe is the fountain of all knowledge.’
‘Has she told you she’s booked her tickets for Sri Lanka?’
‘Yeah. Which is why I thought I’d better make a date to come and see you and her before she jets off.’
‘Have you seen Daddy?’
‘He called. He wants me and Terri to go out to dinner with him and Daisy Doodah.’
‘Dahlia Dahling!’ she corrected him, laughing. ‘You should meet her. She’s great fun. More than a match for your father.’
‘Yeah. Maybe. Anyway, Dad says you’ve got some bloke in tow.’
‘Well, he’s wrong, that is over. It was the man you met at Christmas. In church. Piran.’
‘The bloody pirate? Chloe did mention him. What went wrong?’
‘We’re too different and we like our own space. Neither of us were ready for a relationship, that’s all.’
‘Well, Ma, you’re sounding very chilled about it all, I must say. So, when would be good for Terri and me to come down?’
‘What about for the carnival?’
‘Yeah. We were talking to Chloe and she told us about the carnival. Is it true you’ve got a big screen broadcasting the Mr Tibbs thing to the village?’
‘Yes. It should be fun, if the weather holds. Oh, and ask Terri to bring some of her paintings down, if she would like to, because we’ve got an art sale in the church.’
‘Sounds good. We’ll come down on the Friday night then. I’ll phone Don and book a room and see if he can fit in some fishing too.’
‘Great fun. Looking forward to it. Love to you both. Bye.’
She put the phone down and looked out of Simon’s study window. The vicarage lawn needed mowing before it could be used as the cream tea garden at the carnival. She looked beyond to the church, which was looking gorgeous, dappled in sunshine and shade with the rooks snoozing on the roof pitch. Next she turned her eye to the ramshackle churchyard and thought of Piran and the work that still needed to be done there.
To her surprise, she saw Piran’s Toyota turn in through the gate. As he stepped out of his truck, which had never fully recovered from Dawn’s assault, Jack jumped down, cocked his leg on the gate post and followed his master towards the vicarage back door.
As he stepped into the cool of the kitchen, she stood up to meet him, her heart thumping in her chest.
‘Piran! Simon didn’t mention you were coming.’
Piran looked at Helen intensely for a moment. She felt herself grow pink under his scrutiny.
‘Want a cuppa?’ She tried to sound breezy. ‘I’m making one for myself and Simon.’
‘No, thank you. I can’t stop. I popped in to speak to Simon about some of the church records, but now that you are here – I’ve got news for you that may be of interest. That is, if you want to hear it?’
‘Go on,’ she said.
‘I’ve had some news from my friend in the coroner’s office.’
‘About Falcon’s ashes?’ Helen turned from filling the kettle and lighting the gas hob. Despite herself, she was interested.
‘Yes. DNA is destroyed by fire. Human or animal, it’s not possible to tell them apart.’
‘Oh dear. I should have thought of that.’
‘But …’ he paused.
‘Go on.’
‘Teeth can sometimes survive the flames. If we riddle the ashes through a sieve, we might find something.’
‘Can we do it?’
‘I’ve already done it.’ He opened his big calloused palm and sitting in the middle was a small, sharp tooth. ‘Coroner says it’s definitely not human.’
49
Helen was quiet. ‘I almost hoped it was Violet’s brother. This means his little body is still at the bottom of the sea.’
They both looked sadly at the tooth.
The phone in Simon’s study rang, breaking the melancholy mood. Helen took a few seconds before moving to answer it.
‘Hello, Holy Trinity vicarage. How may I help you?’
A woman’s voice boomed down the phone: ‘Who is this?’
‘Helen Merrifield.’
‘Ah, Mrs Merrifield. The location of the horticultural tent won’t do at all. I always like to be on the left side of the green. It stays so much cooler for the plants.’
‘Hello, Mrs Tipton. What would you like me to do?’
During this interruption, Piran wrote a note on Helen’s pad and quietly let himself out. Helen scanned the note: TALK TO ME.
‘Yes, Mrs Tipton, I am still here.’ She lifted the note to her lips and gently pressed them against it. Then, resting the phone between her shoulder and ear, she folded the note carefully into her purse. ‘Mrs Tipton, you may have what you want, where you want it. Life is just too short, isn’t it?’
*
The night before the carnival, the hard-working committee members were busy out on the village green. The huge marquees had gone up the day before, taking up three sides of the rectangle but with one wall open to the middle. Now the insides were being dressed with trestles, calligraphied signs and bunting.
Queenie was faffing around with the display units for her pasties. ‘I’m too close to the barbecue, ’elen dear. All that smoke ain’t good for me lungs.’
‘It’s just the same smoke as your roll-ups, Queenie,’ Helen responded.
‘Oh no, dear. Me fags is pure. This cooking smoke is pure fat settling in me lungs.’
‘Would you like me to move you?’
‘No. I’d like you to move the barbecue, dear.’
Helen didn’t need asking twice. She found the leader of the Rotary Club, who was in charge of the cooking: ‘I don’t think you’re in the best spot here, Mike. I think you’d be better over by church. It’ll lure people in and out of the art show.’
‘OK, boss.’
And to Helen’s surprise, he and
the other men moved it willingly.
Outside the tents, and circling the centre show ring, were several stalls. One was signed GUESS THE WEIGHT OF THE VICAR, others FERRET RACING and BOWL FOR A PIG.
The centre show ring was reserved for the dog show, tug of war, the pipe band and the drum majorettes. In the evening, it would become the auditorium for the big-screen showing of Mr Tibbs and the Hidden Treasure.
As Helen walked around helping, cajoling and congratulating everyone, her back pocket began to vibrate. Her mobile phone very rarely worked in the village, but some stray signal must have blown in on the breeze. She answered, ‘Hello?’
The line was very bad.
‘Hel … it’s Penny. Mavis is coming down for the … nival … bringing special frien … don’t tell Queenie, but it’s Al … … chmar …’ The line went dead.
Helen made a mental note to call Penny back on the landline at home later, but naturally forgot as soon as she saw Sean and Terri turn into the village in his little Porsche with the roof off and several canvases strapped on to the roof.
She ran towards them and hugged them both tight as they leapt out of the car to hug her in return.
‘Go indoors and put the kettle on while I just do my last rounds of the tents and stalls,’ she instructed them.
When she was satisfied that everything for the carnival was on schedule, she went home to Gull’s Cry. Mack and Chloe were home and, together with Sean and Terri, were sitting out in the garden on the old bench and the low walls. A tea-cosied teapot was sitting on a tray surrounded by mugs, milk jug and plate of ginger nuts.
Chloe and Terri started to pour and hand round the mugs. Mack was telling Sean about the big screen that was to be fitted at first light the following morning.
‘It’s gonna be so cool, Seano. The carnival has a licence for the beer tent to serve through the evening until ten-thirty.’
‘Will they need any help putting the big screen up?’ asked Sean.
‘No,’ said Helen, laughing. ‘They are professional engineers. But I’m sure you’ll be allowed to watch if you’re good boys! Let’s just pray for dry weather.’
*
She woke at half past five to find her prayers were answered. Little white clouds drifted lazily in the azure May sky. A cuckoo, a pair of blackbirds and a skylark were singing, and on the gentle breeze, Helen could just hear the waves breaking on Shellsand beach.