There's Something About Cornwall

by Daisy James

  ‘Is there something you’re not telling me? You’ve been acting strangely since this morning. If you really don’t want to do this, we can go back down to the van.’

  ‘Oh, no, it’s okay.’

  ‘Then tell me what’s wrong?’ Matt stopped, blocking her path as the light pitter-patter of raindrops swiftly morphed into an insistent downpour.

  ‘I just thought you were different, that’s all.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Just that it seems Brad, you and all the other men who saunter into my life are only interested in their own selfish pursuits.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Emilie, I have no idea what you’re talking about. What am I supposed to have done?’

  ‘Don’t pretend you don’t know,’ she snapped, raising her voice above the deluge that lashed down from above like needles of ice. Her anger had bubbled to the surface and she couldn’t douse it despite the look of incredulity at her accusation on Matt’s face. ‘You know, Matt, I was actually going to give you a copy of all the photographs I’ve taken on this trip. Alice told me about your blog.’

  Matt paused to scrutinise her face and a shadow of sadness floated across his eyes, washing away the inner glow that was always so prevalent in his temperament.

  ‘I don’t know what Alice said to you, but I have not used any of your photographs. All the photographs I use in my posts and my articles are those I have taken myself or have written permission to use. You’re not the only one who has mastered the complex intricacies of a camera you know!’

  Matt turned his back on her and strode off up the steep trail. She yanked up the hood of the borrowed cagoule and continued to scramble in his wake, her feet slipping and sliding on the path that was speckled with fallen leaves, her footing less sure than Matt’s confident stride.

  Within minutes the canopy overhead had morphed into velvety darkness and the meteorological gods bared their teeth with a vengeance. There was a sudden flash of light and her irritation with Matt evaporated as a shiver of fear rippled down her spine. The wind had picked up and the branches of the trees at the path’s edge were bending almost perpendicularly to its will.

  ‘Matt, wait!’

  Her stomach tightened so she reached out to grasp Matt’s arm, but her foot slipped from under her and she toppled towards the ground, uttering a few choice words.

  Matt reacted instinctively. He stretched forward to catch her and she watched in vivid slow motion as he lost his footing and disappeared over the side of the hill. She heard his rucksack land with a thump.

  ‘Argh!’

  ‘Matt! Matt!’

  She scrambled to her feet, covered in mud but no worse for her fall. She peered over the ledge to see Matt staring back up at her only a couple of metres or so below, his face pale with a bluish tinge and pain scrawled across his features.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I think I might have broken my arm and maybe dislocated my shoulder,’ he groaned, rolling onto his side in a futile attempt to push himself upright with his uninjured arm, before falling back to reveal a gash across his forehead and a trail of blood oozing down his cheek.

  Emilie reached down the slope and hooked one of the handles of the rucksack over her wrist to drag it up to the path. Then she scuttled down on her bottom and slowly guided Matt up to join it, whereupon he collapsed to the ground in agony, fighting to catch his breath.

  The rain had increased its velocity. The pathway they had walked up only minutes before had become a cascade of multiple rivulets. Once again Matt tried to stand, leaning heavily on Emilie, but he only managed the few steps required to seek the cover of a gathering of holly bushes.

  ‘Oh, God! What are we going to do?’

  A clammy sweat doused her skin as she stared at Matt. His whole body seemed to have closed inwards as he tried to control his pain and work out a plan. Ripples of dread chased around her chest. There was no way she could carry Matt to where they’d left the camper van. She grabbed her phone but predictably there was no signal. Water dripped from her nose and her chin and blurred her vision as panic rose and slowed her brain cells to a juddering halt.

  Whilst she indulged in a frenzy of panic, Matt was fiddling with the zipper of the backpack, but was having trouble extracting the contents.

  ‘What do you need?’

  ‘There’s a medical kit.’ He grimaced. ‘Painkillers first, please, and then there should be a sling for my arm and something to stop the bleeding.’

  Emilie searched the rucksack and quickly found the kit. Everything she took out became sodden within moments despite the shelter afforded by the holly bush. However, she managed to hand Matt a handful of painkillers and a bottle of water and he swallowed them down gratefully. She tied the makeshift sling around his wrist and neck as best she could and then attended to his forehead, dabbing it with antiseptic and administering a plaster.

  ‘We have to get back to the camper van,’ Matt said, his teeth clenched against an upsurge of pain. He began to limp out from the shelter.

  ‘Oh, Matt, it looks like you’ve sprained your ankle too!’

  ‘Yes, but I reckon I can hobble if you give me your arm to steady me. Think you can do it?’

  ‘Of course,’ she said with more confidence than she felt.

  She reached down to take his good arm and with an almost comedic manoeuvre managed to help him upright. A spasm of poker-hot terror sliced through her chest and out to her fingertips as she thought of the imminent trek down the hill to the car park, but that was nothing compared to what Matt had to endure. Yet an expression of determination had appeared on his face, which galvanised her into action. With his arm over her shoulder, she took first one step and then another until they established a rhythm. As they descended, freezing and miserable, Emilie briefly considered the possibility of bursting into tears, but how would that help?

  She gritted her teeth and focused solely on putting one foot in front of the other until the most welcome sight emerged through the grey drizzle – the Satsuma Splittie, the only vehicle left in the car park, waiting patiently for their return like a loyal friend. She slid back the side door and Matt rolled in with a gasp of pain as he jolted his shoulder blade against the table leg.

  Emilie grabbed her phone again, relief beginning to flood her veins as she thought of the ambulance that would shortly be on its way to help them, but the euphoria was short-lived.

  ‘Oh God! There’s still no damn signal! How can that be? I was speaking to Alice only thirty minutes ago and the line was as clear as anything.’ She felt heat rush to her cheeks as she was reminded that Alice’s call was the catalyst to Matt falling over the ridge. But there would be plenty of time for self-recrimination later.

  ‘It’s probably the storm. Coverage is patchy around here. I’m sorry, Emilie, you’ll have to drive me to the hospital.’ Matt’s pallor had deteriorated to the tone and texture of putty. ‘The nearest minor injuries centre is in Bodmin. There’s a map in the glove compartment. You can leave me there and continue with the trip.’

  And with that declaration he promptly passed out.

  Chapter Twenty

  ‘Matt? Matt?’

  She leaned over him, panic pressing heavily on her forehead and squeezing the air from her lungs like a vice. What was she going to do? Clearly in his delusional pain he had overlooked the fact that she couldn’t drive the camper van. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, she could drive but…

  She looked around the van, then at the rain lashing ferociously on the windscreen obscuring the road ahead. She felt like she had landed in the middle of a scene from a horror movie as every bit of daylight seemed to have been sucked from the sky by the storm. Nausea rumbled in the pit of her stomach as she dashed outside, panicking as terror overtook every one of her senses. She squinted through the deluge in the hope that an errant tourist would pass by so she could flag them down and beg a lift to the hospital. But how long would that be? A
nd was it fair to make Matt wait?

  She clambered into the back of the camper van and unearthed a couple of blankets. She rolled one up and slotted it under Matt’s head and the other she draped over his prostrate body. Then she climbed into the driver’s seat and yanked it forward so she could reach the pedals comfortably. This wasn’t exactly how she had envisaged her first time behind a steering wheel after such a long abstinence when Alice or Lauren or one of her other friends’ nagging forced her to eventually deal with her demons.

  She turned the key in the ignition and a shock of electricity shot through her as the engine rumbled into life. Her fingers trembled on the wheel, not from the cold but from fear. She couldn’t prevent her thoughts from screaming back to a similar rain-soaked night when she and Brad had enjoyed a rare night out at the theatre and she’d offered to drive them home so he could have a glass of Merlot at the interval.

  She hadn’t seen the Mercedes come screeching through a red light so she hadn’t been able to avoid the inevitable collision. Brad’s beloved BMW Roadster had been fatally wounded, or so you would have thought from the way he’d described the deep gouge that had been taken out of the passenger door. He had blamed her, despite it being blatantly obvious that it wasn’t her fault and the fact that the Mercedes driver had leapt from his vehicle and apologised profusely.

  It had been their first major argument and she had found afterwards that she had lost her nerve to negotiate the capital’s streets. She hadn’t offered to drive again and she’d just got used to Brad always taking the wheel whenever they left London for a weekend away.

  And here she was, her confidence in her driving abilities in tatters, staring at the road before her. And it was raining, just like it had been that night. She felt paralysed, all thought and movement frozen out of her body. Every muscle tensed until the burn of her grip on the steering wheel invaded her hands and the pain dragged her mind back to the challenge that lay before her.

  Could she really drive Matt to hospital or was that another accident waiting to happen? She thought about how far she had come in other areas of her life since the beginning of the Cornwall assignment. How, with Matt’s constant positivity and encouragement, she had been able to face up to the fact that she had allowed Brad’s overbearing personality to hold her back professionally and creatively and that Brad’s jealousy was his problem, not hers.

  Now it was her turn to repay the favour, to deliver a random act of kindness to even up the karma. Matt had done so much for her over the last two weeks and, despite what had happened last night, she owed him tremendously.

  She dragged every ounce of courage she possessed from the depleted reservoir, slotted the camper van’s gear stick into first and released the handbrake. Before slowly lifting her foot from the clutch, she took a final glance over her shoulder and made her decision. She clenched her teeth. This was it – her first foray into the motoring world for two years. Her heart pounded to the determined mantra she had used many times in the past when presented with difficult issues.

  You can do it! You can do it! You can do it!

  She squeezed the accelerator and steered the Satsuma Splittie out of the car park and onto the road towards the town. She could hear the blood whooshing through her ears, her throat had tightened and her breath came out in spurts. Perspiration tickled under her arms and between her breasts. She concentrated hard on the various manoeuvres necessary to keep the van on the road and heading in the right direction, driving as swiftly and smoothly as possible to spare Matt from prolonged pain.

  The frantic journey seemed endless. Her temples throbbed and she wasn’t even aware of the tears coursing down her cheeks. She had tensed her jaw so tightly the muscles in her face ached and she could taste the sharp metallic tang of blood on her lower lip.

  Darkness wrapped its velvety cloak around the windows and softened the sharp edges of the road ahead. Thankfully, the rain had driven those fell-walkers and hikers of a more sensible disposition to the warmth and comfort of a real fire and a hearty plate of food in one of the many country pubs she passed on the way.

  ‘Ergh,’ groaned Matt as she took a corner a little too sharply.

  The manoeuvre sent a spasm of terror through her heart before she managed to right the van. ‘Hang on, hang on. We’re nearly there.’

  Another five minutes of sheer hell and she pulled into the neon-illuminated car park of the hospital. She allowed a heavy breath to escape her lungs as she straddled two parking bays and leapt from the driver’s seat to slide back the camper van door. Realising she couldn’t move Matt by herself, she dashed into the reception area to ask for help, gabbling an almost incoherent explanation about an accident on the moors in the rain.

  After that everything became a blur of activity as paramedics strapped Matt onto a trolley and wheeled him away to triage. She slumped down onto an uncomfortable plastic chair in the waiting room, removed a packet of tissues from the pocket of her borrowed cagoule and blew her nose. A bout of violent trembling overtook her, and when a man with an impressive Gandalf beard handed her a cardboard cup of sweetened tea she had never been so grateful for anything in her life and promptly burst into tears.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Emilie awoke with a start and glanced at her watch. It was late and the waiting room was calm. She unfolded her aching limbs and approached the receptionist. Emilie’s clothes were uncomfortably damp from the ordeal on Rough Tor.

  ‘Can you tell me how Mathew Ashby is, please?’

  ‘Are you the girl who brought him in?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Sorry, I did call your name out earlier. He’s been transferred to the Duchy Hospital in Truro. He has a broken arm and he’s dislocated his shoulder. As he lost consciousness he’ll be kept in overnight for observation. Are you a relative?’

  ‘No, I’m just a friend.’ Was she even that?

  ‘Well, I suggest you go home and get some rest. You’ll be able to visit him tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh, yes, thank you.’

  She wandered to the door. The iridescent glow of the hospital lights spilled onto the pathway, illuminating the entrance steps. The storm had passed, the only evidence of its onslaught being huge black, tar-like puddles scattered around the car park, reflecting the soft amber light of the street lamps overhead.

  The familiar sight of the Satsuma Splittie sent her ragged emotions into overdrive. It was like seeing an old faithful family pet waiting patiently for its master to return. She smiled and made her way towards it, taking a moment to pause and pat its bonnet, smoothing her palm over its paintwork before jumping up into the driver’s seat. She lowered her forehead to the steering wheel, the trauma of the drive to the hospital replaying through her mind.

  She inhaled a deep breath and a wave of exhaustion crashed over her shoulders. With difficulty, she managed to shake herself free of the lethargy and turn her thoughts to what she should do next. The most immediate problem was moving the van to a spot where she could take refuge in sleep – that bit at least was easy. What was more problematic was what she was going to do when dawn arrived. The day’s events flickered through her exhausted mind as though on a vintage film reel.

  Should she stay on in Cornwall and go back to the hospital to check on Matt? They had hardly been the best of friends when the accident had happened. Would he even blame her for causing it? She had almost accused him of copying her flash drive without permission. Was she mistaken? Or had his indignation been part of his attempt to cover up his lapse in integrity? Could they continue a relationship when the very basis of their friendship had been jeopardised?

  These questions continued to rotate through her mind until she had churned up an outlandish conspiracy theory whereby he’d targeted her from the time they’d met on the beach in Padstow – even managing to set up Alice’s accident so he could get closer to Emilie – until she chastised herself for being overly dramatic. Matt had been genuinely shocked at her accusation on the
moors, in fact so much so that he’d tumbled from the path. What if he had nothing to do with her missing flash drive? Guilt replaced her suspicions and she felt dreadful. She was probably the last person he’d want to see when he woke up in the morning and who could blame him?

  Then her thoughts meandered to the assignment. Eight shoots had been completed: only one left to go. Could she really be contemplating dropping everything and letting everyone down? Matt didn’t need, and probably wouldn’t want, her to sit by his bedside. He already had the best care available and she could make no difference to that. Maybe it would be better for them both if she just melted from his life.

  Lucinda, Marcus and the whole entourage were relying on her to finish the shoot. She had no other option but to see it through to the end. Everything would already be set up for the final desserts at the Eden Project. All she had to do was drive there, take the photographs, then drive down to St Austell to drop off the camper van and grab a taxi to the station.

  Decision made she felt a little better. She fired up the engine and rolled out of the hospital car park. After travelling down the A30 for a while the controls began to feel familiar, her handling smoother and more fluid as the memory of driving her scarlet Mini Cooper through the streets of Bristol slotted back into place. She forcibly blanked out her trepidation until she pulled into a convenient campsite adjacent to an organic farm just outside Bugle.

  What an extraordinary day it has been, she thought.

  She removed her filthy, sweat-stained clothes and washed as best she could using only a bottle of mineral water. The air was cold and she shivered as each splash landed on her naked flesh where it glistened in the moonlight. She dashed the droplets away with a tea towel before hauling her aching bones into her sleeping bag and pulling the zip to her chin, vowing never again to take the decadence of a morning shower for granted.