by Jenny Kane
‘I can’t excuse my behaviour, but please, perhaps for now, could you accept that I feel a bit lost. I’m truly sorry for my outburst. If you feel you could trust me, then I would genuinely like to know why you left the army.’
Dan spent so long staring straight into her eyes that Cassandra started to feel awkward, until at last he said, ‘Did you know that there are flecks of peppermint in your irises?’
Chapter Twenty-two
Cassandra wasn’t sure if it was the glint in Dan’s eyes, or the welcoming beckoning of the people on the other side of the hotel’s bay window that convinced her that running away was not an option. Not only would it be cowardly, it would be rude, and from that point, there would be no going back to this benevolent group of people. With each step across the car park the truth came into sharper focus. She had one last chance to have friends here.
With a long exhalation of breath, Cassandra climbed the first of the stone steps up into the hotel, and turned to see if Dan was following her, or if he’d walked the other way, got in his car, and driven back to Chalk Towers.
‘You thought I’d gone?’
‘I wouldn’t have blamed you.’
‘I thought you were going to get a taxi?’
‘So did I – when I was over there.’ Cassandra pointed back across the road to the sea beyond.
‘But now you’re going back inside.’ His eyes smiled, even if his mouth wasn’t giving way.
‘I don’t want Abi to worry. She’s been very good to me. They all have.’
Something about the relaxation of Dan’s shoulders told Cassandra that, this time at least, she hadn’t disappointed him. ‘You should talk to the girls more. Share with them. It’ll make you feel better, I promise.’
It was all Cassandra could do not to cry as she was hit with a wave of concern and questions about her welfare when she sat back down at the round table. ‘You saved us cake!’
‘Of course we did,’ Dora said. ‘A nibble of scone out of a napkin is one thing, but you haven’t had a real Cornish cream tea until you’ve eaten one off proper china plates, with tea from a teapot, and a silver teaspoon with which to ladle on your cream and jam.’
‘Is that so?’
‘Go on.’ Stan pushed a small pot of cream and a glass pot of homemade strawberry jam in Cassandra’s direction. ‘That lot will keep your strength up. Are you sure you’re OK, girl?’
While walking across the plush thickly carpeted floor, back towards the round table, Cassandra had decided to treat the next hour as if she was bringing a particularly tricky business meeting back to order. Now, however, with six sets of concerned eyes, and one set of eyes belonging to someone who had stared into her eyes so hard that they had picked up flecks of pale green, something that Justin had never done (unless he’d simply not thought to tell her), she couldn’t do it.
‘I’m fine now, thanks, Stan. It was my own fault. I haven’t eaten much over the last day or two.’ Aware of being watched, Cassandra hesitated as she approached the cream and jam. ‘Umm, which is it first? I know Devon is one way and Cornwall is the other. But which is it?’
The chorus of ‘jam first’ made Cassandra burst out laughing, and the weight on her shoulders seemed to evaporate. There was no need to explain, no need to make a thing of what had just happened. She could just move on, a fact that was underlined for her as she caught the sight of Dan out of the corner of her eye. There was no doubt he liked her laugh.
Max, who’d been watching Cassandra closely for signs of tension that might ruin the afternoon for Stan and Dora, also felt the atmosphere lighten as he said, ‘Did you know that the original Cornish cream teas weren’t on scones at all?’
‘Really?’ Beth chuckled. ‘I assume this is pub quiz information?’
‘Oh, do you like pub quizzes?’ Cassandra asked as she tried to dollop half the over-generous portion of cream back off her silver spoon.
Abi answered before Max could. ‘He is a general knowledge wizard! The only time I’ve ever been in a winning pub quiz team was with Max before we started going out together.’
Beth, who was now helping Cassandra scrape the cream off with her own spoon, laughed, ‘Go on then, Max, I can see you’re bursting to tell us. If cream teas weren’t on scones, what were they on?’
Picking up his pint, Max said, ‘Well, traditionally they were served on a Cornish split.’
Abi was trying not to giggle as Cassandra gave up trying to be delicate with her cream and pushed it off with her finger. ‘I assume a Cornish split isn’t a local gymnast with a weird fetish?’ Cassandra asked.
Laughing at the Londoner’s unexpected humour, Max explained, ‘It’s a sweetened white bread roll, a little bit like a plain brioche. The split would have been warmed slightly, and then buttered, before the jam and then cream – clotted, obviously – was added.’
‘Buttered as well?’ Cassandra could feel the delicious calories jumping directly onto her hips as she took her first mouthful.
‘Yes. You can imagine how gorgeous they would have tasted, but also how many heart attacks must have come as a result of a lifelong addiction to them!’
Dora, who’d been unusually quiet as Cassandra tackled her first cream tea scone construction, watched with satisfaction as the city girl took her second bite. ‘Better than Claridge’s?’
‘Ummm…’ Unable to answer properly, Cassandra chewed her mouthful as Dan filled her teacup with tea, just as Jacob topped up her champagne flute with bubbly.
Once her mouth was empty, Cassandra looked at both of them. ‘Are you trying to fatten me up?’
‘Yes!’
Again the answer was unanimous, and Cassandra shrugged in defeat, before taking a deliberately massive bite of the scone to the rapturous applause of her comrades.
‘Flecks of peppermint?’
‘That’s what the man said.’ Cassandra passed Abi a drawing pin to stick a poster onto the gallery’s notice board while Beth lounged on the sofa, rubbing the very first glimpses of her baby bump.
‘That’s a very strange reaction, considering he’d just been shouting at you.’ Abi pushed the last pin into place and stepped down from the stool she’d been balanced on.
‘To put it mildly.’ Cassandra smiled, running a hand over her stomach in a similar fashion to Beth. ‘I’m still stuffed from yesterday!’
Cassandra had been stood outside the gallery in time for Saturday morning opening, a bunch of flowers in one hand, and a packet of fudge in the other. Rather than actually say sorry again, she had taken the unusual step of sharing what had happened between her and Dan, and was pleasantly surprised to find having girlfriends to talk to was as much fun as he’d told her it would be.
‘Well, I think it’s romantic.’ Beth stretched her legs outwards and then stood up. ‘He obviously likes you. And you said he called you Cass?’
Abi propped the galleries front door open, relishing the brief hit of sunshine on her face. ‘I must say, I think Cass suits you. It sounds more relaxed than Cassandra.’
‘I like it too.’ Cassandra felt another effortless smile cross her face. ‘I always liked it, but Justin said it was common, so I didn’t use it. I think I will from now on though. Cass it is.’
Beth rolled her eyes. ‘I know I have never met Justin, but he sounds a total arse.’
Cass had to agree. ‘And I’ve wasted quite enough time thinking about him. Time to start again.’
Abi tilted her head to one side, her yellow fringe flopping over her eyes. ‘And does this new life include living by the seaside?’
Cass suddenly felt awkward. ‘That’s unlikely. I am happier down here than I was, thanks to you guys, but I think a road to Damascus experience beach-wise is probably pushing it.’
Beth was almost as stunned as Abi had been when Cass had first confessed she didn’t like the seaside. ‘You seriously don’t like going to the beach?’
‘Nope. But, I have to say, I do like Cornwall. I like the pub gardens and the little shop
s, and cream teas are every bit as good as Stan said they’d be, and this gallery is fantastic, but the beach - – no. Sorry.’
Unlocking the till ready for the day, Beth said, ‘Each to their own, I suppose. There’s heaps of Cornwall that’s inland. Personally, I love the villages a little way back from the coast best of all. Have you been to Zennor yet? If you go with Max though, I should warn you he’ll tell you about the mermaid, and every other bit of Cornish village folklore he knows.’
‘Which is a lot!’ Abi added.
‘That sounds quite nice actually, but I wouldn’t expect Max to schlep around villages with me, especially as he’s up to his elbows in painting my house.’
Abi beamed at her neighbour. ‘You said “your house”. I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you sound happy about that.’
‘I’ve done a lot of thinking since I spoke to Justin. And, if I’m honest, even more since yesterday afternoon.’ The women were staring at her with such open curiosity that Cass couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Should we put the kettle on for this?’
Beth clapped. ‘Now you’re talking our language!’
As Beth pottered about making coffee and tea, Cass explained about her last trip to Jo’s shop in Truro, and how much she loved her bumblebee furniture. ‘I know it’s a totally new – not to mention uncharacteristic – direction for me; and I have no idea if it’ll work, or if once I discover how much hard work it is, I’ll go off the idea, but I’d like to restore my own furniture.’ Cass braced herself, half expecting Abi and Beth to laugh.
Abi however was clearly thrilled. ‘I think that’s a brilliant idea.’
‘You don’t think I’m being silly?’
‘Not at all.’ Abi took the mug of coffee Beth passed her. ‘Are you going to do one of Jo’s courses?’
‘I’m on the waiting list. She is so booked up.’
‘I don’t doubt it.’ Beth sipped her tea after blowing on the surface. ‘Max has always held Jo’s skills in high regard.’
Cass sat on the edge of the sofa next to Beth. ‘A situation that is obviously mutual. It was Jo who recommended Max as a decorator to me before I knew he was Abi’s partner.’
Turning the page of the large pad of paper propped on the easel, Abi asked, ‘What are you going to tell your lawyer to do? You aren’t going to let Justin or his wife just steal your life’s work, are you?’
A little shamefaced, Cass said, ‘To an extent I am. I did cheat with her husband.’
‘I suppose so, but she has still stolen from you. Plus Justin lied to you – a lot. He never had any intention of divorcing her, did he?’
‘I don’t know.’ Perching on the edge of the gallery sofa, Cass felt the wave of sadness she’d been keeping at bay edge closer. ‘Justin said he was coming to talk to me in person, but I doubt I’m going to believe a single word he says any more.’
‘Probably wise.’ Abi’s mind filled with a vision of her brother-in-law, whom they all referred to as Slimy Simon. He’d managed to lie with so much style that he had people believing Abi was insane with grief after Luke’s death. He’d always come across as perfectly plausible.
Not wanting to let thoughts of Justin darken the mood, Cass said, ‘I’ve decided to ask Donald, that’s my lovely lawyer, to do a little more digging. Whatever the truth of the situation turns out to be, I want to make sure my staff are compensated, and see what recompense I can get.’
‘But won’t you lose a fortune?’ Beth asked as she dunked a biscuit into her drink.
‘I’ll be out of pocket, but I still have a flat in London I’m renting out and, if Donald is correct, then number two Miners Row is mine and not Justin’s.’
‘Really?’ Abi was openly surprised.
‘Yes. Donald thinks it was guilt that made Justin put it in my name. Which sort of implies he knew what Jacinta was up to fairly early on, doesn’t it?’
‘It sure does.’ Abi pulled a face. ‘He probably thought he’d be able to use your place as a bolthole if Jacinta decided to take direct revenge on him as well.’
Cass groaned. ‘That’s the worst thing. The feeling that I’ve been such a fool. That Jacinta – or worse, Justin – are laughing at me. That I was merely a convenient mistress for him. That I wasn’t loved at all.’
Beth put her arm around Cass’s shoulders. ‘Forgive me, but Justin is a shit. You’re much better off with Dan.’
Cass blushed. ‘Dan is lovely, but he could do much better than me. I’m sure he was just being kind yesterday. Everyone here is kind.’
Abi and Beth exchanged glances, before Abi said, ‘For goodness’ sake, woman; he noticed the flecks of peppermint in your eyes!’
Chapter Twenty-three
‘At least if Dan and Cass do get together then they won’t be so bull in a china shop about it as you and Jacob were!’ Abi winked at Beth.
‘We weren’t that bad!’ Beth stuck her tongue out at her friend. ‘Jacob just knew a good thing when he saw it.’
Having had an unusually heavy trickle of customers and browsers in and out all morning, the gallery was empty now. Cass had left to see how Max was getting on some time ago, and Abi had been toying with the idea of sharing her concerns about her own future with Beth, but there hadn’t been time. And with each new day now bringing with it an increase in the number of holidaymakers as the season crept towards mid-July, and the school summer holidays, the chance to talk before and after school was getting leaner outside of weekends.
‘Talking of having a good thing,’ Abi wasn’t sure she should say anything, but the thought that she and Max would be stuck as they were for ever refused to go away, ‘I don’t suppose Max has said anything to you about me?’
Beth frowned, immediately concerned for her two best friends. ‘You guys are alright, aren’t you?’
‘Oh yes. Great.’ Abi glanced down at the pixie community she now had dancing around a maypole on the page in front of her. ‘I’m probably being silly but, well…Max seems happy to keep things as they are now. He stays at my place sometimes, but I hardly ever go to his flat, and he hasn’t mentioned moving in or anything else.’
‘What? Never?’ Beth, who’d known Max since primary school, could easily believe he’d got too comfortable to move things along. Or was too nervous to do so…
‘Never. I thought perhaps, with you and Jacob expecting, and Stan and Dora showing it’s never too late to find happiness with someone, he might have felt the urge to ask me if we should live together.’
‘You could ask him.’
‘No I couldn’t.’ Abi was adamant. ‘One of the reasons I love Max so much is that he’s old-fashioned. Chivalrous even. I think he’d hate it if I was the one who asked first. He’d see it as if I was hassling him, or worse, it would make him feel as though he’d failed me in some way.’
‘Bloody Lucinda.’ Beth, who had never forgiven Max’s ex-wife for robbing him of so much of his confidence when it came to relationships, said. ‘It was always going to be a slow job with Max, hun. He does love you. Truly he does.’
‘I know. He’s great, and I love him too. I’m probably just feeling a bit left behind.’
‘You’ll be great parents when the time comes.’
‘Thanks, Beth, I hope you don’t think I’m being all begrudging of you and Jacob, or Stan and Dora come to that. I’d hate you to think that. It’s only that…’
‘You’d like it to be you and Max as well.’
‘Yes, I would.’
Beth was now even more determined than ever to make the anniversary of the gallery’s opening in September a celebration of Abi’s arrival in their lives. ‘I’m sure Max feels the same. He needs to take his time, that’s all. Maybe…’ But Beth never got to share her thoughts with Abi, because a very jolly group of American tourists burst into the scene, with wide white-toothed smiles and, luckily, even wider wallets.
For the first time since she’d arrived in Cornwall, Cass thought, the time seemed to fly, rather than drag from minute to mi
nute. Having been delighted with Max’s progress – the kitchen and hallway already gleaming and fresh in an enlivening shade of butter yellow paint – she had occupied herself with rearranging the living room. Clearing out the few pieces of furniture that the previous occupants had left behind, she began to visualise how she’d like the room to look if she was to live there herself. ‘Not that I’m going to, but if I like it, then there’s more chance someone else will be willing to pay a decent price to stay here.’
A few happy hours later, Cass sat in her garden drinking a glass of Pinot while scrolling through websites for new sofas and an armchair. The dining and kitchen furniture she was determined to either get from Jo or restore herself. She looked at the bottle. Justin would not have approved of the supermarket label. The thought made her smile.
Every now and then the aroma of fresh paint hit her nostrils as a light breeze blew across the garden. Max had completed the decorating, and having declared the larder door a lost cause, had replaced it with a suitably in-keeping new one.
Torn between ordering a battered but gorgeous second-hand leather sofa and matching armchair, or a brand new sofa and a tartan wing-backed chair, Cass decided to order neither pair for a minute, but saved the pages so she could examine them at her leisure later. First she had a new plan to make. A proposal to present to Donald first thing on Monday morning.
Now Monday had arrived, Cass found herself unaccountably nervous. She’d never been unsure of her business actions before, but this was such a massive change of direction. In every possible way.
An image of her parents in their little village in Oxfordshire flitted through her mind. Would they be pleased? Proud of her, even? She hoped so. Building a few bridges in that direction was a task long overdue.
After Parking her little hire car in the town car park in Penzance, Cass gripped her handbag and walked to Donald’s offices with her throat dry and her palms sweaty. Trying to focus on the trip to Lanhydrock she was looking forward to that afternoon with Jo, Cass walked into the lawyer’s domain.