A Cornish Stranger

by Liz Fenwick

  The water was so cold and I knew if I didn’t move I would die of exposure. I called out for Alex long after the rumble of the engine had faded, but no one replied. Swimming, I found a piece of the boat large enough for me to get out of the water. Splinters lodged in my hand as I scrambled on to it. I had no idea where I was and the thought of death enticed me. I was frozen through and shivers wracked my body. There was no spare flesh on me but my hand travelled to my stomach and I knew I had to hold on for that scrap of life. It hadn’t done anything to deserve a watery grave, even though, without Alex, that was what I wanted. Part of me prayed that he too was alive and adrift on a piece of wood like me, but I didn’t dare to hope, and as dawn broke I could barely move. The mist was rising. Turning my head to the side, I saw rocks. A voice boomed out and, dazed, I looked towards it. A fishing boat, not far away. My arm felt too heavy to lift but eventually I waved it, rocking the bit of boat that was holding me. I don’t know whether I had slept or passed out, but the next thing I knew I was in a hospital room. I heard voices on the other side of the door saying I was lucky to be alive.

  Jaunty looked up when she heard a tap on the door.

  ‘Hello, Jaunty.’ Dr Winslade put his bag down on a chair. ‘You’re looking so well I may be able to turn you over to the nurse.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘But if I did I wouldn’t have the pleasure of your company.’ He sat and held out his hand for Jaunty’s arm. She obliged, thinking he was a good man. Before long he’d checked her pulse, her lungs, her heart and her blood pressure.

  ‘Well?’

  He tilted his head. ‘I won’t lie. I’m worried.’

  Jaunty nodded.

  ‘I’d be happier if we could bring you in for tests.’

  ‘No, there are better ways to spend my tax money than running a bunch of tests on me. I’m old. I’m dying. It’s my time.’

  ‘I don’t agree.’

  ‘I know. And I thank you for your care.’

  ‘A pleasure. Is there anything else you want to tell me?’

  ‘No.’ Jaunty smiled at him then took his hand. ‘Thank you.’ He stood and gave her hand a squeeze as he left. Jaunty could hear him chatting with Gabriella, and picked up her pen.

  A doctor examined me and finally I spoke to an officer. I would not tell anyone my name. I simply asked to speak to Major Penn because I knew Alex reported to him. Eventually another officer entered the room. He said he would take me to him. He drove us a short distance to a house on the north shore of the Helford River.

  Out of the window I see the cabin. So close to a place of such happiness I want to cry. Tears are all I seem to have and I wake each night calling out Alex’s name.

  Major Penn stands by the window. ‘Why did you want to see me?’ He turns and studies me. I touch my hair and smooth it.

  ‘I am J—’ I stop. Who am I? Who am I to Major Penn. I blink. ‘I am Simone Dubois. Operation Vent.’

  ‘Ah, Jean Blythe.’ His brow lifts and he comes closer and takes a seat beside me. ‘I am so sorry about Lieutenant Carrow.’

  I hold my breath. I can do this. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I’m not sure. A collision in the fog, I think.’ I twist my fingers tight, holding back the tears. ‘I fell asleep on deck and woke when we were hit.’

  He nods. ‘That’s what we’d gathered.’

  ‘Has anyone else been found?’

  ‘No, local fishermen found you and bits of the wreckage.’ He stood. ‘I don’t suppose you know where you were when you were hit?’

  ‘No, sir.’ I look down. ‘We’d left the Scillies and had been sailing for maybe a half-hour at a guess.’ I am puzzled. ‘What do I do now?’

  ‘We could still use you in France.’

  I shake my head. ‘I’m pregnant. I thought Alex had told you.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘May I use your phone and call my father.’ It is my only option.

  ‘Your father?’

  I forget they think I am Jean and she had been an orphan.

  ‘Someone who was like a father to me.’

  He frowns. ‘Who?’

  ‘Lord Penrose.’

  He glances out of the window. ‘I’m sorry to tell you, but Lord Penrose is dead. He died in the blitz.’

  I suck in air. What of my mother? ‘Lady Penrose?’ I ask.

  ‘It has been reported that she died of a broken heart having lost her daughter and her husband.’ I close my eyes. That only leaves my grandmother and there is no way that I can turn to her.

  Jaunty coughed. Just thinking about all of this brought the pain too close.

  The Major gave me money for a ticket to London, and his sister’s name and address. I could stay with her. I sat on the train to London knowing that I was a married woman, but I couldn’t prove it so I couldn’t go to Alex’s family. They would be worried sick about him. How could I say I was his wife and I was pregnant with his child when I didn’t know whose child it was that I carried? I couldn’t – no, I wouldn’t – turn to my grandmother. As the train slid past the lush English countryside I knew I had to remain Jean, but how?

  Gabe left Fin patching a hole in the shed roof. He was handier around the place than she would ever have imagined, and he seemed determined to earn his keep. The week had passed quickly and she was thankful that he had been with Jaunty when she’d had her attack. Walking down the path towards the cabin she could hear the deep throb of a boat engine. She looked out over the creek but couldn’t see the source. The breeze came from the west and it felt warmer than a summer’s day.

  ‘Don’t want to hear any more reports of any more illness,’ a male voice said.

  Gabe heard Jaunty laugh.

  ‘That’s an order. I’ll just put the fish in the sink.’ Mike Gear came strolling out of the kitchen.

  ‘Hello, Gabe.’

  She grinned.

  ‘I won’t give you a hug.’ He looked down at his fish-smeared overalls.

  Gabe twitched her nose. ‘Yes, I’ll take a rain check.’

  ‘I was just dropping some monkfish cheeks off for Jaunty. I know she loves them.’ His phone rang and he delved inside his pocket and pulled it out. ‘Hello, darling. I’ll be home in about a half-hour. I just popped by Bosworgy to check on Jaunty.’ He smiled at Gabe and she could hear his wife, Sue, on the other end. ‘Yes, I remember the folk group is at the pub tonight.’

  Gabe watched gulls circle and knew it was because of Mike’s boat below. He must be tied up to the quay.

  ‘There’s an idea. Come to the pub tonight, Gabe. There’s a men’s group singing. It’ll be like old times.’

  ‘Sounds great.’ Gabe bit her lower lip, thinking of nights with her father at the pub, where he and others would sing. ‘But I can’t leave Jaunty.’

  Mike nodded. ‘Hadn’t thought of that. Shame.’

  ‘Enjoy it for me.’

  ‘No worries there, and put the fish in the fridge if you aren’t going to eat it tonight.’ Mike waved when he reached the bend in the path and shortly after she saw his boat pull out into the river.

  Gabriella, my head is muddled. I can hear your voice and memories of you and Philip fill me. I do not need to share those memories with you; you have your own of your father. He was so different from me. If I had been him I would have resented you for taking my love away but he, dear sweet soul, loved you more.

  Jaunty rubbed her temples. She must push onwards.

  I walk through the gallery door just before five. This much I know. I have to do this. I am Jean Blythe. I pray she will understand. Jeanette died on the Lancastria. I can do this.

  I scan the room and see three of Jean’s paintings on promin­ent display. The price listed is triple what her first painting sold for. I spin around and I spot two more. They were painted one sunny m
orning sitting by the Seine and these paintings are sold.

  A man in a dark suit walks up to me. ‘Hello. You have wonderful taste. Her work is brilliant, so collectible. I wish we had more but these may be the last ones.’ He shakes his head. ‘I haven’t heard from her since the invasion of Paris.’ He frowns and looks me up and down. I am concious of my tatty clothes.

  ‘I wish I could tell her how acclaimed her work has become.’ He seems sincere.

  My heart races. ‘Peter Knowles?’

  ‘In the country; the bombing wasn’t good for his dickey heart.’

  I breathe. I must do this. I look heavenward and ask Jean to forgive me. I would rather she was alive and we would survive together. ‘I’m Jean Blythe.’

  The man claps his hands together. ‘Someone who has made it through this awful war! I cannot tell you how happy I am to meet you. I’m Paul Nichols. We’ve corresponded.’

  ‘Yes.’ This at least is true. I had written all Jean’s letters. ‘A pleasure.’ I change the shape of my mouth slightly. Jean was from London. I picture her in my head and affect her mannerisms.

  With no choice left to me I have come to the gallery as Jean, hoping she will forgive me for taking her name, her fame and her money.

  Leaving the gallery I wander the streets of London, go past our old house. A bomb has wiped out the terrace. From there I walk to the Brompton Oratory and in its cool, dark interior I light a candle for my mother. I have no idea where she died or where she is buried. I pray for my parents. I pray for Alex. I pray for the child growing in me. The flame flickers in the draught and I think of my grandmother and debate if I should turn to her and just be me, Jeanette. It is not too late to stop this subterfuge. But as I look up at the statue of St Francis I know I can’t do it. She will throw me out and then I will have nowhere to turn.

  The confessional beckons and I long for forgiveness.

  ‘Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been four years since my last confession.’ I take a breath. Where should I begin? ‘I have returned from France. I . . . I can’t say why I was there.’

  ‘What you say in here is safe.’

  I nod but I hold back. I can no longer trust.

  I knew that I couldn’t risk staying in London; someone from my past might recognise me. So I made a plan to move to Cornwall. I was unknown in the west and I would be close to Alex. Before I left London I went to a hairdresser and had my hair cut short. It changed my whole look; I was someone else now and always would be.

  Twelve

  Gabe was handing Fin the last glass to put in the dresser when Mrs Bates appeared at the door. ‘Good evening, Gabriella.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You look surprised. Didn’t Jaunty tell you she rang and asked me to come over?’

  Gabe shook her head and looked at Fin, who shrugged as Jaunty came into the kitchen. ‘Keziah, come and sit down.’ Jaunty took Mrs Bates’s arm and walked through to the sitting room. ‘Gabriella, would you make us a pot of tea before you head to the Shipwrights?’

  Gabe shook her head and grinned. Obviously Jaunty had overheard Gabe’s conversation with Mike. ‘Fin, fancy a drink at the pub? There’s a local folk group singing tonight.’

  ‘Sounds great. I’ll just grab a sweater.’

  Gabe made the tea and took it to the two women. Jaunty entertaining anyone was odd, but Gabe knew her grandmother was worried about her move here, didn’t want her to be alone, but Gabe had left London to find solitude and instead she was being pulled into the social whirl.

  Mrs Bates came to the kitchen. ‘Don’t forget your torch, dear. The nights are drawing in.’ She leaned closer to Gabe and whispered, ‘No need to rush back. Have a lovely evening out.’ She patted Gabe’s arm as Fin appeared on the terrace. ‘He’s a looker.’

  ‘Thanks, Mrs Bates.’ Gabe dashed away from Mrs Bates’s knowing look, well meaning though it was. Once they were well away from the cabin, Gabe turned to Fin. ‘Thanks for all your help with the shed and, well, everything really.’

  ‘Not a problem, it’s the least I can do.’

  ‘Well, yes, you could strim the field and help me harvest the apples.’ She cast a sideways glance at him and a smile spread across his face.

  ‘I suppose I could, but I had the impression you wanted me gone?’

  Gabe pursed her lips. ‘Might have done, but you’ve turned out rather handy.’

  ‘Have I now?’ They paused and turned to see the sun set behind them. ‘I would never tire of seeing that,’ he said.

  ‘Me neither.’ They picked up the pace and reached the pub just as the group began singing. The harmony of voices rang out with ‘Haul Away Joe’.

  Fin leaned close. ‘This time I can buy you that drink.’

  ‘Pleased to hear it. I’d love a cider.’

  ‘As you wish.’ He disappeared into the throng at the bar as Gabe spotted Jenna across the terrace and made her way to her.

  ‘Who is the dishy guy?’ Jenna pointed at Fin.

  ‘He’s Fin.’

  ‘Fin who?’

  ‘Fin Alexander.’

  Jenna raised an eyebrow. ‘I like the five o’clock shadow he’s sporting.’

  Gabe looked at Fin standing chatting at the bar, then turned to Jenna. ‘Yes, I rather like it too.’

  ‘He kind of reminds me of someone from the telly, but I can’t think who.’ Jenna studied him.

  Gabe didn’t know what he did. What if she’d been right and he was a journalist?

  Someone tapped Gabe’s elbow and she swung around to find Max. ‘Hello.’

  ‘Great to see you here.’ He smiled at Jenna and Jenna sent a knowing glance at Gabe. Gabe rolled her eyes.

  ‘Max, have you met Jenna?’

  Max extended his hand.

  ‘No, we haven’t met but didn’t you organise the wonderful concert?’ Jenna asked.

  Max nodded.

  ‘It was brilliant and you raised a few thousand pounds, which is fantastic. Well done,’ Jenna said, beaming.

  The singers began again and Max whispered, ‘Have you thought about the opera at all? I’d love to hear your comments?’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Gabe studied him. He seemed sincere.

  ‘Yes, please. I really would.’

  ‘I’ll take a look, but I won’t sing.’

  He tried the wide-eyed look. Gabe laughed and shook her head. She turned to watch the men who had begun ‘Shenandoah’. Her eyes met Fin’s as he scanned the crowd. A smile lit up his face and a feeling she had put away ran through her. She took a few shallow breaths. This was very dangerous.

  Gabe hadn’t had a swim in days. Sitting on a tree stump, cradling her coffee, she looked down at the rocks below. The water was clear and among the weed swam hundreds of minnows. They moved together like an Olympic synchronised swimming team, first with the tide and then against it, covering the same area.

  Climbing down to the bottom step, Gabe placed her foot on the rock below. The wind blew around her. She would need her wetsuit before long, but the water was warmer than the air at the moment. If she hesitated any longer she would never do it. Taking a shallow dive, she hit the water and kicked past the weed out into the middle. Strong strokes took her into the haven of the creek. She slowed and took time to see the trees reaching out to her. As a child, depending on her mood, they had been both welcoming and threatening. Today they were neither.

  Since she’d arrived the leaves had begun to turn and the holly was covered in berries. Switching to breaststroke, she stopped when she heard a splash behind her that was far too big for a fish. Turning her head, she glimpsed another swimmer. It must be Fin. Since her father had died she had never had anyone swim in the creek with her and with each stroke she pulled harder, but he was catching up with her. Their unofficial race would come to an end soon as the water was becoming too shallow for
proper swimming the further they went.

  ‘Morning.’ Fin came up to her. ‘When I saw you dive in, I thought it seemed a good idea.’

  Gabe didn’t reply but turned over on to her back to let the water carry her away. It was strangely intimate to be in the creek alone with Fin. The distant hum of a boat engine coming down the river provided the backbeat to the cry of a curlew and the screech of the gulls. The sky was pale blue behind the fast-moving clouds. If she focused on these things, and not on the man beside her, the world was good.

  Voices carried on the wind and Gabe flipped over. A boat was about to break their solitude by turning into the creek. She pointed to the side and Fin nodded. At full throttle the powerboat approached and only slowed when the driver spotted them in the water. The raucous laughter was not followed by an apology, as it should have been. Even though it was out of season, speed restrictions should still be respected. The boat ignored Gabe and Fin and motored on.

  ‘That was close.’

  Gabe nodded and maintained a slow breaststroke back towards the mouth of the creek. Being in the water with Fin was a perilous experience.

  ‘I’m sorry I disturbed you.’

  Gabe turned to him. He did disturb her, but she could ­handle it. It was good, in a way, to feel attraction, and it was safe. He wouldn’t be here for ever. Beside her, the surface of the water was covered with an armada of fallen leaves setting out to sea on the tide. She smiled, then splashed him. ‘Race you!’

  A steady thumping noise flowed out of Gabriella’s bedroom. It sounded like a beat of some sort but Jaunty wasn’t sure. Gabriella must be working. She had muttered something about a zoo before she shut the door to her room after breakfast.

  A sharp shower had begun and Jaunty rose to close the windows. The terrace was covered in puddles and the river and sky merged together, but if she looked east the sky was clear. She left her room and found Fin sitting in an armchair reading a book on illuminated manuscripts. He was waiting for her, Jaunty sensed, and she too was ready, but Gabriella was near. Even though Jaunty knew Gabriella would be wearing headphones the risk was too great.