A Cornish Stranger

by Liz Fenwick

  Gabe frowned, wondering what else Jaunty had told him that she hadn’t told her.

  The doctor said, ‘Perhaps. It’s possible that she may have had a minor heart attack a while ago and blacked out, hit her head but did nothing about it.’

  Gabe sighed. That sounded so like Jaunty, never drawing attention to herself.

  ‘It could be that a blood clot had formed and it moved to the brain. At this point it is all guesswork.’ He paused. ‘I suggest you head home. She is stable for the moment and we’ll call if anything changes.’

  ‘May I see her first?’ Gabe swallowed. She wasn’t ready for this. There was so much that she hadn’t said or done.

  ‘Of course. Follow me.’

  Gabe turned to Fin. He held out his hand. She took it and they walked down the corridor to ICU.

  ‘Would you like me to drive?’ Fin asked as they came to the car.

  Gabe looked at him. She was wrung out so it would be wise to let him drive. ‘I’m not sure I want to go, Fin. What if she wakes?’

  ‘They’ll call. And it only takes fifty minutes to get here.’

  ‘True.’ Gabe looked at her watch. It was already seven in the evening. She opened the door and slid into the passenger seat.

  ‘Don’t blame yourself.’ Fin adjusted the rear-view mirror.

  ‘If only we hadn’t taken her to Max’s. Maybe it was all too much.’ Gabe stared at her hands.

  ‘Nonsense. She loved it. I could see it on her face.’

  Gabe turned to him. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘She was very happy.’ He took his hand off the wheel and touched hers.

  ‘If you say so.’ Gabe looked out the window at the darkness. The only lights were those of the oncoming traffic.

  Fin touched her hand again. ‘I do. Your singing gave her tremendous pleasure. You should make a recording that they could play to her.’

  Gabe frowned. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. It could help her recovery.’

  Closing her eyes, Gabe tried not to think about the inevit­able. Even if Jaunty woke up she might not be fit enough to come home. What would they do? There was no way that Jaunty would go into a nursing home. Could Gabe take care of her? She would have to get help, which meant reworking finances. She rubbed her temples.

  Fin switched on the radio and a violin concerto by Mozart came on. Gabe began humming, then woke with a start when the engine was switched off.

  ‘Sorry to wake you.’

  ‘Well, you couldn’t leave me here in the car all night.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘Would you like company or would you like some time alone?’

  Gabe paused before she shut the car door. The cabin sat in darkness and suddenly she wondered how Jaunty had lived here on her own for all those years.

  ‘Company, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘It will be a pleasure.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Gabe led the way down the path. She needed to install some security lights that would switch on when you came past. She nearly lost her footing but Fin caught her before her feet went from under her. He was like her guardian angel at the moment, and boy did she need one.

  At the door she fumbled for the key and felt foolish as tears appeared. If she was going to cry it should have been at the hospital, not here, not now that she was home. Fin’s breath caressed her neck and she wanted to lean back against him, let him take the strain, because suddenly she didn’t feel up to it. Unbelievably tired of fighting, she knew she needed to rely on someone else, but that was more frightening than relying on herself. She brushed her tears away with the back of her hand and fitted the key into the lock.

  Gabe woke to the sound of someone in the house. She sat up, grabbed her robe and rushed out of the bedroom to find it was only Fin making coffee.

  ‘Did I wake you?’

  Gabe’s heart felt like it was about to escape from her chest. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Sorry. Can I make it up with a coffee?’ He smiled and made an attempt at Max’s puppy look.

  Gabe nodded, not sure she could speak. After a bowl of soup and a whisky she had gone to bed leaving Fin sitting and reading. It should have made her feel unsafe, but it had had the opposite effect – and now she was happy to see him. She had never thought she would feel that way again.

  ‘I rang the hospital and there’s no change. Jaunty is stable so they are moving her to another ward.’ Fin handed her a mug. It was what she should have been doing, not sleeping. A glance at the clock on the wall told her it was already nine thirty. She’d slept for twelve hours.

  Gabe walked through to the sitting-room window. A soft veil of rain fell, muting the autumn colours and softening the edges on everything outside. She noted the pillow and blankets folded up on the sofa and turned to Fin.

  ‘I slept in here last night in case you needed me.’

  Needed him? Looking at the stubble on his face, the full mouth and bedroom eyes she wanted him. The realisation that she was allowing herself to feel this caused the hair on her arms to stand up. Her armour had been broken and she must tread very carefully because he would be gone shortly. He couldn’t stay here for ever. It was fine for now because she did need him, but that would pass, as would her wanting him. That was normal. He was good-looking and helpful, a winning combination, but she knew nothing about him. She didn’t even know what he did.

  ‘Fin?’

  ‘Yes.’ He looked up from his book.

  ‘What do you do?’

  He gave her a lopsided smile. ‘A funny time to ask.’

  ‘Yes, I meant to but never got around to it.’ She felt foolish she hadn’t found out more about him before.

  He put his book down. ‘I’m an art historian of sorts.’

  Fin’s phone rang. ‘Hello.’ He turned from her and walked out of the back door where the reception was better. Gabe was surprised it rang in the cabin. The wind must have changed. She topped up her mug and looked in the fridge. She would need to shop after she visited Jaunty, and Fin’s suggestion of making a disc of music for her grandmother might not be a bad idea.

  Putting her coffee down, Gabe walked into Jaunty’s room and went to the old record player. Beside it was a basket holding all Jaunty’s beloved albums. They were almost entirely opera, with the exception of a few collections of piano concertos. Flipping through them, Gabe took a trip through memory lane. This all used to be in the studio and Jaunty would listen while she painted. She would hum but never sing.

  ‘Sorry about that. Shall I make an omelette?’

  Gabe jumped. ‘That would be lovely.’ She selected what she was sure was Jaunty’s favourite, a collection of arias by Maria Lucia, and put it on. It began with ‘Habanera’ from Carmen. Carmen was a role that Gabe had longed to play and had never done so. She wouldn’t touch it now. As she walked through the bedroom she put her hands on her hips and lip-synced the words. As soon as she reached the sitting room where she could possibly be seen she dropped her hands and Carmen’s attitude.

  Fin was grimacing as he mixed the eggs when Gabe came up to him. ‘Are you OK?”

  He shrugged. ‘Just the ex-wife.’

  ‘Problem?’

  ‘Money. Always money. It always has been.’ He sliced a tomato. ‘When we were students she was forever struggling with her overdraft and when we were married I never let her near the finances. Since the divorce she has to do it and she’s made a mess of it.’ He put the tomatoes in the pan with the cheese. ‘Her partner is no better and it appears that the business is already in trouble in just the six months that she’s had it on her own.’

  ‘This is the business you began together?’

  ‘Yes.’ He expelled a sound that was half sigh, half laugh. ‘By the end of the year the business will be bankrupt.’

  ‘And this worries you?’

  ‘No. What bothers
me is that she still thinks she can come to me for help.’ He turned the cooker off.

  Gabe wondered what had happened. He was helpful and kind; the way he turned the omelette out on to plates was skilful; the man could cook – what was not to like?

  ‘Fin?’ Gabe paused, wondering how to ask and even if she should. It was none of her business. ‘Why did you divorce? Was it money?’

  ‘If only.’ He shook his head and turned from her. His shoulders slumped. ‘Money I can deal with, but betrayal was a lot harder to take.’ He handed plates to her. She placed them on the table and poured him a glass of wine, longing to know what the betrayal was. As she gave him the glass the pain in his eyes was obvious. In the time he’d been with them he had never revealed so much of himself as right now.

  ‘I suppose it shouldn’t hurt and in a way it doesn’t any more, but Patricia left me for her best friend, Joanne.’ He gave a bitter laugh. ‘It wasn’t that she left me for a woman that hurt, really. It was that the affair with Joanne had been going on the whole time I’d known her.’

  Gabe put her hand on his arm, trying to imagine what that sort of betrayal felt like, and she couldn’t. ‘I’m sorry.’

  He laughed. ‘Yes, me too for the wasted years.’

  Looking at the self-deprecating grin on Fin’s face, Gabe understood too well about wasted years.

  After a couple of hours sitting at Jaunty’s bedside, Gabe yawned. There was nothing she could do but watch the machines that monitored the state of Jaunty’s tenuous hold on life. Having mindlessly chatted away about nothing in particular, she felt so helpless. The nurses were lovely and had said that talking to Jaunty would be good, so she had. Now Gabe sang. She sang the Scottish ballad that Jaunty loved and she sang a lullaby. Her grandmother appeared to breathe easier and she could have sworn she felt her hand squeeze gently. However, Gabe noticed the nurses pausing to listen by the door of the ward and the visitor for the other patient in the room was in tears.

  ‘That was so beautiful, my dear. So beautiful.’ The woman blew her nose. ‘She’ll love that. You know, you should be on the stage with your gift. You have the voice of an angel.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Gabe said, then she shuffled out past the nurses who were all smiling at her. ‘If I brought in a CD of music and a small player could it be played quietly for my grandmother?’

  ‘What a lovely thought. Would it be of you singing to her?’ the staff nurse asked.

  Gabe nodded.

  ‘Such a wonderful idea! I’ll just check with my manager but I don’t see a problem.’

  When Gabe walked out into the grey afternoon, it was only four, but with the heavy cloud cover it felt much later. She called the number Fin had given her and arranged to meet him at the superstore. He had come in to Truro with her, but after a quick visit with Jaunty he had headed off to the library to do some research, he said, which seemed odd, but what did she know about him or what he did?

  She had a full basket and was staring at the meat section when she looked up to find Fin coming towards her with a sparkle in his eyes. It took a second before she could find her voice. ‘A good day?’

  He held out his hand to take the basket from her. ‘Yes.’ He peered in it. ‘What are we having for dinner?’

  ‘Don’t know.’ All she had been thinking about was what songs to record for Jaunty. When she’d sung, Gabe could have sworn she had felt Jaunty’s hand move in hers.

  ‘I’ll cook tonight,’ he said. ‘How does a chicken and mushroom risotto sound?’

  ‘Divine.’ Gabe looked up at him.

  ‘Good, why don’t you grab a cup of tea in the café and let me sort the shopping.’ He gave her a gentle nudge in the right direction and disappeared down another aisle. Gabe thought he might be too good to be true, but right now she wasn’t complaining.

  In the café, Gabe stood beside the counter and stared at the takeaway cup, trying to decide if she wanted or needed to put sugar into it. Her mind was all over the place. She needed to make the recording for Jaunty so that the nurses could play it to her quietly when Gabe wasn’t there. Anything that could reach her grandmother was to the good.

  Fin walked through the door into the café and Gabe’s heart skipped a beat. His face lit up with a smile and she reminded herself that she was not in the market for a relationship. But that was not what her body was saying. Although she had imposed famine conditions on it for years, it was more than ready to come out and feast. Instead of feasting, she made herself look out of the window at the sudden sun that had appeared rather than watching him.

  ‘A glorious end to the day.’ Fin was beside her and she jumped.

  ‘It’s mostly been a beautiful October so far.’ Gabe turned from the window and looked at the man beside her.

  ‘Shall we sit down?’ Fin waved a file that he held in his hand in the direction of the tables and chairs.

  ‘Why not?’ She walked to an empty table and then noticed that Fin hadn’t joined her. He was talking to a man who had just walked in the door. The man looked vaguely familiar and Gabe wondered where she had seen him before, but she couldn’t place him.

  Fin came over with the man.

  ‘Gabe, let me introduce you to an old friend – Sam Marks. He was down here on holiday when his wife’s appendix burst.’

  ‘Is she OK?’ Gabe asked.

  ‘Doing well, thanks to some fantastic care, so I’ve come to do a bit of shopping. Fin tells me your grandmother’s in hospital too. What’s wrong with her?’

  ‘She’s had a stroke.’ Gabe was careful not to say Jaunty’s name. If people were interested in art at all then they knew of her. She glanced at her watch. ‘In fact, I’ll dash off and have another few minutes with her, if you’ll excuse me.’ She looked back before she went through the door and saw they had occupied the table she’d left, their heads together as if they were sharing a secret.

  Gabe dialled Max’s number. She wasn’t sure about asking for help but it would be quicker if Max would accompany her for Jaunty’s recording. ‘Hi, Max?’

  ‘Gabriella! How’s Jaunty?’

  ‘Stable, and that’s why I’m calling. I need to ask a favour.’

  ‘Ask away.’

  ‘The other day Fin suggested I make a recording so that they can play it to her.’ Gabe took a big breath. ‘Well, today I sang to her and I think her hand moved in mine.’

  ‘Wonderful. I’m happy to help.’

  ‘Great. By any chance are you free tonight?’

  ‘Yes. I’ll come round in about a half-hour. Does that work?’

  ‘Yes.’ She looked to Fin. He was wearing Jaunty’s black and white striped apron and creating the most divine smells with garlic and onion.

  Fin waved to get her attention. ‘Ask him for dinner.’

  ‘I heard that. And yes.’

  Gabe smiled as she put down the phone, but then her chest tightened as the reality of what she had decided to do hit her.

  Fin came up to her. ‘It will be wonderful.’ He placed a hand on her shoulder and looked in her eyes. ‘She’ll love it.’

  Gabe swallowed. These past four years she had done every­thing to become invisible and now she was destroying it all. However, if it helped Jaunty she would do it.

  ‘Thanks. I think I’m going to have a look through Jaunty’s records again for more ideas.’ She took a step back so that his hand fell away and immediately regretted it, wanting his touch again. ‘Unless you need help.’ She risked a glance at Fin’s face.

  He held out his hands and puffed out his chest. ‘Don’t think I’m up to the job?’ He grinned.

  ‘Well, I’ll see how you manage tonight.’ She laughed.

  ‘Ye of little faith.’

  Gabe grinned as she went into Jaunty’s room feeling lightheaded. She’d been flirting. He’d been flirting. This felt very strange. She was out of her depth
.

  Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she flipped through the albums and put on a recording of Maria Lucia singing the part of Violetta from Verdi’s La Traviata. Tucked inside the sleeve was a newspaper cutting from the 1960s, regarding the rerelease of Maria’s arias. Gabe scanned the yellowed paper and felt a lump in her throat. It was such a sad story. She had died of complications following a battle with pneumonia. It said she had lost the will to live following the death of her only child and of her husband during the war. A draught blew in from the window and Gabe shivered. She heard the sound of the gravel on the track. Max must be here, and early too. She picked out the album mentioned in the cutting and put the rest of the records in a neat pile, then she stood and found Max standing in the bedroom door.

  ‘Maria Lucia?’ He smiled.

  ‘Yes. Jaunty has the full collection from what I can tell.’

  Max tilted his head to one side. ‘Yours is a sort of similar voice. Your training is very different but there is a quality of tone, I think.’

  Gabe smiled. ‘That is a big stretch of imagination, but if it’s meant to put your soprano at ease it just might work.’

  ‘Excellent.’ He stepped back from the door. ‘So tell me what you’re going to sing and what we are using to record you while we lay the table.’ Gabe followed him out of Jaunty’s room, wondering if she could really do this.

  Lying in bed, exhausted but unable to sleep, Gabe rolled over again. It was now approaching two and they had finished recording about half past midnight. Despite feeling like a wrung-out dishcloth, with eyes that were burning, her mind wouldn’t calm down. The music had stirred her too much. There was no sense in fighting it any longer. She might as well get up and have a cup of herbal tea.

  Once she was out of bed, she made her way to the kitchen and switched on the kettle, then stopped when she realised the idea of hot chocolate appealed more. She was reaching for the tin when she heard Fin’s voice and nearly dropped it on the floor. She’d forgotten that he was staying on the sofa.