She’s home this time, pottering in her front garden which is wild and wonderful, a patch of uncut grass filled with flowers. Bright spots of blue, yellow, pink, and deep red poke out between the grasses. White wood anemones crouch between tiny wild daffodils and delicate violets, plus a host of other flowers I don’t recognise.
Angela’s white hair is standing straight up on top of her head as it often is, unless she remembers to smooth it down. She has this habit of running her hand through and then forgetting to pat it back down again. She’s sweet and cherubic, rather old-fashioned in her manners and dress, hardly ever going out, not even having a television, as Tufty once told me, but preferring to reread again and again all Jane Austen’s novels.
So it’s a huge surprise to me when she cries, ‘Oh how marvellous! My wool has arrived, and I only ordered it from eBay a couple of days ago. God bless the Royal Mail.’ She smiles her sweet matronly smile, ‘And eBay, of course.’
Right there and then she opens the parcel and out tumble a rainbow of colours, balls of wool that look like the neon lights of a huge modern city, bright and glowing and magical. Some sparkle in the sunlight, others smoulder like embers with their fiery colours. ‘Aren’t they wonderful?’ Angela enthuses. ‘Such vivid colours! When I discovered these on eBay, I was thrilled. I’ve found a steady supplier, too.’ Her gentle smile turns slightly sly. ‘I hope you don’t mind if I don’t tell you the name. It’s a very small outlet and I seem to be taking all of his stock of this type of yarn.’ She looks slightly embarrassed. ‘Though I have to say, I’ve already bought far more than I can use. I can’t seem to resist.’
I assure her I wouldn’t dream of asking about her supplier. ‘But Angela, have you ever thought of selling your gloves? I see they’ve spread out of Poldowe. It’s not just Melanie and Tufty wearing them now, but others, I’ve noticed lately.’
‘Oh, I couldn’t ask money for them,’ she looks shocked at the thought, then turns wistful. ‘But it would be a treat to see other people wearing them. They are a bit of fun, don’t you think? I sometimes imagine Jane Austen in a pair. She had quite a mischievous streak, you know.’
By the time I leave, I’ve convinced her that if she sold some of her gloves, it would pay for the knitting materials, and more importantly, bring delight to loads of people. In the end, she insists on giving me five of her ‘best’ pairs to show some of the village shopkeepers. I’ve got my eye on a deep orange pair, the colour of a mature pumpkin or a harvest moon – perfect for Halloween, especially with the silvery black trim. I’ll buy them surreptitiously from one of the village shops; if I admire the pair too much she’ll give them to me then and there, and I know she struggles to live on her small pension.
I spend an hour on the way home stopping at a few village shops to ask if they’ll take some of Angela’s gloves in the autumn. They all agree. The St Geraint post office shop will take at least ten, feeling sure they’ll sell them all during the half-term holiday. I negotiate a fair price (Angela asked me to do this) and I finally make it home feeling quite pleased with life. From this small beginning, who knows, a whole empire can grow, I say to myself. That’s how Laura Ashley started, that’s how The Body Shop began, organically and growing upwards from the roots. Laughing at myself for my crazy dreams for other people, I quickly come down to earth, remembering that’s the last thing Angela would want. Maybe a small cottage industry would do, rather than a multi-national company.
Though it’s far too warm for gloves, I pull on the ones I purchased from the Treverny shop, where I left the five pairs. Well, four now. I hold them up to the sunlight which catches the bright orange and they gleam joyfully like a sunset over a late autumn seascape.
Annie rings me one morning on my mobile. ‘I can’t remember if you’re working or have a day off today,’ she says. Her voice sounds strained.
‘I’m off. What’s up?’
‘Look, can we talk? I’m free now if you are.’
I’ve got a dozen things to do but I’ll put them all off for Annie. Something must be wrong; we met only a few days ago. Ben and I went to their place for an evening of fish and chips, and a DVD, though we never did get around to watching the film as we were too busy talking.
She’s here in less than half an hour. We seat ourselves at the kitchen table and I say straightaway, ‘So what’s up?’
‘I don’t know how to tell you.’
‘Tell me what?’
She looks at me, worry and concern written all over her face. ‘We’re moving. Pete and I. Leaving Cornwall.’
I’m so stunned I can’t answer. Annie rushes on. ‘We had a phone call, the day after that evening with you and Ben. Pete’s uncle, the one who has a small farm in Devon. You’ve heard Pete talk about him.’
I nod. I still can’t find my voice.
‘He’s just turned sixty and wants to turn his life around. Travel, see the world. He’s got no children, no wife – they divorced years ago – and Pete is like a son to him. But he doesn’t want to sell up, loves his farm, the animals. He just needs a rest from them for a few years. So he wants Pete to take over. He’s been thinking about this for months.’
I finally speak. ‘So how does Pete feel about all this?’
Annie smiles for the first time. ‘Oh Tessa, he’s so happy! It’s his dream to run a farm of his own. He’s been in agricultural supplies for so long and this is a chance in a lifetime. And he loves that farm; he spent all his childhood summers there, helping his uncle.’
‘Annie, I’m stunned. I don’t know what to say,’ I still haven’t taken it in. ‘How do you feel about it?’
Her smile fades. ‘I wouldn’t choose to leave Cornwall, you know that. I’ve been so happy here. And having you nearby again has been such a treat, such a bonus to my new life.’ She sighs. ‘But I want to give it a go. Because of Pete. How can I say no?’
I understand, of course I do, but my heart is heavy. ‘When would you start?’
‘As soon as possible. His uncle wants to be gone before summer. Pete’s giving in his notice at work today. We’ve been talking about nothing else all week, listing the pros and cons. We only decided late last night. Pete wanted to make sure I was up for it. He said it was up to me, in the end.’
‘And are you? Up for it?’
Annie’s eyes fill with tears. She looks vulnerable, uncertain. ‘I don’t know. But I’ve got to try, for his sake.’
I lean across the table to give her hand a squeeze, blinking back my own tears. ‘Of course you do. And you’ll be fine.’
‘Will I? I’m not a starry-eyed twenty-year-old any more, Tessa, I’m double that. Maybe I’m too old to start a new life as a farmer’s wife.’
‘You started a new life here.’
‘That was different. A little house in a village, my best friend nearby – it was easy.’
‘It was easy because you had Pete. And you’ll have him wherever you go. Hold on to that.’
She’s smiling now and crying at the same time. ‘I will. I do. I love him to bits, you know.’
That evening, I tell Ben the news. He’s sad about it, too. The four of us have had such treasured times together since Annie and Pete met. ‘But you’ll miss Annie the most,’ he says to me.
I nod. I’ve already had my little weep, my bit of grieving, and I’m determined to be optimistic about the move. ‘I will miss her, but at least Devon is loads closer than London. Think of the fun times we’ll have visiting them. The farm is right on Dartmoor, apparently.’
‘Lots to explore around there,’ Ben agrees.
‘And look how lucky we are – our old friends are moving, but we’ve got new friends now, right next door, who we seem to have lots in common with. I know Leon and Kate could never take Annie and Pete’s place, but you know that old cliché – when one door closes, another opens.’
Ben and I talk for a long time, long after we should have been in bed as I’m up early again tomorrow. But it takes a while to digest the news, and then we
end by reminiscing about Annie, about how long she’s been in our lives, and from there, on to other friends throughout the years. And still I lie in bed for an age before I fall asleep, thinking of how life always manages to surprise us with the things we least expect.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Trumpeting of Angels …
EASTER WEEK AND Cornwall is brimming with visitors. The weather is still totally perfect – what the English always imagine the whole summer will be like after one idyllic sunny weekend. Everywhere people are planning camping trips, garden parties, fetes, barbecues, regattas, and a host of outdoor activities for the months between now and the end of August. How we forget, those first sunny warm days or weeks, the idiosyncrasies of weather in Britain.
Today it feels as if summer will go on for ever. A host of blue tits are pecking away at the bird feeder and hardly move as I go outside, they’re so used to me. Guy waves to me from the front of the Winterson’s house where he is finishing the pavement he’s laid, covering the entire front lawn just as Kate and Leon had asked him to. Guy seems distracted, frowning at his own work as he stands looking at it.
‘You’ve done a great job,’ I call out. It’s true, the paving stones are perfectly laid, and it all looks quite grand and elegant. Perfect for a town house, but, as we’d feared, totally out of place in the country. Who needs perfect paving stones when we have such stunning rock formations by the sea or on the moor? And who needs potted azaleas when we have an abundance of wild flowers and woodland?
Guy feels the same, for he only shrugs despondently at my compliment. He tried to talk Kate into leaving a border around her terrace to plant shrubs, or some flower bulbs, but she barely listened. She’s thrilled with it all, and has decided to lay more paths and paving slabs in the back. More grassy spaces lost.
Kate comes out as I’m admiring Guy’s workmanship. I’m taking Jake for a walk in nearby woodland and ask her if she’d like to come along but she declines. ‘Too many things to do,’ she tells me. ‘I’ve got a furniture maker coming from Bristol to measure the wall for my bookcases. I also want him to make some kitchen shelves; those old ones are so tatty.’
I can’t hide my surprise. ‘But I thought Guy was doing them. You asked me about him. Is there something wrong with his work?’
‘Oh no, it’s fine, just fine, and Leon and I have told him so. But we had second thoughts about something as intricate as the kind of woodwork we want done. He’s only an odd-job man after all.’
I’m nearly speechless. I stare at her, wondering if this is some kind of joke. Jake barks, impatient for his walk, but I need to find out more. ‘Kate, we’re all odd-job men and women around here. We’ve talked about this before. There’s so little full-time work in Cornwall that most of us make do with all sorts of employment, Guy included. He’s a brilliant carpenter, I’ve seen some of his work. And he’s local.’
She looks embarrassed but starts talking at once, eager to either reassure me or to justify herself. Probably both, I decide. ‘Don’t worry, Tessa, he’s fine about it. I’ve already told him and explained.’
I remember Guy’s glum look when I greeted him, and now I know the reason. She’s going on, ‘I told him this man in Bristol has been highly recommended, has quite a business in his area, but he’ll work down here.’ She brushes some of Jake’s hair from her pale linen trousers distractedly; he’s been rubbing against her, trying to get her to stop talking to me so he can have his walk.
Kate continues explaining. ‘He charges a fortune, this furniture specialist, as you can guess. But we’ve got it, so why not spend it? And the house will look stunning when it’s finished.’ She brightens up. ‘We’ll have a huge house-warming party, maybe at the end of summer. Live music, a marquee in the garden, dancing, loads of our friends from London. I can’t wait for you and Ben to meet them.’
‘Sounds fun. The villagers will love it.’
She looks a bit taken aback. Surely she’ll invite at least some of her neighbours? She says, reading my thoughts, ‘We haven’t really got to know anyone but you and Ben very well yet. We’re so lucky we happened to move in right next door to people like you, who share the same ideas about things.’
I’m having a niggling doubt about this all of a sudden, despite what I said to Ben about us having lots in common with the Wintersons. It’s all very well talking about theatre in London, and what’s going on in the city, but we’ve left all that behind, by choice. What’s important to us now is this village, this community, our life with the people here. It doesn’t seem to be getting that way for the Wintersons. But then I think, yet again, give them time. It’s not easy, they just need to settle as we have.
Kate walks with me to the little pond by the village green that is a colourful riot of primroses, flowering shrubs, and trees. We lean over the narrow wooden bridge watching the ducks playing in the water, quacking loudly to each other. Kate shudders. ‘More bird noises. That peacock up the road – it’s driving me crazy, Tessa.’
‘Still? I didn’t think he’d been quite so bad lately.’ It’s true, I can’t remember when I heard him last. But then Emmanuel’s daft cry doesn’t bother me, so perhaps I just haven’t noticed.
‘Leon and I were talking the other night about it. We feel we have to do something.’
‘Like cover his head with a sack?’ I say lightly, thinking she’s joking. Kate doesn’t answer for a few minutes and we walk along silently, looking at the willow tree at the edge of the pond. Its branches are perfect, draped like an elegant curtain down to the water’s edge, and it has that fuzzy pale green shade that occurs just before the leaves burst out of their buds. Willows are amazing trees, I’ve learned since coming here. Their bark produces a compound called salicin, which we use in aspirin. Willows are mentioned in several ancient texts, too, according to the tree book I’ve taken to carrying around with me when I remember.
Kate isn’t even looking at the pond, the ducks, the willow tree. She’s biting her lip in that kind of anxious way she has. She doesn’t seem any more relaxed than she did when they first moved here. And now she’s talking about the peacock again. ‘Tessa, I think we villagers should take a stand. Complain about that bird. I’m sure it’s illegal, keeping a thing that makes all that noise.’
I’m stunned. Surely she’s not serious? ‘It’s not that bad, Kate. Even if it was, Emmanuel is special, belonging to the Humphreys. Those two are the village elders, for goodness’ sake, they’re well respected by everyone. Loved, too.’
‘Oh God, I’m OK with that, and I’m sure they’re very nice people. That doesn’t mean they can thoughtlessly disturb the peace and quiet of the whole village.’
‘Who’s disturbed? I’ve not heard anyone else mention it.’
Kate says curtly, ‘Well, maybe they’re all too frightened of the Humphreys to say anything.’
‘That’s ridiculous. No one’s frightened of them.’
‘Well, let’s see, shall we? I’m starting a petition about that peacock, saying it’s a nuisance to the community and asking for them to remove it.’
Once again I’m shocked. ‘Kate, I don’t think that’s a good idea.’
‘Look, I don’t want to do it. I came here for peace and an unstressed life, not to do battle. But I’m really going crazy with that noise.’ She looks as if she’s about to cry. ‘I’m sure Leon and I aren’t the only ones here who feel like that. I’m sure everyone will thank me for it when that wretched bird is finally removed.’
I’m about to disagree with her when the wretched bird gives such a blood-curdling shriek that it silences us both for a few moments. Finally Kate says, ‘You see, Tessa? Sign my petition. You’ll be glad of it.’
I shake my head. ‘Sorry, Kate, I could never sign anything like that. Neither could Ben. Edna and Hector have been here for ever, and who are we to say what they can and cannot do on their own property.’
There is another moment of silence between us, not a comfortable one. She puts her hand on my arm in
a placating gesture. ‘Look, let’s not fall out over a peacock. That’s fine if you don’t sign, I’m sure others will.’ She smiles. ‘Let’s agree to disagree, like friends do about politics and religion and other touchy subjects.’
I smile back. ‘I don’t fall out with people, Kate.’
She looks relieved. ‘So we’re still invited to dinner at your place tonight?’
‘What a question! Of course you are. We’re both looking forward to it.’
Kate is smiling now. ‘We’re looking forward to it, too. We’ll bring wine, but anything else? I’m going into Truro later, I can do some shopping for you.’
‘Thanks for the offer, but we’re fine. Ben’s cooking. He’s a brilliant cook.’
‘I’d better go, then. Oh, I suddenly remember, I’ve got to ring that furniture maker in Bristol, set a date for him to come down here. See you later.’ As she starts to rush off she adds, ‘And don’t worry about Guy. Leon gave him a very generous bonus when we told him that we’ve decided to get an out-of-town craftsman. We told him this man had been highly recommended by friends of ours, which is true. And we’re paying Guy quite well for the work he’s done outside. Well over the local rates.’
Oh dear, I think as I walk with Jake, Kate just doesn’t get it. Yes, Guy needs the money, but it’s so much more than that. It’s his professional pride at stake, that and the fact that the Wintersons won’t even give him a chance though he’s right on the spot and has had good reports about his work from us and others. The villagers aren’t going to like it either, a good local man turned down in favour of someone from Up Country.
Well, none of your business, Tessa, I tell myself firmly. I put Kate and Leon out of my mind and bring myself back to the fresh air, the warming earth under my feet, the profusion of trees and wild flowers, with pink campion and yellow buttercups everywhere I look. Jake finds a little stream and leaps into it, scaring any tiny fish or water creatures lurking there. The rocks at the edge are bright green with moss and the bark of the trees is encrusted with lichen. So many trees – beech and oak, a few conifers, and birch. There is a holm oak that reminds me of Edna and Hector, and I wonder what, if anything, to do about their dying tree. Not that I can do much, and not that I want to interfere, but if the tree is dangerous, I’d never forgive myself if it came crashing down on them or on their house.
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