The Cornish Affair

by Lockington, Laura

  I had a lot to digest, and sat there slumped in shock for a while. My mind was racing furiously. I was murderously angry with Thea, why hadn’t she told me? Why did I have to hear it from someone else?

  Then it came to me, of course she would never have told me because I might have told my father, and that would never do… or maybe she just didn’t want me to know – ever?

  I laughed, and Bea looked at me strangely, “What is it?” she asked me.

  There was a knock on the door, and we both jumped. Bea got up and ran across the room to answer it. A very anxious looking Nancy was there, wringing her hands and looking nervously at both of us.

  “There you both are! Are you alright? There’s a party going on downstairs you know! Ready to come down yet?” her eyes darted between Bea and me.

  I felt a stab of pity for Nancy, none of this was her fault… Or was it? I was too confused to tell. Bea grabbed my hand and pulled me from the bed. “Give us five minutes, and we’ll be down,” she promised.

  I glanced at Bea and she gave me the ghost of a wink.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  I sat in my bathroom, re-applying my lipstick. I’d sent Bea downstairs after promising her that I’d be down soon. I needed a few minutes by myself to sort out my mixed emotions before I faced anybody. Unanswered questions crowded my mind… then I realised that Jace was – what? How was he related to me? Was he related to me? He was my step brother, I suppose? No, my half brother! No, of course he wasn’t. Shit, it was confusing. I’d never understood those family tree things you get in front of clever, baffling books with tangled histories, like I Claudius.

  My champagne glass had long been empty and was of no help to me.

  I thought about the night of the picnic. Of the way that Jace had touched me, how I had loved being with him, how I had kissed him and – shit.

  If only Nancy had told me.

  One thing was certain, Jace didn’t know. I wondered if Pritti did? I doubted it.

  What a mess.

  I gazed at my refection. Despite the fake tan in my cleavage, I looked pale. I half heartedly poked at my hair which seemed to be coming down, despite all the pins that Nancy had stuck in there. I had a sudden longing to wipe all my make up off, change into my jeans and rescue Baxter and jump into the car for a drive. The moors would be good, then I realised that the roads were slick with mud and water. I could grab Baxter and take him on the beach maybe? Then the image of the coiled wire guarding the ruined cliff flashed across my brain - that would be impossible.

  My mother’s jade hair slide was digging into the back of my head, and with a sudden jerky movement I viciously ripped it from my hair, and hurled it across the bathroom. It clattered against the bath, and broke.

  “Good, I’m glad,” I said childishly.

  My hair, loosened from its moorings gently slipped down the back of my head.

  The trouble was, I didn’t know how I was meant to be feeling. A swirl of very different emotions were coursing through me, and it felt like having a bad dose of indigestion –

  Betrayal, anger, bewilderment, confusion… as well as, if I’m honest, a tiny thrill of excitement.

  “If you weren’t dead mama, I’d kill you!” I said aloud, making myself laugh at the wealth of childish emotion in my voice.

  I dragged a brush through my hair, and tried my best to repair the damage. I’d just go and check on the animals in the attic, and then I’d go down and join the throng. Maybe Oliver had arrived by now?

  I slipped quietly out of my room, and hearing a great roar of voices from downstairs ran as silently as I could with these daft party shoes on up to the attic. As I passed the Daisy room, I heard voices from inside, and guessed that Olga and Richard were getting better acquainted.

  Baxter stood to greet me, wagging his tail, and I bent down to stroke him. I glanced quickly around, glad to see that there was no fur or feathers drifting around. They’d behaved themselves, for once. The attic was a glorified junk room, it stretched across the house and was pretty full of unwanted and broken furniture. Sagging bed springs, broken frames, and collapsed dusty chairs made up the furnishings. I sat on a sagging wicker basket full of threadbare curtains and continued to stroke Baxter. I heard Nelson shift on his perch, and I got ready for a show of jealousy.

  “Hello cat’s eyes, hello cat’s eyes!” Nelson screeched.

  I smiled to myself; it had been my father’s name for my mother. I hadn’t heard Nelson say that for years. I decided that Nelson was either trying to comfort me, or the most likely explanation, parrots really don’t have any idea what they are saying, but certain phrases just lodge in their tiny brains and they just regurgitate them at random moments.

  I closed the door firmly to the attic, and walked down the stairs. The noise level was satisfyingly loud enough for me to know that the party was going well.

  In the library Jace was being DJ, and Will was coping as best as he could behind the bar, he poured me a glass of champagne without being asked, and I drained it and held out my glass for a refill. Actually draining the glass of champagne was a mistake, because I gave an almighty burp, which practically ricocheted around the room.

  “Very attractive darling!” Nancy said behind me.

  I turned to face her and saw that although her voice was gently teasing and full of laughter her eyes were worried.

  I gave her a hug. “It’s OK Nancy, everything’s going to be alright,” I whispered in her ear.

  She hugged me back, and we stood for a while with our arms round each other.

  “I’m so sorry Fin… I meant to tell you, but-”

  “It’s OK, really.” I said, squeezing her.

  I suppose things would be OK, they generally are, aren’t they? Even when we discover something that has the potential to make our lives very messy indeed, things tend to have a way of sorting themselves out. It’s quite humbling really, for us mortals. We think we are in control and in charge of our destinies, but we’re not. Not really. I saw Pritti in the corner of the room in a shimmer of golden silk, she was talking and laughing with Doris and Isaac. She was covering her mouth with her slim brown hand that jangled with bangles, giggling at something that Doris had just whispered to her. How would she feel about all of this? I was sure she didn’t know.

  “Nancy, does Pritti know?” I said quietly to her.

  She shook her head and followed my gaze.

  “But look at Bea,” I said, “She looks so like Jace!”

  It was true, before I’d known about it I had glimpsed something, but now – well…It was staggeringly obvious.

  “She looks like her father, too” Nancy said, smiling fondly at Bea.

  “What was he like?” I asked curiously. I didn’t remember him really. But he must have been something special to make my mother have his child – although I didn’t really know what alternative she might have faced nearly forty years ago.

  Nancy laughed, “He was charming! Too charming, if you know what I mean, but underneath all of that, there was something else, a passionate man, I would say. But oh, the heartache he caused…Dorothea was bewitched with him, couldn’t leave him alone. Your father never warmed to him, but it wasn’t through jealousy, he never knew about the two of them. He just didn’t like him… too lazy he said, he’d never had to work, he was a wealthy man, although he lost it all in the end.”

  I tried to imagine my mother being bewitched by the rich Indian prince like creature. It wasn’t too hard, if Jace had half his father’s looks and charms, I could well understand it.

  “He always wore a white suit and carried that ebony and silver cane around with him… he’d been to Eton, and always had wads and wads of cash on him that he would casually throw on the table,” Nancy said reminiscently. “We never even knew that he was married, Pritti was a very poor distant relative, he kept her well out of the way. That’s how the Rampersauds ended up in Cornwall really… Rasheed sent for them, so that he could be near Dorothea, but then he died, quite
suddenly. Pritti never left here.”

  I tried to conjure up the times that I had met Pritti in the company of my mother, trying to catch the attitude that my mother had had with her, but I couldn’t. They had always been on speaking terms, but not close. Pritti wasn’t the sort of woman that my mother would have been friends with. With a start, I realised that she’d had no woman friends, really, other than her sister.

  Nancy nudged me, “Fin, I really think you should go and mingle, you know! This is your party, after all!”

  I agreed, and dutifully plastered a smile on my face and went to say hello to everyone, but my heart really wasn’t in it. I glanced around the room, checking that the London group hadn’t slipped in unnoticed. Where were they? It was getting late.

  People were dancing now, and I had to squeeze past them to get into the hall. Isaac and Pritti were jigging around, whilst Miranda was hurling herself around the room like a demented moth. Jace grinned at me, and I waved back. An elderly man with his shirt open to his waist, showing off grey chest hair, a beer belly and a nipple ring bellowed at me over the music, which had crept up in volume.

  “You must be Fin, you look just like your mother! I was a very, very good friend of hers, if you catch my drift?”

  Eeow… I looked at him with mild distaste.

  His nipple ring was glinting in the candlelight from a drooping mans breast, and as he spoke he spat. His head was balding and he had a droopy bushy, badly trimmed moustache. He put his arm round my waist and shouted over the music, “I wonder if I can rely on the legendary, umm, hospitality of Penmorah to put me up for the night?”

  From the unmistakable look in his eye I knew exactly where he wanted to stay the night. I tried to edge away from him, but he tightened his grip on me.

  I pushed him away from me, as hard as I could and registered the look of surprise on his face. I stormed out to the hall, pushing past groups of people who were laughing and holding glasses to their lips. All of them tried to speak to me, and I replied as best as I could, but my face was set in a frozen smile.

  I was searching the hall, looking for a quiet place to escape to, away from all these people when my eye was caught by a still, silent figure. She stood out in this sea of movement, by her very immobility. It was Judith.

  I went to move towards her, surprised, yet pleased that she’d come. I threaded my way through the groups of chattering people, as I dodged a woman who was shrieking with laughter and demanding another drink, Judith saw me. She beckoned me towards her, and opened the door of the dining room. I saw it was blissfully empty, and followed her inside.

  We sat down, opposite one another at the table. Nancy had filled a bowl with leaves, and lit the candelabra. Judith sat in silence, looking at me with wide dark untroubled eyes.

  “I’m very glad you could come,” I said, “I hope you’ve got a drink? Is Kev with you? How is he after the –”

  ”He’s fine.” She said, “But what’s happened to you? Found out, ‘ave you?”

  “Found out what?” I said sharply.

  Judith laughed. “Don’t be daft! It’s me you’re talkin’ to!”

  We studied each other in silence, by the light if the candles. She smiled at me, and I noticed that her eyes were almost golden in this light.

  “I’ve known about your mother an’ Rasheed from the start - most people do, down ‘ere. Mind you, I’m not sayin’ they know about Beatrice bein’ her daughter and not Nancy’s because they don’t. But you really think that she could get away with havin’ someone like that that Rasheed, stayin’ ‘ere an’ no-one notice?” Judith said scornfully.

  I knew she was right, it would have been impossible.

  “Did you hate my mother?” I asked suddenly.

  Judith smiled again. “I didn’t like ‘er fancy ways, an’ how she carried on up ‘ere. Some people thought she was a whore, but then, the gentry ‘ave always behaved like cats on heat… And don’t give me no nonsense about speakin’ ill of the dead. They can take care o’ things, indeed they can.”

  My mother a whore! My mind reeled with the implications of what she’d said. It didn’t matter that I reminded myself that Judith was a solitary, bitter woman, who could possibly have been jealous of Dorothea, jealous of her looks, and money and position. The insult stung.

  Judith laughed, “Now you listen to me Finisterre Spencer. Your mother was who she was, an’ that’ll never change. Your father now, he was a good man, an’ so is Nancy. But you, well… I saw you an’ Jace that night. No good can come outta that!”

  I blushed violently, but Judith ignored me and continued.

  “Your mother chose what she did. She came to me, she thought she might want to get rid o’ the babe, that’s how I know…Still, she didn’t, in the end. I reckon you should be right glad, you’m got a sister now.”

  I stared at her. She was right.

  I made a move to leave the table, but she snaked a hand over the polished wood and grasped my arm.

  “One more thing, ‘an then I’ll leave you be. I came to tell you this, if you want me to. It’s the only reason I’m up ‘ere. I know what people say about me, some of ’em are right, some of ‘em are wrong, but what I have got is the gift… The second sight, we call it.”

  Oh dear god, no. This was all becoming too Hammer House of Horror for me. I shifted uncomfortably in her grasp, and shook my head. Whatever she thought she had to tell me, I didn’t want to know. Too much information! My brain was screaming at me, and I agreed with it. I gently but firmly took her hand away from my arm.

  “Thank you Judith, but no.” I said, standing up.

  She looked shrewdly at me, “You’re just like your father, he didn’t want to know either,” she said.

  Without another word, she left the room, closing the door behind her.

  I stood staring at the closed door. Then, I marched over to it, and flung it open. Hell, this was meant to be a party for god’s sake and I wasn’t even drunk!

  I made up for lost time. I was half way through a bottle of champagne, and dancing with Richard and Olga and Bea, when the door opened and Harry and Martha came in. My eyes travelled behind them, and to my joy I saw Oliver.

  I ran over to them, kissing and hugging everyone in my excitement. Martha was wearing a dress to rival Nancy’s extraordinary attire, but looked stunning all the same.

  “We flew here!” she kept saying in her high pitched London voice, twirling around to give me the benefit of her swirling skirts.

  “Fin, darling, you look wonderful,” Harry said warmly.

  “Why, thank you kind sir!” I said, bowing to him.

  Oliver was smiling at me, and I felt like the sun had come out again. I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him over to the bar. Making the others follow me.

  “Now then, you’ve all got to drink rather a lot rather quickly to catch up. Then you’ve got to mingle, then eat something and then we can dance!”

  I handed them all glasses of champagne and we all clinked the glasses together.

  “To the dolphins!” I shouted.

  The toast was taken up by the rest of the room

  “To the dolphins!”

  I abandoned myself, perhaps just a tad too much, to the party. I danced, I chatted, I flirted, I swigged champagne, and generally showed off and misbehaved all night. All the while I knew that I had the safety net of Oliver there, who seemed to be right beside me wherever I went. It was heaven.

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  It took over a week to clear up the debris from the dolphin party. I had been quite right about finding stray Wellington boots and umbrellas dotted throughout Penmorah. The only reason that weren’t stray artists or writers found there as well had been the bright idea of Will and Bea, who, being the only sober people there, had simply commandeered the mini bus and had driven everyone home in relays at five in the morning.

  I had long since gone to bed.

  And yes, since you might ask the question, with Oliver. I have to tell you that
the first night together was not a huge success, mostly because I had over indulged wildly with the champagne and had not eaten anything. I also spent a very long time indeed, telling him all about the complicated business of who Bea really was. He says that I told him nine times, and with each re-telling got more and more incoherent. That, I’m sure is a blatant exaggeration, but I generously let it go.

  Being with Oliver was wonderful. He had scheduled a week off from filming.

  Harry and Martha stayed on for the week as well, and so did Bea. It was great fun, having all these people about the place and Nancy and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Poor old Baxter and Nelson were relegated back to their foster homes, probably much to their well hidden delight.

  Martha was not impressed with this arrangement, and tried to convince Oliver that his allergies were psychosomatic, and could be cured with a little therapy and or possibly acupuncture.

  Oliver gave her an old fashioned look and said that a few judicially placed needles were not even going to be contemplated by him, and had she considered that cat was a well know delicacy in certain parts of the world?

  Martha had shuddered at the idea of her beloved cats being served as canapés and left the subject well alone.

  Nancy and Harry spent a lot of time together closeted in the office, reading The Life and Times of Angelique Flavell, gales of laughter could be heard when Nancy read to him a particularly juicy titbit, such as her patent remedy for the home cure that the wayward painter had concocted for the plague. It involved the life force of a young man being mixed with pounded rose petals and powdered toad skin, and was applied liberally to the chest.

  “Dear God,” Harry howled with laughter, “It sounds like some of those massage bars I’ve been to in Hong Kong!”

  Summer had finally arrived; the sun and breeze did their job on the general drying out of Port Charles. Bea proved a godsend to my growing guilt of the pile of insurance claims that has been foisted on me, and dealt with them promptly and efficiently. Although she confided in me that everyone was woefully under insured. Even this didn’t dampen my holiday spirits. I had a wonderful time. We all did.