Beth motioned ahead. ‘That may be the sign for the Sanctuary. The map here says there’s a turn-off.’
He braked. A small wooden sign led them to the left. He turned and crested a hill. The pair of them gawped and James pulled over. ‘My word, what a stunning view.’
They climbed out of the car. James put on his straw hat and reached into the glove compartment for his binoculars. They leaned against the bonnet and took in the vista in front of them. Under a canopy of blue, the sea glistened cobalt and turquoise. Gulls squawked high above them, gliding on the thermals and the occasional black head of a seal popped up in the ocean below. The road leading down to the Sanctuary was a mass of colour. Hedgerows were filled with cow parsley, foxglove, hemp and stitchwort. A herd of cows mooed in the adjacent field and gently strolled toward them.
James wrapped an arm around Beth. ‘I hope the rain that’s coming doesn’t last long.’
Beth hoped so too. ‘That’s one difference between here and the Riviera. You can rely on the weather a little more in the South of France.’
‘I understand why artists love to paint down here. The air does seem clearer, doesn’t it?’
‘It’s as if God has given your eyes a spring clean.’
Many artists flocked to this part of Cornwall where a group of prominent painters had begun an art society after the Great War. It had seen resurgence in the 1950s after the Festival of Britain and was proving popular for painters and photographers.
Beth reminded James that GJ and Catherine had come to Cornwall for their honeymoon. GJ gave art lessons at Harrington’s and was an accomplished artist himself. ‘I guess he didn’t see it at its best in December.’
‘Probably not but I know he said he’d be coming back when the weather was better.’
A car-engine spluttered behind them. James turned to see Tristram pull in behind in a Morris Minor van. He got out and waved.
‘Hello. Are you on your way to see us?’
‘Yes. We stopped to admire the view.’
‘It’s beautiful isn’t it? Before you get back in your car, do you want to see what we’ve just rescued?’ He grinned at Beth and beckoned them over.
He led them to the back of the van where he opened the doors. The smell of raw fish made them grimace and they waited a few seconds to allow it to dissipate. A man in his late thirties was sitting there, scooping up water in a huge rubber box and pouring it over what was inside. ‘Hans, this is Lord and Lady Harrington. They’re on their way to see us but I thought they’d like to have first viewing.’
‘Yah, yah,’ Hans waved them in.
James helped Beth into the van and they quietly approached the box where a small seal with huge black eyes gazed back. Beth held her hands to her mouth. ‘Oh James. How perfectly gorgeous.’
Hans, a well-built man, offered the bucket to Beth, who took over the slopping of water. James had to admit, it was easy to fall in love with such a beautiful creature. Its soulful eyes stared at them and its whiskers twitched.
She wiped away a tear. ‘Oh Tristram, Hans, is he going to be all right? What happened to him?’
‘Yah, yah, he’ll be fine. We feed him good and he swim again.’
Tristram gestured for them to get back onto the road. He shut the doors gently behind him. ‘Someone called it in. He was on the beach in Bude and looking a little malnourished.’
‘Is he very old?’ asked James.
‘Beyond the pup state because his white fur’s gone but only a few months I reckon. We’ll get him back to the Sanctuary and take a look at him. Normally just needs a few nights there and some food and we set them on their way.’
Beth let out a sigh of relief. ‘Oh thank heavens. Can we watch you unload him?’
‘Of course. Why don’t you get going? We’ll be driving quite slowly so I’ll meet you down there. Once we’ve got him comfortable, I’ll spend some time with you.’
James negotiated the narrow opening to the Sanctuary and parked on an uneven plot of land alongside a couple of cars and some bicycles. A wooden sign, battered by the elements, welcomed them to the Polpennarth Sanctuary. The building ahead was a converted stable block that had been extended over the years and included an office, a gift shop and tea rooms. James steered Beth toward the entrance and up to a ticket window. A teenage girl in jeans and a jumper greeted them.
‘Hello, welcome to the Polpennarth Sanctuary. Two adults is it?’
James had the right change and handed the money over. She gave them a sheet of paper displaying a hand-drawn map.
‘It’s pretty self-explanatory; just follow the arrows and you don’t miss anything. There’s a gift shop at the end and a small café – all donations gratefully received.’
Beth said they’d be sure to make a donation. They walked through to a paved area. Ahead of them was a huge pool with half a dozen seals frolicking and a few lounging on the rim. A large shed further along had a sign that simply said ‘birds’. James checked the map. A handful of tourists were already making their way around and every so often a collective ‘Ahh’ could be heard. He steered her to the far end.
‘Looks like we start down there and make our way back. They feed the seals in a little while and - oh look, Tristram’s arrived.’
Tristram’s van pulled up behind a No Entry sign but as soon as he saw them he motioned for them to join him. They dipped beneath the chained barrier and watched as he and Hans gently slid their precious cargo out. An older man appeared from the vet’s office. He stood with his hands on his hips and then squatted down. After a brief inspection he suggested that the creature be placed in the nursery for a couple of days. He then returned to his office. Another helper came across and Tristram repeated the instructions and watched as the staff transferred the seal to the nursery area.
Beth asked what happened there.
‘Exactly what the doctor ordered,’ said Tristram watching the staffs’ every move. ‘We’ll settle him down in the pool and make sure he’s well fed. He’s a young seal so our volunteers here will play some games with him and make him work for his food.’
‘Games?’ queried James.
‘He’s a young pup so we get him in the long pool that we have inside and he can use up some energy. They’re like kids, they need to be active.’
‘How many volunteers do you have?’
‘Loads. They help with cleaning the pools, preparing the food, transport, working in the café and the gift shop. They lend their hand to anything that needs doing. We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for them.’
‘But you’re a paid member of the team,’ said Beth.
Tristram explained there were four paid staff, including him. ‘I’m the office manager but that also means getting out there and helping with rescues and releases. We have two qualified vets that work shifts and Hans does a bit of everything. He studied marine biology so he’s handy to have on board. To be honest, we all dip in with everything if needs be.’ He looked at his hands and winced. ‘I know you’ve just arrived but it’s my lunch break. I’ll go and wash my hands and then do you fancy an hour up on the cliff there while I eat my sandwiches? I can get Mildred to cobble up a cuppa and some cake.’
Mildred, they discovered, was the lady who ran the café. She wrapped up two huge slices of moist Victoria sponge and prepared a flask of hot tea. They followed Tristram for about forty yards up a gradual incline and came to a natural clearing where the cliff-top fell away to reveal a small inaccessible cove with white sands and clear blue seas.
‘How beautiful,’ said Beth who helped Tristram spread out a tartan blanket they’d retrieved from the Austin. ‘And you were born here?’
‘Yes, Polpennarth born and bred. You can just see the end of the cove as you look across. This is a good walk to do. Polpennarth is just over there and if you walk further along here, you get to the next village. It’s about five miles. Wouldn’t live anywhere else. A bit bleak in the winter but even then, there’s something magical about Cornwall. I know w
e’re part of England but when you cross over the county line from Devon, I feel as if we’re in a foreign country.’
James remarked that he knew they had their own flag and Celtic language. ‘Can you speak Cornish?’
‘It nearly died out but luckily a few people kept the tradition going. I can speak a little but it’s difficult to have a conversation with the mirror,’ he chuckled. ‘But some schools are now teaching it so perhaps it’ll make a comeback.’
‘I certainly hope so; I do like traditions to continue.’
Beth explained to Tristram that they kept the local folklore and customs alive back in Cavendish so they were particularly interested in that side of things. ‘It was quite fortunate that we booked our time away during such an exciting festival.’
‘Yes, it’s a wonderfully indulgent festival; celebrates all things Cornish really. Not just the legends, but the food and drink too.’
James shielded his eyes and looked further up the coast. ‘I say, is that a tin mine there?’
Tristram looked across. ‘Yes. Derelict now, of course. Most of our ancestors were miners. There’re about ten old mines around this area. Some of ’em moved inland to Camborne ’cos they had a sort of mini gold-rush ’cept it was tin and copper. When the tin ran out, a lot of ’em went over to California for the proper gold rush. One of my ancestors went to South Africa thinking he could seek his fortune.’
‘And did he?’
‘Not to boast about, no.’
Beth asked if they could go down the mines and Tristram shook his head. ‘No, ‘fraid not. They’re incredibly dangerous now. We’ve had a few people who’ve gone to explore and been caught up in rock falls. Most of ’em are boarded up. Only a couple open round here; South Crofty up at Camborne and Geevor; otherwise they’re all shut down. Hans has explored one further up the coast. He loves going potholing so he knows what he’s doing.’
‘Is Hans German?’
‘Yes, he was a prisoner of war. There was a camp further up the coast toward Devon and Hans helped out on the farm. He lived on a farm in Germany but his family were all killed so he stayed on here.’
‘How sad,’ said Beth adding that there were no real winners in war.
‘Not for ordinary people,’ Tristram put in. ‘We were delighted to get him here. He’s passionate about this place and he could earn much more if he went abroad but he loves it here.’
‘That’s fortunate for you. Make sure you don’t let him fall down any potholes.’
He turned to Beth. ‘Don’t you go exploring! Only have to step on a dodgy area and you could disappear.’
Beth shuddered and assured him she wouldn’t be exploring anything underground. ‘I’m sure you’re pleased that mining is no longer a working option.’
‘You’re not wrong there. Mining and fishing were the predominant jobs a hundred years ago. Now it’s fishing and tourism.’ He pointed to the cliff-tops. ‘Look over there, Razorbills.’
They looked across to the cliff tops where around twenty black birds with downy white breasts had taken off.
James listened as Tristram spoke passionately about the many different birds and animals that inhabited the area. He knew their habits and mannerisms; the seasons they came and went and could even identify some individual birds by certain markings. His empathy with the animal kingdom was evident and he didn’t let a living creature suffer when they came to the Sanctuary.
‘You know, it’s a wonderful thing, to rescue a helpless soul and then be able to release it back to the wild. When you first get them, you can see the fear in their eyes but once they get used to you, it’s as if they can see you’re trying to help. They stay wary, of course, but providing we’re gentle and patient, they seem to understand.’
‘You must get awfully attached to them,’ said Beth. ‘Doesn’t it upset you when you release them?’
‘Oh yes, very much so. Not so much the birds but the seals and dolphins, yes. You fall in love with them; like you do a dog. There are times when I’ve sat on this cliff top and almost cried. It’s good to be able to help ’em but also sad that I’ll never see them again.’
‘Does Hilda share your compassion?’ asked James, who couldn’t imagine she would.
Tristram gave him a wry smile. ‘She’s not as emotional as me. She understands that what I do is good but her empathy is a little tempered. She’s been a little short with me when I get too wrapped up. Tells me I’m being too soft, but I can’t help it. It’s who I am.’ He began tidying his things. ‘I told her she’s being too hard on those women whose husbands have gone missing.’
James exchanged a look with Beth. ‘Oh? Is she being hard?’
Tristram explained that his wife was an assertive lady who didn’t suffer fools gladly. ‘She’s always been like it. That’s what I like about her but she does think that Evelyn and Debra are a couple of doormats. I think she forgets that we’re not all the same. She means well, of course; she’s trying to get them to come out of themselves.’
As they folded the blanket and made their way back to the Sanctuary, James asked Tristram if he’d any ideas about what had happened to Colm and Bevis.
‘It’s a mystery. The rumours have started, of course.’
Beth mentioned that they’d heard the locals say the Knockers and Old Bogey were responsible. ‘Is that what you believe?’
‘Not really, no. I don’t believe in myths and I don’t believe in gossip. I’m sure there’s an explanation but we haven’t found it yet.’
‘And what,’ asked James, ‘are your thoughts?’
‘That mad old witch, Nibbin. Some say she’s spirited them away to put a curse on them. Why, God only knows.’ He let out a short laugh. ‘Others say it’s Jonah Quinn.’
‘The restaurant owner?’
‘That’s the one. They say he moved from London to escape his past.’
Beth frowned. ‘What past?’
He shrugged. ‘There’s mention that he attacked someone, quite viciously too. Man must have a temper on him. Don’t know why he’d want to harm Colm and Bevis though.’
‘Do you know them well?’
‘Went to school with Colm but I don’t really know them that well. We don’t mix in the same circles really. They spend their wages down the pub; I spend mine on Hilda and the Sanctuary. Not my sort of people.’
‘I heard that he and the landlord have a dispute over a recipe, is that right?’
‘That’s right. Been going on for years. Colm ain’t got no proof but he reckons Bidevin’s grandmother pinched the Fiske’s recipe book. It all blows up every few years then settles down again. Others are talking about some author woman who upset the pair of them. I can’t express an opinion on that. I’ve never seen her. She had quite a to-do with Colm though, I heard.’ He swung open the door that led through to the pool and chuckled some more. ‘Other busy-bodies say it’s my Hilda.’
James and Beth gawped.
‘My Hilda; can you believe it? I know she’s a bit of a bossy boots but that’s going a bit far. Some people ’ave nothing better to do.’ He held out a hand. ‘Well, I’d best be getting on. Have a good look around and if you can spare a donation, that’d be grand.’
They thanked him for his hospitality and joined the other tourists as they meandered through the Sanctuary. Along with the seals were otters, gulls and puffins - all being tended to by volunteers. Through the window, they witnessed the vet examining a herring gull and stood alongside other delighted visitors as the seals were given their lunchtime feed. In the gift shop, Beth purchased two furry seals for Luke and Mark.
She heaved a sigh. ‘I wish I could find something for Stephen and Anne.’
‘You look for gifts?’ Hans approached them with a bottle of lemonade in his hand. He had bleach-blond hair cut short at the sides and wore shorts and a cotton shirt.
Beth told Hans about the Merryweathers’ anniversary and he shrugged. ‘I’m not so good on searching for gift. But St Ives, it is good town, yah? Old with
good shop. You find something there.’ He held his bottle up in farewell and made his way to the pool.
‘I say, that’s a good idea. We could visit the art galleries. We’re bound to find a nice painting or sculpture they’d like.’
They linked arms as they walked toward the car and Beth queried the suspicions of the villagers. ‘Jonah Quinn seemed like a very nice man. Do you think he has a past?’
‘Everyone has a past, darling, it’s trying to fathom it out though. Don’t forget he seems to be averse to speaking with the police. But what about this dispute over the Cornish pasty recipe?’
‘It’s a motive.’
He screwed his face up. ‘But to what purpose? What does kidnapping solve? It doesn’t get rid of the dispute?’
‘Mmm, that is a strange one. No ransom demand and no body. If they’re being held, then why?’
‘The only conclusion I’ve come to so far is that Colm and Bevis appear to be rather undesirable individuals who spend their time in the pub. But that may be the culture down here. The pub was full of fishermen when we went in. But that’s not a reason to kidnap them. And what about this Kerry Sheppard woman – a few rumours are flying around about her. Is that simply people making assumptions?’
‘I guess we’ll find out a little more about her tonight. I hope that Stephen and Anne have convinced her to visit them later.’
They wandered toward the car. Above, were the first indications that rain might be arriving. The earlier wispy clouds were turning to heavy grey and, far out to sea, they saw driving rain falling on the ocean. He opened the passenger door for Beth and leant on the rim.
‘You know who could find out a little about Jonah Quinn?’
‘You’re not going involve George, are you? I don’t think he’d thank you.’
Lord James Harrington and the Cornish Mystery Page 8