by Allen, Anne
‘No problem. If all else fails we’ll retreat to one of the pubs and sink a bottle or two. It’s my last full day and I intend to make the most of it,’ Charlotte said, throwing out her arms, as if to embrace all and everyone around.
Louisa grinned. ‘A bottle or two will play havoc with your avowed intent to keep to Chef’s diet plan. And you’re looking so fab, Charlotte. You must have lost a few more pounds this past week.’
‘Why, thank you, kind lady! I lost five pounds and my clothes fit much better now. Chef didn’t say I had to avoid alcohol, just drink in moderation. I’ll drink plenty of water and the cycling will help. Um, it’s becoming a little chilly now. Shall we go below decks?’
They settled themselves on window seats for the remainder of the journey. Small motor cruisers and speed boats rode the waves around the ferry, all heading towards Sark. Louisa and Charlotte chatted quietly amidst the hub of their fellow passengers. Small children ran around excitedly, until their parents finally called a halt, settling them on their laps with picture books. The ferry’s engine slowed as they approached the harbour, distinguished by a high granite and concrete wall, offering protection and shelter to the few boats at anchor. The boat moored alongside granite steps and the crew gave a hand to the disembarking passengers. Parents, collecting their respective children and bags, strode off, talking excitedly about their plans for the day. Louisa and Charlotte followed, keeping clear of the crab and lobster pots piled on the wall’s edge. The way out was through a short tunnel cut into the granite cliff. Louisa clutched a copy of a short guide to Sark, which informed her that the steep hill ahead was the only route up to the village centre and the rest of the island. Awaiting them was a tractor bus, known locally as the “toast rack”, according to the guide.
The choice being either to walk or take the bus, the two of them decided the bus might be quicker. Possibly. It was simply comprised of a tractor pulling an open-sided cart lined with rows of basic seats.
Charlotte grinned. ‘This will be a new experience! We can walk down on the way back. That’s if our legs are still functioning after cycling around the island.’
Once the bus was full, the tractor began its slow progress up the kilometre of hill. They passed a number of fellow travellers making their way towards the adjoining woodland path. Colour abounded: primroses, thrift, bluebells and wild garlic jostled for space on the grassy banks and the trees showed off their new leaves. Although the ride was bumpy, there was plenty to admire, breathing in the heady scents wafting on the slight breeze.
Once at the top, they found themselves at the start of the island village. Dirt roads, lined with painted buildings reminiscent of a bygone age, led off in different directions. After collecting their cycles they set off along what was grandly named The Avenue. Their destination was Little Sark, an even smaller island at the opposite end of big Sark, connected by a narrow isthmus, known as La Coupee. They had booked a table for lunch at La Sablonnerie Hotel, suggested to them by Malcolm. Apparently no hotel or restaurant was off his radar.
‘This is heavenly. I can’t believe how peaceful it is after the arrival of so many people. And it makes Guernsey seem positively hectic in comparison,’ Louisa remarked, as they cycled along quiet country lanes bordered by open fields. Blackthorn and hawthorn blossom added colour to the hedgerows.
‘You’re right. I haven’t cycled in England since I was a child, the roads became so clogged. And London…! Well. But I’m enjoying this. Thanks for suggesting we came here.’
They passed a few walkers and a horse-drawn carriage full of excited tourists on the way, but by way of “traffic” it was minimal. Charlotte remarked on the absence of noise. All that could be heard was the cawing of seabirds wheeling overhead.
‘It looks as if we’re heading for the ends of the Earth,’ said Louisa, giggling. They were approaching La Coupee, freewheeling down a slight hill. ‘Let’s stop for a proper look before we go over.’
Leaning their cycles against the railings, they looked down from their eighty metre high vantage point.
‘Wow! What a view!’ exclaimed Louisa, taking in not only the small bay beneath her, but various rocky outcrops and, in the distance, Guernsey.
‘It’s very pretty, isn’t it? And there’s an aroma of coconut coming from somewhere,’ said Charlotte, sniffing the air.
‘I think it must be from the yellow gorse flowers. See? There’s loads round here. Oh, and look! I think those are puffins.’ She pointed to some black and white birds clinging to the cliff face beneath them.
After spending a few minutes absorbing the sights and smells surrounding them, they pushed their bikes across La Coupee, sharing greetings with a family coming the other way. The hotel was roughly in the centre of Little Sark, and it was not long before they wheeled their bikes into the courtyard.
The restaurant buzzed. Families were out in force for their Easter Sunday lunch and it had been a good idea to book. They were shown to their table by a smiling waitress and left to peruse the menus. The white painted granite walls helped the room to feel cool after the heat of the sun. Louisa looked around at the deep red furnishings against the dark wood of the furniture.
‘Very olde worlde! But cosy. I feel as if I’ve stepped into another age, don’t you?’
Charlotte looked up from her menu and smiled. ‘A bit. But the whole island seems as if it’s stuck in a time warp. Which is no bad thing, in my book. There’s too much rushing around these days. I’m really looking forward to working from home more when I start my writing. But research comes first, which means visits to the British Library. Once I’ve restructured my work in the office, I’ll be raring to go.’ She rubbed her hands together, looking like a child anticipating Christmas.
They ordered a bottle of chilled Pinot Grigio to accompany their roasted sea scallops and fresh local vegetables. And a jug of water to keep them hydrated. They finished the meal with a light crème brûlée topped with assorted fruit.
‘That was delicious! Your father knows a good restaurant when he sees one. Please do thank him for me if I don’t happen to see him before I leave.’
‘Of course,’ Louisa said, sipping her wine. So far it had been a perfect day and she was falling in love with Sark the way she had with Guernsey. Paradoxically, it wasn’t entirely a good feeling. In days she was likely to be heading back to England and a new, unknown life, leaving these islands behind for the foreseeable future. Possibly only returning briefly to see her father. She felt a sense of loss; whether for the place or a particular person, she didn’t allow herself to dwell.
‘You all right, Louisa? For a moment there you looked so sad…’ Charlotte said, touching her hand.
‘Oh, it’s me being silly. I’m going to miss Guernsey, and Sark is lovely and…and there’s Paul.’ She took a deep breath, swallowing the lump in her throat.
‘Hey, there’s still a chance it will work out with Paul. It’s not as if you have no connections here. You’ll be back to see Malcolm, and Paul will be around too. Think of it as a slight delay in getting together. If you don’t have to start a new job straight away, why not return once you’ve identified the burglar? Assuming there is enough evidence to charge him, of course.’
Louisa frowned. ‘I don’t need to get a job immediately as I have an income from the business, but I feel uncomfortable doing nothing. Mum worked hard all her life and she expected me to do the same. Which is fine by me; I love my work.’ She bit her thumb. ‘There might be a problem with evidence against That Man. No prints or DNA were found at Mum’s, so even if I can identify him, that wouldn’t be enough. Not according to the detective. We have to find something else that puts him at the scene.’ Louisa sighed, wishing once again that it was all a horrible nightmare: she would wake up to find everything was as it used to be, her mother still alive.
‘Oh, Louisa, that’s tough. But I’m sure Malcolm and the detective won’t stop until the guilty man is brought to justice. The bottom line
is you might need to be in London for a while. Is that what bothers you?’
‘Yes, I guess. You know, “out of sight, out of mind” and all that. Paul could well have forgotten me if I’m away for weeks. Or worse, months.’
‘If he did, then he wasn’t right for you. Have faith! Now,’ she added briskly, ‘come on and let’s stop being maudlin and enjoy ourselves. We’re on a heavenly island, the sun’s shining and I want to make the most of it. Back to the grindstone for me on Tuesday,’ Charlotte said, pulling a face.
After they paid the bill, they were on the way outside when a voice called out ‘Louisa! Over here!’
She turned round to see a couple in the corner behind where she had been sitting.
‘Hi Jeanne, Nick. How nice to see you,’ Louisa said, walking back, Charlotte by her side.
Next to Jeanne was a high chair holding a dark-haired, grinning little boy with food smeared over his face. ‘This must be Harry. Isn’t he like you, Nick?’ Louisa smiled, before introducing Charlotte to the couple.
‘I didn’t recognise you from the back,’ explained Jeanne. ‘It’s good to see you. I didn’t think you were coming over. Is Paul working?’
‘Yes, I…I think so. Charlotte is going home tomorrow and I will be leaving soon, so we thought it would be a good opportunity to see Sark. Are you having a good weekend?’
Nick’s broad smile said it all. ‘Great, thanks. It’s been fun introducing this little guy to cycling. He’s taken to it like a duck to water, hasn’t he, darling?’
Jeanne laughed. ‘Yes. He keeps shouting out more, more, when we go downhill. A bit of a speed fiend, is Harry.’ She popped a kiss on his head before cleaning his face with a wet wipe. ‘Look, we were about to go outside for our coffee so that Harry can run around a bit. How about joining us?’
Louisa checked with Charlotte who was happy to agree and they found a table in the garden. Not having had coffee, they ordered theirs with the others. Nick took Harry off to the lawn to play.
The girls chatted while waiting for their drinks and when it came out that Jeanne was an author, she and Charlotte fell into an animated discussion about books and publishing. Nick returned with Harry and sat next to Louisa.
‘Will he let me hold him?’ she asked Nick, looking at Harry.
‘Sure. Come on, Harry, say hello to the nice lady.’
Harry gazed solemnly at her, his dark blue eyes taking her in. Then a smile lit up his face and he reached out his arms. Louisa lifted him onto her lap and said hello.
Harry mumbled ‘’ello’ before using his fingers to explore her face. ‘He’s lovely, Nick. Do you want another boy or a girl next time?’
‘Don’t mind. But a girl would be nice for Jeanne. Every woman wants a daughter, don’t they?’
‘I guess. I haven’t thought that far ahead. Need to find a partner first!’
Nick frowned. ‘I thought that you and Paul…’
She shook her head. ‘No, we…we’re just friends. We haven’t been out together, apart from that night we met you and the others. I have to return to England soon so…’ she shrugged.
‘Odd. I could have sworn Paul told me the evening we met that you were staying on. And he hoped to be seeing a lot more of you. As in, he fancied you.’ Nick’s forehead was creased in thought. ‘Sorry, must have got my wires crossed. No harm done, I hope?’
Louisa felt light-headed. ‘No, no of course not.’
chapter 22
Somehow Louisa managed to keep up a conversation with her new friends. It helped that Charlotte and Jeanne had so much to talk about that they did not appear to notice that Louisa said little. Nick, after finishing his coffee, took his son off to run around the garden. Eventually Louisa announced that if she and Charlotte wanted to see more of Sark, they needed to leave.
Goodbyes were shared and Louisa and Charlotte retrieved their bikes to head back over La Coupee. The others were remaining to explore Little Sark. Once back at the point where they needed to dismount, Louisa told her friend what Nick had said.
Charlotte’s eyes opened wide. ‘Now that is interesting! I told you Paul was keen on you. But then he realised that by offering you a job it might complicate a relationship. Soooo, what are you going to do, now?’
‘What can I do? It’s up to Paul to say something. I’m not supposed to know how he feels. That’s assuming Nick got it right. You know what men are like for not listening properly.’
‘Ah, that’s only when a woman is talking to them. When it’s a man, they’re all ears. No, I think we can safely assume Nick is telling you the truth. But, as to what you can do, I’m not sure. Remember what I said earlier. It might be that you two don’t get together just yet, but it now looks even more likely that you will. One day.’
Louisa hoped her friend was right and she smiled, determined to enjoy the rest of their trip.
They managed to take a brief look at a few of the sights, including La Seigneurie, the manor house belonging to the Seigneur, the ‘feudal owner’ of Sark. Until a few months previously, the island had been the last feudal state in Europe. Now it possessed a more democratic government.
With a total area of two square miles, it did not take long to cycle from one point to another and they just had time to explore the quaint shops in The Avenue before returning the bikes to the hire shop. Then it was time to walk down to Maseline Harbour to catch the ferry. The woodland walk proved a fitting end to their stay, scented flowers accompanying their downward steps. The both agreed it was an improvement on the bus.
Sitting on the harbour wall, Charlotte stretched her arms. ‘What a day! A brilliant end to my time here. Can’t wait for my next trip, hopefully in September. You’ve enjoyed yourself, haven’t you? And not too many new freckles,’ she said with a smile.
Louisa’s hands went automatically up to her face. ‘I did pile on the sun-cream, but I think I still caught the sun. It’s been a wonderful day, yes. Thanks for everything, Charlotte. I’m going to miss having you around.’
‘I’ll miss you as well. You made it much more fun for me, I was becoming too much of a hermit before you arrived. When you get back to London, give me a ring and we can meet up. And I will want to know the latest news from your detective. And any other, er, interesting developments,’ she said, raising an eyebrow.
‘Hmm, I doubt there’ll be anything else to report, but I’d love to see you.’
They watched as the ferry manoeuvred its way to the harbour steps. There only looked to be a few passengers arriving, while there was a long queue to depart.
‘It’s odd, but for the first time ever, I’m not mad about returning home. Usually, whenever I’ve been away on holiday, I can’t wait to get back and stuck into work. But this time, it’s going to be a wrench. The islands have seduced me. Or perhaps it’s that stuff they put in our juice at La Folie!’ Charlotte said, smiling.
Louisa grinned at her friend. ‘Maybe. But remember you’ve got a book to write and I’ll be rooting for you. It’s the beginning of an exciting new chapter in your life. If you’ll excuse the pun!’ Laughing, they dropped down from their perch to join the queue.
As Louisa drove her friend to the airport the following afternoon they were both quiet. Charlotte insisted that Louisa not wait around so, after a hug, they parted and Louisa returned to La Folie, feeling empty inside. She had always hated goodbyes, particularly if she was the one left behind. Giving herself a talking-to, Louisa reminded herself she would be seeing Charlotte again soon and, in the meantime, could spend time with Malcolm. In fact she was spending that evening with him. He had invited her to a jazz concert at St James Hall in St Peter Port, preceded by dinner in town. She was looking forward to it, aware that she had not spent much time with him the past week. Not that Malcolm had complained. He wore his independence on his sleeve, always reiterating that he was used to going it alone. Driving back now, Louisa felt how sad that was and determined to play a bigger role in his life. It would not
be a hardship, he was good company with plenty of stories to tell.
With a couple of hours to kill before Malcolm collected her, Louisa headed for the pool. As she counted the lengths, her mind flitted to the problem of Paul. What to do? She and Charlotte had attended the yoga class that morning and it was the first time she had seen Paul since turning him down for a drink. And finding out that he did fancy her after all. She had not known how to react to him, but Charlotte had taken over, gushing to him how much she had enjoyed the yoga and how much she would look forward to returning. Paul had tried to catch Louisa’s eye when there was a brief break in Charlotte’s flow, but she had pretended not to notice. Oh, God, I’m such a coward! And I won’t have Charlotte here to help me now, so I’ll have to speak to him. Although what is there to say? “Oh, hi Paul, I hear you really fancy me. So, shall we go out on a date?” The thought caused her to choke on a mouthful of water, and she had to lean onto the side of the pool until the coughing stopped. Waving away an assistant who had come to see if she was all right, Louisa carried on with her swim. She would think about Paul later.
‘Right, where are we going on our magical mystery restaurant tour?’ Louisa asked, grinning. Malcolm had just started the engine and turned to face her, laughing.
‘Somewhere you’ll like, I promise. It’s a hotel around the corner from St James and I stayed there when I first came to Guernsey, checking out La Folie. We’ll only have time for a main course so it’s ideal.’
The car purred down the drive and Louisa relaxed into the leather seat, looking forward to good food and jazz. She had been to a few jazz sessions in pubs with friends, but never to a concert with top notch artists. Malcolm assured her she was in for a treat, having heard this quartet play at a major festival. As they made their way into St Peter Port she told him how much she and Charlotte had enjoyed Sark.