Love (3 page)

She was halfway through her third slice of buttery toast when there was a knock at the back door. Probably Mrs Pengelly she thought, hastily running her hand through her uncombed hair as she opened the door.

“Oh, hello...” she realised that the figure before her was certainly not Mrs Pengelly. Not unless Mrs Pengelly had turned overnight into a very tall, very good-looking man. At the same time she also realised that her pink candlewick dressing gown had seen better days and had a large blob of blackberry jam clinging to her right breast. Humphrey saved the day by rushing around the side of the house barking furiously and launching himself at the man’s trouser leg. Karen realised that Humphrey was not attacking this man, but greeting him rapturously. She also realised that she knew who he was.

“
Humphrey! No!” she shouted, lunging for the little dog.

“
Humphrey, down!” said the man firmly and calmly.

Humphrey immediately sat down, his tail still wagging defiantly and thumping the ground behind him.

“I’m awfully sorry,” stammered Karen. She felt strangely shy of this new grown-up Adam. “I hope he hasn’t muddied your trousers.”

“Do
n’t worry. Humphrey and I are old friends and what’s a little mud between friends. I’m Adam Chancellor from next door and you’re quite obviously Karen. I just wanted to check and see that you had arrived safely and hadn’t fallen into Mrs Pengelly’s clutches.”

“
Yes. I mean no. I mean yes and no.” Karen took a closer look at her visitor and neighbour; at least six foot two, the same shock of dark curly hair, a pair of very bright intelligent blue eyes, and a firm mouth. If anything he was better looking than he’d been at twenty one. She realised that he was giving her a fairly assessing look himself.

“
If you don’t need anything, I won’t keep you. You’ve obviously just got up. Good-bye Humphrey.”

Karen ushered Humphrey into the cottage and closed the door. Should she have offered him some coffee, she wondered. She felt vaguely irritated by his casual allusion to her state of dress. "Obviously just got up", indeed! He was
as dismissive as he’d always been. This time though she wasn’t going to fall for his arrogant good looks. But she had to admit to herself that he was a very attractive man and his off-hand manner piqued her interest. She looked at herself in the little mirror and laughed. What a state - hair and jam and mothy old candlewick - hardly a tempting prospect for any man. Not that she wanted a man or indeed Mr Adam Chancellor. Just use them for their bodies and keep away from emotional attachment. The thought of using Adam for anything made her laugh. Perhaps if she tied him up and gagged hid disdainful mouth, now that was a thought, but he didn’t exactly seem the submissive type.

Karen did a hasty clean-up on the dishes and put the butter and
jam back in the fridge. She looked thoughtfully at the Aga, keeping it maintained was a rather daunting prospect. She wondered if her grandmother’s cleaner would be coming in for her weekly visit. Almost as she thought it she spotted a note on the cork-board:

Darling
Karen, forgot to mention Mrs Maybury will be coming in on Thursdays as usual. She keeps the Aga alive and cooking. Love Gran.

She wasn’t really in the mood for painting that morning though if she was to be ready for the show in April she must keep up the pace. She felt like long walk on the beach with Humphrey but decided that if she knuckled down and did some painting she would reward herself with a walk later in the day. It was a while since she had been in her grandmother’s studio. Perhaps the light and the view would inspire her.

She made her way across to the garage and up the rickety iron stairs that led to the studio above. The studio not only had skylights but a wall of windows
overlooking the sea. It had a simple wideboard pine floor much splashed with paint. It was heated by an old-fashioned wood burning stove in the centre. It was unlit now and the room was chilly. Karen set about making a fire at once. The wood was dry and soon she could feel the difference. She went back to the house for her drawing materials and had to make a second trip for her oil paints and canvasses.

T
he view was irresistible and she sat drawing and sketching the garden and the Cove beyond it for two hours. She also, using her grandmother’s paints, managed a rather pretty water colour of the cliff in a similar style to her grandmother’s which she was quite pleased with. She rarely did landscapes but the view from the window was breath-taking: the cliffs with the morning sunlight catching the burnt umber tones of the dead bracken contrasting with the poison green of the wild ivy. The sea was the palest of blues and the sand almost white.

Humphrey,
however was not so impressed with the view. After all he saw it every day. He wanted to be out there enjoying the rabbits and foxes in the bracken. He sat on the window seat looking over at Karen reproachfully, his shiny black eyes full of longing. He whined softly, jumped down and went over to the door and pawed it gently.

“
Oh, all right Humphrey. I give in. You win.”

Humphrey jump
ed up and down, barking with his victory. Karen went back to the cottage and grabbed her windbreaker and a knitted hat from the back hallway and checked to see that her purse was in her pocket. She made her way down the sandy road which was bounded by the lush overgrown gardens of the other cottages to the village shop. Humphrey bounced along happily at her heels. She greeted a couple of older ladies who looked vaguely familiar. She thought that she would get something for her lunch at the shop then she could go for a really long walk on the coastal path. The exercise would clear her head.

Sandy and Roger who had run the shop for years were delighted to see Karen. They asked after her family and said they were glad that her grandmother had been able to get away to Australia to see her son. Had Karen heard from her yet? Karen realised how long it was since she had seen them. She asked after their son, Brian, who had dated Amanda all those years ago. Apparently, he was married now and living in Penzance where he had his own thriving
pasty shop which he was hoping to franchise nationwide. He also had four sons. Karen was shattered to think that the jolly young boy she had known was now a father and entrepreneur. They asked if Amanda was coming down and it was obvious that they remembered that their son had liked her sister.

She bought one of Sandy
’s delicious smelling home-made pasties, a bar of chocolate (to share with Humphrey) and a bottle of water.

“
If you’re going along the cliff path, be mindful of the erosion. It’s been something chronic this last autumn and a couple of them Christmas walkers hurt themselves falling off the edge,” Roger said.

“
Yes, you take care my love,” chimed in Sandy, slipping an extra bar of chocolate into Karen’s bag.

Karen made her way down to the sandy beach and headed towards the rocks at the far end and the beginning of the coastal path. It really was a beautiful day and so mild compared with the bitter London weather.

She tossed a few sticks for Humphrey, who was racing up and down the beach greeting the other dogs and their walkers whom he obviously knew. Many of them waved cheerfully at Karen, recognising Humphrey as a local. The path up the cliff was fairly slippery and Karen was glad of her sturdy boots, the ones her mother had said were un-feminine. She found them very practical for painting as she often had to cut wood for her stretcher frames and the heavy leather protected her feet. They also doubled as walking and hiking boots as they had good rubber soles.

There were rabbit holes everywhere and the brambles were beginning to snake across the path in parts, catching at her trousers. She could tell that the normal numbers of walkers hadn
’t been along for many weeks. Karen stopped to try and pick some of the headily scented yellow gorse flowers from their spiky stems. It always astonished her that they smelled of the tropics, they looked so ordinary. She thought she might walk to Gull Cove - around the next headland. It was a longish walk but they had always loved the tiny beach accessible only by a rope ladder.

It took longer than Karen remembered but at last she reached the cove. She was quite tired by the unaccustomed exercise. The rope ladder was still there but the tide was high and the waves splashed up against the rocks. On her own it suddenly seemed a frightening proposition and the ladder looked a bit green and slippery. So she found a nice flat rock overlooking the edge and settled down to share her lunch with Humphrey. She was very hungry and it must be well past lunchtime, much later than she first thought. K
aren never wore a watch, a habit which irritated the men she dated.

The sun was sinking lower and lower over the sea and a cold wind had sprung up, she was sorry she hadn
’t brought a warmer coat as well as her gloves. She could see the wind on the water whipping up white waves. The sky was quite black on the horizon. She knew that she would have to hurry home if she was to avoid the bad weather that was approaching fast.

Karen shivered as she turned into the wind and headed back the way she had come. The bracken didn
’t seem so appealing and the gorse flowers were closing up for the night. She had to step more carefully now as the path looked darker and the rabbit holes were harder to see and even her sturdy boots could find little purchase in the mud. She remembered that January days often started pleasantly but frequently ended in fog or rain. Her grandmother used to say that January was a good month for honeymooners with the long evenings best spent indoors in front of a roaring fire.

Karen wished she had thought of this before she had started or that she had paid more attention to Roger and Sandy
’s kindly warnings. It began to rain, at first a light misty sort of drizzle and then big black drops pelting down. Karen stopped to struggle with the not-so-handy zipper arrangement on the back of her collar and finally managed to pull her hood up. She looked around for Humphrey but the little dog was gone. Karen felt a moment of panic as she called and whistled. No sign of Humphrey. What on earth would she tell her grandmother if she lost him? Then she remembered that he hated rain and had often run home before in a storm.

She felt abandoned and strangely frightened, by herself in the fading light alone on the cliff. Karen thought about heading inland across the fields and then decided it would be faster and safer to stay on the more familiar path back to her own beach. She bent her head down to keep the rain from blinding her and continued along the path. It felt like she had been walking for hours, but it could only have been half an hour since Humphrey had callously
deserted her. ‘typical male behaviour,” she fumed, “runs off when the going gets tough.”

The sky grew blacker and blacker. The bushes lost their definition and started to become looming shapes in the dusk. She could hear rustling and scurrying sounds in the undergrowth. A shiver ran down Karen
’s spine. Every horror movie she had ever watched came back to haunt her; every scene with a woman alone, in the dark, with someone lurking, waiting for the right moment to pounce. Karen quickened her pace despite the increasingly muddy conditions.

Suddenly, a tall dark shape appeared in front of her. Karen stopped. Heart pounding, pulse racing. She could scarcely breathe. Who? .... Then she realised the shape wasn
’t moving. She laughed out loud. It was the standing stone which marked the beginning of the path back down towards the beach in Trelawney Cove. She could even see the flicker of house lights on the far side of the beach. Damn her over-active imagination! Her down to earth family always poked fun at Karen’s "what if’s" and her elaborate make-believe stories. Only her grandmother had seen any merit and encouraged her creative nature. This had nurtured the special relationship between the two.

Karen had only just got her breath back when she became aware of a torch light sweeping across the bottom of the path below her. A familiar figure bounded up to her.
“Humphrey, you little rat. Where have you been?” shouted Karen. Humphrey barked excitedly.

The beam of light came up and caught her in the face. She was blinded and held her hand up to shield her eyes.

A deep familiar voice came through the darkness, “It’s only me, Adam.” The light dropped and came up again as he shone it on his own face to reassure her. “Humphrey turned up at the shop while I was there. Roger and Sandy said you were heading for the coastal path. They were rather concerned as some of the walkers have been throwing themselves down the cliffs, breaking arms and legs. So I thought I had better make sure you weren’t lost or lying at the bottom of a gully with a broken leg. What would I have said to your grandmother?”

He was a dramatic figure; a broad brimmed
barbour hat glistened with rain and his shoulders look immense under the dark rain poncho. All at once it was too much for Karen, the rain, the dark, her fear, his sudden kindness, tears rained down her cheeks and choked her voice as she stammered out her thanks. With one stride he had his arm around her shoulders.

“Th
ere, there. It’s not that bad. It’s not the cleverest thing to come out without a torch. Or without telling people where you’re going.” He looked down at her sodden windbreaker, “Or for that matter without being properly dressed for the weather. You are soaked. Let’s get you home and warm.” Adam gently took Karen’s hand and shining the torch ahead of him lead her down to the beach below. Once on the relative safety of the firm wet sand he slipped his arm around her waist, “Lean on me,” he said, “we’ll get you home as soon as possible.”