The Cornish Guest House (20 page)

Liz wondered if they, too, were staying at The Stables, like the couple that she’d met at the exhibition. It was still early days but so far Luke’s and Tabitha’s guests seemed slightly different from the tourists who packed Tremarnock in summer. They were older, for a start, with no children, wealthier, less noisy and more refined, perhaps. It wasn’t sun, sea, sand and kid-friendly pubs they were after, but scenic walks, historic churches and stately homes. And fine dining, it seemed, because A Winkle In Time, once quiet in winter months, was certainly benefiting.

After another successful midweek evening when the restaurant had been almost full, Robert had suggested that the Mallons must be doing a good job and were just what Tremarnock needed to make the place an all-year-round draw.

‘They’re good news, Lizzie,’ he’d proclaimed. ‘We’re lucky to have them.’

Liz tucked her hair into the hood of her waterproof jacket and walked slowly after the group, keen to allow them plenty of time to get home before she turned up. She was thinking that it would be nice if Loveday wanted to spend the evening with her and Rosie, having fish and chips and watching a film perhaps. Not that she, Liz, much fancied fish. A plate of chips might go down OK, though.

Robert wouldn’t be back until well after eleven and it was fun to have company, especially on a Friday night. If she’d thought about it earlier she would have invited a few others: Hannah, her glamorous accountant friend from Dolphin House, where she used to work as a cleaner, though she’d be sure to be busy; or Kasia, boss of Krystal Klear Office Cleaning Services, if they could cope with her manic chat.

Liz felt sad suddenly, remembering Iris, who used to run the newsagent in Plymouth where she’d bought her weekly lottery ticket on her way to Dolphin House. Once Iris would have been first on the guest list for tonight. They’d been such good friends, sharing jokes and cheering each other up, until the older woman had cruelly betrayed her.

She reached the guest house and rapped a couple of times with the brass knocker on the heavy oak door. It opened almost immediately and Tabitha peered round the edge.

‘Oh!’ she said, widening the gap just a fraction. ‘Loveday’s not in.’

Now it was Liz’s turn to look surprised, because the girl couldn’t be with Oscar. He was balanced on his mother’s hip, sucking his thumb and staring curiously at the visitor.

‘When will she be back? I wanted to give her a message.’ She realised that she sounded nervous and foolish. Why did Tabitha have this effect on her? She wouldn’t bite.

‘She’s with my husband,’ Tabitha replied. ‘In Plymouth. They’ll be back around six.’

‘In Plymouth?’ For some reason Liz felt a prickle of alarm.

‘Yes,’ said Tabitha. ‘Didn’t you know? She’s working for him for a couple of afternoons a week at the moment. I don’t need her to mind Oscar full time.’ The door was still only half-open and it was quite clear that, despite the filthy weather, she wouldn’t be inviting Liz in.

‘Would you mind asking her to ring me when she returns?’ Liz said, ‘or, better still, call in on her way home?’

‘All right.’ The door swung to almost immediately, practically trapping the toggles of Liz’s jacket as it slammed shut.

Rude woman, she thought, walking away quickly. She really didn’t know why she bothered to stick up for her, and to think she’d once imagined that they might be friends. Give her manic Kasia, wild Hannah or any of the villagers, come to that; she didn’t need Tabitha in her life. She just hoped that Loveday had her head screwed on tight.

*

Loveday was on a high when she turned up at Bag End in nothing but a denim mini-skirt and thin black cardigan, and Rosie seemed to catch her mood.

‘Let’s not stay in,’ Loveday pleaded. ‘Let’s go to The Victory Inn. I feel like celebrating.’

‘Can we?’ Rosie begged. ‘It’d be more fun and there aren’t any good films on. Please, Mum? Don’t say no. It
is
the weekend.’

Liz had been looking forward to collapsing, but crumbled before the expectant faces of her niece and daughter.

‘All right.’ She’d been eyeing up her sofa and the empty fire, longing to get a good blaze going. ‘You’d better borrow one of my coats, Loveday, or you’ll freeze to death.’

The pub, which had once been a seventeenth-century cottage, was little more than a single room with low ceilings and wonky floors. Inside, it was filled with nautical bric-a-brac recovered from the treacherous Cornish coast, such as ships’ figureheads, cutlasses and bits of canon. There was even an old pair of sailor’s trousers and a battered tricorn hat.

There were only five or six rough benches and tables and the place really came to life in summer, when chairs spilled on to the pavement. Luckily, though, the threesome were early enough to nab a couple of wooden stools at the bar, where Liz and Rosie sat checking out the menu, while Loveday scrutinised some seated men on the left who’d finished their pints and were on the point of leaving.

By the time Liz ordered they’d gone, and she settled down gratefully next to her daughter while Loveday, over a Bacardi and Coke, recounted the day’s events – or as much as she was allowed to, anyway. It seemed that she could only indicate in very broad brushstrokes what this temporary new job entailed, as the detail was hush-hush.

‘I’ve been mostly just listening so far,’ she explained. ‘Luke’s been telling me what to do. He’s dead patient, answering my questions and that, and he’s showed me how to use the computer and listened while I practised on the phone. His first job was working in a call centre. Imagine that! Selling phone contracts. He’s got such a good way of talking to people. He’s given me a list of things to say and he’s a great teacher, he doesn’t get irritated, he’s not like that.’

‘But why is it so…?’ Rosie paused, searching for the right word ‘…
confidential
?’ She had a wide vocabulary and liked words, although she sometimes used them in the wrong way. ‘I don’t understand what you’re doing. Can’t you give us a clue? We won’t tell anyone, promise. You can trust us, you know you can.’

Loveday gave an enigmatic little smile; she was enjoying being mysterious, the Mona Lisa of Tremarnock.

‘It’s a secret operation and it’s very important work. It’s helping people.’ She looked exceedingly pleased with herself. ‘I can’t say anything more ’cause I’m not allowed. It might blow our cover, then the whole operation would be ruined.’

Liz frowned. From the way Loveday was talking, you’d think that she’d been hired as a Bletchley Park code breaker, but she, Liz, shouldn’t leap to conclusions. The girl was an adult now and hadn’t asked for advice. The last thing she needed was her aunt dumping on her enthusiasm.

‘It sounds fascinating, but who are you and Luke working for?’ she asked carefully. ‘Is it a private company? Can you at least tell us that?’

Loveday glanced left and right and shook her head. ‘I’ve probably said too much already.’

‘That’s so annoying!’ Rosie’s thick blue glasses had steamed up and she took them off and wiped them with a corner of her sleeve. ‘I wish you hadn’t said anything about it now. It’s not fair.’

Loveday took a sip of her drink. ‘Sorry, I know I’m being a pain, but I’ve promised not to breathe a word. I’ve even signed a legal document.’

She rested her elbows on the table, looking very solemn. ‘I’ve never been asked to do anything like this before and no one’s ever taken me seriously. My mum wouldn’t even let me go to the shops for her without writing everything on a piece of paper and checking the receipt. Even Uncle Robert wouldn’t allow me to take bookings or go anywhere near the till.’ She was focusing her kohl-rimmed eyes on Liz, willing her to understand. ‘Luke believes in me and I don’t want to blow this. I can’t let him down. You do see, don’t you?’

Liz took a deep breath, trying hard to keep an open mind. ‘Where are you based?’ It seemed a safe enough question.

‘The outskirts of Plymouth,’ replied Loveday, tapping her nose. ‘Can’t give you the exact location, that’s confidential too.’ She perked up. ‘Guess what? I’ve got my own office, with my own laptop and mobile, everything! I get a new phone each time I go in, and there’s even a swingy chair!’

She looked so delighted that Liz couldn’t help smiling. Who was she to look for trouble? Loveday was a bit naïve and had a lot to learn. Perhaps this would be the making of her.

‘And today Luke took me to lunch at the Theatre Royal restaurant. Imagine that! We shared a charcuterie board for starters, then I had teriyaki salmon.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Didn’t like it much, but I pretended to. It was much posher than Uncle Robert’s place and the waiter called me “Madam”. I wondered who he meant!’

Their food arrived – great big plates of battered fish and fat, steaming chips, with a pot of ketchup each in a little white bowl. Rosie tucked in immediately but Loveday was unusually restrained, having eaten more than usual earlier on.

‘You know,’ she mused, picking up her fork, skewering a chip and watching the column of damp steam rise towards the ceiling, ‘I feel so lucky to have met Luke and Tabitha. I didn’t mind being a waitress, not so much anyway, but I was stuck in a rut, I didn’t feel like I was going anywhere.’

Liz nibbled on a corner of her own chip, which tasted surprisingly good, then dipped the remaining end in ketchup and popped it in her mouth. She was thinking that she knew what Loveday meant. It was fun chatting to the staff and customers at A Winkle In Time – the nice ones, anyway – but working for herself was far more satisfying.

‘Have you told your mum and dad?’ With luck, her niece would listen to them if they had any doubts; it wasn’t really
her
place to voice them.

Loveday pulled a face. ‘Nah, they don’t care.’

‘Yes, they do.’ Liz liked Sarah and Andy and was sorry about their divorce. She wished that they weren’t so focused on their own problems, though, and would make more effort with their daughter. She still needed them.

‘You should call them. When are you going to Penzance?’

‘No time soon. They’re so busy rowing over who gets the telly, the dog and the frigging washing machine, they’ve forgotten I exist. Anyway, there’s nothing to stop them coming here, is there? ’Specially now I’ve got my own flat. But they can’t be arsed.’

Thank goodness for Jesse, Liz mused, popping in another chip. He seemed to adore Loveday and had even talked about trying to get a mortgage with her once he was a fully trained chef. It might be possible when his wages went up, and her pay rise would help, too.

‘So who’s this lad you’re seeing?’ Loveday said suddenly, licking ketchup off her fingers and fixing on Rosie.

Liz flinched. She’d giggled about Tim with Robert’s niece, but had warned her not to let on; Rosie wouldn’t like to think they’d been gossiping behind her back.

‘What lad?’ She glared at her mother, who pretended not to notice and nibbled guiltily on another chip. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

Loveday poked her across the table with a finger. ‘I think you do. I’ve noticed that twinkle in your eye. Go on, what’s he like? Is he your
boyfriend
?’

Rosie stuck out her tongue but, to Liz’s relief, followed up with a shy grin.

‘He’s called Tim Butler. He’s in my class and he makes me laugh.’

‘Great start,’ Loveday replied. ‘Is he handsome?’

Rosie pretended to examine the three coloured bangles on her good arm, twisting them round and round. ‘I think so. He’s not very tall, though.’

‘Well, that doesn’t matter,’ said Liz, ‘so long as you like him. Boys grow later than girls anyway. He’s bound to catch up.’

Loveday drained her Bacardi and Coke but didn’t suggest going up to the bar for another; she was enjoying herself too much.

‘So where does he live, this Tim?’ She put down her knife and fork. There was a good deal of food on her plate still; they really were big portions.

‘Near the ferry,’ said Rosie. ‘His mum’s divorced and he’s got a brother called Mark, who’s much older, like nineteen.’

‘Mark Butler?’ A flash of recognition crossed Loveday’s face. ‘Does he work on the ferry?’

Rosie nodded. ‘He shows the cars where to go and collects the money.’

‘I’ve probably seen him many times,’ Liz mused. ‘They all look similar to me – blond and tanned with lots of tattoos.’

She was hoping that Loveday would manage to prise more out of Rosie, but she rose purposefully to go to the loo, bringing the line of enquiry to an abrupt close. Once she was well out of hearing, Loveday leaned in towards Liz, who proffered her ear.

‘Bad news,’ the younger girl whispered.

‘What do you mean?’

‘That family, the Butlers. The mum’s a lush and Mark’s been done for assault. He got six months suspended. Everyone thought he’d go to prison.’

‘Assault? Blimey! What did he do?’

‘Broke someone’s nose in a fight,’ said Loveday. ‘Outside the pub. They were having an argument and Mark lost it. He’s a total nutter.’

Liz shuddered. She couldn’t bring herself to stamp on an insect, let alone break a man’s nose.

‘But he’s all right, Tim, isn’t he? Rosie really likes him.’

Loveday shook her head. ‘Bad influence, I’d say. You should keep her well away.’

Liz swallowed. She’d only eaten half her chips and hadn’t touched the fish, but she wasn’t remotely hungry now. Rosie and Tim were in the same class, they saw each other every day and they’d become such good friends. How on earth was she supposed to separate them?

She took a sip of orange juice and quickly changed the subject when Rosie returned, but she wasn’t stupid; she knew something was up.

‘What’s the matter?’ She glanced from her mum to Loveday and back again. ‘What were you talking about?’

Liz sighed. She’d always tried to be honest with Rosie, who’d spot a lie a mile off anyway. Best to broach the subject now, she decided, while she had support. She started very gently, allowing Loveday to interrupt with the odd incriminating anecdote: ‘My friend saw his mum staggering back from the pub on her own. She could hardly walk, she was completely rat-arsed’; and, ‘Mark used to be called “panda face” at school because he was always scrapping and getting black eyes.’