The Cornish Guest House (32 page)

He flattened his uncombed hair and tried to pull himself together, reasoning that of course Robert and Liz had felt obliged to tell the police everything they knew. But the knowledge that they’d spoken about him behind his back, and revealed something that could be taken in the wrong way, made him feel alone and scared.

‘What made you think they were having an affair?’ the police had asked. By then, Jesse had been scarcely listening. He walked back to the bed and punched his pillow hard.

‘See what sort of person I am?’ he muttered under his breath, ‘I punch stupid, fucking pillows.’

He waited a few moments before padding down the corridor to the bathroom because he didn’t want his little brother to see that he’d been crying. He’d be upset; he hero-worshipped Jesse.

‘Have a good evening,’ his mum said as he left the house. ‘It’ll be nice to see the lads again.’

She was trying so hard to cheer him up but it didn’t work. He grunted goodbye before flinging his bag over his back, blinking in the light as it was the first time he’d been out all day.

He hadn’t been to work since Saturday, when the restaurant had been chock-a-block and they’d been rushing round like headless chickens. They’d somehow coped without him or Robert on Sunday and yesterday they had been closed. Jesse hadn’t been able to do lunchtime today because the police had been with him, but Robert needed him now. The show had to go on.

As he strode down the hill past the Methodist church, he passed a parked police car and two officers knocking on someone’s door. It seemed as if the whole place was buzzing with coppers, though in reality there weren’t so very many; they were still acting relatively low-key, which must be a good thing because it meant they thought she was OK. They did seem awfully interested in him, though.

He’d offered to help, of course. He wanted to do anything he could. He’d given them photos of Loveday, the name of her doctor and dentist, plus a few of the clothes she’d left behind. It had felt weird, that. They’d sealed off her bedroom so no one could go in, but it didn’t bother him because there was no way he’d be returning. The place only held bad memories now. They’d also wanted the names of his previous girlfriends and it had been quite hard to remember them all.

‘What were those relationships like?’ the policewoman had asked again this morning. ‘Did you ever hit any of them?’

Jesse had felt like getting up and walking out, but he’d gritted his teeth. ‘I told you, I don’t hurt women.’

Jenny Lambert was outside Gull Cottage, searching for something in her handbag, and he thought she spotted him before hurrying inside, but he might have imagined it. In every house, he fancied he saw curtains twitching, eyes watching, people whispering, ‘There he is, that’s him, Jesse Lacy. The one they’re questioning.’ He fixed on the cobbled street, looking neither left nor right, and glanced up again only when he heard a shout – ‘Oi!’ – and turned to find Alex running down South Street towards him in black drainpipes and brothel-creepers, his Elvis quiff bobbing.

‘All right, mate?’ Alex said, slapping Jesse on the back, who stumbled slightly and almost lost his footing. It was as if his strength had washed away in the past few days, leaving him like a half-uprooted tree that might crash to the ground in the slightest wind. He was pleased to see Alex, though, with his honest, open face.

The two walked the final few steps side by side, Alex’s arm round Jesse’s shoulders, pressing down. Inside, Jesse was relieved to be told that Robert wouldn’t be here till later because he was dreading the encounter; he wouldn’t know what to say.

‘Sorry about Loveday,’ said one of the lads, passing Jesse a black and white checked overall. Was he deliberately avoiding his gaze? It might just be awkwardness. Callum the pot washer was at the sink, peeling spuds, his sleeves rolled up as usual to reveal the naked lady tattoos. He looked up briefly, giving Jesse a nod before continuing with his work. The atmosphere felt cool, despite the smallness of the room and the number of bodies in it, and Jesse felt more grateful than ever for Alex’s greeting, because it seemed that others weren’t so well disposed. Jesse felt wounded, but what could he do? If their girlfriends had gone missing, he might look at them differently, too.

They worked in silence, Jesse preparing a vat of their popular fish curry, made with sea bass, coconut, tamarind, tomatoes, chilli and other spices, while the sous-chef made mayonnaise to go with the crab. The local fisherman had caught three live lobsters earlier in the day, which were sitting in open cardboard boxes in the fridge, packed with damp seaweed to keep them moist, and they were on the menu, too, waiting for the first lucky customers.

As all the fish was locally sourced, once it ran out, that was that. Most people understood and quite liked the fact that you never knew what would be available from one day to the next or whether, by the time you arrived, you’d have missed some particular delicacy that had been served up earlier; only a few made a fuss and they tended not to return. Robert always said that was a good thing. You had to understand and appreciate the way the restaurant operated or you shouldn’t come at all.

Soon the two waitresses turned up and Jesse could hear the clanking of cutlery and chinking of glasses next door. One of them popped her dark curly head round the door to say hello and ask Jesse if there was any news.

‘Nothing,’ he replied, conscious that all ears were on him. ‘Zilch.’

The girl frowned and said, ‘I wish I could do something,’ before retreating, and Jesse wished that she’d had a few kind words for him, but there had been none.

‘She’ll turn up, mate,’ said Alex, taking pity, but it only seemed to make things worse because no one else joined in.

Several customers wanted the hot shellfish starter with garlic, olive oil and lemon juice, and Jesse enjoyed stirring the mussels, winkles, scallop and oysters, testing the sauce to make sure that it was just so. He liked his job and being busy helped to take his mind off things. However, when Robert walked in at around seven thirty he jumped, as if he’d seen a ghost, and reality crashed back in.

His boss looked harassed, wavy hair tousled, as if it hadn’t seen a comb for a while, white shirt crumpled and skin pale. Once upon a time that hadn’t been unusual, but since he’d got together with Liz he’d seemed calmer, a different person, really. This was more like the old Robert, unhappy and on edge. He had every reason to be.

‘How’s it going?’ he asked. He was addressing Jesse, but his eyes slid away, resting on a spot near his feet.

Jesse would have answered but Alex got in first with a fake-cheery, ‘OK, boss, what’s the latest?’ He was jumpy, too, and had guessed that Jesse would have trouble responding.

‘They’ve contacted all the local taxi firms now and drawn a blank. No one remembers picking her up. And it turns out the CCTV at Plymouth railway station wasn’t working all weekend, so there’s nothing there either.’

‘Bummer,’ commented Callum.

Jesse swallowed. No one had told him this, yet he couldn’t help feeling that he should have been the first to hear. After all, Loveday was his girlfriend; he was closer to her than anyone.

‘What’s next?’ he asked, hanging his head and feeling like a fool for having to enquire.

Robert shifted from one foot to another and rubbed his cheek several times as if something was there.

‘Media coverage, I think. An appeal for information, though it’s still only a few days, bearing in mind we don’t know exactly when she went. You were the last one who saw her, of course…’

He looked at Jesse with wide, unreadable eyes and Jesse stopped stirring, the spoon suspended in mid-air. He couldn’t help it; he felt cold suddenly, despite standing over a bubbling saucepan.

‘No one else has seen hide nor hair of her since Liz went round on Thursday afternoon…’

Jesse looked down at the saucepan and stirred vigorously, willing himself to act normal, not to appear suspicious. He was beginning to feel like he’d done something bad even when he hadn’t.

‘Personally,’ Robert went on, ‘I think they should go for all-out media coverage right away, but they have their own method of doing things and they’re the experts. We have to trust them.’

Alex attempted to lighten the atmosphere by offering Robert a spoonful of Jesse’s fish curry – ‘It’s perfect’ – but Robert shook his head and disappeared into the backyard, so he popped the spoon in his own mouth instead.

‘Bad business,’ he said mournfully.

Jesse had heard that meaningless phrase a million times in the past few days and something in him snapped. His face and neck heated up and he backed away from the hob and wheeled round, wooden spoon in hand.

‘Look,’ he said, as everyone turned to stare, ‘I know you all think this has got something to do with me. Well, it fucking well hasn’t.’

There was a sharp intake of breath and an embarrassed cough, which upset him even more.

‘Why don’t you just ask outright what I’ve done with her? Go on, I dare you.’ He glared at them in turn, but they wouldn’t meet his eye.

‘C’mon, Jess, mate, you’re upset.’ Alex patted his back and tried to take the wooden spoon from his hand, as if Jesse might launch an attack, but he pushed him off.

‘I’ve got no idea where she is, all right?’ he blazed. ‘We had an argument, then she fucked off. I never thought she’d do something like that. I miss her so much…’

There was a catch at the back of his throat and he spluttered, as if he’d swallowed something down the wrong way.

Alex spoke again. ‘No one said…’

But Jesse had seen the tight faces and he flung the spoon down, splattering sauce across the tiles. Then he ripped off his checked overall and stormed out of the restaurant, ignoring the gawping customers already seated and pushing past a group of others coming through the door.

Tears trickled down his cheeks and he clenched his fists as he stalked back up the hill towards home, realising that he’d left his bag and jacket in the cloakroom, but there was no way he was going back now. His key was in the bag so he had to ring the bell, and when his mum saw his expression she took him in her arms, closing the door quickly behind them.

‘What happened, son?’ he heard her say, and then, when he didn’t reply, ‘There, there, you’re home, safe and sound. No one’s going to disturb us tonight. I won’t let them.’

Finn appeared in his pyjamas and, without a word, wrapped his arms round his brother’s waist and rested a cheek against his side. The three of them stood like that in the hallway for quite some time, huddled together, an isolated unit, finding consolation in the silence of understanding, comfort in the closeness of their warm bodies. Knowing that it wouldn’t last.

The next morning Jenny Lambert rose at six, leaving her husband, John, still asleep. It was the first of April and sunlight was creeping through a chink in the curtains; she wanted to be out, enjoying her first proper taste of spring.

She dressed quickly in an old pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and pulled her blonde hair back in a scrappy bun. No one would see her at this hour. Then she crept downstairs, past the kids’ bedrooms. They were both at college now, doing A-levels, and mightn’t be up for a while. Their hours were unpredictable and she could no longer keep up.

When she entered the kitchen, Sally barked joyfully and leaped out of her basket, running round her mistress’s feet in circles, wagging her stumpy tail.

‘Shh,’ said Jenny, bending down to stroke the dog’s wiry back. ‘You’ll wake the others.’ But Sally continued yelping as Jenny climbed into her wellington boots, which were by the back door, grabbed her Barbour jacket, and fastened Sally’s collar and lead. Then they strolled out together into the chilly morning air.

There were few signs of life, only wisps of smoke rising from the odd chimney, which was just how Jenny liked it. Soon it would be Easter and she always slighted dreaded the annual influx of tourists, filling the streets with their noisy chatter. Of course they weren’t all bad and the fishing-tackle shop did its best business from April onwards but, still, peaceful mornings like these were to be savoured.

Her normal route was down South Street to the beach, then along the cliff top to Hermitage Point, from where the view of the ocean was so clear and unspoilt that you felt as if you were standing on the very edge of the world. Today, however, she decided to head past the Methodist church and up the road that led towards the ferry, before cutting down into the dense woodland that was home to thousands of interesting species of trees, wildflowers and fungi. It had been a relatively mild February and March and if she was lucky she might even spot some bluebells.

She loved this time of year, when everything was growing and bursting into life. The air smelled of wild garlic, birds were singing at the tops of their voices, leaves unfolding, and mammals beginning to wake from their winter sleep. The trees seemed to be alive with busy squirrels, and she kept her eyes open for queen bumblebees, seeking nectar and pollen from the spring flowers, as well as frogs, toads and lurking grass snakes.

Sally was in heaven, snuffling around tree trunks and damp, fallen logs and poking her head down burrows, yapping excitedly, as if some rabbit would be foolish enough to pop up just for her amusement.

At one point Jenny feared she’d lost the dog again, so she blew her whistle. The shrill sound echoed around the valley and sent thousands of birds flapping wildly into the sky. She felt guilty for having alarmed them. Sally ignored the summons but reappeared some minutes later with muck on her back, having found something disgusting to roll in. At least she hadn’t got stuck down another wretched hole.

They were having such an enjoyable walk that Jenny completely lost track of time. It was only when she heard the church bells strike eight in the distance that she remembered John had asked her to open up the shop as he wanted to get to the bank first thing. He’d be annoyed if she forgot.

Realising that she’d come much further than she’d thought, she decided that she’d better take the short cut up the steep bank to her right and walk back along the main road that led in and out of Tremarnock.