The Cornish Guest House (43 page)

‘It’s the country park up there,’ said Shelley, pointing into the distance. ‘Oscar might like it, but maybe it’s too far?’

‘Perhaps we should get away from the cars,’ Liz said, eyeing Tabitha’s son, who was protesting loudly, arms and legs flailing. ‘I think he wants to walk.’

Tabitha continued her account while they crossed a housing development and skirted round a field, before arriving at a grassy recreation ground with play equipment. A young mother was pushing her daughter on a basket swing, and Oscar stood and stared, delighted, while the little girl squealed as she went high in the air shouting, ‘Faster, faster!’

The three women settled on a bench, watching him all the time while Tabitha drew breath, before she described the moment when she thought she’d seen Carl in Tremarnock, lurking outside her bedroom window.

‘My God, you must have been terrified,’ Liz said with feeling.

‘I was permanently scared, more for Oscar than myself, do you see?’ She stared at the ground. ‘To be honest, I’ve been scared all my life. I wish I’d fought back, I wish I’d been stronger.’

‘You’ve fought back now,’ said Liz. ‘You’ve shown great courage. You should be proud of yourself.’

Oscar, bored with watching the little girl now, made for a climbing frame and she rose, followed by Liz and Shelley, helping him scramble on to the first rung where he sat for a few moments, dangling his feet and gazing at the sky.

At last, when they’d trailed after him for half an hour or so, taking it in turns to lift him up or down or stop him falling, Tabitha looked at her friends in turn and said, ‘That’s it, you know all there is to know about me. No more secrets.’

Her son, worn out, begged to be picked up so she swung him on to a hip and stroked his hair.

‘It’s him I’m worried about,’ she went on sadly. ‘I feel so sorry for him. He was happy in the village, he loved his dad, his home, his little life. Now who knows what’ll happen to him? I might go to prison and when I come out I’ll have to go into hiding, God knows where, because whatever the police say, they’ll never be able to protect me.’

She kissed her son fiercely, burning a red mark on his cheek like a brand, as if it might keep him safe. ‘I feel like I’m living on borrowed time and there’s no one to look after him, not even Molly, because she’s in Manchester and there’s no way I’m sending him there.’

‘Don’t be silly’ Liz cried, and the others looked at her, surprised. ‘There’s me for a start and Shelley here.’ Shelley nodded, though she seemed uncertain quite what she was agreeing to.

‘And there’s Jean and Tom, Esme, Audrey, Jenny Lambert, Tony and Felipe. The whole of Tremarnock will want to help when they hear what you’ve been through. We’ll protect you ourselves, if need be, with our own bare hands.’

It was so unexpected and Liz looked so small and fierce that Tabitha couldn’t help smiling. ‘You’re unbelievably kind…’

‘I’m only saying the same as everyone in the village. If you go to prison, we’ll have Oscar and look after him like our own. And when you come out, there’ll be a bed waiting for you and a warm welcome, and all the help you need to get back on your feet. If one of us is in trouble, we all rally round. That’s just how Tremarnock is, and how it always will be.’

‘Littl ’un can stay with me, no problem, as long as he doesn’t mind the mattress,’ Shelley chipped in, having caught up now. ‘My hubby will keep an eye on him if I get another job.’

It was too much for Tabitha, whose eyes filled with tears. ‘After all the terrible things I’ve done…’ She shook her head, unable to continue, and Oscar buried his face in her chest.

‘Shush,’ said Liz, wrapping an arm around them both, ‘don’t cry. You’re not alone any more.’

They were a sombre little group as they walked back to Shelley’s house. Oscar had fallen asleep and, lost in their own thoughts, they spoke little, but each knew that in the past few hours something unique and powerful had happened and not one of them would ever forget what had passed between them. When they reached Shelley’s house, Liz said that she had to go, but that she’d be in touch again very soon. In the meantime, she needed time to think.

‘I meant what I said,’ she told Tabitha, embracing the woman she’d once found so cold and hard. ‘I’m going to help you.’

Tabitha smiled and thanked Liz again, but the smile quickly faded; she wanted so much to believe but all she could see ahead was a court case, prison, Oscar farmed out to some strange foster family, pain, grief and suffering.

Her son woke as they entered Shelley’s house and looked around him, confused.

‘Mamma?’ he said, turning in his pushchair to find her. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes not yet focused. ‘Mamma? Uvday? Dadda?’

Tabitha unbuckled him and held him tightly in her arms, thinking that no doctors or surgeons, no treatments, pills or potions in the world would ever be able to cure her shattered heart.

Loveday felt like a celebrity as she walked through Tremarnock and, one after another, the villagers came out of shops or houses to give her a hug. Nobody blamed her for wasting their time and effort, not a single person suggested that she’d been a fool to work for Luke or believe his lies about the investigation in which he was supposedly involved. In truth, they’d almost all been bewitched by him, and had been doing some soul-searching of their own. Their delight at having her home again was almost palpable.

‘Well, I never!’ said Audrey, hurrying on long legs out of Seaspray Boutique, having spotted Loveday through the window. The sun was shining and she was wearing one of her own creations, a spring-like, red and white striped tunic dress with matching red tights, and showing off quite a lot of thigh. ‘I never thought I’d witness this day!’

The door of Gull Cottage was open and Jenny Lambert was bent double in the hallway, fastening a shoelace. ‘Have you seen Sally?’ she asked without looking up as Loveday passed. ‘She’s gone again.’ Then, when she realised who it was, ‘Oh, my! Am I happy or what?’

As they stood outside the house, chatting and calling Sally’s name, Rick emerged from Treasure Trove and came up the street towards them, clutching something in a white paper bag.

‘For you!’ he said, passing the bag to Loveday. ‘Peanut-butter fudge – I know you like it.’ His whiskery sideburns were more luxuriant than ever. ‘Welcome home!’

When at last she could free herself, Loveday crossed into Market Square, only to bump into Felipe and Tony, leaving the bakery. They were in jeans and identical round-necked sweaters, only Felipe’s was pale blue while Tony’s was orange.

‘Look who’s here!’ Tony cried. He was carrying a loaf of French bread under one arm and nibbling on a corner. ‘I was wondering when we’d catch a glimpse of you. Only this morning I said to Felipe, “When’s the party?” didn’t I, Felipe?’ He nudged his partner in the ribs.

‘Eez true.’ Felipe nodded gravely. ‘Tony says we must have a
carnaval.
’ He rolled the ‘r’ emphatically. ‘In Rio when someone goes missing mostly they have been murdered. Boom.’ He put two fingers to his temple and staggered to the side to demonstrate.

Tony frowned. ‘All right, darling, that’s quite enough. Loveday hasn’t been murdered, she’s very much alive.’ He turned to her and smiled. ‘As I was saying, we should have a celebration – once you’ve properly settled back in, of course.’

Loveday agreed, though she was secretly thinking that this was the last thing she needed. She was enormously grateful to the villagers, but now that she’d recovered from the excitement of being home and seeing the family again she wanted nothing more than to try to make amends with Pat and, of course, Jesse. She wouldn’t be able to rest unless and until she’d done so.

Ryan was at the counter of the fishmonger’s, serving a customer. He spotted Loveday and gestured for her to wait a moment, but she pretended not to understand and gave a quick wave before scurrying by.

She decided not to take the direct route to the house, instead skirting round the back of the Methodist church, thinking that she might be less likely to meet people. The cemetery, surrounded by a low brick wall, was normally deserted, so it was a surprise when she spotted a familiar figure sitting by himself on a fallen gravestone, his blond head down, elbows resting on his knees.

She’d expected to find him at his mum’s, and her heart pitter-pattered and it took all her courage to force herself not to spin round and head swiftly back in the direction from which she’d come. Bracing herself, she placed her hand on the iron latch and opened the wooden wicket gate. He seemed lost in thought and didn’t hear as she padded across the long, lush, pale green grass towards him. It was only when she was within a few feet that she whispered his name – ‘Jesse!’ – and he turned and stared.

‘What are you doing here?’ There was shock on his handsome face that he tried to disguise with a frown.

Loveday took a deep breath. ‘Can I sit?’ She closed her eyes for a moment, thinking that it might make the rebuff easier to bear, but he said nothing and when she opened them again he was staring hard at a spot of grass beneath his feet.

‘Well?’

He continued to gaze at the ground. ‘I don’t want to see you.’

She felt his words like a slap and inwardly reeled. ‘I was scared Luke would hurt you, hurt my family if I told anyone,’ she said hopelessly. ‘I thought running away was the best thing.’

‘You dumped me in it,’ Jesse replied heavily.

Loveday, still standing, shifted from one foot to another, thinking that this was the hardest thing she’d ever done in her life.

‘I didn’t know you’d been arrested. I wasn’t watching TV.’

Jesse shrugged. ‘Doesn’t matter now anyway. You’re all right, aren’t you?’ He was trying to sound casual, but you could hear the hurt in his voice.

The sun beat down on the back of her neck and she felt weary suddenly, a hundred years old. A brown and black butterfly flew past and landed on a straggly buddleia bush, and she wondered what had happened to the carefree girl of just a short time ago. She felt as if she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

The butterfly flew off to a clump of daisies in the corner and, in spite of his rejection, she settled on the gravestone next to him, feeling the heat seep through the seat of her trousers into her very bones. A van rattled by and a dog barked, but otherwise it was just the two of them, silent with their thoughts. She daren’t touch him but was close enough to feel his presence, and for just a few precious moments she allowed herself to imagine that things were as they’d once been, that they were still in love, their futures entwined.

‘I’ve missed you—’

‘Don’t!’ He glared at her, his blue eyes flashing, and it reminded her of the night before she’d fled. She was the one who’d made him upset and angry and he hadn’t deserved it then and didn’t now.

‘Can’t we…?’ she pleaded, but he rose abruptly and stood with his back to her.

‘Jesse?’

‘Look,’ he said, more gently than before, ‘the damage is done. You can’t put us back together and there’s no point trying.’

She hung her head, conscious of the tears springing in her eyes. It sounded so final, but what else could she possibly have expected? Her hands strayed to the hard stone beneath her, the patches of soft moss, and she found herself thinking it was right that they should be having this conversation here; in years to come she’d look back and consider it a good ending, if such a thing were possible, a proper burial.

But, still, she needed to do right by him, see him taken care of. ‘At least go back to your job,’ she begged. ‘You were doing so well. Don’t let me have ruined that for you, too.’

‘Never!’ He spun round now, his voice tight and strangled. ‘They thought I’d killed you. I could see it in their faces. How d’you think that makes me feel?’

‘Finish your exams,’ she urged, refusing to be put off. ‘Then you can go anywhere, you can be the top chef you always wanted to be. Don’t let them win.’

He paused, seeming to think about it for a moment, and a shiver of hope spread through her, until his features hardened, he clenched his jaw and turned on his heels. She watched as he made for the exit, anxious to savour every last second, to fix the memory firmly enough in her mind to last a lifetime, until at last the familiar blond head disappeared from view. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever see him again.

It wasn’t until an elderly gentleman in a flat cap shuffled through the gate, carrying a bouquet of flowers, that she realised she must have been sitting there for hours. The sun had dropped and she trembled, feeling the absence of a coat for the first time. It was still only April after all.

‘You all right, love?’ the old man asked, peering at her through small, wire-rimmed glasses. He couldn’t have recognised her from the TV and she didn’t know him either. ‘You look lonely there by yourself.’

She rose stiffly from her perch and straightened her trouser legs, which had bunched round her ankles. ‘I just needed some time to myself.’

The old man nodded. ‘I remember that feeling. Only when you reach my age, time to yourself is all you get.’

Without meaning to, she glanced at his bouquet, wrapped in tissue paper, and he followed her gaze.

‘Tulips were her favourite, and I added rosemary from the garden for remembrance. Not that I need reminding, mind. Dead five years, my Mary, and never a day goes by when I don’t think of her.’

He took off his cap and scratched his bald, pink head. ‘But you wouldn’t know about that. You’re too young to be married.’

She wanted to tell him that, married or not, she’d met the man of her dreams – and lost him. She wanted to ask for advice, some words of comfort. Perhaps he’d make her believe that if she kept the faith, Jesse would come back to her one day, that they’d grow old together, like him and Mary. But by the time she opened her mouth the old man was heading purposefully towards a group of newish-looking gravestones in the middle of the cemetery, and the moment to speak was over.

*

‘It makes sense for Tabitha to come here for a short while. It’s too small where she is and, besides, Oscar knows Loveday. Plus, the whole community will keep an eye on her. She doesn’t know anyone in Callington, other than Shelley.’