Chapter Six
The One With the Jam
Mollie had been invited to a new school friend’s house on Saturday and – restless and longing for undemanding company – Kate headed out with Dougal, who was more than happy to accompany her on a walk.
The coast path was muddy from the recent rainfall, so they headed into the main part of the town, where Kate took a side street described to her by Anna. It wound uphill, as did most roads in Polkerran, but where the lane branched to the right – home to a quaint row of cottages – they passed through a wooden gate onto an open patch of ground where dogs could be exercised.
There were several people there, and Kate walked Dougal on his lead at first, but after a while, she released him, watching as he tore across the field in search of who knew what, before cornering back and rubbing friendly noses with a couple of other dogs.
Kate surveyed the open field, bordered by tall hedgerows, hints of spring at their tips. Being more exposed to the elements, it was blustery, and she refastened her ponytail more firmly, then almost stumbled as a black dog nudged her in the back of the knees.
‘Hello, Bayley,’ she exclaimed, getting onto her haunches and giving his ears a good rub.
‘Sorry. He got away from me.’
It seemed to be an occupational habit with Dev: dogs, children… wives, even…
Kate flicked a glance upwards, then resumed her fuss of Bayley, who closed his eyes, tongue lolling in contentment and provided sufficient distraction from her wayward thoughts, which were far too appreciative of Dev’s wind-tousled hair for her liking.
‘I doubt he could have gone far, this is a great exercise space.’
Kate straightened, giving Bayley one final pat as Dev’s gaze roamed over the expanse of long grass. Dougal was having a good run around at the far end of the field, with a smaller dog who was struggling to keep up.
‘It’s the one thing I lack at home,’ he mused, his attention returning to Bayley, who sat patiently between them now, looking from one to the other, tail wagging in earnest. ‘Paved terraces aren’t particularly dog-friendly.’
‘Can’t you move?’
Dev made a small sound, then shook his head. ‘Not that straightforward, I’m afraid. Come on, Bayley.’
‘Wait!’ Kate dug into her pocket for the dog biscuits she’d picked up at Westerleigh. ‘Is it okay?’
She held out her hand, but perhaps it was the reminiscence of the moment he’d closed her fingers over the rings in her palm which brought the ever-ready colour to Kate’s cheeks.
Had he recalled it too? Dev held her gaze as though trying to make something out. Wondering if she had a smudge on her nose, Kate resisted the urge to wrinkle it.
‘Look… I…’ he huffed on a breath. ‘Never mind.’
Dev shoved his hands in his pockets, withdrawing his own biscuit supply.
‘Trade you?’
Kate put two fingers in her mouth, releasing a piercing whistle which brought Dougal bounding across the grass to join them.
Conscious of Dev’s curious attention, she held out her offering to Bayley as he gave some of his to Dougal.
‘Well, I’d best get back.’ He fastened Bayley’s lead, but the dog got onto its haunches, paws on Kate’s jacket, and she chuckled as she gave him a hug.
‘You’re gorgeous. And you know it.’ She rested her cheek on the warm head, then stepped back as Bayley returned to Dev’s side.
‘Oh God, I’m sorry.’ He pointed to the front of her coat, now smeared with damp, muddy paw prints, but Kate just laughed.
‘It’ll brush off when it’s dry.’
Dev didn’t respond, merely bent to fasten Bayley’s lead, but as he straightened, she found it difficult to discern the conflicting expression crossing his features.
Watching them leave, Kate reached for Dougal’s lead to prepare for the walk back, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that – somehow – she’d surprised Dev. She just wasn’t sure how or why.
On the last day before they moved into The Lookout, Kate had the entire morning off, as she was due to work the evening, and she watched in bemusement as Anna ferried tea and coffee pots and plates of homemade cupcakes to the large table by the window.
‘Are you having a party?’
Anna laughed as she placed small plates and a pile of napkins on a tray.
‘No, just the usual locals popping in for a chat. You miss it, being out at work.’
Kate’s lips twitched as she watched Anna fill a cake stand with scones, small pots of jam and clotted cream.
‘And a little sustenance?’
‘They’re all agog at the moment over what’s going to happen with the ailing summer festival.’
Helping Anna unload the items from the tray onto the end of the table, Kate sent her a puzzled look.
‘Why’s that?’
Anna held the empty tray against her middle. ‘Leigh Devonshire took it on…’ She hesitated. ‘Well, not so much. We hadn’t had anything like it for a few years. She set up this new, shinier version, ran it like a sergeant major.’
Kate’s interest was piqued but before she could ask any further questions, sounds came from the boot room, and the door opened to reveal Nicki, who stood aside as three elderly people entered, along with a young woman with red-gold curls, Jean following on her heels.
‘Baptism of fire,’ Anna muttered to Kate as she sent a warm smile in the direction of the newcomers. ‘Morning, everyone. Come on in, take a seat.’
Heathcliff – who’d been having a leisurely preen – took one startled look at the new arrivals and shot towards the cat flap as though she’d just received a notification she was late for a meeting.
The locals all clearly had their own place around the vast table. One of the elderly ladies walked with sticks, her companion bickering with the old gentleman in their wake.
Nicki waved her over. ‘Come and meet the reprobates, Kate.’
Kate’s mind fizzed as Anna did a roll-call, and she logged the names as they were introduced: Jean’s mum, Demelza Lovelace, she’d met briefly in the cafe after her interview. The lady with the sticks was a Mrs Clegg – known as Cleggie – and they now sat either side of Old Patrick, whose wizened face was nonetheless kind and welcoming, except when he glared at Cleggie, who used one of her sticks to rap him when he told Kate she was a proper ‘bewdy’.
Both Mrs Clegg and Patrick appeared to have worked at some point for Oliver, when he rented Harbourwatch.
The woman with the red-gold curls was Phoenix – or Phee – another Polkerran local who hoped to return to the cove soon after living in Mevagissey for a few years.
Everyone happily tucked into the delights on offer, and the conversation ebbed and flowed much like the tides as cakes, biscuits and scones were consumed with rapidity – amidst only one moment of dispute, when Old Patrick slathered cream on his scone before adding a theatrical dollop of Anna’s homemade jam.
‘Every time,’ Nicki’s quiet aside to Kate was acknowledged by Anna with a small smirk.
‘Patrick Penberthy!’ Mrs Clegg rose to the bait, and the elderly man winked at Kate.
‘Now, Cleggie. Don’t you go gettin’ teasy. The old tuss is just a-baiting.’ Mrs Lovelace nudged Old Patrick. ‘You’ll be jam-firstin’ on the other half, Pat.’
Kate had taken a seat beside Jean, who was listening intently to Phoenix.
‘It’s such a shame. I mean, we only have so many ways to earn a living, and the festival could have become as important as any.’
Jean made soothing noises, then turned to Kate. ‘Years ago, there used to be an old-fashioned traditional May Fayre. The usual fodder for such village events, you know. Maypole dancing and bric-a-brac stalls—’
‘Stuff shoudda’bin tossed out,’ Patrick barked. ‘There be a reason crap’s a gurt part o’ scrap.’
Mrs Lovelace sent him a stern look. ‘That’s enough, Pat,’ she admonished, as she rummaged in her bag and withdrew knitting needles and a ball of wool. ‘We’m each to our own.’
‘It was lovely,’ Phoenix sighed. ‘The fishermen’s choir on the harbourside, local folk dances.’
‘And the village hall full of stalls. Homemade cakes, bottle draws, and so on, raising funds for things like the Christmas lights and the school,’ Anna added as she topped up the plate of biscuits.
Kate’s took in the wistful expressions around the table. ‘So, what happened?’
‘It stopped, backalong, my lovely,’ Mrs Clegg said, sending Kate a kind look. ‘People didn’t bother any more, wanting bigger and better entertainment than simple village fun. Then that woman arrived, set up a new’un. All posh, it was, and she brought a helluva crowd of incomers, started chargin’ fees for entry.’
‘It became the Polkerran Point Arts, Music & Literature Festival , and Leigh moved it closer to the main season to catch more visitors.’ Nicki added milk to her mug. ‘There’s a website now, and she roped in volunteers from all over. It was crazy busy.’
‘You couldn’t get a spot, though,’ Phoenix muttered, folding her arms across her chest. ‘Local artists didn’t get a look in.’
Anna sighed. ‘Sadly, the cove made no financial gain either. None of the profits were passed on to the local fund-raising initiatives.’
‘Good riddles to her, I says,’ Mrs Lovelace added, handing a crochet needle to Mrs Clegg. ‘Lepers don’t change they spots, do they? It would’ve been more on the same, this year.’
Anna had gone over to the kitchen to boil the kettle and refresh the tea and coffee pots, and Kate joined her.
‘Couldn’t you take charge of this? It’s a shame to lose it, and you’re such a star organiser.’
Anna leaned back against the sink as she waited for the kettle to do its thing. ‘I don’t have the flexibility to devote to it, the summer’s my busiest time here at the B&B.’ A small smile touched her mouth. ‘And Oliver’s asked me not to get involved. He knows I would have done it somehow, but… it’s not the best timing.’
Returning to the table, Kate’s mind was ticking. Mrs Clegg and Mrs Lovelace were busy with crochet and knitting respectively now, Old Patrick was on his third scone – jam first, which probably accounted for the rapprochement with his neighbours – Phoenix and Nicki were chatting about schools, and Jean’s attention was on her phone, a secretive smile on her lips.
Conscious of more than a spark of interest, and aware she needed more challenge than the present job alone offered, Kate resumed her seat.
‘I’ll do it.’
Several pairs of eyes swivelled to Kate, then to each other before resuming their study of the newest arrival in the cove.
‘Are you serious?’
Kate laughed at Anna’s expression as she joined them, refilled teapot in hand. ‘Yes! The job’s fine, and sometimes it’s manic, but there are times when it’s so quiet I could weep. I need something else to do.’
How difficult could it be? Besides, surely the people involved in last year’s organisation knew all about it and could soon fill her in?
‘You’m a proper maid, young’un,’ piped in Old Patrick, a smile creasing his weathered cheeks. ‘You’m be rights, getting spondoolies outta they rich folk in town.’
‘Or even better,’ interjected Nicki. ‘Try not to cheese off the main sponsor.’
With a frown, Kate looked from her to Anna, who’d gone to put the kettle on again. ‘Who’s that?’
‘Ah, here he is now.’
Kate looked over as someone came through the boot room door. Everyone stared at the new arrival with undisguised interest, and she had to concede Dev’s embarrassment at finding a houseful was endearing.
Not that she found it attractive as he walked over to where Anna stood.
Of course she didn’t.
‘You’ve met Kate, I think?’
Anna waved a hand towards the head of the table. It was clear Dev hadn’t spotted her as he avoided looking at the locals, but a flash of recognition was quickly replaced with a look of discomfort.
‘Yes, we’ve met.’ He gave a swift nod in her direction, then turned back to Anna. ‘Is Oliver home? I couldn’t get through on his mobile.’
‘He switches it off if he’s writing. Is it urgent?’
‘’Fraid so.’
‘He’s in the den. Go on up, he won’t mind. Tell him I’ll bring coffee up.’
As soon as Dev left the room, Kate hurried over to where Anna was topping up the beans in the coffee machine.
‘ He’s the main sponsor?’ She wished her voice didn’t sound so squeaky.
‘Yes. Well, the only one.’
‘Why can’t he run it?’
‘I’m not sure. Perhaps you can ask him when you meet up?’
Kate’s eyes narrowed as they met Anna’s amused ones. ‘Why would we meet up?’
‘Well, if you’re the organiser and he’s the only sponsor…’
Bloody hell!
‘They’ll be so relieved you’ve taken it on,’ Anna continued, eyeing the locals around her table with fondness. ‘Dev will be too. I don’t think Leigh’s old cronies are being pro-active, which is probably why it’s stalled.’
The move to The Lookout went smoothly, and life there soon settled into a pattern.
On the Friday of Mollie’s third week at her new school, Kate walked to work deep in thought. She had a baby shower that afternoon and a wedding on Saturday. She’d promised to take Mollie to the Lost Gardens of Heligan on Sunday, but the weather didn’t look promising and she might need a back-up plan.
The official first day of spring loomed, but the weather clearly hadn’t received the memo, a bitter wind scampering into the cove over the heaving seas which currently battered the rocks around the lighthouse, sending spray over the cliffs beneath Harbourwatch and whipping Kate’s scarf into a frenzy as she crossed the bridge.
Immediately her gaze landed on the house, Dev popped into mind and Kate finally acknowledged the source of her disquiet. The family were coming in to finalise the arrangements for Ryther’s eighty-fifth in April. Would it be a re-run of their first: rudely interrupted by Leigh Devonshire? Would Dev be any more friendly? He’d been much more approachable when walking his dog. Perhaps she ought to suggest he bring Bayley along to all their meetings?
‘Morning!’ Jean greeted Kate warmly as she entered the foyer from the staff quarters. ‘These came for you.’ She handed over a couple of envelopes.
‘Thanks. I’ll be in the office if I’m needed. I’ve got the Devonshire meeting at eleven, and the balloons for the baby shower should be here by midday, so give me a shout if I haven’t emerged.’
Busy making calls to various suppliers to double-check timings for the wedding on the following day, the next few hours flew by, but then Jean put her head around the door.
‘Sorry,’ she mouthed silently, pointing at the phone in Kate’s hand. ‘Couldn’t get through. Your eleven o’clock’s cancelling.’
‘Oh.’ Kate replaced the receiver. ‘I was on hold to the council. You’d better put him through.’ Kate smiled as she spoke into the phone. ‘Hi, Ryther.’
‘It’s Dev.’
Great.
‘Sorry. Is there a problem?’
‘My grandfather has been a little unwell, so isn’t going to be able to make the meeting. I’m heading up to London now to see him.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. Please pass on my best wishes.’
There was no response, so she pressed on. ‘We’re a month from Ryther’s party, so we were going to go through the menu choices, firm up the timings and agree a date for final numbers?’
There was a huff of breath. ‘Grandy says he’s happy to leave all the decisions to you.’
Ah. That might well account for the negativity fizzing down the line.
‘Okay. Your grandfather indicated he’d prefer a sit-down meal to an informal buffet. I’ve put together a range of menu options to cater for all dietary requirements, though I’ll need to know in advance of any allergies, and so on. Shall I email it to you?’
Dev reeled off his email address and the call ended, and Kate leaned back in her seat, eyeing the phone with regret.
How was she going to overcome the man’s resentment, when he’d mistakenly assumed she was cut from the same cloth as his troublesome wife? Did he even realise she’d overheard his dismissive remark about her?