Chapter Seven
On Monday morning, Zennor was back in the office and thrown in at the deep end when one of her biggest clients called.
‘Zennor. Hi. I’ll get straight to the point. Can you do a mermaid birthday party for six on Saturday? Oi! No, please don’t leave those boxes in here, if you don’t mind. There’s a delivery bay around the back of the hotel. Yes, to the right. Thank you.’
Zennor held the phone away from her ear as Shilpa broke off to issue instructions to some unfortunate delivery driver. Shilpa and her husband ran White Rocks, the boutique hotel above a remote cove a few miles west of St Ives.
‘Sorry, Zen, that was the toilet-roll supplier trying to leave two hundred and forty loo rolls in reception.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Hang on while I go into the office because I can see some guests on the warpath.’
Zennor waited patiently while Shilpa issued her instructions.
It was followed by heavy breathing and she pictured her hotelier friend hurrying back down the steps from the reception and through the side door to her office.
Along the way, she could hear voices, the beep of a delivery van reversing, tinkly music and finally a deep sigh.
‘I am so sorry about that. I should never have tried to call you from reception but there was a lull and I went for it and now …’ Shilpa sighed. ‘… we can talk properly. Where had we got to exactly?’
‘You were saying about mermaids and six kids …’
‘Yes. I know it’s really short notice, but someone’s already let the children down.
A local charity got in touch with me. Someone passed on my name because they’d organised this mermaid-themed party for the group and then the entertainers said they couldn’t do it.
I don’t know the exact details but these youngsters have been through a very tough time, apparently. ’
Zennor took her chance to jump in. ‘How old are they?’
‘Youngest is four, I think, the oldest nine. All girls apart from the four-year-old, all have had a really rough time lately. One’s mum has been having treatment for breast cancer, another lost their dad recently, and another had a bike accident and has had to have a lot of hospital visits.
I was almost in tears down the phone and I kind of said that yes, we could wave our magic wands and do something. ’
‘A mermaid party at such short notice will need a magic wand. I’m not sure I can wave mine hard enough.’
‘Oh, I do hope so! Anything you can do will be fine, of course. I mean, even if you have to persuade someone to sit on a rock and pretend to be a mermaid, although apparently the children are hoping to see actual mermaids swimming in the cove. And I said we’d throw in a mermaid-themed tea here at the hotel for them and their families afterwards.
I’ll handle that, of course, but if you could possibly find some entertainment for them after or before the mermaid appearance, I’d be your friend forever. ’
Zennor let Shilpa run on, guessing that her strategy was not to give Zennor a chance to say no. You didn’t get to run a successful hotel without being a forceful character, but Zennor didn’t mind. Shilpa was very supportive of the community and patron of several local charities.
‘Is there anything you want to ask?’ Shilpa added breezily.
‘Quite a few things, actually,’ Zennor said, ‘and I’d love to help …’
‘I knew you would. You are a star.’
‘Genuinely, I don’t know where I’m going to find one mermaid at this short notice, let alone two or three.’
Silence, then: ‘Oh, well, I can tell the charity that we’ll have to let them down this time. I’d rather not but … and I’m covering the artiste’s costs if that’s what you’re worried about.’
‘It isn’t and that’s very generous of you. However, I know for a fact that our usual troupe – shoal – are booked out elsewhere for Saturday.’
‘I knew it was a big ask but I thought if anyone can sort it, Zennor and Roo can.’
Zennor paused. She thought of all those disappointed little faces when they heard their dream party was off. Kids who’d been through so much and probably had to be let down a lot due to circumstances they couldn’t control.
‘Look, I’ll do my very best. There are a few others I could try. As for the entertainment before, I’m sure I can help with that. Can you send me all the details by email?’
‘I will, and you can call me any time. Thank you, thank you.’
Zennor ended the call and walked to the window. It was not beach weather. In fact, she could barely see the sand because of the mizzle – a mixture of mist and rain – and the umbrellas. Those who would normally head to the beaches had piled into the town in their rainwear, many with dogs in tow.
She picked at the window frame, removing a splinter of rotting wood.
‘Ow.’
The tiniest sliver of wood had penetrated her fingertip.
She sucked it and managed to dislodge it with the nail of her other hand, wincing in the process.
Much as she hated to agree with Matt, the building did need urgent repair work. What kind of impression did it present to their clients – both the artistes and the venues and customers wanting to book with them?
Yet, how much disruption it would cause too, and not only to the business. Having Matt invading her space on a regular basis was her worst nightmare. He could drop in at any time.
Outside, a man yelled abuse at a seagull who had sent his chips flying. Two pugs started fighting and the barking set her head throbbing.
With a sigh, Zennor turned away from the window and opened the contacts file on her desktop.
She’d deal with Matt when he came. Her immediate priority was to find a mermaid at short notice and some entertainment for the party.
An hour later, Zennor put down the phone, all avenues exhausted on the mermaid front. One had moved to Northumberland and the other said she’d have loved to do the party were it not for the fact she was eight months pregnant.
Zennor forced herself out of her seat, downed a large glass of water, locked up and headed into the streets. The mizzle had stopped and the sun was trying to break through.
She headed along the Wharf and up the Digey in the hope her favourite bakery still had some pasties left. Outside the hair salon, she stopped to take a call. It was Matt, saying he was tied up with something else and couldn’t make it until later in the week.
Zennor didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. She didn’t relish the work starting but if it had to be done, she wanted it over with. Her mind in a whirl, she spotted a familiar face in the chair next to the window.
Lips pursed in disgust, Sybil Brandon was leafing through a copy of a gossip glossy while her foils worked their magic on her long hair.
Sybil, in addition to being a friend of Zennor’s mother and something of an honorary aunt to her – especially since her dad had died – was also Matt’s godmother and a distant cousin of his mum.
Sybil, a professional storyteller, had also been one of the founding clients of Kernow Entz and they saw each other at least once a week.
Sybil caught sight of Zennor through the window, smiled, crooked a finger and beckoned Zennor inside the salon. Perfect timing, thought Zennor, replacing her phone in the pocket of her dungarees and following the siren’s call.
Zennor greeted Debs, the salon owner, who was blow-drying a woman’s bob. Probably a tourist by the look of her beetroot-red face. Zennor knew it wouldn’t stay straight for more than five minutes in the sea breeze and humidity.
‘Ouch,’ Sybil mouthed to Zennor. She’d seen Zennor’s slight eyebrow raise at the bob lady and had come to the same conclusion.
Zennor took an empty chair next to Sybil. ‘I’m glad I spotted you because I need a favour. A rather big favour. I was hoping you could get me out of a hole.’
‘If I can, you know I will, darling. What is it?’
‘Shilpa has asked me to organise some entertainment for a small charity that arranges “dreams come true” for children in need. She’s hosting a party at White Rocks and promised six little ones that they could meet a “real-life mermaid” but then the person they’d booked had to cancel. Now they’re left in the lurch.’
‘Well, I hope you’re not expecting me to step in – or swim in.’
‘No.’ Zennor laughed. ‘I was hoping you could help me with another part of the challenge. Shilpa asked me to source some entertainment pre the mermaid’s appearance.’
Sybil eyed Zennor warily. ‘And you hoped I might be able to act as a warm-up woman?’
‘If you could tell some stories to the kids, I’d be so grateful, but I appreciate it’s short notice. Next Saturday afternoon.’
‘Hmm. That is short notice but I had a cancellation too so I can probably fit it in, especially if it’s for a good cause. I could get the little ones going with some stories about mermaids and pirates. It sounds right up my street.’
‘I thought so, and I don’t expect you to do it for free.
Shilpa is paying.’ Zennor was scrupulous about not expecting artistes to offer their services free of charge.
There was far too much exploitation and devaluing of the arts in general and performers needed to pay their bills as much as any plumber or lawyer.
‘After all, Debs isn’t doing your hair for free, is she? ’
‘You’re joking, aren’t you?’ Sybil scoffed. She tapped the foils on her head. ‘You have no idea how expensive it is to look this natural.’
Zennor laughed. Sybil cultivated her Cornish Storyteller image with great care, including getting her long hair highlighted in a beautiful array of silver and grey tones. Today, however, she was in her usual uniform of jeans, a white T-shirt and trainers.
‘Mind you, I’ll have to let the wind and salt air tangle it for a couple of days before the gig. Can’t be looking too polished for the punters, can I?’
‘No, definitely not. You’re one of my most in-demand clients and I want it to stay that way.’
Debs swept past with a tray of hair colour in her arms. ‘Won’t be long now, Sybil. Another couple of minutes and you’ll be done.’
‘I should be going,’ Zennor said, ‘or the bakery will only have some abomination like chicken curry pasties left.’ She shuddered.
Sybil rolled her eyes. ‘How very traditional of you.’
Zennor pushed herself out of the chair, her pulse beating a little faster as she approached the topic she’d been saving until last, and hoped would almost come as an aside. ‘Oh, before I go, did you know that Matt’s back in the area?’ she said as casually as she could.
‘Matt?’ Sybil echoed.
‘Yes.’ Zennor frowned.
‘Oh, you mean Matt Matt.’ Sybil smiled. ‘Matt, my godson, not that I should ever have accepted that particular role, given I’m a fully paid-up member of the Heathens’ Union and I’ve not spoken to the boy for a good while.
’ She smirked. ‘Anyway, I digress as usual. In answer to your question, I did know he’d moved back to the area.
He messages me from time to time but I haven’t met up with him yet. ’
‘He’s bought a flat in Hayle and has – business interests down here.’ Zennor fiddled with a hairbrush. ‘But you know that, I suppose?’
Sybil blew out a breath. ‘I did but I haven’t said anything because – well – I didn’t think it would help the situation if I told you, and judging by your face, you seem less than happy he’s moved back this way.’
Zennor would have liked to have been warned but she understood Sybil’s reasons for not talking about Matt.
‘It would suit me if he never set foot in St Ives again, but he called round to the office last week and took us both by surprise. He came to tell us he’s bought the building and is our new landlord and has all kind of fancy plans to do it up.’
‘Does he now?’ Sybil twisted her lips. ‘I didn’t know that. Hmm. I can understand why you’re not thrilled about him being so involved again.’
Zennor glanced around her but no one appeared to be listening. Even so … ‘I don’t know. But it is what it is. Water under the bridge and all that.’
‘Oh, of course. That ship has sailed, et cetera.’ Sybil lifted an eyebrow.
‘And he’s acting all community-minded and supervising the refurb of the Surf Club,’ Zennor said. ‘In fact, he’s paying for it.’
Sybil whistled. ‘Again, I wasn’t aware of that. He’s made the most of Harry’s legacy and done well for himself. If he wants to share his good fortune with the club, it’s understandable.’
‘Yes, of course. It’s only that he’s everywhere now,’ Zennor said with a sigh. ‘All the time.’
‘He used to be everywhere all the time,’ Sybil said wryly.
‘That was a long time ago,’ Zennor murmured, half regretting mentioning Matt’s name.
Debs approached with an apologetic grimace. ‘Sorry to break up the party, guys, but we need to take Sybil’s foils out before rinsing and applying the toner.’
‘No probs. I’m going back to work after I’ve picked up a couple of pasties for lunch.’
‘How very clichéd,’ Sybil said with a twinkle in her eye.
‘I have to live up to the image of the Cornish girl. Just like you.’
‘Ha! Which reminds me … there was something very Sybil the Storyteller in the Harbour Boutique. A delicious purple kaftan with moons and stars appliqued on it. I think I’ll indulge and get some new photos for your website when my hair’s been mussed up.’
Zennor laughed. ‘I can picture you in it already.’
‘I’ll definitely get it after I’m done here. We must catch up soon, darling. Pop round to mine whenever it suits you.’
‘Sounds good,’ Zennor said although she now knew she was in for a grilling about Matt, so the invitation was a double-edged sword.
‘By the way, you should brush up on your acting skills, my lovely. I could see through the studied casualness a mile off. I can give you some tips on playing a part,’ she said before adding, with a flicker of sadness in her eyes that Zennor didn’t think she’d ever seen before: ‘It’s much harder to pretend in life than on stage. ’
Before Zennor had a chance to reply, Debs appeared with a determined look in her eye. ‘Shall we take these foils off?’
‘I’m out of here.’ With a wave of the hand, Zennor walked up the Digey and down the cobbles towards the bakery.
While she queued for the pasties, she thought of Sybil’s comments. She was right about one thing. Zennor was no actor and she hadn’t fooled Sybil with her affected indifference to Matt. However, Sybil herself had sounded quite melancholy.
Then again, you never could be sure what Sybil was thinking. That mystique was part of the charm which had kept them close for so long.