Chapter 17
CERENSTHORPE ABBEY – OCTOBER, PRESENT DAY
‘Tay, it’s wonderful to see you.’
Tabitha drew her older sister towards her and hugged her tightly.
‘You too, Tabby-Cat,’ she said. ‘You’re looking better.’
‘Thanks, it’s all the staring at a computer all day, it’s far healthier than the fresh air Mum and Dad used to insist upon.’
The sisters grinned at the old family joke dating from when they were young enough to be dragged out for long, energising walks by their parents.
One damp Sunday afternoon as they trudged behind their parents muttering about being forced away from the television, Suzannah, the eldest, slipped on a loose stone and skidded towards the edge of the cliff path.
‘I told you all this exercise was bad for us,’ she had howled in shock after their father had caught her and dragged her back to safety. ‘If you’d let me watch the rest of Charmed, I wouldn’t have nearly died. Watching TV is far safer.’
Even Suzannah had eventually laughed, but the comment had remained a family favourite.
‘Let me help you with your bags,’ said Tabitha as they released each other.
‘There’s only one and it’s small,’ said Tamar. ‘I didn’t need anything else for the conference apart from what I’m wearing as it wasn’t an overnighter and I figured I could steal all your toiletries, so I packed light.’
‘Of course, you know me, I love sharing all my own-brand products,’ said Tabitha.
‘Own-brand?’ responded Tamar. ‘When have you ever bought any cosmetic or potion that wasn’t the price of a small family car?’
‘Fool, I worked in PR for years, I didn’t buy any of them, they were all samples. Sadly, my stocks of expensive goodies are running low.’
‘But not exhausted?’ said Tamar hopefully.
‘Not quite, go and check your bedroom, you’ll find the very expensive body lotion that matches your perfume waiting for you to take home.’
‘And this is why you’re my favourite sister,’ said Tamar, picking up her small suitcase and hurrying up the stairs in excitement.
‘Don’t be long, I’m opening a bottle of Prosecco,’ called Tabitha.
She smiled to herself as she lined up two champagne flutes and ripped the black foil from the top of the bottle, easing out the cork. Upstairs, she could hear Tamar’s exaggerated delight at finding other goodies too.
On the first floor, there was one large bedroom which took up the entire front half of the cottage, a brand-new bathroom and a second bedroom which was big enough for a double bed, two bedside tables and a chest of drawers. Tabitha thought Tadpole Cottage was small but perfect.
As the cork flew out with a satisfying pop and Tabitha poured the drinks, Tamar reappeared, rubbing her arms.
‘This stuff smells divine,’ she said, breathing the heady scent of the Givenchy Organza Body Silk from her skin. ‘The other things, though, the lipstick, the hair treatments—’
‘All for you,’ said Tabitha, cutting across her.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course. I was fibbing when I said I was running low, there’s still an enormous box of things at Mum and Dad’s.’
‘Is there?’ said Tamar, waggling her eyebrows.
‘Which Mum has put a lock on,’ said Tabitha. ‘She’s extremely possessive of the free samples. Do you want to sit outside? There’s a patio heater if we’re cold.’
For the past week, there had been an Indian summer, with days as warm and sunny as summer, before plunging into cool evenings.
‘Yes, let’s enjoy the sun while we can,’ said Tamar and Tabitha led the way outside.
A bistro-style table and chairs sat to one side of the small patio. Tabitha placed the ice bucket containing the Prosecco on the table and sat down. Tamar made herself comfortable in a pool of autumn sunshine, holding her face up to the golden rays.
‘This is a beautiful place,’ said Tamar. ‘I understand why you decided to take the job.’
‘I needed somewhere with no memories,’ said Tabitha, sipping her drink and gazing at the dog rose which clung to the back wall of the garden.
‘I know, love,’ her sister replied, squeezing her hand. ‘Time to make new ones.’
‘I hate that expression,’ said Tabitha. ‘It’s very passive, surely, “Having new adventures” is better.’
‘And are you? Having new adventures?’
‘Not yet,’ she said. ‘It’s too soon. After what happened, it may be a while before I trust anyone again.
How’s Eve?’ Tabitha deliberately changed the subject, asking after their youngest sister.
She had no desire to discuss the past, the events that had driven her to Cerensthorpe Abbey, her husband’s decisions and what she saw as his betrayal of their love.
Tamar gave her a sympathetic smile and said, ‘Eve’s really good.’
They both crossed their fingers.
‘She’s seven months now, isn’t she?’
‘Yes, and being closely monitored,’ said Tamar. ‘When I went into research, I never imagined my knowledge and connections within the world of fertility would be of help to one of my sisters. It feels as though it was fate.’
The youngest Mundy sister, Eve Darnell, and her childhood sweetheart, Robbie, had tried to have children for several years before turning to IVF but when this failed, Tamar had stepped in and offered to help.
‘Perhaps you’re another natural-born witch,’ suggested Tabitha. ‘You’ve always claimed fate gave you the name that led you to your true love.’
‘Maybe,’ Tamar replied with a grin. ‘On that one occasion, being named after a large piece of engineering had its advantage.’
Tamar had met her husband Billy at a mutual friend’s wedding. Born and raised in Cornwall, Billy was intrigued to know whether Tamar was named after the bridge and river that connected Devon and Cornwall or the biblical character who was victim of no end of violent assaults.
‘Definitely the bridge,’ she had assured him before explaining.
‘When they were younger, Mum and Dad used to go on lots of adventures and Mum always liked the name Tamar. It wasn’t until I was three that she discovered the connection to the dodgy Bible stories, but it was too late to change it by then. ’
They had married a year later and now had two children, Carenza and Gawain, named to mark Billy’s Cornish heritage.
Tamar and Billy moved to Pembrokeshire after Carenza was born and lived in a rambling farmhouse near the Mundy family hotel in St Ishmaels.
Tamar worked in Swansea at a research laboratory specialising in fertility and Billy, an engineer, worked for a charity that sent experts all around the world to help rebuild infrastructure in areas ravaged by war or natural disasters.
Tamar and Tabitha had always been close, sharing a love of the Ether Heracles novels, expensive cosmetics and surfing.
‘How’s Gulliver?’ asked Tamar, placing her glass on the table.
‘Not great,’ Tabitha replied. ‘After his episode on the roof, Molly insisted he move into Frog Cottage with her. She was worried he might have taken something which caused his meltdown on the roof.’
‘Had he?’
‘He claims not,’ said Tabitha. ‘Edith told me Gulliver has always loved storms and used to rush outside whenever there was thunder and lightning, even if it was the middle of the night.’
‘It sounded very pagan,’ said Tamar, taking the bottle out of the ice bucket and topping up their glasses. ‘All that water streaming over his naked torso—’
‘Hardly,’ interrupted Tabitha, feeling possessive of Gulliver. ‘It was painful to watch, as though he was baring his soul to the storm, allowing its energy to heal his grief. Yet, there was a beauty to it, too.’
The image of Gulliver, arms outstretched, backlit by the raging storm, had remained with Tabitha, even after his strange outburst when he had seen her.
The moment had been elemental, transformational in his release of his despair, but Tamar’s comment had touched a nerve.
The image of Gulliver in his state of undress had returned to Tabitha at unexpected times ever since, often in her dreams when the outcome of the scenario was far more sensuous than the reality and never ended with Gulliver shouting at her in fury.
The ambulance crew had insisted on checking him over, and afterwards, he had slept for nearly twenty-four hours.
He claimed to have no recollection of speaking to Tabitha but had rung her to mutter a tight-lipped apology.
Ever since, he had remained out of sight at Molly’s cottage.
Edith had discussed the outburst first with Gulliver, then Tabitha.
‘He doesn’t remember leaving the roof,’ said Edith. ‘Whatever he thought or meant at the time was clearly unimportant or he would be able to recall it and explain. He is desperately sad to have upset you, my dear.’
Tabitha was unsure whether she believed the Swannes.
It felt as though they had closed ranks and were refusing to discuss the matter.
Yet, Edith remained as warm and welcoming as ever, Molly checked in with her regularly and even Gulliver had begun sending the occasional message concerning her research.
Perhaps I’m being oversensitive, she thought.
‘Do you think you’ll stay until the end of your contract now Gulliver’s home for good?’ asked Tamar, bringing her from her reverie.
‘Edith owns Cerensthorpe Abbey and she’s the person who employed me,’ said Tabitha. ‘The decision remains with her. I’d like to stay, especially as we’re making progress with the weird treasure hunt her grandfather left behind.’
‘Tell me all about it,’ said Tamar, and as the sun set, the two sisters wandered inside to cook dinner, while Tabitha explained about the legendary missing original copy of The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer, the series of clues and the hunt which had come to an abrupt end a week earlier during the storm.
‘If the remainder of the clues exist,’ said Tabitha as they chopped vegetables for the pasta sauce, ‘there’s a possibility the book does too. Can you imagine how much it would be worth? An original edition of Chaucer?’