Chapter 5
I get up from the patio chair and walk down the grassy slope towards the cliff edge.
A well-worn track runs in both directions, which must be part of the Cornish Coastal Path.
If the common room at the inn was open to serve lunch and drinks, it could be a haven for walkers.
So many possibilities. I look to the right – the land curves towards the horizon, and in the hazy distance, there’s an old mining engine house at the edge of the land.
To the left, the terrain is more undulating, with a series of rocky headlands sticking out like fingers into the bay.
Towards the second headland, there’s a dip in the land, and I can make out a caravan park, almost, but not quite hidden from view.
I go to the very edge of the cliff, careful where I put my feet.
Directly below the inn is Penglas Cove: a narrow inlet of shingle studded with giant, barnacle-covered rocks.
Two deep grooves are carved into the flat granite slabs nearest the cliff; they look like old wagon tracks.
I recall Cliff’s account of Old John Dog using the caves underneath the inn to hide his smuggled goods and spoils from wrecked ships.
With the tide out and the sea calm, there’s a serenity about the place that belies its lawless history, and I feel glad that those days are long in the past.
A path snakes downwards to the cove, but since I don’t see Connor, I decide to go further afield.
I walk along the cliff path in the direction of the beach car park.
After about five minutes, I encounter another track that leads downwards to the next inlet.
This one is larger than the cove below the inn and contains a rocky breakwater and a rickety dock.
Three boats are moored, now beached in the mud at low tide.
There’s a dinghy, a speedboat, and a fishing vessel, the latter painted white with a red wheelhouse, and a name stencilled on the side in gold lettering: The Porthcurno.
Someone moves on her deck, and I recognise Cliff’s wild, grey hair and fisherman’s cap.
I make my way down to the dock, scrabbling in places on the steep path that’s overgrown with gorse and nettles. There’s a tiny area of sand near the boats – I could take off my shoes and go barefoot—
‘Bloody hell, just leave me be, will you?’ Cliff shouts. ‘Keep your nose out’a my business.’
I freeze, worried for a moment that he’s addressing me and might take another pop at me with his pistol.
But then I see another man come out from below deck.
He’s about my age, wearing jeans and a navy fisherman’s jumper.
As I draw near, I hear a stream of obscenities coming from Cliff.
Is this the ‘young whippersnapper’ he mentioned, or just someone else he doesn’t get on with?
‘You can’t just ship me off to some old folks’ home without so much as a how’da’do,’ Cliff is saying. ‘That’s the trouble with you young people these days. You’ve got no respect.’
‘You know it’s for your own good.’ The other man’s voice is a deep, posh baritone. ‘Which is why Vic asked me to look out for you. She had a world of respect for you. But she knew you were too stubborn to look after yourself.’
‘Well, Vic’s dead now, and I got things to do.
So be off with you. And keep your damn cousin away too.
I don’t need any trouble.’ Cliff picks up a rope from the deck and begins coiling it.
But after a minute, he looks up and sees me.
He raises his hand in a wave that’s more dismissive than friendly.
Following his gaze, the other man turns, his default expression a frown as he looks at me. He’s handsome – I’ll give him that. Tall, with wavy, dark hair, his skin is tanned, his eyes a sharp, glacial blue that hold no warmth.
I consider making a swift exit back up the path, but that would be the coward’s way out. Besides, I came out here to get the lay of the land, and surely that means getting to know the locals.
‘Sorry to interrupt,’ I say. ‘I’m trying to track down my son, Connor.’
‘Hasn’t come this way,’ Cliff says.
The other man stares at me intently, still frowning. I’m conscious of my unwashed hair – black and unruly like Bridget’s but with a few stubborn streaks of grey – and my generally haphazard appearance. The man turns to Cliff. ‘This is who Victoria found? She doesn’t look much like a Kernick.’
It’s my turn to glare. I may be a stranger here and might have taken more care to make a good first impression, but where I’m from, people treat strangers with respect and dignity, and don’t judge them by their appearance.
‘How dare you?’ The words slip out of my mouth, directed at the younger man. ‘I am Victoria’s heir, thank you very much.’
I still don’t know my exact relationship to Victoria, but hearing this man – who has obviously also agitated Cliff – question my provenance, makes my blood boil, and more than ever, I want to find out.
‘Sure,’ the man says coldly. ‘If you say so. Anyway…’ he turns back to Cliff. ‘All I’m asking is that you think about it. I can take you to a few places at the weekend if you like. They’re all within an hour of here. You can get the lay of the land and then make a decision.’
‘I’ve made my decision,’ Cliff says. ‘I want you off my boat.’
The younger man raises his hands. ‘I’ll go,’ he says, ‘but I’ve got eyes on you and what you’re up to. And if I don’t like what I see, there are ways and means.’
‘What I’m up to?’ Cliff spits. ‘For that, I think you’d better look a bit closer to home.’
‘Oh, I intend to, mark my words.’
I round on the man. ‘Are you threatening him?’ I say. ‘Because that’s really not on.’
‘It’s OK, maid,’ Cliff says. ‘Will was just leaving. There’s no cause for alarm.’
The other man rolls his eyes. But he does step off the boat.
‘I hope you find your boy,’ he says to me. ‘You’d best keep an eye on him. The beach and the cliffs around here can be dangerous.’
‘I will,’ I say. ‘But it’s really none of your concern.’
His eyes hold mine for a long moment, then he rakes back his dark hair and laughs. ‘Maybe you are a Kernick – you seem to be just as stubborn as Cliff and Victoria,’ he says. ‘The apple never falls far from the tree.’
‘If you say so.’
The man gives an arrogant smirk. With a brief wave to Cliff and no acknowledgement to me, he takes the path in the opposite direction of the inn. The rocky track undulates up and down, and then steeply ascends to the next headland. When I’m sure he’s out of earshot, I turn back to Cliff.
‘Who is that man?’ I say.
‘William Penhelion,’ he says. ‘Lord of the manor over yonder.’ He waves a gnarled hand towards the direction the man went. ‘The Polgothley estate. People’ve been dancing to the tune of that family for years.’
‘That can’t be true,’ I say.
Cliff laughs. ‘Maybe where you come from, life moves at a lightning pace. But in these parts, memories are long and grudges even longer. His family goes way back, as does mine. If you go back far enough, we’re all related, aren’t we?’
‘That may be, but what was he on about?’
Cliff shrugs and goes back to coiling rope. ‘He was cosy with Vic, and she could be a blasted busybody. She asked him to look after me when she was gone – as if I needed that. Now, he wants to put me in a home. It’s as good as signing my death warrant, I tell you.’
‘Are you going to let him do it?’
His eyes are steely when he looks at me. ‘Over my cold, dead body.’
‘Then surely, he can’t—’
‘Mum! There you are.’ Connor runs up to me, coming from the direction of the beach. His cheeks are pink with exertion, and there’s a sprig of gorse tangled in his hair.
‘Hi, love.’ I hold out my arms and am relieved when he comes into them for a hug.
‘I waited ages for breakfast,’ he says, ‘but I wanted to take a look around.’
Cliff raises his head, scowling at my son. ‘You stayed on the path, didn’t you, boy? Like I told you to? Didn’t go looking for the way in to any caves or tunnels, did you now?’
Connor’s eyes widen – which always happens when he’s being economical with the truth. ‘No, Mr Cliff. I stayed away like you said.’
‘Course you did.’ Cliff snorts. ‘Just like I was born yesterday.’
‘I didn’t go anywhere that seemed dangerous.’
‘And you’re an expert on that, are you?’
‘No.’ Connor takes a step back, looking a little cowed.
Cliff turns to me. ‘That young whippersnapper Will is right about one thing.’ He puts his hands on his hips. ‘Your son needs to learn what’s safe and what’s not. This place is full of hidden dangers for a boy. Curiosity killed more than the cat, mark my words.’
‘Hidden dangers?’ I don’t like the sound of that.
‘Around here, the tides rule the roost. Some of the inlets and caves are high and dry one minute, and the next, you’re swimming for it.
Plus, there are the old mine workings – and that means hidden shafts and rockfalls.
’ He raises a bushy eyebrow at Connor. ‘If there’s trouble to be had, you look like a boy who’s going to find it. ’
Connor shifts on his feet without answering.
‘Connor’s a good boy,’ I say. ‘And right now, he needs some breakfast. Go back up to the house,’ I direct him. ‘I’ll be there in a minute.’
Connor nods and runs up the path, seeming anxious to be away from Cliff. When he’s gone, I turn back to the old man.
‘I’d be grateful if you could show him what’s safe and what’s dangerous,’ I say. ‘If you have time.’
‘Oh, I got time. But do you, ma’am? That’s the question.’
I stare at him. Is he threatening me?
‘I’ve got time,’ I say. ‘My life is… complicated. But I wanted to come here. And we’re going to stay – at least long enough to see this through. So if you moor your boat here, I guess you could say that we’re neighbours.’
He seems to mull this over. He’s clearly a tough nut to crack, but I’m determined to do it.
‘Round here, that means something,’ he says. ‘Along with being relations.’
‘Good,’ I say. ‘I’m glad we cleared that up – though I’m still a little confused as to our exact relationship.’
Cocking his head, he glances skyward. ‘I can’t answer that, maid. But one time in hospital, as I sat there holding Vic’s hand, I did try to ask her about you. She called me an old fool – meant in the best way, of course – and said that the answer to the riddle is “hiding in plain sight”.’
‘What riddle? What was she referring to?’
‘I’m just repeating what she said. Never got any more out of her on the subject. Her illness came on suddenly and didn’t let her hang about. Lymphoma – that was the name. One moment, she was there and the next…’ He shakes his head.
‘That’s very sad,’ I say. ‘And I’m so sorry that I didn’t get the chance to meet her. But riddles or not, I hope it’s OK with you that we’re here.’
‘It’s fine, ma’am.’ He gives me a genuine smile, revealing several missing teeth. ‘Just fine.’
‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘I’m so glad—’
‘Mum, are you coming?’ Connor calls down from the top of the cliff.
I give Cliff a flustered grin. ‘I’d love to hear more about Victoria – and you, of course. And the inn. But right now, breakfast calls. Come up for a coffee and some pancakes later if you like.’
The old man looks pleasantly surprised. ‘Pancakes? Did Elspeth make ’em?’
‘No,’ I say. ‘I did. And there’s golden syrup.’
He blinks hard, like he’s throwing off an unwanted dream. ‘Been a long time since I’ve had pancakes. But I’ll need to see where the day takes me. Thanks for the invite either way.’
‘Any time – neighbour.’
Smiling, I head back up the path. Whatever the strife, feuds, unpleasant ‘young whippersnappers’, and dangers unknown, it’s a beautiful spot and I can’t quite believe I’m here.