Thirty-Three
‘What are you up to today?’ I ask Claire as we sit down for breakfast on Saturday morning.
‘I’ve got a meeting about the school reunion,’ Claire says, sipping on her cup of tea.
‘Oh, right,’ I reply, trying not to sound too dismissive. Claire already knew what I thought about the reunion she was organising for the ‘Class of 1990.’
‘It’s happening, Frankie, whether you like it or not. I know a lot of people are looking forward to it, even if you aren’t.’
Claire originally tried to organise a reunion for the thirtieth anniversary of us leaving school in the summer of 2020. But unfortunately for Claire, this momentous anniversary also coincided with another momentous event – one that spread a little further around the world than our ex-classmates – a global pandemic on a scale no one had ever witnessed before.
The reunion had to be postponed when a second wave of Covid-19 broke out, and then again when the school decided to have some renovation work done over the course of one summer. So here we are now in 2024, and finally Claire has decided to try one last time to reorganise the event – the occasion, 2024 is the year the majority of the class will be celebrating their fiftieth birthdays.
‘Claire, you know that’s not fair. I said I’d come, didn’t I? And that I’d help you out on the night with everything. Forgive me if I’m not super excited to see a load of people I haven’t spoken to in over thirty years.’
‘You have spoken to them. What about the other mermaids – they are all coming.’
‘Four of us already live here! One never left,’ I say, winking at Claire. ‘And the other three have gradually made their way back over the years.’
Claire, Eddie and I are not the only ones of our original group who have found their way back to St Felix. Rob now lives here as well.
Part of me was shocked when Rob said he was coming back to St Felix in 2023. But part of me wasn’t at all surprised.
My life has only changed for the good during the last decade, but the last ten years haven’t been kind to Rob at all.
I first learnt that Rob had cancer when I was in a doctor’s surgery. It was pre-pandemic, so surgeries still had magazines for you to thumb through while you were waiting for your appointment. When I read that Hollywood heartthrob Rob Matthews had a brain tumour, I nearly dropped the copy of Hello!
on the waiting room floor. But I quickly read the short article that said he was getting treatment, and his prognosis was good. But they had to call my name three times over the surgery tannoy before I registered they were calling me for my appointment.
When I got back to Claire’s and told her, we tried to contact Rob. But his mobile kept going straight to answerphone, so in the end we emailed instead.
A few days later we got a reply from Rob saying not to worry and he was getting treatment from the best oncologist in LA. And his prognosis was very good.
That was in January 2020, and of course we did worry, but not just about Rob. Very quickly everyone was worried as Covid-19 gradually locked down the world bit by bit.
St Felix was very strange during the pandemic. During the first lockdown we went from a bustling seaside resort to a ghost town in a matter of days. Even in the winter months the town was usually still busy, with holidaymakers taking refreshing brisk walks on the beaches and warming themselves afterwards with a coffee or a hot chocolate.
But suddenly, when we were all told to ‘Stay at Home’, that stopped. The streets were deserted, the shops closed, the takeaways shut.
Claire and I had each other, Rosie, and Claire’s youngest, Freddie, who was still living at home then, for company. The children were homeschooled, which Claire and I took turns to attempt to try to help with, and to keep busy I painted a lot, because of course the Lyle gallery was closed too.
To begin with, we couldn’t even see Eddie and Dexter, who also couldn’t work because their café and restaurant had to close down. Eventually they were able to reopen as takeaway only, and then, with huge restrictions due to the number of diners they could accommodate with social distancing, their restaurant opened again too. It was an incredibly difficult time for them, but they managed to survive – just – and only now were they beginning to make a profit again, so their little business could thrive, not simply survive.
But, after a couple of false starts, eventually the world began to open up again, and by the spring and summer of 2021 St Felix was gradually getting fully back on its feet.
‘Exactly, so it’s not like you won’t know anyone.’
‘Claire, calm down. I know you’re worried about it all going smoothly, but with you in charge it can’t fail. You’re one of the most organised people I know.’
These days, Claire runs her own very successful therapy business. She took some time out after her mother died to think about what she wanted to do with the rest of her life and quickly decided that she wanted to build on what she already did with her self-help groups. She went back to college part time, trained and subsequently qualified as a therapist and counsellor. Much of this was done online during the pandemic years, after which Claire converted the children’s old games room into a comfortable and relaxing space to see her clients in. This, along with her self-help groups, keeps Claire super busy, but she still always seems to have the time to pitch in with good causes that need her help, or in this case school reunions that need organising.
‘Hmm . . . perhaps,’ Claire says, but secretly she looks pleased. ‘So what are you doing today – the usual?’
‘Yep, heading to the gallery first to open up. But Jessica is in today, so if it’s not too busy I might finish up early and head to the pub. Rob said he wanted to speak to me about something.’
Jessica is my part-time assistant in the gallery. Much like Rose took me on when I was at school as some extra help, Jessica came along just at the right time when the shop was getting busier and I needed someone to look after customers, so I could be left in peace to get on with creating my artwork behind the scenes. Jessica worked Saturday and Sunday, and occasionally weekday afternoons in the busier summer months. She was lovely, and even though she was only seventeen, I trusted her completely to look after my gallery and shop.
‘What does Rob want to talk to you about?’ Claire asks with interest.
‘No idea. But I said I’d pop in after the lunchtime rush and have a word.’
‘Can you check with him if he got my email about the reunion? I need him to confirm in writing if the pub can do the bar for us. And I have to get a special licence for the school.’
‘Will do!’ I say, saluting. ‘Email and licence.’
‘Thank God it was Rob who took over the pub. I’m sure Rita and Richie would have been fine with helping out. But what if it had been someone less helpful who’d bought it when it went up for sale? It’s one less thing to worry about knowing Rob will be in charge on the night. I know he won’t let me down.’
Rob decided to give up Hollywood after the pandemic and, to our surprise, bought the Merry Mermaid when it went up for sale last year. His cancer diagnosis and subsequent battle with it during the pandemic, when he was immunocompromised and had to be super careful, meant he became incredibly isolated and as a result incredibly lonely too. So, after he got the all-clear, Rob decided that it was time for a new chapter of his life. And he couldn’t think of anywhere better to begin that new chapter than here in St Felix.
Just like his parents before him, he now owns and runs the Merry Mermaid. At first, he wasn’t here all the time as he had some contracted acting jobs he needed to complete, so he brought in a temporary manager to work alongside the few remaining part-time staff the pub already had.
But now he is here the majority of the time and, aside from the press tour he was contractually obliged to take part in over in New York recently, is now finished with Hollywood. He spends most of his time behind the bar, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him happier.
I glance at my watch, ‘I’d better go, or I’ll be late opening up. Takeaway for dinner later?’
‘Of course!’ Claire says, smiling. ‘What movie is it tonight?’
Claire and I had a Saturday evening routine – which like many other people was takeaway and a movie. We mixed the movies up, and we were currently going through an eighties phase – taking us back to our school days.
‘ Back to the Future
,’ I reply, carrying my plate and mug across to the kitchen sink and rinsing them. ‘Kind of appropriate really with you organising the school reunion right now.’
Claire looks puzzled.
‘The Enchantment Under the Sea dance?’ I say. ‘It’s from that movie, isn’t it?’
‘Of course! How could I forget? Ooh, do you think I should give the reunion a theme like that?’
I hold up my hand. ‘Claire, I think you’ve got enough on your plate without overcomplicating things with a theme. You’ll have us all dressing up as mermaids again next. And before you even think about it – no way!’
Claire grins. ‘You know me too well. All right, I’ll keep it simple . . . probably.’
I shake my head as I load my breakfast things into the dishwasher. ‘That will be the day!’
After a busy morning and afternoon in my gallery, where we sell five paintings – a great day for me – I leave Jessica to close up and I head down towards the harbour and the pub at around four o’clock. I know the Merry Mermaid will still be busy, but late afternoon is usually its quietest time.
Having an ex-Hollywood movie star as a landlord has increased the pull of the already popular pub, so along with all the usual holidaymakers keen to drink in the ancient building, there is now a constant stream of Rob’s fans making the pilgrimage down to Cornwall just to have a drink there and the chance of spotting him behind the bar.
It was strange at first to have Rob back here again. It took me long enough to get used to living here again myself, but to have another blast from the past with my teenage boyfriend in the same town was disconcerting at first, but now I was used to it, it was kind of nice as well.
The familiar benches outside the pub are packed on this sunny spring afternoon as I head past them and in through the open door into the bar.
Rob, as he is often found, is leaning over the bar having a selfie with two customers. Their grins and flushed faces as they take their drinks from him and head outside are nothing unusual. I’ve witnessed it hundreds of times since Rob came back to St Felix.
He looks up as I walk towards the bar and smiles.
My stomach, so long at the mercy of a Rob Matthews smile, is these days much more in control of its actions. Rob and I are now simply very good friends, nothing more, nothing less. When I first found out he was coming back here, I was worried. Especially after Eddie’s party. But the Rob who arrived back in St Felix, post-pandemic and post-cancer, was a different Rob; a changed man, many would call him. I just call him my old mate, Rob.
‘Hey,’ he says, smiling, still with a perfect set of white Hollywood veneers. But these days the Botox is long gone from his face, and in its place, the usual lines and wrinkles of a nearly fifty-year-old man. ‘Thanks for coming over.’
‘No problem,’ I say, pulling up a stool at the end of the bar ready to perch on. ‘How was your trip?’
‘So, so,’ Rob says, moving along towards the end of the bar with me. ‘No, don’t sit down here; there’s no way I’ll be able to talk to you if we try in the bar – you know what it’s like.’
I nod. I long ago gave up trying to have a conversation with Rob in public, because we’d always be disturbed by a fan wanting a selfie, or, more rarely these days, an autograph scrawled in black marker over a photo of Rob.
‘Where do you want to go, then?’ I ask. ‘The town is pretty busy this afternoon.’
‘Give me a minute,’ Rob says. ‘I’ll be right with you.’
Rob disappears out back and reappears a few moments later in the disguise of many a celebrity – dark glasses and a baseball hat, which, surprisingly, usually works for him. Particularly in the summer months, when he blends in easily with many other men wearing something similar. In the winter months, Rob would usually pull on either another baseball cap alongside a thick anorak, or a tweed cap with a wax jacket, in an effort to go unnoticed.
‘Ready?’ he asks, pulling the peak of the cap well down.
‘Sure, where shall we go?’
‘I have an idea . . . ’
We walk up away from the busy harbour towards the grassy hill.
‘We’ve no chance of the viewing area being empty today if that’s where you’re thinking of going?’ I tell him. ‘The beautiful weather means everywhere is heaving with people.’
‘We could at least check? I know we won’t be disturbed there.’
‘All right.’ I shrug, wondering what it is Rob wants to talk about that matters so much if we’re disturbed.
We walk up the hill and over the grass, and just as I suspected there is already a young couple sitting up on the little wooden bench that has recently been added to the viewing area.
But as we approach, they see us and stand up. Rob lifts his hand and they wave back.
‘Do you know them?’ I ask. This isn’t the usual sort of reaction Rob’s fans give if they recognise him. Usually it’s disbelief, mixed with excitement or panic on their faces, but this couple is remarkably calm.
‘I may have asked them to reserve the bench for us,’ Rob says with a half-smile.
‘But why?’ I ask, not as surprised by this as I once would have been. Even after buying the pub, Rob still has a very healthy bank account – which he had no qualms at all about admitting to me one day – and it would seem that money can buy you almost anything in life. Including, on this occasion, a reservation on a bench with a view.
‘I told you – I don’t want us to be disturbed. Come on.’
We climb the final part of the hill and sit down on the bench.
‘Remember when this was just rock,’ Rob says, taking off his shades and looking at the little bench. ‘It’s much better now, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. I’m surprised the council forked out for it, though. They’ve been pretty strapped for cash since the pandemic.’
‘Would it shock you to know I paid for it?’ Rob says.
I look at him for a moment. ‘No, actually it wouldn’t. It’s lovely of you, of course, and much more comfortable to sit here now. But why?’
‘This place is special to me – it always has been since we came here on our first date all those years ago.’
I nod, but hurriedly gaze out at the sea wondering again what Rob has brought me here for. He’s behaving a bit oddly, and I wonder again why it’s so important that we’re not disturbed? Suddenly a horrible
feeling begins to form in the pit of my stomach. Rob isn’t going to tell me he has feelings for me again, is he? Or worse . . .
I turn my head slowly, fearing I might find Rob down on one knee, but he is just sitting like I am, looking out at the view.
‘Do you feel the same about it, Frankie?’ he asks, still gazing outwards.
‘Yes,’ I reply, a sense of relief seeping slowly through me. Of course Rob wasn’t going to propose – why would he, when we’re just friends? ‘This place has always held a special place in my heart, and not only because we had our first date here. I remember a time that Rosie and I sat here together before Eddie’s fortieth birthday, actually his wedding as it turned out. I realised for the first time that day how much Rosie loved St Felix too. We actually sat and wished we could come back and live here. It seemed like such a remote pipe dream that day, but somehow it did actually happen.’
‘Do you miss her?’
‘Of course. Every day. But she’s happy, and that is all you ever want for your children – for them to be happy.’
‘I wish I’d had a child,’ Rob says. ‘I’ve left it a bit late now, though.’
‘Are you sure you haven’t got one tucked away somewhere?’ I grin. ‘All the girlfriends you’ve had over the years.’
But Rob doesn’t see the funny side, as he usually does to a joke made about his many exes.
‘Perhaps I have, but what’s the point if you never know them?’
‘It’s not too late, you know? I mean it is for me, of course, but for a man approaching his fifties it’s nothing these days. You’re still considered a viable baby-making machine, whereas I’m just old and menopausal!’
Again, to my surprise Rob is silent. Usually I’d have expected a witty retort from him. That’s the type of relationship we have these days – we can laugh and joke with each other, each of us knowing it’s always meant in a friendly, light-hearted way.
I look across at him. ‘All right, what’s wrong? And before you say nothing, don’t bother, I know you too well.’
Rob turns towards me now and even under the peak of his cap I can see he’s ashen-faced. ‘It’s the cancer, Frankie,’ he says in a low voice. ‘It’s back.’