Chapter Nine
The wind tugged at Zennor’s hair when she climbed out of her car at Rosemergy Cottage – or ‘the Shack’ as Sybil liked to call it, because it was always in need of some kind of repair.
Though in need of a little TLC, Zennor thought it was still a beautiful property.
The single-storey granite house had knockout views over a coastline that dipped and reared like a rollercoaster, hiding secret coves with enticing rock pools.
She’d called at one, intending to have a quick dip on her way to Sybil’s, and had been stunned to find Matt there.
She’d been frozen for a few seconds, watching him cleave through the pool, bringing memories of summer evenings flooding back.
The moment he’d so much as glanced her way, she’d fled to her car and sent up a cloud of dust as she sped off.
Zennor pushed open a gate encrusted with pale green lichen. Her dad had told her that it only grew where the air was pure.
‘Hello! It’s me!’ she called.
The gate rattled as it closed and she spotted Sybil in the back garden deadheading the roses.
‘Hi there,’ she said again to warn Sybil of her presence since she was so intent on pruning.
Sibyl looked up and broke into a warm smile. She took off her gardening gloves and hugged Zennor. ‘Hello again!’
‘I was hoping to find you collecting herbs to brew up a potion rather than looking after flowers,’ Zennor said.
Sybil grinned. ‘I suppose I really ought to live up to my image. Come and sit down and have a gin and tonic. It is six o’clock. The sun is over the yardarm.’
‘Actually, as I’m driving, a nice cold soft drink will be fine.’
‘How about iced coffee? I rather fancy one myself.’
‘Mmm. That sounds great. It’s been a busy day.’
While Sybil went inside, Zennor sat at the wrought-iron table under a sunshade fashioned from a sheet of corrugated plastic. Sybil had found it washed up in a nearby cove and charmed a neighbour into helping her haul it back up the coast path to the Shack.
In the distance, the Atlantic was darkest blue speckled with white horses. No other land was visible because there was no other land until you reached Canada.
The bonus of this forbidding coast was its sheer drama, which Sybil deemed appropriate as she had been to RADA in the 1980s, worked in the West End, and had a couple of minor roles in TV dramas.
She’d briefly been married to another actor but when their relationship ended, she’d sold her flat and moved back to Cornwall.
Since Matt’s parents had emigrated, she had lost touch with the Veryans, although they’d been much closer when Matt was younger.
‘Righty-o. Here we are. Not quite barista standard but exactly what’s called for on a day like this.’ Sybil set the tray of iced coffees on the table.
‘Thanks.’ Zennor swirled the ice in her glass, chinking the cubes.
Sybil leaned back in her chair with a smile. ‘I’m so pleased you came.’
‘I wanted to see you properly. Feels like we haven’t had enough time to catch up lately.’
‘This is your busy season,’ Sybil said. ‘And it’s kind of you to drive all the way out here for a social call. I’m surprised you haven’t been for a swim on a hot night like this.’
‘I don’t want to have to wash my hair,’ Zennor said smoothly. ‘I’m going out with some friends later for someone’s birthday drinks. To White Rocks, as a matter of fact, which is also why I’m here – to talk about the mermaid party.’
Sybil had already been working on some stories of mythical sea creatures suitable for the young guests and, at a pre-arranged time, they were going to move on to the terrace of the hotel, at which point the mermaid would appear, swimming in the cove below.
‘Or that’s the theory because I still haven’t booked a mermaid,’ Zennor added before draining the last of the coffee.
‘I wish I could help you there but even Sybil the Storyteller can’t be in two places at once. Besides, I didn’t get past my first badge at school.’
‘Don’t worry. You’re doing me a big favour already.’ Zennor chewed her bottom lip. ‘And … I’ve decided that I’ve no choice but to play the mermaid myself.’
Actually, Matt’s unexpected presence at the rock pool had finally made up her mind when she’d seen the weed fronds waving below his body. She should have walked away sooner but found herself rooted to the spot, unable to deny herself the pleasure of watching him unobserved.
She’d enjoyed watching him far too much. Since his return, she’d awoken too many times having dreamed – or told herself she’d dreamed – about his hands around her waist, his fingers splayed at the small of her back, his thumbs slipping down the edge of her bikini bottoms.
‘Zennor? Did you just tell me that you’re going to dress up as a mermaid for this children’s party?’ Sybil was staring at her with raised eyebrows, which wasn’t encouraging.
Zennor shook Matt from her mind. ‘I know. Terrible idea.’
‘No, no,’ Sybil said soothingly, much to Zennor’s relief. ‘It isn’t a terrible idea. You are a very strong swimmer but have you tried swimming in the tail? I hear they’re really difficult to deal with.’
‘I haven’t tried one yet, though I’ve seen the professionals using them. They’re monofins concealed inside fabric or silicone. The one the troupe loaned me is a cast-off.’
‘A cast-off?’ Sybil’s eyebrows rose. ‘Do mermaids shed their tails often?’
Zennor laughed. ‘No, but they can be damaged. Mostly, though, they like to update the designs. The silicone tails are the best but they are very heavy out of the water.’
‘Well, well. I thought I’d heard and seen everything about mermaids but I’d no idea about the logistics.’
‘Nor me. The good news is, even though they can’t do the party, they said they’d give me a quick practice session if I wanted one – and I’ll definitely need one!’
‘I’m very glad to hear it. You’re not thinking of swimming in the open sea, are you?’
‘No. The professionals do but I’m not familiar enough with the monofin so I’ve decided to sit on the rocks next to the Miners’ Pool below the hotel.
I’ve swum there loads of times and it will look like I’ve just popped up from the sea to comb my hair or whatever.
I’ll do a few dives and hang around looking mermaidy and then swim round to Bosigran Cove. ’
‘I know the Miners’ Pool well. It’s beautiful but Bosigran Cove is difficult to access down the cliffs. How are you going to get you and the tail back up to the top?’
‘Roo and her husband have said they will be waiting in the cove to help me if I need them – I just need to confirm.’
Sybil blew out a breath in approval. ‘I’m very impressed at the planning but I hope you don’t mind me saying this is a lot of trouble for a children’s party.’
‘It is but I’ve said I’ll do it and those kids have had to give up so much already. I want this one thing to be perfect for them.’
‘Well, I hope the weather and tides play along too.’
‘They were the first thing I checked. The forecast is fine and calm. I’m pretty confident it will be OK. I know what I’m doing.’
‘I’ve no doubt. I can’t wait to see it. Roll on Saturday. You know,’ she said, ‘I don’t want to get all sentimental, but I really am very proud of you. You always do go the extra mile to make sure everyone is happy.’
‘Do I?’ Zennor felt a little embarrassed at the praise. ‘Is that a good thing?’
‘Most times, yes. It’s about judging how far to go and that’s the difficult thing.
It’s just great to see you … blossoming again after what happened with Trev.
You were so quiet when you were younger.
I didn’t expect you to follow in my footsteps.
You were slow to come out of your shell at school but look at you now.
’ Sybil smiled. ‘In fact, I’ve been meaning to show you something I found when I was having a clear-out.
Now seems a good time. Come inside with me. ’
Her curiosity piqued, Zennor followed Sybil into the cottage. Even on a hot June day, the thick walls and small windows kept a lot of light and heat out.
Sybil led her into a small area off the sitting room which she used as a study. She switched on a lamp on the bureau and unlatched the door which folded down to create a writing surface.
Inside the bureau were pigeonholes stuffed with envelopes and a packet of photographs.
‘Remember when we still had to take a roll of film to the chemist to be developed? You probably won’t.’
‘Erm. I vaguely remember the little plastic pods but I was only little.’
‘Well, I certainly do and I found these.’
She showed Zennor a cardboard packet and laid out the prints on the table. They were so pale and grainy compared to modern digital ones.
‘Here you are in the Christmas panto in Year Seven.’
Zennor was dressed in a fluffy outfit. ‘Oh my God. The singing sheep. I had to sing “All I Want For Christmas Is Ewe”. I could cringe!’
‘You were very good. You stood out.’
‘As a sheep!’
‘Everyone has to start somewhere, darling. I once played a dustbin in some incomprehensible Beckett play. I was numb for a week afterwards.’ She shuddered. ‘Look at this …’
There were more photos of Zennor as a unicorn, Zennor with a microphone in hand as Sporty Spice, and another of her in red tap shoes.
‘You always really cared about the music and interpreting it. I remember helping out at one of the school shows and I thought: She’ll go far, and not just because you were my friend’s daughter.’
A warm glow spread through Zennor. She’d loved the way the music made her feel: carefree and unselfconscious.
When she’d gone to secondary school, a group from the local theatre school had visited and got the kids involved in acting in a play with music and dancing – and Zennor had felt she’d found her home.
Her parents, usually her dad, had ferried her to the theatre as often as he could and she ended up helping the younger children.
‘I always liked helping too,’ she said, picking up another photo of her in a blue dress, smiling, surrounded by younger kids at the theatre school. She’d been the oldest sister in The Sound of Music.