Chapter Twenty
Best wishes, Trevelyan.
It had been strange to see Trev’s full name on the flower card to Sybil. Zennor had only ever heard or seen it at the wedding ceremony or on their utility bills – or when his late mother had been annoyed with him, which was rare as he could do no wrong in her eyes.
Puzzling over the bouquet soon became the least of her worries as she drove up the sweeping driveway of the St Piran’s a few days later.
The last time she’d been here had been in the back of a vintage Rolls-Royce on the way to her wedding from her parents’ house. Her dad had patted her hand and told her she looked an absolute picture and she’d been bubbling over with excitement at being a bride.
Today, her fingers were clammy around the wheel as she parked in a visitor’s spot at the front of the building. She’d managed to avoid any further visits, delegating them to Roo when the previous owners had, occasionally, been looking for entertainers for their weddings and events.
However, Trev had asked her to come to the hotel to discuss the entertainment for a programme of events he wanted to get in place as soon as possible. Zennor could have sent Roo but her curiosity overrode her anxiety.
Even so, her heart beat faster when she climbed out of the car and walked up to the reception entrance in the morning sun.
It was almost the same as it had been, still grand in an understated way, with two large cordylines in granite tubs either side of the door.
However, there was a new metal sign, ‘St Piran’s Spa and Hotel’, fixed to the recently rendered walls.
Trev was making his mark already.
A chirpy bell boy opened the door for her. ‘Good morning. Welcome to the St Piran’s!’ he declared.
Zennor smiled. ‘Thanks.’
Guests were checking out and the smell of bacon and croissants drifted from the restaurant where breakfast was still being served. The receptionist called Trev and he was there within a minute.
The sight of him, striding confidently across the tiled floor, made Zennor’s stomach tighten with nerves but she smiled, knowing that she and Trev were on full public view and that anyone who knew their history might be watching to see how they greeted each other.
They knew each other too well to shake hands, and they were hardly going to kiss on the cheek, so broad smiles and an outwardly warm ‘hello’ had to do.
‘Hello. Found your way OK, then?’ he joked, leading the way through the lobby to the bar and holding the door open for her.
‘I managed,’ Zennor joked back.
At this hour, the bar was closed, although a young guy was restocking the spirits.
The St Piran’s gleamed in the morning light that poured through the doors from the terrace that overlooked the creamy sands of one of the most exclusive beaches in St Ives. Like the lobby, the bar now had a minimalist luxe vibe rather than the plush velour grandeur she remembered from her wedding.
‘This is … nice,’ she said, following him to a table and tub chairs near the grand piano. ‘Very smart.’
Rather like Trev himself in his stone chinos and black polo shirt. Once more, Zennor noted he had lost a bit of bulk. He used to work out in the gym all the time. Now, he looked more like he ran or cycled.
‘Yeah. The previous owners only had it done a couple of years ago. Unfortunately, ill health forced them to retire early.’
‘So I heard. Shame. They were occasional clients of ours.’
His interested was piqued. ‘So, you have been back here since – you know?’
‘No. Roo used to deal with them. They didn’t do a lot of social events.’ Apart from weddings, she could have added but stopped herself.
‘That’s what I want to talk to you about. Coffee?’
‘A cold drink would be nice,’ Zennor said, her hands clammy with nerves.
Trev summoned the barman and ordered the sparkling water Zennor requested and an espresso for himself.
When the barman had gone, he sat back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other, clearly at home in his new kingdom. Zennor was in no way as relaxed as Trev appeared to be and suspected he was working himself up to something unrelated to events.
‘I have to admit I’m surprised you came at all.’
‘If we’re going to be working together, then we need to set aside any personal history.’ She managed a smile. ‘I’m sure you agree with that, but before we start, I wanted to say that it was nice of you to send the flowers to Sybil. How did you hear about the accident?’
‘Shilpa told me. She heard from someone who’d been at the event.’
‘They arrived the day after. You were fast.’
‘I asked for same-day delivery.’ He frowned. ‘There’s not a problem with them, is there?’
‘No. Of course not. They were gorgeous. It was a big surprise.’
‘For Sybil or you?’ He arched an eyebrow.
‘Both of us, as a matter of fact.’
He brushed a dark thread off his chinos. ‘I find that a bit sad. The fact you’re so amazed I thought of sending flowers.’
‘I’m not amazed. It’s only …’ Zennor didn’t want to say that Trev was no fan of Sybil’s.
His smile was wry. ‘You’re amazed that I sent flowers to Sybil when we’ve never really seen eye to eye.’
‘Well, yes.’ If the past had been raked up by this conversation, it was Zennor’s fault.
‘Maybe look on it as an olive branch? I know I said some harsh things about Sybil when we were married. If I’m honest, I was a bit jealous.’
‘Of Sybil?’ Zennor burst out laughing in astonishment.
‘Of her relationship with you. You were very close. She was like a surrogate mother to you.’
‘I’m not sure my mum would be happy to hear that. I suppose I look on her as a cool auntie figure.’
‘That’s a better description. I always had the feeling she was looking down on me. I didn’t live up to her idea of a partner for you. I’ve never been cool or intellectual enough.’
Zennor laughed again, even though Trev was right that Sybil had always quietly disapproved of him.
‘I can see from your face that I’m right.’
‘I wasn’t looking for an intellectual. I’m hardly one myself!’
‘But you’re clever and talented and creative whereas I … only ever had a talent for making money. That was a black mark in Sybil’s book.’
‘Have you ever thought she knew you didn’t like her and so the two of you went in with a spiral of mutual distrust?’
‘Yeah, probably, but lately … I know she’s always been supportive of you and I guess even more so after we split up.
I’ve come to realise how much that means: having a shoulder to cry on, someone who will listen and understand how you’re feeling.
I may have been unfair to her in the past and I was genuinely concerned when I heard she had this fall. She’s not getting any younger.’
Zennor winced. ‘For God’s sake don’t let Sybil hear you say that!’
‘It’s true though – what is she? Sixty-five?’
She scoffed. ‘Sixty-two. That’s not old.’
‘No, but I know how devastated you’d be if anything happened to her.’
‘I hope that won’t be for a very long time,’ Zennor said, although Trev had lasered in on her own anxiety. She tapped her iPad. ‘So, shall we get down to business? I have another appointment in an hour.’
Trev uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. ‘First of all, as you might guess from the baby grand, I’m looking for one or more people who can play it and entertain guests on our Friday music nights.’
‘Oh, I can definitely help you with that.’
Zennor ran through the jazz pianists and similar artists they had on the books who she thought would be suitable for relaxed evenings in the hotel bar.
She also suggested Trev run some drink/meal combos – Blues and Burgundy, Gin and Jazz and so on – alongside the music evenings, which had worked very well for other boutique hotels and a jazz bar in St Ives.
After he’d taken a look at some of the reels for the artistes on her iPad, Trev was interrupted by a staff member with an urgent query.
To give him some privacy and her the chance for a breather, Zennor wandered out on to the terrace.
She inhaled the sea air deeply and took in the view that stretched to the island with its ancient chapel and beyond, past the surf of Porthmeor and along the coast. Shilpa’s hotel, the mermaid pool and Sybil’s were out of sight towards the west.
She risked a glance to the east, knowing what she would see on the lawn above the cliff edge and finding – nothing but neatly mown grass.
‘Are you wondering where the pavilion’s gone?’
Trev had joined her on the balcony.
‘Yes. I mean, not really. I just knew that something was different.’
‘It was taken down before I bought the place. The owners intended to get something less flimsy but they didn’t get round to it. Apparently it was always too open to the elements there anyway.’
He leaned on the rail and looked out over the sea, glistening with countless sparkles. Gulls wheeled and cried overhead. It would be an idyllic spot if it didn’t have such bittersweet associations.
He kept his eyes on the horizon. ‘It’s time to leave the past behind and make a fresh start.’
Unease tugged at her. ‘I agree. Let’s not go backwards.’
‘I’d like to tell you something. At the Magic Lantern Festival, I said that my perspective on life had shifted since I lost Mum.’
This really was a new Trev, the previously self-contained model of bravado now asking to talk about his feelings. ‘I understand,’ she said. ‘Go on, please.’
‘I know I’ve always wanted to be in control of everything in life and I’m aware – now – that being a control freak isn’t necessarily a good thing.
It made me too possessive – of both the business and of you.
You never needed protecting. I realise that now.
’ He smiled disarmingly. ‘It took me a long time to accept that I couldn’t have done anything for Mum, even if I’d been at home when her aneurysm ruptured.
I know that she would want me to get on with my life. ’
Tears filled Zennor’s eyes. She had loved Trev once and that was hard to forget – in fact, she didn’t want to. Breaking up was about not forgetting the past as much as putting memories in perspective, forgiving yourself and moving on.
‘I’m sure that’s what your mum would have wanted. I know everyone trots out that kind of phrase but I mean it. She worshipped you.’
He laughed. ‘God knows why. I’m not the golden boy any longer. I never was.’
Zennor gave an inner gasp of surprise. Could this be Trev? Self-deprecating? ‘Sandra would still think so,’ she said kindly, because she couldn’t think of any other reply.
‘So, I honestly don’t hold a grudge against Matt any longer. Not much of one, anyway.’ He smiled but Zennor couldn’t bring herself to do the same. She wasn’t quite sure if he was joking.
‘And in hindsight, I realise that I was a cocky bastard. I was arrogant enough to think I could flirt with other women and you’d know it meant nothing. Because it didn’t.’
‘Trev. We’ve been through this before so many times.’
‘Yes, but now I can see myself and my behaviour though a different lens.’ His eyes pleaded with her to listen.
‘You did flirt,’ she murmured. ‘And you laughed it off when I complained. You said I was insecure.’
‘God, I am so sorry. What an arsehole I was.’
Zennor was too full of conflicting feelings to reply to that.
Trev did enjoy the attention of other women, although he’d joked that they’d chatted him up.
At first, Zennor had found it amusing to know that she was the only one he was interested in, or, as he had liked to put it, ‘The only woman I truly see.’
It was only after their engagement that she’d begun to question if Trev was being a little too encouraging of the flattery.
Initially, she had wanted to believe that Matt had driven the first spike into the structure of their marriage, but would he have been able to do that if there hadn’t been a crack there anyway?
She couldn’t stay silent any longer. ‘You used to say, “I’m safe now that I’m spoken for. They feel safe in flirting because they know I’m taken. No one can possibly take it seriously because they know you’re the only woman for me and always will be.”’
He swallowed. ‘If I could turn back time …’ His hand moved as if he was about to reach for hers but she stepped away from the balcony rail, feeling the conversation had strayed too far into dangerously emotional territory.
‘You can’t. We can’t. I don’t want to. I’ll contact the artists we discussed and I’ll ask them to come and meet you – perhaps do a trial gig.’
‘Zennor, I hope I haven’t upset you …’ Trev said.
‘No, you haven’t, but I need to get back to the office. I’ll speak to you very soon. Thanks for the drink. I can find my own way out. I’m sure you have a hundred things to do.’
Without waiting for him to reply, she walked back to the bar, wanting to run but not daring to. Soon, she was in her car, not even looking back to see if Trev had followed her.
She’d been dreading this meeting and, as expected, it had disturbed her – though not quite in the ways she’d anticipated.
She’d expected Trev to revert to his arrogant self once he was in his own domain and, initially, he’d seemed to do exactly that.
Then he’d pulled the rug out from under her.
Loss and grief had clearly left their mark on him.
He wasn’t different but he had undergone a sea change in the way he saw life.
As for Trev having forgiven Matt? Zennor certainly wasn’t convinced that had or was about to happen any time soon.
Later, when she got back to her flat, Zennor went straight to the bedroom where the photo of her and Trev in the wedding pavilion had found its way on to a pile of letters and cards on her bedside cabinet.
She’d always intended to bin it but hadn’t got round to it.
Now the pavilion had been removed, maybe it was a sign to finally bin all traces of the past.
She walked into the kitchen with it and stood by the bin.
It had been a beautiful day. She did look happy, and she genuinely had been full of hopes for the future. She’d thought they could overcome any niggling differences and settle into married life.
She pressed the pedal and flipped open the lid.
A question niggled at her: if Trev had been the man he was today, if Matt hadn’t driven that spike in – would they have stayed together? Would they be happy and settled with kids even?
But in this other life, would she be following her other dream of running her own entertainment agency?
She let the lid fall back and put the photo back on her bedside table – alongside the letter Matt had sent after her wedding.