Chapter Six #2
‘You had enough in common to arrange a date after knowing him an hour!’ Lola pointed out.
‘Yeah … it was impulsive and part of me wants to avoid a relationship after what happened with Sean. The other part says I need to take risks again, get my heart bruised – again – if need be.’
Tammy slid a look to the bar where Sean was roaring with laughter with one of his mates.
When she’d told him they were over, he’d gone out that same night, slept with a woman who worked in the Smuggler’s, and texted her a photo of them in bed together.
It was later that he’d come over all remorseful and begged her to come back.
She hadn’t been interested in resuming the relationship before, but she definitely wasn’t once he’d sent that intimate revenge picture.
‘I do get it,’ Lola said. ‘I’m still not ready to start seeing anyone else yet, but I hope I will be one day in the not-too-distant future. You go for it. But if this Ruan the Suit does anything to hurt you, he’ll have me and the whole yoga gang to deal with. He’d better watch out.’
‘Thanks.’ Tammy laughed, touched by her friend’s concern.
‘There’s Davey to watch over me, too, though that’s a mixed blessing.
He’s already acted like my personal guard dog around Ruan.
This afternoon, he kept asking me what I know about him and where he’s from.
God, I half expected Davey to ask Ruan what his intentions were before letting him past the studio to my flat. ’
Lola laughed. ‘Between us and Davey, you’ll be OK. Come on, let’s have some cocktails and raise a glass to both our futures, with or without any man involved.’
When Tammy made it back to the flat, it was almost midnight – super late for Porthmellow, where nightlife revolved around traditional inns and a handful of bars.
Lights strung outside the pubs and eateries still shimmered in the dark waters of the harbour, though most would soon be switched off until the following evening.
She was surprised to find a light still on in the pottery studio. Davey often worked evenings, but not usually this late. Tammy braced herself for a ‘chat’ as she walked past.
However, Davey was intent on his wheel, his bare foot working the pedal while he shaped a large vase. He was hunched over and cursing under his breath. Usually, he looked at one with his wheel and work, but today, his shoulders were taut with tension.
Tammy hung back. She could easily slip past and he probably wouldn’t even notice. She certainly knew better than to disturb him in that mode of concentration, especially given that this particular piece didn’t seem to be going terribly well.
Davey was one of those talented people who could paint in different media and create beautiful ceramics, unlike Tammy, who preferred to confine herself to her sand art, even though she’d done an art degree at college.
She’d loved drawing and painting at one time, but since her father’s loss, the transience of sand art had appealed to her more and more – not to mention it demanded a lot of planning and practice.
‘It’s safe to come in now.’ Davey beckoned her from the studio. She’d been unaware he’d even noticed her presence.
She sidled into the studio and plonked herself in the ancient dining chair by his desk, both of which were relics from Tammy’s original family home.
They’d had to leave the house when she was twelve, and initially moved to a cottage in the back streets of Porthmellow before moving through a succession of rented flats.
When her dad had died, Tammy had brought the desk and chair with her to the studio. She hadn’t been sure Davey had room for them, but he’d shoehorned them in and they now seemed to be well used, which gave her some comfort.
Davey slipped a wire under the vase and placed it on the shelf next to him, presumably ready for firing in his kiln.
‘I hate the fact that you’re good at everything,’ she said with a small smile on her lips.
‘Don’t try to flatter me. You know I can’t stand it.’
‘That’s why I do it,’ she teased.
He uttered something resembling a growl which went well with his grizzled appearance. ‘You also know that you could turn your hand to any kind of art, painting, drawing, ceramics yourself. I’ve seen your portfolio, remember? You have a Fine Art degree, for God’s sake.’
‘I prefer to work with natural elements,’ Tammy said, quite happy to have this conversation again. Davey made it quite plain that he was frustrated Tammy hadn’t used her creative skills beyond sand art.
‘Coffee?’ he muttered, apparently deciding not to pursue the argument. ‘Or is it too late?’
‘On the contrary, it’s early,’ Tammy said. ‘The institute clock’s just striking midnight so it’s morning, technically.’
With a huff, he took off his apron to reveal knee-length cargos and a baggy T-shirt that might have once been green or blue but was so faded, it was impossible to tell. Only the beard was neatly trimmed, perhaps a concession to avoid frightening off his customers.
The studio had a kitchen corner with a sink, kettle, microwave and mini-fridge, all of which had seen better days. He flicked the switch on the kettle.
While he waited for it to boil and he spooned coffee into mugs of his own making, Tammy received a message on her phone and started typing her reply.
‘Was that the bailiff?’ he said, pouring water and milk into the mugs.
‘No, it isn’t the bailiff, and he’s a solicitor. It was Lola making sure I got home safely. People keep fussing about me. By the way, you should get a new fridge,’ Tammy said as he slammed the door to make it shut after he’d replaced the milk.
‘I like this one.’
‘Are you scared that if you change it, your creative powers will desert you?’
‘My, you are sharp tonight.’ He handed over the coffee and Tammy was shocked at the bags forming under his eyes. ‘Good evening?’
‘Yeah. As a matter of fact, it was.’ The remembrance of shared laughter found its way on to her face. ‘What about you?’ she asked over the rim of her coffee mug. ‘You haven’t been waiting up for me, have you?’
He shook his head and scoffed. ‘I’ve a commission for ten vases for a boutique hotel chain. They like my work, apparently, and want them in different glazes. They’re paying me more than I’d charge in the gallery.’
‘That’s good,’ Tammy said, feeling proud that Davey was earning what he was worth for a change.
‘It is, but they want them fast. Is there any chance you can do some extra hours in the gallery now you’ve finished your dad’s tribute?’
‘Sure …’ Tammy hesitated because despite her earlier pessimism, she was still hoping against hope for OceanFest to call, which would have kept her more than busy. ‘I’ve a proposal and a birthday commission, but that’s it unless OceanFest do get back to me, which isn’t likely.’
‘There’s still time,’ Davey said. ‘And while you wait, is there any chance you could man the place tomorrow?’
Tammy tutted. ‘No, but I could woman it.’
He groaned. ‘You know what I mean. Obviously, I’ll pay you.’
‘Obviously,’ Tammy replied, knowing she’d do it for nothing to help him out.
‘That’s settled then.’ Davey leaned back against the counter, weariness and relief etched on his craggy features.
He was in his mid-sixties now, though Tammy wasn’t sure of his precise age – not that it mattered.
Davey was an old friend of her father’s.
They’d played football together when they were younger and stayed mates right up until Neil’s death.
He put the mug down. ‘Scuse me. I need a pee.’
Tammy hid a smile. That was Davey. Calling a spade a spade. He went into his flat while Tammy sat back in the chair with a sigh.
Davey cared for her deeply and, in some ways, he’d taken on the role of a father to her, which she was occasionally frustrated by but also grateful for.
When Neil had passed away so suddenly, Davey, like Tammy, had been devastated.
She felt only he could understand what she was going through, though he’d hidden his grief well while supporting her.
But no matter how much Davey had supported her at the time and since, her father’s death had ripped away the fragile foundations of her world.
Even now, hearing the gulls crying on the harbourside, Tammy was reminded of the power of the sea to give and take.
It inspired her to create and then destroyed her art.
It provided a livelihood for so many people in Porthmellow, yet it could be treacherous too.
The circumstances surrounding her dad’s death had never been resolved.
His body had been found washed up on a beach further down the Lizard from Porthmellow after a fishing trip.
The wreck of his boat had never been discovered and no one knew how he’d come to be in the water, despite a police investigation. The coroner’s verdict was still ‘open’.
‘Open’ was a word that described the gaping hole that had appeared in Tammy’s life and the raw wound inflicted on her. She had felt abandoned for the second time in her life.
When Tammy was in Year Seven at secondary school, her mum had gone to live in Scotland with a new partner whom she’d met in the supermarket where they’d both worked as managers. They’d been having an affair and he’d got a transfer back to his home town near Glasgow so her mum had decided to go too.
Tammy had been given the choice of moving to a city or staying in Cornwall with her father, her friends – and the Cornish coast. Even though her mother had suggested Tammy could move with her, it had felt like abandonment.
Initially, she’d visited her mother and stepfather, but the journey had been long and costly, and difficult to make alone since her dad was reluctant to join her after the bitter split.
She’d only seen her mum once since her dad’s funeral and they rarely spoke on the phone.
Tammy had never fully forgiven her for leaving and making Tammy choose.
Perhaps it was immature to still hold that grudge, but it had also contributed to her own trust issues and fears of being abandoned.
Tammy’s father had never got over her mum leaving either.
Until then, her life had seemed idyllic, or rather it did in retrospect, given all that had happened since. They’d lived in a lovely cottage, which, though small, felt perfect. They’d been happy, but after her parents split up, their lives had slid slowly but surely downhill.
Her dad had turned to drink and gambling and told Tammy that he blamed himself for their woes, for Tammy’s mum leaving, and for losing their cottage.
He’d owed a lot of money to loan sharks and had to offload the cottage fast at a knockdown price to a man who was no friend to their family.
Although it had cleared his debts, they’d been left with very little, which had made him even more depressed.
Despite all the upheaval, Tammy managed to go to art college and develop her sand art business.
Then, when an old acquaintance surfaced in Porthmellow, her father began gambling again and ran up more debts.
He hinted that Tammy would be better off without him, but she’d refused to leave, even when she might have been able to afford a flatshare with friends.
A week after Tammy’s twenty-seventh birthday, when her cards were still in the window of their flat, her dad went missing.
She left them up for months, unable to replace them with the sympathy cards that had arrived in droves from people in Porthmellow.
She hadn’t found them comforting, merely devastating.
Each one screamed: he’s dead, he’s gone.
She simply didn’t want to see it permanently etched in black and white.
And afterwards? All of this had left her wary of relying on anyone beyond Davey, Lola and a few trusted friends. None of her ‘relationships’ lasted long and she had a reputation for breaking the hearts of more than a few local men.
Davey was one of the only men she totally trusted. Probably the only one.
‘Sorry,’ he said gruffly as he returned from the bathroom, picking up his mug again. ‘It’s my age.’
Tammy rolled her eyes. ‘You’re not old. Just busy. You’ve been working too long. You should go to bed.’
‘Shouldn’t I be telling you that?’ he joked and then sighed. ‘I am a bit knackered and wondering how I’ll keep the gallery open and finish this order.’
‘Then stop worrying about the gallery. I’ll do as many hours as it takes.’ Tammy planted a kiss on his cheek.
He grimaced but then smiled briefly. ‘Thanks, love. I appreciate the support. Sorry I haven’t been as here for you as I should have. Today of all days. If it’s any consolation, it’s hit me hard too. And you might not have noticed, but I nipped out to see you working. I took a video of the design.’
‘Did you?’ she said, surprised and slightly ashamed that she hadn’t spotted him. He must have also seen her with Ruan before she brought him back to the flat and hadn’t mentioned it. ‘I thought you were too busy in the gallery.’
‘Not too busy to pay my respects. I’ll send you the footage tomorrow.’
‘I’d like that,’ she said, aware she’d missed the end of her design disappearing while talking to Ruan. ‘Now, I have to go to bed.’ She yawned. ‘I need to be up early in the gallery and see what kind of a mess the place is in.’
Ignoring his groan of protest, she jogged up the stairs and shut the door behind her.
Outside, the pub lights had been turned off, but there were still glimmers in some cottage windows, adding to the moon’s light shining down over the sea beyond the harbour wall.
Tammy rested her gaze on the scene, unable to lay down a head that was so full of conflicting emotions.
Lola’s party, her joy in creating the tribute, Ruan’s intriguing debut in her life …
all had given her joy and satisfaction and sunlight.
Yet her father, mother and Sean still cast shadows – and then there was Davey.
Davey was worried about something. Tammy was sure it wasn’t just his concerns about making a few vases.