Chapter 3
Three
Painter of women. Realist school. Look at paintings of women and girls in Cornwall and depiction of light. Long career, often overlooked – because female?
(Taken from Calliope Thorne’s teaching notes.)
The following morning dawned bright and clear, so Callie ventured out to explore the town which was to be her home for the next few weeks. She inched down the steep path to where her car was parked and found herself on the hill which led towards Lullbury Bay harbour.
An elderly man huffing his way upwards paused and held on to the lamppost.
Callie looked at him in concern. ‘Are you okay?’
He waved a hand and paused before answering, waiting to get his breath back. ‘Good morning. Nice day for it.’
‘Morning.’ She looked up at a peerless blue sky eager to get her paints out. ‘It is.’ Returning to focus on the old man she asked again, ‘But are you sure you’re all right?’
He tutted. ‘Tell you the truth, my lovely, I’m right cross with myself.
Since the passing of my Gretel, I’ve let myself get unfit.
She was my German Shepherd, see. Walked her for miles round the town.
Always at my side.’ Fumbling in his pocket, he drew out a large white handkerchief.
Taking off his glasses he peered at them and polished the lenses vigorously.
‘I’m so sorry. I’ve never been able to have a dog, but I know they leave a huge hole when they go.’
Replacing his specs he regarded her owlishly.
‘That they do. We had a funeral service for her. Ever so nice. The vicar led it in the church.’ He shook his head, his jowls wobbling.
‘Wonderful woman is Verity. Wonderful.’ Rubbing his chest, he added, ‘I’ll be as right as rain once I’m at the top of this bugger.
They don’t call it God Almighty Hill for nothing. ’
Callie was confused. Had she encountered the local eccentric? A funeral for a dog? And God Almighty Hill? ‘I’m Callie. I’m staying in Sea Haven House just back there but I’m pretty sure the address is Harbour Hill.’
‘Oh, old Gracie Grosvenor’s place.’ He nodded.
‘I knows it. Nice place. Lovely bit of garden. And you’re right, Harbour Hill is what it’s called and what the grockles call it.
Born and bred Lullbury Bay me. Always knows it as God Almighty Hill.
’ He reached out a hand to shake. ‘Nice to meet you, Callie. Austin Ruddick.’
She shook it. ‘Why?’
‘Dunno, my lovely.’ He gazed at her from milky blue eyes. ‘Suppose me old mother liked the name.’
Callie giggled. ‘No, I mean why is it called God Almighty Hill?’
‘Because, and especially when you gets to my age, by the time you’ve got to the top, all you can gasp out is, “God almighty!” Nice talking to you. Will see you around I expect, it’s a small place. Lovely spot to live. Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.’
He waved and was striding uphill before Callie could ask him what a grockle was.
Laughing to herself, she carried on walking down to the harbour, trying not to think of her straining knees and the return climb back to the cottage.
She passed several houses, huddled at right angles to the road.
One called Christmas Tree Cottage made her smile.
Reaching the RNLI station, she admired the dogs created from yellow wellington boots and carried on wandering around the harbour.
The strong smell of fish from the boats and the heaps of lobster and crab pots made her nostrils shrink.
It didn’t seem to put people off, though, as tourists thronged around her, many walking dogs, some with children in tow carrying buckets and fishing nets.
Reaching the end tip of the harbour wall, she found a bench to sit on and paused to take in the view.
This was what she needed to paint. The dip and surge of the cliff lines made her ache to paint them.
The sea deepened to a navy with rich foamy waves cresting and the horizon smudged into the distance so that sky and sea merged into one everlasting, heavenly shade of blue.
The promenade stretched from the harbour to another steep hill at the other end of town.
She could just about glimpse the trail of the high street as it curved upwards, with the sun glinting hotly on car windscreens.
A glorious sandy beach fringed the sea, already dotted with family groups.
Screams of delight drifted over to her on the breeze as children ran into the sea.
A row of pastel coloured beach huts completed the scene.
As an example of an English seaside resort, it was pretty perfect.
The lifeboat chugged back in through the harbour mouth and she watched as it was towed aboard a tractor to be taken into the station. Volunteers all kitted out in yellow and red stood around chatting. The scene lacked any urgency so she guessed it was a training exercise.
Taking a few pictures with her phone she thought how much Frida would have loved all this.
Stamping on the pang of loneliness she vowed to begin to let go.
Being so dependent on her daughter’s company wasn’t healthy.
For either of them. She should be glad Frida had decided to go off and do her own thing this summer.
Callie scuffed a fragment of crab shell away with her toe, its strong fishy odour rising pungently. She refused to give in to the low mood which threatened. Hadn’t she always done things independently, relied on herself?
Early experiences had taught her people generally let her down.
It was safer to be self-reliant. And, if she thought she was going to be lonely, she could have invited her old friend Donna if it was possible to prise her away from her children, or Karen from school, or one of her other friends from choir.
Callie wrinkled her nose, watching as a massive herring gull swooped down and carried off the crab shell.
She smiled. Maybe it was just as well only she had turned up at Sea Haven House.
What would have happened with the double-booking otherwise?
There were only two double rooms. She liked her friends enormously but not enough to share a bed for three weeks.
It would have been either herself or Johnny going home.
The thought of turning round and tackling the return journey up the M5 filled her with horror.
At least this way she’d actually get a holiday.
And sharing with a stranger was turning out to be okay.
Uneventful. Johnny had been nowhere to be seen this morning; he must have gone out early.
If this carried on, they’d be able to coexist in a civilised manner.
Her stomach rumbled reminding her she’d not eaten, so she made her way back along the harbour, over a wide space in front of gates claiming it was the yacht club and was halted by the tantalising aroma of bacon drifting into the sea air from a café.
Going up to it, her stomach protested even more but, as she peered through the windows, she couldn’t see an empty table. The place was rammed.
‘Going in?’ enquired a friendly voice behind her.
Turning she saw a tiny woman of maybe about her own age. ‘I don’t think there’s room. Shame as I’m starving.’
‘Come in and share my table. Tracey can always find me somewhere to perch. We can’t have you starve. I’m Avril by the way.’
Callie hesitated. The woman could just be friendly or could be another of the town’s odd characters. ‘I don’t know,’ she said lamely.
‘Get away with you. Come on in. I’m only suggesting sharing a table, not proposing marriage. You want to eat, I know there’ll be a space. Solves a problem, doesn’t it?’
Callie’s stomach rumbled yet again. Last night’s omelette hadn’t been very filling.
‘If you’re sure and you don’t mind,’ she began saying and was inside the café sitting at a tiny table for two by the counter before she knew it.
Inside, the café was a comforting fug of steamy cooking smells, happy chatter and a radio playing eighties oldies in the background.
Hunger overcame any social anxiety, and she began to relax.
‘Now then, what can I get you?’ A curvy woman, with frizzy pink curls and pad and pencil in hand, approached. ‘Hello, Avril, my lovely. How you doing this day, maid?’
‘I’m great, Tracey. Having a rare day of freedom. Day off from work and Merryn is over at Holly’s. This is,’ Avril turned to Callie, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name. I was so busy bullying you in here I didn’t ask!’
‘Callie Thorne. I’m staying at Sea Haven House.’
‘Oh, that’s just up the hill from us. We live at Christmas Tree Cottage.’
‘I saw it on my walk down. Lovely name.’
‘It is, isn’t it?’ Avril beamed. ‘We love it. Don’t know about you but I’m in the mood for a full Lullbury.’
‘A what?’
‘A full English breakfast. The usual eggs, bacon and beans but,’ Avril paused and winked, ‘even more so. Bit like the town itself.’
Thinking of the eccentric Austin she’d encountered on the way down Callie smiled and agreed. ‘Sounds wonderful. I’ll have the same. I didn’t eat much last night.’
‘Coming right up. Pot of tea too?’ Tracey asked. ‘And toast?’
Both women nodded.
‘Are you on holiday, Callie?’ Avril asked, when Tracey bustled off through a door with a porthole window.
‘Yes. Arrived last night. Getting my bearings this morning. I was heading to the Art School, but my stomach had other ideas.’
Avril grimaced in sympathy. ‘I find it almost impossible to walk past the Sea Spray Café myself. It’s murder for the diet.
And I advise you to steer well clear of The Codfather.
Once tasted, their chips are never forgotten.
I swear there’s something addictive in them.
My little girl, Merryn, is obsessed.’ The tea arrived and Avril poured for them both.
‘She’s ten now. Going into Year 6 in the autumn.
I can’t believe it. They grow up so fast.’
Callie covertly checked her phone. Still no new text from Frida. ‘Tell me about it. My daughter’s on holiday in Ibiza and hasn’t returned my text.’
‘How old is she?’
‘Frida’s twenty-three.’
‘Frida? Unusual name.’
‘I named her after Frida Kahlo.’
‘Wonderful painter.’
‘She was. Unfortunately, Frida my daughter hasn’t inherited any of Frida the painter’s spirit. Don’t get me wrong,’ Callie added hastily, feeling disloyal, ‘she’s a really lovely girl and I’m very proud of her but she’s quite a young twenty-three. Bit directionless.’
Avril added milk to their mugs, nodding in sympathy.
‘I can’t claim my Merryn has a lack of spirit.
Rather too much to be honest.’ She sighed.
‘You never stop worrying about them, do you? I’ve a boy too and he’s married, and I still worry about him.
’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Bit of a gap between my two offspring. He and my daughter-in-law are in Scotland at the moment. Honor’s the deputy head at the primary school in town so she has to grab her chance for a holiday in August.’
‘Same here.’ Callie stirred her tea. She was warming to Avril. ‘I’m an art teacher. Secondary for my sins. Have you always lived here?’
‘No. Haven’t lived here very long at all.
’ Avril sipped. ‘But there’s something so welcoming about the place it didn’t take us very long to feel at home.
My son volunteers for the RNLI and Merryn’s very happy at school.
She’s with her best friend today.’ She pulled a comical face.
‘Holly has horses so we find it hard to compete.’
Callie laughed.
‘I have a job at Bee’s Books and I run a community group there. I love it. You’ll have to pop in, it’s a real old-fashioned book shop with a community space attached.’
‘Sounds wonderful. And what does your husband do?’
Avril’s face clouded, all merriment gone.
She looked into her mug. ‘I’m a widow,’ she said eventually, looking up to give Callie a tight smile.
‘It’s taken me a long time to say that without crying.
I’m on my own with Merryn now Jago’s married.
It’s just the two of us. Oh, and an assortment of Merryn’s animals. ’
Callie gasped and put a hand up to her mouth to cover her embarrassment. ‘I’m so sorry. I had no right to pry.’
‘You didn’t pry, my lovely.’ Avril shrugged softly. ‘We were making small talk, getting to know one another. After all, we’ll be near neighbours for a while.’
There was a pause while the women drank tea, lost in their thoughts.
‘It’s just the two of us as well,’ Callie said eventually. ‘Me and Frida. Always has been. I got pregnant young and the father slid into the night never to be seen again.’ It wasn’t quite the truth, but it was the one she told.
Avril put a hand over Callie’s. ‘That must have been so hard. However did you manage?’
‘Had to, I suppose.’ Callie was beginning to like this woman a lot.
Her sympathy was genuine and came from a place of understanding.
‘Didn’t help that my family more or less disowned me.
I didn’t like their way of parenting, so I was determined to be different with Frida.
’ She pulled a rueful face. ‘I worry I’m too overprotective though.
’ She nodded to her phone, remaining stubbornly silent.
‘Like this holiday. She was supposed to come with me here but decided to go off to Ibiza instead. It’s not like her.
We’ve always holidayed together in August, even if I could only afford a long weekend.
I was looking forward to spending a few weeks with her.
School’s been so busy this year I worry I’ve neglected her and wanted to reconnect.
It’s not only that. Something’s wrong and I don’t know what it is. ’
‘Hard when she’s so far away.’ Avril leaned back. ‘From experience all I can say is they share their worries when they’re ready. And I’ve learned nagging does nothing.’
‘So I shouldn’t keep texting her?’
‘Probably not a good idea. I’m sure she’s fine, having an amazing time with her friends and sleeping it off on the beach. Is she a sensible girl?’
Callie nodded as their breakfasts arrived. ‘She is. Bit immature, bit easily led but I can trust her to do the right thing. I think. Thanks, Avril.’
‘For what?’ The woman arched a surprised brow.
‘Listening to a stranger witter on.’
‘You’ll find you won’t be a stranger in Lullbury Bay for very long. The town has a way of reaching into your heart and it doesn’t let go.’ Avril cut into her fried egg. ‘How long are you staying?’
‘Three weeks.’ Callie mumbled through a mouthful of the most delicious bacon she’d ever eaten. Salty and crisp and cooked to perfection. Dipping a corner of her toast into her sunny-orange egg, she almost moaned. ‘This is so good.’
‘Three weeks? That’s a long time. My goodness, Callie. You’ll be a local come the Bank Holiday!’