Chapter 12
I never thought I’d feel sorry to have dry land under my feet. But as I step from the motorboat to the dock, a part of me feels bereft. It’s been a near perfect day, and I haven’t had too many of those recently.
‘Let’s do it again soon.’ Ollie gives me a long kiss on the lips.
‘Yes, please,’ I say, breathless. ‘And I was wondering… I mean, do you want to come up to the inn for supper?’
I shouldn’t be asking this – it sounds needy and I’ve got the kids to think about. But isn’t it natural to want to prolong the good times? To make sure they really happened?
He shakes his head apologetically, gesturing to the barque. ‘I’m afraid we’ve got to get the ship back to her berth,’ he says. ‘We need to prepare for a team bonding day tomorrow.’ He wrinkles his nose. ‘Investment bankers, I think. This week is looking pretty busy, but I’ll take a raincheck.’
‘OK,’ I say. ‘Fair enough.’
As Ollie speeds away in the small outboard, I think about the Bess in the portrait, staring out of the window at her lover’s ship.
Had she once spent a perfect day like this, standing at the prow of a ship, the wind whipping her hair, the arms of her lover holding her close, keeping her safe?
Showing her the true meaning of love and desire?
I know they say it’s better to have loved and lost but the losing really does feel hard.
Which, in my case, hasn’t even happened yet.
Bess’s story didn’t have a happy ending, but there’s no reason to imagine that mine will be equally tragic.
The road from the beach is chock-a-block with vehicles leaving the car park.
Two of them divert to the museum, which I find surprising, but somewhat hopeful.
But there’s another surprise too, and I’m not sure what to make of it.
Bridget is sitting at one of the picnic tables near the cliff path that overlooks the cove.
And – she’s not alone. I recognise the tall boy from the ice cream van.
He’s sitting very close to her and when a wisp of her dark hair blows across her face, he brushes it back.
Though I got on well with Bridget’s last boyfriend (at least until they split up), that relationship seemed very Gen Z and urban.
But somehow, seeing her with this boy in a beautiful setting – with the sun sinking lower and the clouds beginning to turn orange with a touch of pink – it seems incredibly romantic and bittersweet.
It’s like a moment snatched from a past century when first loves were innocent.
The boy leans in and kisses her, his hand wandering underneath her top.
Instantly, as her mother from this century, I bristle.
This won’t be as innocent as I want to believe.
Still, it might be a positive distraction for her and maybe she’ll stop talking about wanting to return to London every two seconds. A distraction… we all need one sometimes.
Though I’m tempted to spy – or simply make myself known and disrupt the hanky-panky – I decide just to leave them to their own devices.
It’s nearly suppertime, and having left the kids with Elspeth all day, I want to cook something nice.
Spaghetti Bolognese should do it – and, if worse comes to worst and Bridget’s new beau ends up staying for dinner, there should be enough to go around.
As I’m going back round to the front of the inn, Elspeth comes out of the museum.
‘Hi,’ I say. ‘Did they behave themselves?’
‘Oh yes.’ Her smile looks genuine. ‘We had a nice time. But the kids wanted to come back here. Things to do, people to see.’
‘I think I’ve just seen why Bridget was eager to get back.’
‘Alex Furze – the ice-cream boy.’ Her smile fades into something troubled. ‘I’m not sure he’s the sort she ought to be associating with. Or Connor’s friend either.’
‘Is Connor inside?’
‘No,’ she says. ‘He bought some sticks of rock at the shop. Went to take it to his friend.’
‘To the caravan park?’
‘Is that where the lad hails from?’
‘I don’t know, actually. I haven’t met him.’
She shakes her head. ‘In my day, everyone knew everyone. We knew who was decent and who to avoid.’ Pursing her lips, she glances towards Alex.
‘I can’t imagine there’s much trouble around here.’ I remember the flashing lights of the police boat, and push the memory from my mind.
‘Not the kind that’s out in the open,’ Elspeth says. ‘But us Cornish folk have a long history of independence. We like making our own rules, and hate being beholden to anyone.’
I indicate the museum. ‘You mean like the pirates?’
‘“Pirates” is a very charged word. Round here, they called them free traders. Poor folk trying to make a living. The real pirates were the rich men who used that poverty for their own ends, and used their lofty position to be above the law.’ She waves a hand towards the distant horizon.
Somewhere in that direction is the Penhelion estate, Polgothley. Is that what she’s referring to?
‘Like Bess’s husband, Lord Robert?’ I say.
‘Aye, that’s right. Although everyone called Captain James a pirate and a smuggler – and most likely he did the odd bit of free trading here and there – by all accounts, it was Lord Robert who had malicious tendencies.
He was the one who procured Bess’s estate and then had her murdered.
He may have lost his fancy ship and her cargo on that fateful night when the Halcyon was wrecked on the rocks.
But Bess and Captain James both lost their lives. ’
‘It’s so tragic!’ I don’t know why, but I haven’t really given much thought to Captain James’s fate.
I guess part of me didn’t really believe the story about the ghost ship empty of crew and cargo.
If he’d survived that night, a dashing ship’s captain like James could easily have got over his murdered lover and moved on, keeping a woman in every port. But maybe I’m being unfair.
‘Death comes to us all,’ Elspeth says. ‘And round here, the dead outnumber the living tenfold. And most of them rest in peace. But not all.’
‘That’s sad.’
‘That’s life. And it helps us make the most of what we have.’ This time, she looks towards the cove and her eyes come alight. I turn and see Cliff walking up the path. When he sees Elspeth, he smiles too, the years melting off his face.
‘But enough of my banter.’ Elspeth waves a hand. ‘We’re going down the pub. You want to come?’
‘No,’ I say, though part of me wants to. ‘You two go. I’ll hold the fort here.’
She nods, looking happy enough to have her man all to herself.
Bridget and her new ‘friend’… Cliff and Elspeth… me and…
I’ve just spent the day with the man of my dreams. I have no reason to feel so flat. I have no reason to feel even a little bit jealous. None whatsoever. But oddly, I do.