Chapter 22
‘Ollie and I were as close as brothers,’ he begins. ‘From the time we were boys all the way until our teenage years.’ His voice resonates in the room as he speaks, as if the walls are absorbing the words of his tale.
‘I adored him, worshipped him almost, even though I was the elder and he should have looked up to me. But he was wild – had spirit. I guess all boys envy that. I toed the line. Did well in school, never got in trouble – was a boring git all around.’ He closes his eyes as if to guard against the memories.
‘It didn’t help that my parents were wealthy – my father inherited the Polgothley estate, but he’d also invested his money wisely.
Ollie’s family, in contrast, were the profligates.
Forever squandering what they had and living beyond their means. ’
‘I see.’
‘But for all that, I still wanted to be him, or at least be his friend. I had my mum invite him on holiday with us, and go places at the weekend. It worked – for a while. But as we grew older, I began to see things as they were. He was a fair-weather friend. I suppose you could say he was only after me for my money.’ He smiles grimly.
‘He wanted capital to start a business. My father obliged him, and he lost it all. Around that time, I went to university, so I didn’t see him for a while.
But while I was away, he got himself arrested. ’
‘Really?’ I wrap my hand around the warm mug, but feel no comfort. ‘What for?’
‘Smuggling drugs and alcohol in from France.’ He rolls his eyes.
‘The legacy of any young Cornishman – as he saw it. It was a first offence, so he got off with a slap on the wrist and a fine. For a while, the whole experience seemed like a wake-up call. He knuckled down, got a job on the Halcyon – Cliff owned the ship at that time – and made some contacts crewing yachts. Everything seemed to be on track.’
‘But it wasn’t?’
‘Ollie got too big for his britches and he and Cliff had a falling-out. Then, mysteriously, the council got a call about the pirate cave and shut it down.’
‘But Ollie said you did that…’ I stop, stunned, as realisation dawns.
‘No,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘I wasn’t a big fan of those pirate tours, but I respected Cliff and his passion for Cornwall’s past. I didn’t make that call. In fact, I tried to intervene. But by then, Cliff had had enough. He decided to sell the Halcyon at auction. You know who the buyer was.’
‘Yes, but he said you loaned him the money.’
‘Not at first. You see, Ollie’s good at making contacts. But unfortunately, he chose not to borrow money from his yachting contacts, but his criminal ones. He got into debt with some unsavoury individuals. Of the kneecap-breaking variety.’
‘Oh God.’
‘He came to my father, begging him to bail him out. But he said no. The only person left to help him was me.’ He sighs wistfully.
‘I’d recently got married to Anya, whom I’d met at university.
And then Noah came along… both of us were so happy.
I told Ollie I’d give him the money he needed to pay off the loan sharks.
He seemed so grateful, and I felt like a benevolent uncle.
He gave me a share in the business, even though I had no interest in being part of it.
Then he started hanging around Polgothley, making himself at home.
I was finishing my residency and had to work a lot of double shifts and all-nighters.
Anya was from London. She didn’t like the house even though I’d had it done up, and she hated the isolation.
Still, I thought we were fine.’ He shakes his head.
‘I was a fool, thinking that I could trust my illustrious cousin. Slowly, he wormed his way into Anya and Noah’s life.
Mostly, he did it under the guise that he needed Anya’s help.
She had a degree in business and marketing, and he made her feel indispensable.
I suppose I had never done that – I took what we had for granted. ’
I can guess what’s coming. His story is telling and achingly familiar. I almost feel like reaching out to take his hand. But I stay put.
‘I started to have suspicions about Anya and Ollie. We had a row, and she got angry and threatened to leave. I left for my shift before seeing Noah and wishing him a good day at school. But he didn’t go to school that day.
Instead, Anya took him out with Ollie on the boat.
’ He turns and stares out the window. ‘I’ve always thought the sea was like a living being,’ he says.
‘The waves like a heartbeat, the spray like a breath. A giant thing, looming and lumbering, oozing like a primordial lifeform, and yet with a certain intelligence about it.’
‘It does seem to have a life of its own.’
He nods slowly. ‘But alive or not, it’s not a benevolent thing.
At best, it’s indifferent, at worst, hostile.
At least, that’s what it seemed like to me – still does every time I look out at that unending blue.
It was an accident, of course. A little boy running around on deck unsupervised.
Because his mother and her… lover… weren’t watching him. ’
‘He…’
‘Yes. He went overboard. No one saw it, but when they discovered he was missing, they retraced their path. They found him floating face down.’
‘Oh God, Will.’
‘They got him on deck, but they couldn’t revive him. By the time they got him to shore, he had been deprived of oxygen for a long time. I was frantic to help him. I gave him CPR and broke two of his ribs. But somehow, I managed to get some air into his lungs.’
‘You saved him?’
‘Yes, but I was too late. He suffered permanent lung damage. I did my best, but it wasn’t good enough.’
He puts his head in his hands. Grief tightens in my throat.
Even though I hardly know this man and had convinced myself that I didn’t like him, I see now why he’s so angry.
His son nearly died and his marriage – the entire life he’d built – was a casualty.
It was there one minute and the next just… gone.
‘I blamed Anya and Ollie. But blame wasn’t going to fix things.
Nothing could. So I turned that blame inward on myself.
’ He sighs. ‘I thought maybe I’d leave this place.
Go somewhere and make a new start or at least move closer to Exeter, where Noah goes to school.
But somehow, I haven’t managed it. For some reason, I feel closer to Noah here than anywhere else – closer to all the people the sea has taken from their loved ones.
And, from time to time, I can help save a life.
At the hospital, we get a lot of water-related accidents and emergencies. Like the one the other day.’
‘That’s why you tried so hard to save him,’ I say.
‘I didn’t want someone else to go through what I did. Seeing that poor man on the beach… I don’t know – it just got to me.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I say. The words sound woefully inadequate, and yet, they’re all I have.
I don’t want to belittle his experience by saying that I understand, even though on many levels, I do.
Instead, I reach out my hand and put it on top of his.
His fingers twitch like he’s startled. But he doesn’t pull away.
‘Thank you.’ He stares down at our entwined fingers and then withdraws his hand. ‘I should be going,’ he says. ‘I’ve taken up enough of your time. I just wanted you to know what happened. And, just to clarify, it wasn’t Ollie’s fault. Or Anya’s. It was just one of those things.’
I can tell he doesn’t believe it for a second. Nor do I.
Will gets up from the table. ‘Thanks for the tea.’
I want to say something profound – or, failing that, at least something that’s soothing and comforting. But I can’t find the words.
‘No worries,’ I say.
I stand up too and lead the way out of the kitchen. He seems pensive, as if he wants to say more, and I have a strong urge to keep him talking – keep him here.
As we reach the stairs, he stops again at the painting, as if trying to imprint the image on his mind. I stand beside him in silence, but then, something strikes me.
‘Can I see the photo of your painting again?’ I say. ‘The one at Polgothley?’
He looks a little surprised. ‘Sure,’ he says. Taking out his phone, he scrolls to the photo. I’m instantly drawn in to the scene again – the huge moon, the tossing waves, Bess’s black hair billowing, her cloak bunched in front of her like she’s holding something in her arms.
‘There’s something about it that I don’t understand,’ I say.
‘What’s that?’
‘You say it’s called The Arrival. But isn’t the boat headed towards the larger ship, not towards the shore?’
He peers closer at the photo. ‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘Well, it just seems strange if it’s supposed to be Bess arriving in Cornwall. The boat should be going the other way.’
‘Well, I suppose it might be tossed by the waves or something.’
‘Maybe,’ I say.
‘The paintings weren’t done from life anyway,’ he says. ‘The artist was French. A few years back, a dealer came to Polgothley to value the art. Apparently, that painting was made by a French artist – a woman – from Saint-Nazaire.’
‘Saint-Nazaire? That name sounds familiar.’
‘It’s somewhere near Nantes, I think. I guess the artist must have visited Cornwall and stayed at the inn. She heard the story and decided to paint it. Maybe she did it for Maggie, who was the landlady at the time. Or maybe it was a few generations later. I don’t know.’
‘So neither of the paintings can be relied upon to show any true details.’
‘Probably not. I guess that’s the power of an artist – he or she can create a happy ending when there isn’t one.’
Before I can say more, his pager goes off.
‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘Duty calls. But…’ He gives me a long look. ‘Maybe we can continue this conversation another time. Like… over dinner?’
‘Dinner?’ I repeat.
‘If I’m not speaking out of turn?’
‘Um…’ My mind reels. ‘No. I mean, you’re not. I mean yes, we could.’
He laughs. ‘You don’t sound very sure – not that I blame you. And you’ll probably think I’m trying to discredit Ollie to give myself a better chance.’
I stare at him, open-mouthed. ‘And are you?’
He shrugs. ‘Maybe.’ Lifting a hand, he turns and walks off.