But was it enough?
She returned to the task in hand: showing Tiff how to look out for potential trouble, which was a far easier job than delving into her deepest hopes and fears.
‘Look, I can just make out some divers in the water by the island,’ she said. ‘We make a note of when they descend and keep an eye out to make sure they resurface by the dive boat and not too far away. Can you see if you can spot them through the binoculars?’
‘Hang on … these take a bit of getting used to.’
Marina chuckled to herself while Tiff tried to adjust the sights. She was sure that she hadn’t expected to have to actually do anything in the lookout station, but Marina had other intentions. If her cousin was going to stay for the next few months and was keen to help out, the most useful thing she could do was volunteer.
Marina wouldn’t push her too hard, of course, but she thought it would be a good way for Tiff to make new friends, to distract her from the turmoil of the past few months. Marina recognised a woman hiding a deeper pain under a veneer and, whilst Tiff’s veneer was thicker than most, she was still pretty sure there was more to her cousin’s escape to Porthmellow than she’d so far let on.
‘Got them?’ she said, thinking that Tiff had gone quiet. ‘I think you’re looking in the wrong place …’
‘I can’t see the divers, I have to be honest, but I have spotted something else that might be of interest.’
‘What?’
‘See for yourself.’ Tiff straightened up and nodded at the binoculars with an arched eyebrow. ‘About a hundred metres out from the shore, halfway to the dive boat.’
Marina looked. She quickly located the safety buoy attached to the divers and followed a line from their RIB towards the beach. A few seconds later she saw a man swimming out to sea. She could tell he had no wetsuit on, only a pair of red swimming trunks.
‘Did you mean the guy swimming?’ she said, still tracking the man’s progress. His front crawl was measured and steady, his feet creating tiny splashes as the swell lifted him up and down.
‘Yes. Where’s he going?’ Tiff asked.
‘Mmm. I don’t honestly know. Occasionally people try to swim round to the next cove to see the seals – which is a dangerous idea anyway – but he’s heading right out to sea.’
‘You don’t think he’s going to do anything stupid? It must be freezing in there.’
‘A balmy eight degrees, actually. I don’t know what he’s doing but it does seem strange. I suppose he could be training for a triathlon …’
‘Maybe he thinks he’s Poldark?’ Tiff offered. ‘Or a merman?’
‘He’s certainly something unusual,’ Marina said, watching the swimmer growing smaller and smaller as he swam further from the shore.
‘Should we put him in the log?’ Tiff offered. ‘I can do that.’
‘Yes, please. We’d better keep a close eye on him for now too.’
‘Surely he’ll have to turn back soon?’
‘You’d hope so.’ Marina wasn’t sure. The man was ploughing through the waves, and was now almost as far out as the dive boat, but a hundred metres to the west of it so he obviously had no intention of boarding.
She watched him for a few more minutes. He didn’t seem in difficulty but he was alone. She was debating whether to call his presence in to the coastguard, when she lost sight of him momentarily. Her heart was in her mouth for a second but she quickly spotted him again. To her relief, he had turned around and was heading determinedly back towards the cove.
Very relieved, she took her eyes from the scope.
‘Should we call someone?’ Tiff asked.
‘I was about to report it to the coastguard but he’s coming back in.’ She hesitated. ‘I still think I might nip down and have a word with him.’
Tiff raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that part of the job?’
‘Not strictly speaking, but occasionally I do warn people. I don’t want to be a killjoy but …’
‘Better to be safe than sorry?’ Tiff smiled then her face fell. ‘Hey. That means I’ll be up here on my own!’
‘Only for a few minutes. You can contact me by radio if you need to. I’ll hurry.’
By the time she reached the beach, the swimmer was out of the surf and halfway up the beach. Marina then saw what she couldn’t see while he’d been in the waves and she had to stop herself from drawing in a breath. His board shorts showed off a stocky, athletic physique that was more like a rugby player’s than a swimmer.
However, it was the scarring over his shoulders, neck and one side of his face that almost stopped her dead. The flesh was livid and thickened, like the roots of a tree. She thought of turning away for a moment, because she felt as if she’d invaded his privacy. She hoped he didn’t think she’d trotted down here to gawp at him.
He’d already spotted her walking towards him so she smiled and met him halfway up the steep shingle near the top of the beach.
‘Hello,’ she said brightly, eager not to sound hectoring.
‘Hi.’ There was a puzzled expression on his face. ‘Everything OK?’
‘Yes. I’m from the lookout station on the cliff.’
His gaze swept over her ‘uniform’ and flicked briefly to the station before resting on her again. It was calm and clear. Hazel eyes, light brown hair, a quietly handsome face that was unremarkable apart from the scarring. His accent was most definitely not local, with a soft Scots brogue.
‘Aye. I see,’ he said, with a hint of a smile that evaporated quickly. He seemed amused by her for some reason. ‘And you’re sure there’s nothing I can help you with?’
Marina was a little taken aback that he thought she was the one who needed help. She sensed he was trying to take control and was used to doing so.
She focused on his eyes and kept her tone friendly but confident.
‘I’m fine. I popped down here because I wondered if you knew that this cove isn’t a great place to swim? In fact, there are some dangerous currents around the cliffs and some rips on either side of the beach. You were only a few metres away from one.’
He listened intently, without commenting at the end of her little speech, which almost threw her off her stride. She pressed on. ‘Porthmellow’s main beach is a much better place for swimming. There’s RNLI cover too, at the weekends.’
He waited before replying, allowing the silence to stretch uncomfortably but Marina decided to play him at his own game, waiting pointedly for a response.
‘I prefer to be away from the crowds,’ he said eventually. ‘But thank you for the warning.’
‘OK.’ She resolved not to hassle him further – he was an adult, after all, and she’d done all she could to prevent another accident. ‘If you prefer to swim in peace, there are plenty of quieter coves within a few miles without such treacherous rips and currents, if you’re planning on staying around. You can ask at the surf lifesaving club next to the beach or come up to the lookout station if you want to know more.’
‘Thanks. I’ll do that. Very kind of you.’ That brief smile again, his tone unfailingly polite but edged a clear signal that she should back off.
‘No problem. It’s what we’re here for. Enjoy the rest of your day.’
There was nothing more she could do. With a nod, he turned his back and took the steps back up past the station, quickly but not hurriedly. She hung back for a few seconds before following behind, with his face and his manner imprinted on her mind. The scars looked like burns to her. Poor guy. She checked herself. By his manner, the last thing he wanted was pity or sympathy. She shook her head as if that would dislodge the reckless swimmer from her mind.
She turned off the path before he did, up the steep steps marked ‘private’ which had been cut into the cliff to give access to the lookout for staff.
Tiff was waiting at the door. ‘Wow. I saw everything through the binoculars. A merman! Am I imagining things, or was he unimpressed by being told off?’
Marina broke into a smile at t
he idea of the tough-looking man on the beach being a merman. ‘Firstly he didn’t have a shiny tail, and secondly, I didn’t tell him off! And he was civil enough but yeah, he clearly wasn’t in the mood to have a chat.’
‘Those scars on his face are nasty, poor guy.’
‘Yes, and it was hard to see past them … God knows how he got them,’ Marina said.
‘Hmm.’ Tiff’s lips twisted as she mused. ‘He looks ex-military to me. Super fit, short haircut, very upright.’
‘So, you took a very close look, then?’
‘I thought that was our job?’ Tiff said archly.
Marina smiled. The man had been strangely compelling. She sobered again at the thought of his injuries. ‘Whatever happened to him, it must have been bad. He told me he likes to swim away from the crowds and I don’t blame him if people start gawping at him.’
‘Is he local?’ said Tiff.
‘I don’t think so … I don’t recall seeing him around Porthmellow, and he had a Scottish accent. Funnily enough, he didn’t have a rucksack or a towel with him, though. He walked straight up the cliff path in bare feet so I suppose he must be staying nearby, unless he parked his car on the top road.’
‘Hmm. Curiouser and curiouser. Gosh, there are a lot of intriguing people in Porthmellow. Far more than I ever dreamed.’ Tiff had a wicked glint in her eye that set off alarm bells for Marina.
‘Remember your vow,’ she warned.
‘Don’t worry, my halo is still in place! Anyway I have to interview a conservatory company tomorrow so that should bring me down to earth.’
Marina laughed. ‘Talking of work, we’re having an auction at the fundraiser and if you happened to come across anyone who might donate a prize, that would be brilliant. We only have a few lots so far. The best is a meal at Gabe’s restaurant, and, between us, the others are a bit uninspiring. I thought while you’re working at the mag, you might persuade the advertisers and traders to donate something.’
‘What kind of lots are you looking for?
‘Oh anything. Vouchers for a haircut or salon treatment or a meal in a pub or café. The farm shop has already offered a Christmas turkey … though it’s a long way off … and Bryony Cronk has offered to trim a dog free of charge, though some people won’t consider that a prize, more so a curse. Bryony’s a bit heavy handed with the clippers, so I hear, and she can be … um … quite opinionated. I’m seriously wondering if anyone will bid for it …’
Marina broke off, seeing Tiff shaking with laughter. ‘Stop it, you rotten devil! It’s not that funny.’ She grimaced, though holding back the giggles herself. ‘It won’t be funny at the fundraiser when we only have half a dozen lots and no bids on some of them.’
Tiff exploded. ‘I’m s-sorry. It’s j-just so funny. The idea of a turkey voucher in M-May and some poor pooch having to endure a seriously bad hair day courtesy of this Bryony person. Oh, I do love the quirks of small-town life. The idea of living here is so delicious.’
‘The idea, yes, but you’d go nuts, surely?’
Tiff wiped her eyes. ‘It’s lovely, in so many ways. But you’re right, I couldn’t handle it permanently – though, certain aspects of it are, I admit, very alluring …’
Marina cottoned on immediately. ‘Like Dirk?’
‘Now, did I even breathe a word about him?’
‘You don’t have to.’ Marina smirked. ‘But you know I’m sure he’d be very grateful if you helped us out at the fundraiser any way you could.’
‘Really?’ Tiff’s eyes gleamed. ‘OK. Don’t you worry about the auction lots. Leave it with me. I’ll see what I can do.’
The rest of the shift was fairly uneventful. Marina showed Tiff how the marine radar was used, and they kept an eye on a couple of teenagers who seemed to be about to scramble down a closed-off section of cliff path. Other than that, the drama was confined to the peregrines’ aerial display around the cliffs and a brief visit by a family of seals.
‘They look exactly like wet Labradors,’ Tiff declared, laughing at the whiskered heads bobbing up and down a few metres off Porthmellow Point. She was glued to the telescope and Marina smiled to herself. The delight in her cousin’s voice was amusing and touching. Seals were almost daily visitors to the cove but it was refreshing to see them through the eyes of a visitor, and especially one as hardened as Tiff had become.
Marina was sure that her cousin’s shell remained in place; she was almost certain she’d heard only part of the story. She hoped Tiff would open up eventually, but in the meantime, she was enjoying the company and the contribution to the household finances was welcome. However, their house sharing arrangement couldn’t last forever. Tiff would have to make a decision about her next move – and so would Marina.
Resting her hands on the desk, she gazed out over the ocean, aware that her decision would have to be taken sooner rather than later, no matter how painful. She’d accepted that Nate was dead several years ago and, as far as she could without a body, she’d gone through the grieving process to a degree.
They’d had a funeral of sorts, a humanist service with the scattering of flowers into the sea.
The seventh anniversary of Nate’s disappearance was coming up in the summer, and she could then trigger the legal process to have their marriage dissolved. It would bring a finality that was hard to take. No matter how much she’d accepted Nate’s death and mourned him, she didn’t relish writing The End on his story. It was so final, so absolute.
‘Marina?’ She turned to find Tiff’s hand on her shoulder. ‘You were miles away.’
‘Was I?’
‘Or maybe not so far away after all?’ Tiff nodded at the grey shingle of the cove a hundred feet below their feet. She must have guessed that Nate had been occupying her thoughts.
‘No …’ She smiled at Tiff. ‘But I can get it all sorted soon. Take another big step forward. I’ll always love Nate, even if he did leave me with such a mess, it felt like my heart was wrenched out when he disappeared … when he died …’
Marina glanced down, realising she’d been twisting her wedding ring round and round. She’d lost a bit of weight over the past few years, from worry and holding down several jobs. She’d had to sell her engagement ring at one point, along with a favourite necklace he’d given her. Things had grown dire and she was on the verge of defaulting on the mortgage and had refused point blank to take another loan from the family.
She couldn’t help but wonder whether it would have been easier if she’d had children, because, while things would have been even tougher on her and them, she would at least have had a vital piece of Nate, something to live for. Instead, the Wave Watchers had provided that comfort and purpose.
They walked home together, though Tiff insisted on taking a detour and ‘nipping down’ the steps to the wine merchant’s in town for a bottle to celebrate her arrival. Marina wondered if she’d be so enthusiastic by the time she’d climbed back up to number four Coastguard Terrace. On her way to the house, she nodded a hello to Dirk who even managed a brief smile. She also spotted another familiar face: the swimmer from the cove was letting himself into number one, though he now had jeans and a hoodie on.
He saw Marina and nodded even more briefly than Dirk and without the smile. Clearly, he was not happy to have been spotted by her again. Well, fine, but she wished him good luck with trying to avoid her when he was staying two doors down. He didn’t know that yet, of course, as he’d shut his front door by the time she’d gone into her place.
Despite his reticence, she was left hoping that she would get to know more about her intriguing new neighbour before too long.
Chapter Five
On the following Friday evening, Tiff held forth about her first week working for Cream of Cornish while she helped Marina plant some summer flowers into tubs in the cottage garden. Tiff could kill a houseplant with a single glance but it was obvious Marina loved her little patch. Only a hedge and the coastal path separated it from the cliff side, and its slight do
wnward slope meant you could see over the low shrubbery to the sea. From the vantage point of the terrace, you could look down the coast to the Lizard one way and Porthmellow Harbour on the other.
Fairy lights were strung along the trellis and the patio held a small bistro table and chairs. On this sunny evening in late April, the indigo sea sparkled in the sunlight.
Tiff held a plastic tray of flowers while Marina emptied compost into assorted tubs and pots.
‘I don’t mind the “office” in Porthmellow even if I’ve seen stationery cupboards bigger than that place. I don’t mind bumping my head on the sloping roof above my desk every time I stand up. I don’t mind driving on the main roads, even if they’re packed with tourists, but I have no idea how you cope with these narrow lanes!’ Tiff said in awe. ‘I clipped the wing mirror on the company car on a hedge today. I was late for my appointment at the bloody Bed Emporium because of the traffic. I thought I’d left ages to get to Truro after I’d interviewed some oyster farmer in Mylor but the sat nav took me down a track that claimed to be a public highway. Highway? I’ve seen wider bike lanes! And for the love of God, how many potato trucks can one county have? Ye gods, I must have been stuck behind every single one of them.’
‘The roads do take some getting used to,’ said Marina, her shoulders shaking with laughter as she filled a second pot with compost.
Tiff watched as Marina dug the soil over with a trowel. She might make light of her first week, but it had been a culture shock in more ways than one.
She’d expected to tootle about sleepy byways, maybe stopping off for a sneaky coffee at a seaside café or a potter in a gallery in between jobs. However, the reality had been very different. Her boss certainly wanted her pound of flesh and had Tiff trundling around from Launceston to Land’s End, ‘interviewing’ everyone from double-glazing manufacturers to cider makers.
Writing the endlessly upbeat, sycophantic prose about the companies – all of which were important advertisers, of course – wasn’t the cakewalk she’d assumed. Much to Tiff’s disgust, the ‘clients’ also had a say in the final copy, which went against her principles. The air had been blue as she’d tapped away on her laptop, eulogising about patio doors and cider varieties.
A Perfect Cornish Escape Page 5
