Ness was focused on ripping up the sheet and strapping up Merryn’s arm, but she couldn’t miss the expression on Fern’s face. Did Fern have feelings for Merryn? Thank goodness Ness had trusted her instincts and not kissed him earlier on. That could have made life very awkward. She’d only just gor Fern onside. The girl reminded her of a fawn, nervous and wary and easily spooked.
Eventually Merryn’s wrist was strapped up and his head wound had been cleaned. Fern was firing random questions at him from an ancient set of Trivial Pursuit, to ensure that he remained alert. The gale had quietened down somewhat: there were no more ominous crashes outside, and although the rain was still lashing the castle it wasn’t nearly as heavy as it had been earlier. The violent summer storm was passing and before long they would be able to get Merryn to the mainland.
But for Ness the worrying wasn’t over. She was still haunted by Max’s prediction, as well as the terrifying numbers in the ledger. She had a feeling that for Pirran Island the biggest tempests were yet to come. Only time would tell if she would be able to weather them.
Chapter 18
The storm had blown itself out by dawn. As soon as the tide had retreated, Lucy had driven Merryn across the causeway to the mainland. There was a small cottage hospital in the town where he’d be able to see a doctor and have get his wrist X-rayed. Of course, Merryn had claimed that he didn’t need any of this, but Ness had insisted upon it.
“I’m pretty sure your wrist’s broken,” she’d said, while Lucy had started up her ancient car and Fern had bundled Merryn into the passenger seat. “Unless you want to spend the rest of your life attached to a wooden spoon, you need to get it sorted. And as for the bump on the head? You definitely need that looking at if you think you’re fine.”
Merryn had pulled a face but given in, and before long the tail lights of the car had retreated across the wormy sand and been swallowed by the grey murk of a lacklustre dawn. Ness and Fern had stood waving until they could no longer see the car; then they’d turned back to the castle to make yet more tea. Neither of them had slept and Ness’s eyes now felt gritty with exhaustion as the sky grew pink and the light crept across the island. It would be many hours yet before she would get any sleep.
She placed her mug on the draining board and turned to Fern. “Are you ready to inspect the damage?”
Fern grimaced. “Not really. I think Fred has the right idea.”
They glanced at the old gardener, fast asleep on the sofa with his cap over his face. His rumbling snores rendered him blissfully unaware of the damage outside. Fern had covered him with the knitted patchwork blanket that was usually folded over the back of the sofa, and Biscuit was snoozing by his feet. At this moment Ness felt very envious of them both.
“The sooner we know what’s been affected by the storm, the sooner we can work out what we have to do in order to fix it,” she said, injecting a degree of confidence into her voice that she was far from feeling.
“Maybe it isn’t as bad as we think?” Fern said optimistically.
“Maybe,” Ness agreed, but she didn’t hold out much hope.
There was stillness outside and the sea had calmed; the waves were now breaking on the rocks with a sigh rather than the roar of earlier. Gulls called to one another from the sand, where their greedy beaks were rooting through piles of fresh seaweed. Ness and Fern made their way past the ruined tea room and visitor centre, unable to face looking inside, and crossed the lawn where picnic tables and benches were scattered like matchsticks. The palm trees had survived the assault, which didn’t surprise Ness in the slightest, but the grass was littered with sharp fronds that the wind had ripped away.
The vegetable garden was set within the walls of what had once been the keep, and this had protected most of Fred’s plants from the worst of the weather. They looked a little soggy but the watery sun would soon dry them out.
Fern crouched down by the strawberries and declared that they would probably be fine. She was remarking that Lucy could use them in the tea room – but then her face fell when she remembered that the tea room was in pieces.
“We’ll set up an emergency tea room,” said Ness quickly. Talk about trying to think on her feet. She didn’t even know if this was possible. Wouldn’t the castle kitchen need all kinds of health and hygiene checks first? It was usually filled with cats and sleeping gardeners, and the Aga was caked in the grime of decades. They’d be hard-pushed to pass an inspection. Still, they’d have to cross that bridge when they came to it. Perhaps they could have a cleaning party.
Digging her hands deep into the pockets of her hoody, Ness strode down the quay steps and onto the sand, to check the pier wall and the causeway. Her heart plummeted when she saw them: the pounding sea had been merciless.
“The crack in the wall is bigger, isn’t it?” she observed.
“Yeah, it wasn’t that bad before. It looks to me like some of the stonework is looser too,” Fern replied.
They backed away, craning their necks as they peered up at the wall. There was no mistaking the extent of the damage. Was the pier still safe? Ness felt her stomach swoop. How could she tell? Who would she ask?
Closer inspection of the causeway revealed more bad news: a further chunk had been torn from it at the end nearest the island. Thank goodness Lucy was a cautious motorist, Ness thought as she and Fern assessed the damage. Anyone who drove fast along the causeway would be in danger of sliding off. Great. She’d just dig out a few of the million that Armand had left her so that she could pay for all the damage. Oh wait. Her uncle hadn’t left her a penny, and Ness knew that the buildings weren’t insured either. Lucy had already confessed that the insurance had lapsed some months before.
The castle itself had escaped relatively unscathed, which was hardly surprising given that it had been built to withstand far worse. The ruins looked pretty much as they always did to Ness, but the Pilgrim’s Gate appeared a little precarious and several blocks of stonework had tumbled to the ground. They’d have to redirect their visitors, Ness decided as she gazed up at it critically – if they still had any visitors coming to the island, of course. She was no expert but there must be public liability issues here?
Did they even have public liability insurance?
“Thank goodness Armand isn’t here to see all this,” Fern remarked when they turned back to the castle.
Ness couldn’t reply. As far as she was concerned, Armand Penwellyn had a great deal to answer for. Not only had he allowed the place to get out of hand, but he’d left it to her without the means to safeguard it. Whatever had been going on in his mind?
Max Reynard’s offer was suddenly very tempting indeed.
By the time Ness and Fern returned to the kitchen, having checked all of the island – including Merryn’s caravan, which miraculously had made it through the storm – Lucy had returned from the hospital with the patient. Merryn was all plastered up like something out of The Mummy. Annie Luckett was there too, busy giving him a lecture.
“You’re going to move into the castle,” she was telling him. “I’ve spoken to your grandmother too and she agrees. There’s no way we’re letting you live in a caravan with a broken wrist. So that’s your choice: you either move in here or I’ll frogmarch you back over the causeway and Rose can take charge.”
“You didn’t tell my gran?” groaned Merryn, looking at Lucy in alarm.
“I certainly did,” Lucy replied staunchly. “I called her while you were being X-rayed. Better she heard it all from me than from one of the staff at the hospital and had a fright. You know how news travels here and how it gets exaggerated. You’d have been at death’s door by the time Penny from the village shop saw your granny.”
Merryn laughed. He knew she was right.
“Rose says she’ll be over to see you as soon as she’s finished cottage cleaning,” Annie continued, plumping cushions and fussing around the patient. “She was going to call you anyway; she said her second sight told her there was a problem.”
“Rose i
s amazing,” Fern explained to Ness. “She’s a psychic.”
Merryn rolled his eyes. “She saw the weather forecast.”
“She is psychic,” Fern insisted. “She can read tea leaves and she knows everything.”
“I wonder if she knows where my phone is then? I think it must be in the tea room, so she’ll be going spare by now. Great. Gran on the case: just what I need,” Merryn grumbled.
“Well, you’d better move in here then, or else you’ll end up with Rose on your case twenty-four seven,” Lucy pointed out. “No arguments, Merry. You can’t live alone in a caravan with a broken wrist.”
“Of course I can,” he laughed. “I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”
“Bollocks,” said Fern. “You won’t even be able to put your own pants on. And before you ask, no I’m not helping you with that. Gross. No way. You’ll have to ask one of your slappers from the town. There’ll be a queue.”
Leaving the two of them to bicker, Ness joined Lucy, who was heating soup on the Aga. With her hair scraped back from her face and violet smudges under her eyes, she looked shattered.
“What a mess,” Lucy said.
“There’s no insurance, is there?” Ness asked softly.
Lucy swallowed miserably. “No. It lapsed before Uncle died and I never got around to renewing it. There never seemed to be enough money and I really thought we would be able to hold out until the will was read. When Jamie was left the money I didn’t know what to do.”
The soup swirled in the pan and Ness’s stomach swirled with it. Having no insurance meant they couldn’t make a claim to fix anything: not the tea room, nor the causeway, nor the unstable-looking pier. It was an absolute disaster. There were no antiques left to sell, and the bare patches on the walls were a reminder that any paintings worth money had been sold long ago. Unless Ness could emulate the Famous Five and find treasure somehow, there would be no means to repair the damage. Without the income from visitors their future looked bleak.
The only way to save the castle is to sell it, Max Reynard had said. Without money it will fall down and you’ll end up selling it anyway.
Oh God, thought Ness as despair wrapped icy fingers around her heart. What if he was right?
Unable to face the thought of food, she left the kitchen and headed back outside. The sun had given up shining and instead the world consisted of infinite shades of grey, from the granite rocks to the castle walls to the pewter-coloured sea. Deep in thought, Ness barely noticed the big black Range Rover hurtling across the causeway, until it bounced over the cobbles and almost flattened her.
Great. Jamie Penwellyn had popped across for a gloat. Could this day get any worse?
The window hissed down and, sure enough, her cousin’s face – with its features set in their habitual sneer – leered out of the cigarette-scented interior. It took all of Ness’s self-control not to recoil.
“Hello, Ness,” he brayed. “I just thought I’d pop over for a visit, pick up a few more bits. I heard on the grapevine that there was a bit of an accident here last night? Nobody’s badly hurt, I hope? All still alive here?”
Ness had a sudden image of Jamie perched on top of the Pilgrim’s Gate trying to dislodge a chunk of masonry to squash her, Wile E Coyote style.
“We’re all fine,” she said shortly. “If you want to see Lucy, she’s in the kitchen.”
“I’m surprised she’s got time to waste cooking. This place looks an utter state, or maybe I should say even more of a state than it usually does. You do know there’s a massive chunk out of the causeway, by the way? More than one, actually. Have you been along and taken a look at it yet? And I’m loving what you’ve done with the tea room. Is it a Caribbean beach-shack look?”
Ness had never thought of herself as a violent person until now, but right at this moment she was filled with a white-hot desire to drag her gloating cousin out of the car and hold him down face first in a rock pool until the bubbles stopped. Restful as a few years at Her Majesty’s pleasure would be in comparison to life on the island, she somehow managed to resist the urge. As she walked away, his mocking laughter rang in her ears.
Fuming, Ness stomped along the causeway and into town. Just as Jamie had said, there were several sections that had been swept away – and if the winter storms were anything like last night’s summer one, repairs would need to be made fairly soon. Quite how she’d pay for them was anyone’s guess. Did she really need two kidneys?
The beach was thick with seaweed, its pale roots exposed after the angry sea had wrenched up the underwater carpet. All the boats in the harbour were balanced on wooden legs and still lashed to the quayside with extra ropes. A few cottage roofs had bald patches where slates had slipped during the worst of the storm. Litter had blown from the bins; chip wrappers and polystyrene burger boxes were now scattered across the seafront. Ness climbed the steps up to the quay and splashed through puddles as she wandered into town. Where she was headed she had no idea. All she knew was that she needed some time out.
St Pirran was quiet. The bad weather had kept the tourists away from the seaside and sent them scuttling for cover in the Eden Project. Ness wandered through the narrow streets, looking in the windows but barely registering what was displayed in them. Rain began to spit and, as it grew heavier, she ducked into a coffee shop to shelter. She ordered herself an Earl Grey and squeezed into an empty seat at the back. She was so tired that the warmth of the place made her eyes close. When a hand touched her arm, she jumped.
“Sorry, my dear. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
An elderly woman stood opposite Ness, appraising her with lively blue eyes set in a lined brown face. It was a bit like being stared at by Mrs Tiggy-Winkle; there was an energy about her that was at odds with her stooped frame and age.
“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Ness asked.
“I’m Rose Hellier,” the older woman said, lowering herself into the seat across the table and causing tea to slop into Ness’s saucer. “We haven’t met but you know my grandson.”
“You’re Merryn’s grandmother?” Ness was jolted wide awake. So this was the same Rose Hellier who’d worked at the castle and who Annie thought might know something about what had really happened to Ness’s parents?
“For my sins,” Rose said, pulling a face, but the pride in her expression belied the words. “I believe my grandson owes you big time for rescuing him yesterday. From what Lucy’s told me, you were incredibly brave.”
Ness shook her head. “Not at all; anyone would have done the same.”
Merryn’s grandmother tilted her head to one side and regarded Ness thoughtfully. “I don’t believe they would. Lots of people would have been afraid or would have waited for someone else to take the lead. I saw the weather come in yesterday and it was one of the worst storms I’ve seen for a long time. Going into the tea room when the roof could have caved in at any moment was very brave. You probably saved his life.”
Ness coloured. “Merryn’s a friend. He’d have done the same for me.”
“Just a friend? Or is he more? You can tell me if I’m being nosy – it’s all part of being an interfering grandmother.”
It was just as well things hadn’t gone any further between herself and Merryn, thought Ness. Rose Hellier had a way about her that made you feel she already knew the answers to the questions she was asking. Suddenly Fern’s comments about Rose’s psychic powers didn’t seem quite so far-fetched.
“We’re just friends,” Ness said firmly.
Rose smiled. “I believe you, although there’s a part of me that is a little disappointed.” She took Ness’s hand in her own. The old lady’s skin was as thin as tissue paper, but there was strength in the fingers that turned Ness’s hand over to trace the lines on her palm.
“May I read for you?”
Ness was a bit taken aback, but she didn’t want to look rude. “OK.”
Rose stared down at their entwined hands and sighed. “It’s as I thought. Merryn isn�
��t the twin flame you seek. That man is further away and closer than you can imagine. He has two sides and walks a dangerous path. That danger draws you closer and consumes you.”
Ness stared at Rose. What on earth was she talking about?
“You have many questions too,” Rose continued, her voice low and intense. “So many questions and no answers are forthcoming. The music is the key. Listen to the music: it will lead you to the answers you are seeking.”
“What do you mean?” Ness asked. None of Rose’s words made sense. Wasn’t she supposed to tell her that a tall dark stranger was coming her way? “Rose? What’s that supposed to mean, listen to the music? What music? What man?”
Rose blinked and slowly let Ness’s fingers slip from her own. “I’m sorry, love, I have no idea. The messages just come through me. My guides don’t tell me what they mean. Usually the people I’m reading for are able to make sense of them.”
“I must be the one exception then, because I don’t have a clue what any of that means,” Ness said with an awkward laugh. “I suppose your guides are right about one thing: I certainly have a lot of questions, but they’re not about romance or music.”
But Rose was unperturbed. “That’s what you may think now, but on a deeper level that’s exactly what they’re about. My guides are never wrong.”
Right. What did you say to that? Ness really wasn’t sure.
“Oh dear, I’ve made you feel awkward,” said Rose. “That wasn’t my intention at all. I only sought you out to thank you for what you did for Merryn. Feel free to ignore my ramblings. I’m sure he’ll tell you I’m an utter menace. I bet even at this moment he’s trying to think of a way to tell me tactfully that he doesn’t want to convalesce at home. Ah! I can see by your face I’m right!”
“Now I’m starting to believe you might be on to something,” Ness said, but Rose Hellier just laughed.
“That’s nothing to do with being psychic, love. That’s about being a grandmother! If Merryn were to live at home with me he wouldn’t be able to get much past me. Of course he doesn’t want to put up with that! Now, let me get you another tea – I promise not to read the leaves – and then you can ask me about your parents. And that’s nothing to do with being psychic either. Annie Luckett told me you wanted to have a chat.”
The Island Legacy Page 22
