‘Then, to be honest, Moll, you’ve got to let this go.’
Yes, I thought. I suppose I must. I have to think of the future, of the happiness of my remaining son. Which means letting go of Joey. What’s done is done. Joey is gone. Danny and Edie are the future.
But as I tried to let that thought absorb me, tried so hard to let Joey sink into his watery grave, his voice came back to me. Mother. Find me. And I knew I had no choice.
I shook myself. I tried to pretend to Adam that I was fine, I understood his urgent plea not to phone Ben, not to dig any further. We finished our lunch and carried Edie the few steps down to the beach. I laughed, sang silly songs with her as she sat on the sand. But I had to talk to Ben, of course I did. My son’s insistent call would not be denied.
Chapter Thirteen
That evening, I made up my mind. I would call Ben. Danny and Lola had gone upstairs, giving Edie a bath before putting her to bed. Adam had driven into Looe to buy groceries, kindling and wine. I picked up the phone, feeling sneaky. I resented the way I felt guilty, the fact that I had to make this call under the radar because everyone would be cross with me if they knew. For Christ’s sake, I thought, annoyed, I’m a grown-up, I know what I’m doing. I don’t have to get everyone’s permission to make a phone call.
I had to steel myself to pick up the receiver and dial the number I found for Ben in my diary. I had painstakingly transferred his mobile number into each new yearly aide-memoir, every single January since Joey had disappeared. I felt I had to, that not to make a note of Ben’s whereabouts would somehow betray my son. But I had never called Ben, never spoken to him, not once since the inquest decided Joey had died in an accident at sea. And he had not attempted to contact me. Perhaps, for him too, the whole episode had been too cruel to revisit.
We both had a lot of explaining to do. I felt I owed him an apology for my distance. As I dialled his number, I felt sick with apprehension.
A woman picked up. She sounded young, but then of course Ben was only twenty-five. I realised I didn’t even know where Ben lived now, let alone if he had a girlfriend. I’d assumed he’d stayed in Manchester; if Adam or Danny knew where he was, neither had said a word to me. But of course, they wouldn’t. They had to tread so carefully around my grief.
I asked for Ben. There was a brief hiatus. And then:
‘Hello?’ A young, hesitant, masculine voice. ‘Who is this?’
‘Ben, it’s me. Molly Gabriel. Joey’s mum.’
There was a pause. Then an attempt at a hearty welcome.
‘Molly. Mrs Gabriel. How amazing to hear from you, after all this time.’
‘Yes. I’m sorry, Ben. I should have contacted you a long time ago. It’s just… well it’s been difficult.’
A pause, and then, ‘How… how are you?’
‘I’m fine; it’s just… I know it’s been ages, but do you think we could meet? The strange thing is I’m in Cornwall–the first time I’ve been back since…’
‘Ahhh. I see. Where are you?’
‘At Coombe in Treworgey. I suppose you remember it?’
‘God, yes. So well. We had such brilliant times there.’
‘We did.’ I took a deep breath. I wanted to sound warm, not pleading. ‘Ben, I need to see you.’
‘Yes. OK. Could I ask why now, after all these years?’
‘Being back here has flagged up so many memories.’ I rubbed my eyes, impatient with the tears threatening to escape. ‘There’s still so much I don’t understand about what happened to Joey. I so want to talk to you, to find out what really happened.’
‘But, Mrs Gabriel…’
‘Please call me Molly.’
‘Molly, I told you everything about that day. I really did. I haven’t got much to add.’
I remembered what Adam had said about Ben on Polkerris Beach: There are things he doesn’t want to tell us. I had to convince the boy I wasn’t threatening him.
‘I accept that, Ben. I’m not suggesting you’ve held anything back. This is just for me. Look, I’ll tell you that coming back to Cornwall wasn’t my idea. But we did it for Danny.’
‘Danny? How is he?’
My voice softened. ‘He’s well. Married now, and with a gorgeous baby girl. We’re all here together. I suppose we’re trying to reclaim Cornwall, to try and remember it before… Well, to get the joy back, the love we felt for the place before…’
‘I understand that, and it’s very brave. But very hard, I would think?’
‘Enormously hard. And that’s why I want to see you again, to talk and lay demons to rest.’
Another long pause.
‘I’m not sure I can do that, Molly.’
‘Yes you can, Ben. In fact, only you can.’
He sighed.
‘All right. I’ll come to Coombe. Is tomorrow afternoon OK?’
‘What? How can you get down so fast from Manchester? I mean,’ I said, confused and aware I was waffling, ‘what about work? Won’t you have to get time off to come down here?’
‘Mrs Gabriel. Molly. I live in Cornwall now. In fact, I live in Polperro.’
That was a total shock. Astonishing, actually. My mind caved into all sorts of strange perceptions. Ben lived in Polperro? The village where my son had disappeared? Why on earth would a young man who had shared a terrible experience, had lost his best friend, want to live in the place where tragedy had happened?
I asked him, hesitantly, why he had moved down here. He took a while before answering.
‘It’s complicated, Molly. There’s a lot to talk about. But it’s not really to do with what happened to Joey.’
No? I didn’t believe him. This was a coincidence too far. I was silent, and eventually he responded.
‘Look, I fell in love with someone down here. Someone Cornish, and we’re together. So, after I finished Uni in Manchester, I came back down. I’ve been here for nearly four years now.’
Why did this seem like a betrayal? It wasn’t, of course. Ben had an absolute right to live wherever he chose. So why did I feel I’d been kicked in the stomach? Why was I so instinctively hostile to the idea that the boy who had been the closest to my son’s last moments on earth had chosen to live so near to the seas that had claimed his life?
I hid my dismay, of course. I also decided Ben could not possibly come to Coombe. So much to explain, and it would involve Adam and Danny. I wasn’t ready for that.
‘Could we meet somewhere else, Ben?’ I asked tentatively. ‘I mean, it will all be a bit of a shock for Danny. I’d like to talk things through first. I’m sorry, but this is all to do with me. I don’t want to upset anyone else.’
There was a pause, and I realised that of course I was upsetting Ben. He must hate being reminded of all this. It was ruthless, but I had to insist. So when he suggested he could meet me at the Blue Peter in Polperro tomorrow at one p.m., I agreed immediately.
It was only when I’d put the phone down that I realised I had just made an appointment to see the last person who had seen Joey alive at the very place where he was supposed to meet my son on the day of his death.
Disappearance, I told myself desperately. Not death. Not yet.
Chapter Fourteen
Polperro
I told Adam the next day that I needed to go to Fowey. Kittow’s was the only really top-class butcher in the region, and I wanted to buy a large joint of their fabulous lamb for Sunday lunch. Also they had a really good delicatessen, and I could find some excellent cheese.
Adam was indulgent. He knew I loved Fowey, and teased me that I obviously really wanted to go back to The Romantic Englishwoman to buy more toys and fripperies for Edie and Lola. ‘And for me!’ I said indignantly, playing my part to the hilt, and he laughed.
‘Of course, sweetheart. I wouldn’t expect anything else. But you don’t mind if I don’t come, do you? There’s cricket on the telly. I know you hate it, so if you’re going out I might as well…’
My views on football and cricket were wel
l known in this masculine family. To Adam’s credit he wasn’t a boorish sports fanatic, the kind of man who felt his membership of the human race depended on baying for his team to win. But if he got an opportunity to watch a match when I wasn’t there to cramp his style, of course he took it. And today, that suited me just fine.
So he and Danny settled in front of the television. Lola said she was going to have a much-needed nap while Edie slept, and that if the baby woke while Daddy was watching TV, well, that was too bad. Daddy would have to look after his daughter even if it meant missing an innings win or defeat.
And so I drove to Polperro: the gateway to my son’s horrible fate.
It’s beautiful, Polperro; about as charming as a village can get. White cottages winking in the sun. Swishing little weirs and streams washing around the pretty houses, many of them built on stilts so the ever-present water burbling through the streets would not disturb the tranquil lives of those who had pledged their futures here. Beyond picturesque. Wholesome, delightful, the ultimate Cornish holiday destination. With pasties for sale, fresh fish, fudge.
When you’re in it, walking through the lanes, past the quaint tourist shops selling little brass jack o’lanterns and models of a bare-legged Joan the Wad–Queen of the Cornish Piskies as she is billed, a lissom female lucky charm to help you win the lottery–it seems like a homage to bygone days of smuggling. But it’s not. People live here. Polperro’s a dense community, and like all small and close-living habitats, it’s full of tales, gossip and rumour.
I left the Volvo in the enormous car park at the head of the village, and I thought back to happier days when we’d visited the little town. It’s a shame really, that car park, Adam always said. So much at odds with the small-scale charm of the village, but the streets are so narrow that vehicles are forbidden; and yes, the car park is a bit off-putting in its size, but people have to make a living, and Polperro has to make a killing in the tourist season.
Every year, come Easter, the place is full, and it’s vibrant. All spring and summer long holidaymakers flock here. I love watching the children, utterly bewitched by this Cornish fishing village’s otherness, its complete differentness from the industrial towns they live in. It’s stunning, Polperro. Like staying in an enormous doll’s house, or Captain Hook’s gigantic galleon. Utter magic if you’re a kid from a big city: a place of enchantment, magic, and legend. And of course there’s always Merlin’s Kingdom; the ultimate childish treat; along with the Cornish fudge heaped in the sweetshop windows, Merlin is the icing on the cake.
Of course that’s how I used to think of Polperro, totally captivated, along with my sons, by the village’s filmic beauty. Not now, though. Now it was a different place, no longer full of swashbuckling pirates and green-capped benevolent elves, all bent on making your stay a time of wonder. For me, now, it was a place of sadness. And I had come here, for the first time in five years, to hear how my boy was never seen again after sailing from this very harbour. The harbour I now crossed to climb the rocky steps leading to the Blue Peter.
Chapter Fifteen
The Blue Peter
I was very nervous as I pushed open the old pub’s dark blue door. I hadn’t been here since we’d holidayed with the boys years before. Adam, Danny and Joey had loved the place. It was small, smoky and dark, a real fisherman’s favourite, with a blazing log fire, a bar garlanded in evergreens threaded through with white fairy-lights, wooden tables dotted around the charcoal slate floor and narrow windows looking onto the ancient harbour. When the tide was in, the local fishing boats, red, green, yellow and blue, bobbed gaily on the waves, as merry a nautical scene you could ever wish to see. But when, as now, it was low tide, the small vessels were grounded in mud. It was impossible to believe they could ever get out to sea.
Because of its size, the pub’s L-shaped room always looked busy, but today at the height of the summer season it was absolutely heaving with locals and tourists. I peered around in the gloom, but Ben was nowhere to be seen. Hardly surprising, since tension had brought me here very early. I glanced at my watch. Only half past twelve.
I found a small table tucked into a recessed window and considered braving the packed bar to order a drink. I hate being a single woman in a busy pub, especially one as masculine as this. But just as I was screwing up my courage to squeeze through the crowd I heard someone shrieking my name.
‘Molly! My God, it IS you, isn’t it? I haven’t seen you in years. Oh, good heavens, what a marvellous surprise!’
Alarmed, I turned to find the source of that loud, confident voice. And almost fell over with shock. Queenie. How extraordinary, although of course it wasn’t, because Queenie had worked behind the bar at the Blue Peter for donkey’s years. I’d forgotten; had never considered that I would bump into someone I knew. She bustled over, throwing her arms around me, a large friendly woman a decade or so older than me.
‘Oh, Moll. How lovely to see you.’ I was sincerely delighted to see her too. ‘Is Adam here?’ she asked.
‘No, just me. How are you, Queenie?’
‘Oh, you know me. Same as ever, mustn’t grumble.’ She looked at me keenly. ‘I’ll get you a drink. What is it? Still a G and T?’
‘How can you remember that after all this time?’ I asked.
‘Because I’ll never forget you telling me it’s the most civilised drink in the world. Oh, Molly, you always were so elegant.’
I laughed. ‘I don’t think so, Queenie, but actually I’d love a gin and tonic.’
‘G and T, ice and lemon, coming up. I’ll have one myself as well.’ And she swept back to the bar, ignoring all the other customers vying for her attention.
I watched her with affection. Queenie’s given name was Elizabeth, but one day, long before we began coming to Cornwall every summer, Her Majesty was in the news, and Liz the barmaid was being particularly imperious. One of the regulars teased that she was as bossy as the Queen, and from then on Queenie she was. She pretended to be annoyed about her new nickname, but secretly she loved it. It made her feel special.
She came back with drinks, and settled herself down next to me on the window seat. ‘But, Queenie, haven’t you got to work?’ I asked her.
‘No, I’m on a break. Bill will hold the fort for a bit. I want to talk to you.’
I looked down and took a sip of my drink.
‘Molly. I don’t want to intrude, or make you feel bad. But you haven’t been back here for ages. And because of what happened to Joey, we thought we’d never see you again.’
I wondered if I wanted even to talk to her, to get into this. But Queenie was so full of warmth; everything about her exuded goodness and welcome. And I’d had enough. I’d tried so hard to keep my sadness inside the family. I’d been so private; my grief about Joey had been mine alone, shared with Adam and Danny, but no one else.
And now here was Queenie. She was just an old friend, more of an acquaintance really. But I felt so burdened, so desperate to shed some of my load. And she was there, in Polperro. She had witnessed my meltdown after Joey was lost.
My throat was dry. I felt sick with the mess in my mind. Queenie sat there before me, her face genuinely concerned; I felt she really wanted to know how I was feeling. And, God knows, I wanted to tell someone.
But there was little time to confide anything. We didn’t have long before I was due to meet Ben. I told her he was coming to the pub to talk about the day Joey disappeared. She frowned. ‘Ben, Molly? Are you sure you want to talk to him?’
‘Well, of course. He was the last person to see Joe alive; who else can tell me what happened?’
Queenie was quiet for a while. Eventually she let out a breath and said, ‘I do understand that, but I’m not sure Ben is the right person for you at the moment. I mean, given your state of mind.’
‘What do you mean? You don’t even know my state of mind.’
‘Molly, love, it’s obvious. You looked so sad when you came in. And utterly lost.’
Was I reall
y that transparent? I stared at her. I realised she was echoing Adam’s words, his warning that I was getting into deep waters.
‘Look, Queenie, is there something about Ben I should know?’
‘No,’ she replied. ‘Not really. He’s a good lad now. But…’ She shrugged. ‘It’s just there are murky depths out there. And I don’t think it will do you any good at the moment to start probing.’
Queenie looked up at the pub door behind me. Her face changed. She gave a small smile.
‘Hello, Ben,’ she said in a calm but distant voice.
‘Hi, Queenie. Hello, Molly.’
Ben. He looked much the same as the sixteen-year old boy that Joey had asked us to take in, vulnerable but forceful all the same. This young man had a powerful presence, but he was obviously ill at ease. He looked at Queenie and me, and asked if he could get us both a drink. Queenie shook her head.
‘I’ll get back behind the bar now. Bill needs some help.’
He certainly did. He was inundated with tourists demanding drinks and food. Queenie joined him, and instantly the pub settled. Requests for crab sandwiches, ham and eggs and fish and chips were immediately noted and promised swiftly.
As Ben sat down beside me, Queenie looked over and locked eyes with me. ‘I’ll see you before you go, Molly. Don’t leave without telling me,’ she ordered.
Ben didn’t notice. In fact he looked dazed, so preoccupied I wasn’t sure he knew exactly what was happening. He shook himself. ‘Do you want something to eat, Molly?’ he asked politely.
I shook my head. ‘No thanks, Ben. Not hungry. But what about you?’
‘No, I’ll get something when I go home.’
Home. That was a strange thought. His home was here in Polperro. Where Joey vanished.
Chapter Sixteen
‘Look,’ said Ben after an awkward couple of minutes. ‘Do you mind if we go for a walk? I can’t really talk about Joey here. Too many memories.’
I Do Not Sleep Page 5
