Meet Me at Beachcomber Bay: A delicious Cornish romance

by Jill Mansell

  ‘So everything’s good with you and Sam then?’

  Belle nodded complacently. ‘Really good.’

  Hmm, should he?

  Shouldn’t he?

  Ah, what the hell …

  ‘Typical.’ He glanced sideways at her. ‘All these years and now I’ve missed my chance. Oh well, never mind. I’m happy for you.’

  ‘What? What do you mean?’ Belle swung her head round to look at him.

  ‘Nothing. Forget I said it.’

  They’d almost reached the apartment block now. ‘What chance?’ said Belle.

  ‘Sshh. It doesn’t matter. I should have kept quiet.’

  ‘You can’t say that then not tell me what you’re talking about.’

  Ronan pulled up just past the entrance to the building, where trees efficiently shielded the car from view. He switched off the ignition. ‘Are you sure you want me to say it?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘OK, but only if you promise not to breathe a word. Not to Sam or to Clem. It wouldn’t be fair on them. And it isn’t as if anything’s going to happen, so there’s no need for them to know.’

  ‘Know what?’ Belle’s tone was breathless.

  So easy.

  ‘Well, I suppose it’s just ironic how your feelings for someone can change so suddenly.’ He lowered his voice. ‘So … completely.’

  ‘You mean you and Clemency?’

  Ronan shook his head. ‘I’m talking about me and you. All these years and it’s finally happened. Ever since you came back, everything feels different. Each time I see you, all I want to do is kiss you. Don’t panic, I won’t.’ He smiled fleetingly and murmured, ‘But I can’t help wondering what it’d be like.’

  Belle’s eyes were shining in the darkness. ‘You mean we could do it now and no one would ever know?’

  Did this mean she was going to go through with it? Ronan breathed in the scent she was wearing and nodded slowly. ‘We could give it a try, see how it feels.’

  God, I haven’t thought this through. What if she tells Sam and he tries to kill me?

  ‘Come here,’ whispered Belle, unfastening her seat belt and moving towards him.

  Shit, she’s actually going to do it …

  The next moment, she’d shoved her hands hard against his chest. ‘You bastard!’ she bellowed. ‘How dare you? Weren’t you listening the other week when we told you about our vow? How can you even think I’d do that to my sister after we made our pact?’

  ‘Thanks for that,’ said Clemency when Ronan arrived back at the Mermaid. ‘How is she?’

  ‘Her five-inch heels were hurting her feet. Her head is fine.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Might have guessed.’

  ‘Hey.’ He touched her arm. ‘Did you ever wonder how confident you could be about Belle keeping her side of that solemn vow you two made?’

  Puzzled, Clemency said, ‘No. Well, maybe a little bit. Why?’

  Ronan was glancing around to check that no one else was within earshot. ‘You can be confident.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I made a play for her and she turned me down.’

  Her stomach lurched. ‘What? How much of a play?’

  ‘I said I wanted to kiss her, and that no one else would ever know. Me, the one she’s been after for years. You should have seen her reaction,’ said Ronan. ‘She was horrified.’ He mimed Belle’s expression. ‘Outraged.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Well at least now you know you can trust her, one hundred per cent.’ He was looking delighted at his own ingenuity. ‘I thought you’d be pleased.’

  Clemency didn’t know how to feel. The old Belle had nursed her unrequited crush on Ronan for so long. It meant her sister must be even more in love with Sam than she’d thought.

  There was a hollow ache of disappointment in her ribcage. Ali had asked her earlier if she’d be happy to have Sam as her brother-in-law. And she’d said yes, but under the circumstances had that actually been a massive lie?

  Plus there was the other thing …

  ‘What?’ said Ronan as her expression gave her away.

  ‘She’s already got Sam, and now she’s had you making advances too. She’s going to think she’s won.’ Clemency sighed. ‘Oh God, she’s going to be smug all over again.’

  Smug was an understatement. More like insufferable.

  ‘Ah, sorry about that. Didn’t think.’ He grimaced. ‘But like I said, at least now you know you can trust her. Good news for you,’ he added. ‘Bad news for me.’

  What did that mean? Clemency looked at him, baffled. ‘Why is it bad news for you?’

  ‘Hello? She turned me down!’ He gestured to himself, did the top-to-toe sweep. ‘Wasn’t even tempted! I’m clearly not as irresistible as I thought.’

  Clemency smiled at his mock dismay, then her heart did its habitual squeeze at the sight of an unmistakable silhouette appearing in the illuminated doorway that led out on to the terrace. Purely to warn Ronan so he didn’t say anything to give the game away, she murmured, ‘Sam’s over there, watching us.’

  Ronan promptly drew her to him and kissed her on the mouth, his fingers sliding up through the hair at the nape of her neck.

  When Clemency eventually drew back, Sam had disappeared. Slightly out of breath, she said, ‘What was that for?’

  He frowned. ‘Sorry, I thought it was what you wanted me to do. Because of Sam and Belle. Wasn’t that what you meant?’

  ‘I meant that I didn’t want him to overhear what you were saying about Belle.’

  ‘So much rejection.’ Ronan heaved a dramatic sigh. ‘I don’t know how much more I can stand.’

  Clemency laughed because he was looking so tortured, so tragic. ‘Listen to yourself. Talk about needy.’

  ‘Listen to you,’ he retaliated. ‘Talk about cruel. There’s only one person who really loves me, and that’s my mother. Nobody else.’ He sighed. ‘She’s the only one.’

  He’s talking about Josephine. Don’t think about Marina, don’t even think about her.

  Aloud, she said, ‘You poor thing.’

  ‘Would you like another kiss?’

  Would she? Clemency hesitated, then shook her head. ‘Thanks, but no thanks.’

  ‘See? Is it any wonder my self-esteem is in tatters?’ Ronan’s brown eyes glittered. ‘You know what? It’s not easy being rejected.’

  She patted his arm. ‘I’m sure you’ll survive.’

  ‘Tell me, am I still slightly irresistible?’

  Clemency paused. ‘Maybe. A tiny bit.’

  Ronan broke into a grin. ‘Phew, thank goodness for that.’

  Chapter 22

  Sometimes it isn’t until you’ve seen something a few times that it permeates your brain and you actually notice it.

  The penny dropped while Clemency was in Paddy’s Café, sipping her frothy cappuccino and waiting on the phone for a client to decide when he and his wife might be able to view a property.

  ‘Sorry,’ said the client. ‘We can’t manage Tuesday. Berenice has a shopping trip with friends.’

  ‘Not a problem. How about Wednesday?’ Clemency tapped her pen against the arm of the chair, idly watching as Marina waved off a pair of happy customers, then stood up in order to have a stretch and ease the muscles in her aching back.

  ‘No can do. Sailing on Wednesday.’

  Did Marina have a touch of indigestion?

  ‘Thursday?’ said Clemency.

  ‘Hmm, not sure. Berenice usually sees her regression therapist on Thursdays.’

  Of course she did. Who wouldn’t? Clemency tap-tapped her pen against her knee and watched as a small boy raced along the harbour, hurling himself into his grandfather’s outstretched arms and bursting into tears.

  ‘Oh now, what’s happened to you?’ The grandfather cuddled the boy and ruffled his hair. ‘What’s all this about?’

  ‘A insect stung me!’ The boy let out a wail of fury and pulled up the sleeve of his Superman T-shirt. ‘Look, it hurts!
There’s a lump.’

  That was when Clemency saw Marina glance over at the boy, quickly look away again, then gently press the flat of her hand against her chest for the second time.

  Except it wasn’t only the second time, was it? She’d seen Marina do it yesterday too, as well as some other time she couldn’t quite place … oh, when they’d bumped into each other in the bakery the other afternoon. She’d been buying apple doughnuts and Marina was picking up a cottage loaf, and while they’d briefly chatted in the queue, Marina had made that same almost-unconscious gesture with her hand, the tips of her fingers resting briefly against the upper curve of her right breast.

  Her healthy breast.

  It wasn’t an excuse-me-I-have-a-touch-of-indigestion gesture, though. That much Clemency now knew for sure.

  The evil insect, meanwhile, had been identified as an ant. The grandfather solemnly assured the small boy that he wouldn’t die and if he stopped crying he could have an ice cream worthy of a superhero.

  ‘OK, we’d better not say Thursday to be on the safe side. Maybe Friday would be good,’ said the potential client. ‘Although it might clash with her hot-stone treatment at the spa.’

  Clemency had plenty of experience dealing with irritating clients. She also had a ton of patience as a rule. But it wasn’t limitless. She said pleasantly, ‘How about you check with your wife and get back to me when you’ve found out which dates she can manage? Might be easier all round. Bye!’

  Sometimes people were more trouble than they were worth.

  ‘Hi,’ said Marina when Clemency joined her. ‘How were the apple doughnuts?’

  ‘Awful.’ Clemency patted her stomach. ‘They were impossible to resist, so I ended up eating all three. Which means an extra couple of hours in the gym to make up for them.’

  ‘Ah, no harm in treating yourself once in a while. You’re fine as you are. Anyway, how about that sister of yours?’ Marina sounded triumphant. ‘She’s still going strong! I saw her just this morning, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed on the beach. Looks like someone lost their bet.’

  Clemency smiled. Last week they’d watched Belle jogging past them in full make-up and she’d assured Marina it was a fad that wouldn’t last. Marina had said, ‘Oh, but it might,’ and she’d replied, ‘Trust me, I know what Belle’s like. Give it a few days and this whole fitness craze’ll be out of the window.’

  And they’d made a bet on it.

  ‘You were right and I was wrong,’ Clemency said now. ‘I owe you a drink.’ She paused, ready to change the subject, because Belle’s fitness regime wasn’t currently uppermost in her mind. ‘So, how are things with you?’

  ‘Things? All good,’ Marina said brightly. ‘Oh, did I tell you I’m meeting up with that couple who are getting married at the Mariscombe Hotel? They’ve commissioned me to do a painting of their wedding!’

  ‘That’s great.’ It meant even more to Marina, Clemency knew, because Ronan had been the one who’d recommended her to the young couple. She cleared her throat and lowered her voice. ‘And how are … you?’

  ‘I told you, I’m fine.’ But this time the suppressed anxiety was visible in the faint lines around Marina’s eyes. ‘Why are you asking?’

  ‘I’ve seen you doing this.’ Clemency copied the gesture she’d witnessed earlier. ‘Something’s bothering you. Have you made an appointment to get checked out?’

  Marina blanched. ‘You saw me do that? How many times?’

  ‘Only a few. Don’t worry,’ she added as Marina looked at her in dismay, ‘you were very discreet. I just happened to spot it.’

  ‘Oh dear, I’m sorry. But I’m sure it’s nothing. I’m just being neurotic.’

  ‘You mean you haven’t been to see the doctor yet? You will, though, won’t you.’ This time she wasn’t asking a question.

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Marina nodded like a small child dutifully promising to tidy her room. ‘I’ll make an appointment when I get home.’

  ‘Hmm, unconvincing. Why haven’t you done it already?’

  Marina paused, then her shoulders slumped in defeat. ‘Because I’m scared.’ Her voice broke as she said the word. ‘Petrified. I don’t want it to be happening, not again. Not after last time.’

  ‘But you need to get it checked.’ Clemency’s voice softened.

  ‘I know, of course I know that, but I’d rather it just went away by itself. Right now, I can tell myself it’s nothing, just a harmless cyst.’ Marina shrugged helplessly. ‘Just for the moment, I’d rather think that than know it’s something much worse. Because I don’t want the cancer to be back … I’ve been through it once and I don’t want to have to go through it again.’

  Clemency’s heart went out to her; as with anything you really didn’t want to do, from filling in your tax return to getting your wisdom teeth yanked out, the temptation was to put it off for as long as possible. This time, though, she knew she couldn’t allow herself to agree with Marina’s impassioned reasoning.

  ‘I understand,’ she said, gently but firmly. ‘I do understand. But for your own sake, you know you need to find out.’

  Arriving back at the office, Clemency spotted Josephine’s bright yellow Fiat outside and her empty stomach gave a happy rumble of anticipation.

  And … result. Pushing open the door, she spotted the familiar blue-and-white-striped cool box resting on her desk.

  ‘You know what I love most about your mum?’ Clemency said to Ronan, who was tapping a number into his phone. ‘Everything. Every single thing in the world. She’s a magical cooking angel.’ As she popped open the airtight lid, the heavenly scents of Caribbean rum and coconut shrimp with mashed sweet potatoes and grilled pineapple spilt out in all their glory. ‘Now that’s what I call a thing of beauty.’

  At that moment the door swung open behind her and Josephine came in, clutching a huge bouquet of pink and cream roses from the florist down the road.

  ‘Oh Josephine, you shouldn’t have. Honestly, the food’s more than enough, you didn’t need to buy me flowers as well!’ It was one of those throwaway remarks meant to make people laugh, and usually it did the trick. This time, though, the moment the words were out she wished she hadn’t said them. Josephine was trying to smile, but the awkwardness was visible on her face. Clemency said hastily, ‘Oh God, I’m sorry, it was meant to be a joke.’

  ‘Darling, don’t worry, you didn’t know. They’re for my friend Margo. Her husband died yesterday. Dear me, I still can’t believe it.’ Unshed tears sprang into Josephine’s brown eyes and she shook her head. ‘None of us can believe he’s gone. It was so unexpected. Poor Margo, they were such a happy couple. They were on their way to the supermarket,’ she explained. ‘Just sitting in the car, waiting for the traffic lights on Trenance Road to turn green, and Patrick said he didn’t feel very well. And that was it. He died right there in the driver’s seat. One minute he was alive and talking about buying a Gressingham duck, the next minute he was gone.’

  ‘Oh Josephine, that’s so awful.’ Clemency gave her a hug, careful not to squash the roses. She’d heard Josephine talking about Margo before. ‘And isn’t their daughter getting married in September?’

  ‘She is, she is.’ Josephine nodded and gathered herself. ‘It’s just heartbreaking. They were so excited about the wedding. Now he’s never going to walk his daughter down the aisle. He’ll never get to meet his grandchildren. He’s going to miss out on everything … Oh well, I suppose these things happen. That’s the trouble with life, isn’t it? We never know when our time’s going to be up.’ Pragmatic as always, Josephine straightened her shoulders and gave herself a mental shake. ‘Anyway, I’d better get back. The coconut shrimp is Margo’s favourite too, that’s why I made an extra-big batch this morning. Not that she’ll want to eat, of course, but she needs to keep her strength up.’

  Ronan ended his phone call and came over to kiss his mother goodbye. ‘Give Margo my condolences and let me know as soon as they have a date set for the funeral. I’ll
go with you.’

  ‘Thank you, darling.’ Josephine smiled and stroked the side of his face. ‘You’re a good son.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You’d be an even better one if you could just find yourself a proper girlfriend and settle down. Maybe give me a grandchild before it’s my turn to keel over and die.’

  ‘Here it comes, any excuse for a spot of emotional blackmail.’ Ronan grinned. ‘You never miss a trick, do you?’

  ‘With a son like you,’ said Josephine, ‘I need to make the most of every chance I get.’

  Chapter 23

  ‘Ah, look at the two of you, don’t you make a lovely couple! How long have you been married then?’

  Nevil Burrows was ninety-three, and his long-term memory was pin-sharp. His short-term memory, by way of contrast, was very poor, which was why he was selling his two-bedroomed cottage and moving in with his daughter and her family in Porthleven.

  Ronan exchanged a glance with Kate; thank goodness he’d warned her in advance about Nevil’s ability to retain information.

  ‘No, Mr Burrows, I’m from the estate agency and Kate is one of our clients. She’s come to look at your house,’ he explained for the second time. ‘We aren’t married.’

  Nevil’s overgrown white eyebrows shot up. ‘Not married? Oh dear. Ah well, I suppose it’s the modern way. Times change, don’t they? Everyone used to get married in my day.’

  ‘We’re not a couple, Mr Burrows. Not … together,’ Kate elaborated, shaking her head.

  ‘No? Oh that is a shame.’ Nevil looked disappointed. ‘I thought you were married. You look as if you could be!’

  Kate smiled. ‘Well we aren’t. Shall we have a look at your living room?’

  ‘Of course, of course. Come and see! Are you looking for a boyfriend, m’dear? Or do you already have someone in your life?’

  Kate flushed. ‘I’m single at the moment.’

  ‘Well bless my soul, that is bad news. And how about you?’ Nevil turned to Ronan. ‘Are you single too? Because if you are, you two could get together! How about that for an idea?’