‘Look, why don’t you come up to Hampstead for a week, just to see how you like it?’ he said. ‘Surely your parents wouldn’t object to you having a week’s holiday? We could have a marvellous time and there’s so much of London I’m longing to show you.’
‘I will, I will,’ said Gideon, resting his head on Dominic’s shoulder. Dominic’s spirits soared as they drove across the Tamar Bridge and headed towards the north coast. It was almost dark and their time was nearly up.
‘I don’t want you to go back to London,’ Gideon whispered, ‘but I know you have to. And, if I want to be with you, I have to go, too.’ He paused. ‘But what the hell am I going to say to Mum and Dad?’
‘My darling,’ Dominic said, ‘you are a grown man. You should not be tied to ageing parents. Surely they could afford to pay for a barman to come in for busy nights? Let’s face it, if you’d left home like your brother did, they’d have to manage. Surely they’ll be happy for you to have a life of your own?’
‘I know you’re right but it’s going to be bloody difficult, telling them, I mean. They’re not stupid, Dominic, they know what goes on in the world, or most of it anyway, but it’s never affected them, see. Like they have no idea that Porky Borman, who comes in the pub on a Saturday night, dishes out drugs down the end of the village.’
Dominic was shocked. ‘You’re kidding!’
‘Of course I’m not! It goes on everywhere, even Portmerryn. Every town, every village, dealers come out from the cities. Anyway, I’m going to tell Mum and Dad that I’m going up to London to see how I like it. That you’re offering me a roof over my head and that there’s plenty of jobs going.’
So he’s not going to tell them about us, Dominic thought. But never mind, one step at a time.
‘Give me a couple of days,’ Gideon said. ‘I’ll tell them and, on Wednesday afternoon, I’ll walk along the beach towards Penhennon. Meet me there, near the cave, about half past three.’
‘And then what?’
‘And then I’ll tell you how they reacted. But, no matter, I’ll be all packed up and ready to go with you up to London at the end of the week.’
‘Are you sure?’ Dominic asked.
‘I’m absolutely sure, Dominic,’ Gideon said.
35
ONE WEEK
Mitch hadn’t slept in the tent again. He’d told Simon about it collapsing in the middle of the night and how he’d come in to the laundry room to dry off. He said that, after he’d tumble-dried his clothes, he’d spent the rest of the night on the sofa in the lounge. He hoped that was all right and he would gladly pay for accommodation.
Celia prayed that Simon would believe this. Mitch had also gone on to tell Simon that his ankle was still very painful and he’d need to find a proper bed for a couple of nights before he’d be able to head home. Celia, he had added, had kindly offered to drive him somewhere to find accommodation. Tess had appeared at this point and said to Simon, ‘Why don’t we let Mitch use Windsor Castle for a couple of nights?’ And that was how Mitch ended up in a caravan, hidden in the trees, that Celia hadn’t known existed.
Celia didn’t know how to feel. On the one hand, she’d have been relieved to deposit him at some B&B a respectable distance away and try to forget the entire episode. On the other hand, she didn’t really want him to go at all. She had never, never, in her entire life, been so confused.
And vulnerable.
In addition, the man was an ex-policeman from her own part of the world and had already asked her when she’d be going home and if they could meet up sometimes. There was no way that she could tell him that she was never going to go back there again, that she had to find a new life. A new life near the sea, and as far away from Dudley as it was possible to go without a passport.
Celia went back to her usual spot among the gorse bushes and set up her easel. She’d paint this view one more time to take with her, to remind herself of this place. And she needed time alone up here to try to make sense of her emotions. She’d been painting and daydreaming for about an hour when Jackie appeared. The trouble with Jackie was that she had precious little to do; she wasn’t a walker, an artist, a writer, or anything much. She just wandered around all day, or sunbathed, reading trashy magazines and talking to anyone who’d give her the time of day.
‘Oh, Celia!’ she said. ‘You’re painting that view again!’
‘I thought I’d better have one for myself.’
‘That is one terrific view,’ Jackie said. ‘I’m going to have your painting framed and give it pride of place in my new home.’
‘Your new home?’
‘Yeah, I’ve made a decision, Celia. I’m going to go for a divorce, get the house sold and, with my share of the money, buy a nice little flat. But, while all that’s going on, I’ll rent somewhere in the meantime.’
‘Good for you.’ Celia thought this was probably the most sensible thing that Jackie had ever uttered.
‘I’m going home on Wednesday, Celia. Can’t stay here forever, can I? But, you know what? If we hadn’t come down here I’d never have had the guts to leave him, and don’t ask me why! This place has just helped me clear my head. But I’m missing my friends, and my sons.’
‘I’m really pleased for you,’ Celia said sincerely.
‘And you’ve helped, too, because you’re so independent. You don’t need a bloke around to be happy, do you?’
Celia said nothing.
‘I’m going to be like you, Celia, and make a new life for myself.’
You and me both, thought Celia.
‘So I’m flying up to London and then get the train home from there. Where’s Newquay Airport? Is it far from here?’
‘Not far,’ Celia said. She paused for a moment. ‘I’ll take you there.’
‘Oh Celia, would you? That’s ever so kind. But, hey, I’ll bet it’s because you can’t wait to see the back of me!’
Celia gave one of her rare smiles. ‘There was a time,’ she said, ‘but I’ve become quite fond of you.’
At that, Jackie bent down, put both her arms round Celia and gave her a big hug.
Celia took a few moments to regain her composure; she wasn’t accustomed to such random displays of friendship and affection. And she rather liked it.
‘I think you’re lovely,’ said Jackie, ‘and so is that Mitch!’ She winked and headed off down the slope.
Celia took a deep breath. Did she know?
Now that Mitch was ensconced in the caravan Celia didn’t dare creep out in the dead of night like some rebellious teenager, rattling locks and bolts with the Sparrows’ bedroom door alongside. Mitch had said it wasn’t a problem because he could come in via the laundry room and tiptoe upstairs, but Celia was panic-stricken that someone might see or hear him. In the end she decided to paint only in the mornings and, after lunch, join him in the caravan for a couple of hours. Surely that would appear to be a perfectly normal sociable thing to do? Besides, she wasn’t used to sleeping with someone all night, and in a single bed! No, this was a much more satisfactory arrangement and it was only for a few days anyway, and then he’d be gone, back to Birmingham.
Now he wanted her address, and she no longer had one. She’d left Dudley behind, but she hadn’t told him that.
‘I’m homeless at the moment,’ she informed him. ‘Looking for a new place, but we can keep in touch by phone and I’ll let you know where I end up.’ But she wouldn’t, of course. She’d treasure the coming days because that was all there was ever going to be.
Mitch joined them for dinner in the evening and, at Celia’s insistence, sat as far apart from her at the table as possible. He was pleasant and chatty and fitted in well, and she was pretty sure no one suspected anything, except perhaps Jackie and Titania.
It had rained while they were at the dinner table, causing everyone to look out and moan.
‘I think it’s only a shower,’ Dominic said, squinting up at the sky. ‘It’s certainly not going to be a storm like the other night. I’v
e never known thunder and lightning like that before.’
‘Suits some people,’ Titania said, looking straight at Celia.
No one questioned her, all suddenly concentrating on their food.
Now Mitch was recovering well, but still limping.
‘I’ll take you to Exeter,’ Celia said, ‘to get your bus. You can’t be hitchhiking like that.’
Although he was paying a reduced rate for his accommodation at The Sparrows’ Nest, it was still money he hadn’t planned to spend, and he wasn’t keen either on having to trek across to the house each time he wanted to go to the loo.
‘I could probably get a bus, or buses, from here to Exeter,’ he said. ‘I’m not in any particular hurry. I haven’t booked on National Express yet so I won’t buy a ticket until I get there.’
‘I am taking you to Exeter,’ Celia said. ‘Don’t argue.’
‘I wouldn’t dare,’ he said, grinning.
Celia hoped she was in control of her emotions, because this was a completely new experience for her. She didn’t want him to go, but she did want him to go. Or, more accurately, she needed him to go. In the last few days her vision of life had changed irrevocably.
They didn’t talk much on the way to Exeter.
He seemed fascinated by her car. ‘For God’s sake, put your foot down, Celia!’ he said, as she drove along the A30 at a stately fifty miles an hour, behind a procession of caravans. ‘This thing is built for speed; why don’t you take it up to seventy? Eighty, ninety, even?’
‘Are you suggesting I break the law?’ Celia asked, accelerating gently up to fifty-five. Trucks were pulling out to overtake.
‘No,’ said Mitch, ‘you can do seventy legally. But most of us are a bit naughty occasionally, aren’t we, Celia?’ When she didn’t respond he said, ‘Sometimes, on a straight stretch of road, when it’s quiet and there aren’t any speed cameras around, it’s fun just to see how fast it’ll go.’
Celia sighed. ‘And you were a policeman!’ But she’d got it up to sixty.
‘Even policemen are human,’ said Mitch. ‘And even I have points on my licence. Now, why don’t you pull out into the other lane and have a go at getting to seventy?’
‘And they say women nag,’ Celia said, but she did pull out. The road was clear and she accelerated a little more while looking straight ahead.
‘Wow,’ said Mitch, ‘this car can move!’
Celia looked down at the speedometer and realised with horror that she’d been doing nearly ninety! Ninety miles an hour! It didn’t feel anything like ninety, more like forty. Now, here she was, breaking the law, with her policeman lover beside her. Mummy must be spinning in her grave!
They got lost in Exeter trying to find the bus station, and went round the city centre several times before finally they spotted a sign and Mitch guided her in the right direction. They found a car park opposite the bus station and Celia accompanied him to the ticket office.
The next bus to Birmingham would leave at 3 p.m., and it was now only half past eleven.
‘What shall we do?’ asked Mitch. ‘Shall we go look at the shops, have some lunch, or shall we find a nice little hotel somewhere and get ourselves a room?’
‘No,’ Celia said firmly, ‘that seems rather obscene. We shall have some lunch.’
She had the distinct feeling that, if they spent further time alone together, she wouldn’t let him go at all. It was going to be difficult enough as it was.
They sat on the cathedral green and admired the magnificent Gothic spires, they ate lunch in a nearby Carluccio’s, they had a wander round John Lewis, and then returned to the bus station at a quarter to three. There was already a queue forming for the Birmingham bus.
‘You’ll find your way back all right, won’t you, Celia?’ he asked anxiously. ‘Remember to follow the signs for Okehampton.’
‘Yes, yes!’ she said impatiently.
‘You’ll wait until I get on the bus, won’t you?’
‘If you’d like me to.’
‘I would, Celia, I’d like that very much.’ He heaved his rucksack from his back and straightened his shoulders. ‘I shall miss you. Don’t forget to phone and let me know where I can find you.’
‘I will,’ she said. I won’t, she thought.
The bus pulled up and, after he’d chucked his rucksack into the hold, Mitch took Celia in his arms. ‘Thanks, my love, for everything. You’ve been so kind, but I’ll make it up to you.’
‘Yes,’ Celia said, blinking furiously.
He kissed her then and boarded the bus. She waited until the bus pulled out and then continued waving until it was out of sight.
Celia crossed the road to where she’d parked her car, got into the driver’s seat, and wept.
She wept as she’d never done before.
Then she dried her eyes, took a deep breath, and set off back to Portmerryn.
* * *
Ex-District Inspector Arthur Mitchell settled himself in his seat on the National Express coach and hoped no one would sit beside him so he could stretch his legs out. He felt sad, and a little mystified; he definitely hadn’t met Celia before but something about her was very familiar. It was as the bus was on the outskirts of Exeter that it suddenly came to him. Of course! It had been in all the papers. He smiled to himself, but knew then that he’d never see her again.
36
TITANIA BOWS OUT
Titania checked out of The Sparrows’ Nest on the Wednesday, 12 June, mainly because it was forecast to be dry all day and night, whereas Thursday and Friday it was possibly going to rain. She’d have liked to have checked out in the afternoon, but check-out time was 11 a.m., and she didn’t want to do anything that might draw suspicion to herself. Anyway, as she wouldn’t be coming back to Cornwall again, she might as well see some more of it while she waited. Truro was the main town, or was it a city? Yes, it was, according to the signs as she approached. She’d look at the shops, have some lunch, kill time until the evening. She wouldn’t be heading back to London until the early hours of the morning. It would have probably been more sensible to have waited for the darker nights, but she hadn’t, so there it was.
‘Has everything been quite satisfactory, Titania?’ Tess asked as she was paying the bill.
‘Oh yes, my dear,’ Titania replied. She omitted to mention that everything would have been a great deal more satisfactory if Tess’s gorgeous husband had succumbed to her charms.
‘I shall miss you all,’ Titania said, ‘but I do want to be back in London by this afternoon. I have an appointment, you see.’ She did indeed have an appointment, but it was not in London. It was most important that she was seen to be leaving in the morning and heading straight back to London.
‘Well, drive safely, Titania, and perhaps we’ll see you here again sometime,’ Tess said.
‘Oh, definitely,’ said Titania. Not bloody likely!
Dominic arrived just as she was loading up her car.
‘We shall miss you, Titania,’ he said, ‘we can always rely on you for some colour and wit!’
‘Thank you, Dominic darling, you’ve been so lovely!’ She thought for a moment. ‘I’m hoping if I leave now I’ll be home by mid-afternoon.’ It was important that everyone knew of her intention.
‘Well, good luck with the traffic.’ Dominic gave her a quick hug and headed towards the door.
‘Good luck with the book, darling!’ she shouted after him.
There was no sign of the dreary Celia or the silly Jackie. More to the point there was no sign of sexy Simon either, worse luck. Ah well – his loss!
Titania got into her car and, when she reached the top of the hill and the main road, she turned right towards Truro. When she got there she wandered round the shops, she lunched, she had a look at the cathedral, she had afternoon tea, she looked round the shops again. She was bored. The car park was expensive so it was time to be on her way, find a quiet layby somewhere nearer the Lizard, and have an hour or two’s sleep in preparation fo
r a busy night ahead. She’d be back in London by the morning. Job done! But, for the next few hours, she must not be seen. No one must connect her in any way with the area, which was why she’d chosen to stay in Portmerryn, miles away on the north coast.
Titania found a layby surrounded by trees and concealed from the main road. She slept and dreamed of Simon Sparrow.
37
THE WAITING GAME
Dominic didn’t know whether he should show his face in The Portmerryn Arms or not. Had Gideon informed his parents yet of his love for Dominic and his imminent departure? How would they react to the news? He decided to go for a long walk instead, because there was no way he could concentrate on writing at the moment. Then he’d meet Gideon on the beach as planned, and then he’d know. He’d ask Tess to prepare his bill and he’d leave on Friday, as planned.
Tess and Simon were worldly people so they’d probably already sussed out what was going on, but no matter. He’d become fond of them both – and of The Sparrows’ Nest – and he’d be sad to leave. Perhaps he’d come back on holiday. With Gideon? That, of course, would depend on his parents’ reaction.
Dominic got as far as Pearly’s shop and decided to buy a snack and then take himself along the coastal path for an hour or two. Pearly, as a salute to high summer, had dispensed with the hand-knitted cardigans and was wearing a sleeveless yellow top, also hand-knitted.
‘I got some lovely sausage rolls and pasties,’ she informed him. ‘Come fresh from Bodmin this mornin’. And I can warm them up for you.’
‘I’ll have a warm pasty, then,’ he said.
A couple of backpackers had come into the shop and were looking around in fascination.
The Golden Oldies Guesthouse (ARC) Page 24
