by Georgia Hill
Ken spotted his niece and went up to her. ‘Not too bad a turn out, then.’ He surveyed the room with satisfaction. ‘Shame your dad’s had to take the boys to footie practice.’
Emma greeted him with a fond kiss. ‘Yep. And Mum’s doing a late night at the salon but it’s good that Tash, Biddy and George volunteered and Millie said she’d be along later with sarnies.’
‘You can always rely on Millie for food. Think Hughes and Widrow will be dead chuffed with it.’ He gave Emma an exasperated look. ‘Shame they can’t send no one from head office to help. Always left to us,’ he grumbled.
Emma took his arm and hugged it. ‘You know they never do and you love it like this,’ she said, humouring him. ‘You’d hate Pete Hingham turning up getting in the way and worrying he’d got paint all over his suit.’
‘Suppose.’
‘I see Auntie Tess has put herself in charge.’ Emma looked over to where Tessa was showing Tash how to paint a straight line on the St Trinian’s-themed float.
Ken’s lips twisted in humour. ‘You can always rely on my better half to do that.’ He cackled. ‘She thinks she’s in charge but she ain’t got a clue.’ He slung an arm around his niece’s shoulders. ‘We’d better get stuck in then, hadn’t we? Otherwise we’ll get accused of slacking. What colour do you want the sides?’
Tess bustled over and overheard. ‘Hi, Em love,’ she called, in her strident Brummie tones. ‘We’re going for grey all over to make it look like the walls of the school. Then we’ll paint in lines to make it look like stonework and trim it with navy and gold stripes for a bit of bling. It’ll match the uniforms we can get hold of from Berecombe Comp.’
Emma shuddered. ‘Never thought I’d be wearing that uniform again.’
‘You didn’t take to school, kiddo, did you?’ Tess eyed her with humour. ‘Me neither. Not done us any harm, has it? Mind you, the schools in my part of Brum were as rough as an old badger’s backside. Couldn’t wait to get out. And don’t you worry, our kid. Once Biddy has got hold of your uniform you won’t recognize it.’ She grinned. ‘We’re going seriously sexy here.’
Biddy came to join them. ‘Your Sean’s done a good job on the frame,’ she boomed.
‘That’s my boy,’ Tess said with pride. ‘They let him knock up most of it at work, over at the picture framers. Then he and George shipped the pieces in, flat-pack like, and put them together in here. They let him have some off cuts of wood and he’s shaped the top to look like an old stone building. It’ll be fab when we’ve finished painting it. ’
‘Looks marvellous already,’ Biddy added, stoutly. ‘Even got the crenellated edges, if that’s what you mean by it looking like an old stone building.’
‘Suppose it looks a bit Hogwarts. It’s certainly big enough.’ Ken went to the far end and screwed up his face, speculatively. ‘Just as well we’ve got double doors to get it back out again,’ he said. ‘What’s it going on?’
Local farmer and ex-school friend George Small rose from a crouching position on the other side of the float. Despite it being big, his rugby muscled bulk dwarfed it. George Small was only small in name. ‘It’s going on my flat-loader,’ he explained. He nodded to Emma. ‘Evening, Emma, my lovely. Nice of you to turn up at last.’
‘Cheeky sod. I had to have a long telephone call with your Auntie Cheryl before I could leave work, if you must know.’
Cheryl Morrison was George’s great-aunt. He winced in sympathy. ‘She does like a chat.’
‘Well, putting your house on the market is stressful. All part of the job.’
‘That’s my girl,’ came Tash’s disembodied voice from somewhere behind the float.
Emma preened and then stopped short as a thought occurred. ‘This thing’s not going on the truck you take the pigs to the abattoir on?’
‘It had better not be,’ Tash yelled.
George laughed. ‘If you knew anything about my farm, you’d know I’ve got a trailer for that.’ He shook his head. ‘Just as well you’re an estate agent and not a farmer.’
‘I completely agree.’ Emma leaned in closer to him, took an exaggerated sniff and wrinkled her nose.
‘Oi!’ George went to flick his paintbrush at her but Ken intervened.
‘Children, behave. Paint goes on the float and not on anything else,’ he grinned.
‘I love the carnivals down here,’ Tessa said. ‘It always brings folk together.’ Everyone laughed. ‘Seriously, though, kids, you lot in the south west do an ace job. We don’t have anything like it in the midlands.’
‘Think you’re an honorary west country person now, Auntie Tess. You’ve been here long enough,’ Emma said, giving her a peck on the cheek.
Tessa made kissy noises at her niece and then bent down and picked up Elvis. Cuddling him, she said, ‘You reckon, bab? As soon as I opens my mouth folk know I ain’t from round here.’
‘Well, that goes for quite a few of us.’ Biddy glared. ‘Put my dog down, Tessa. He doesn’t like to be fussed. And we’d better go and get on with these costumes, hadn’t we? Otherwise the girls will be getting on that float with even less on.’ She bore Tessa off, with Elvis scampering behind.
‘Who did you say was in charge?’ Ken asked and winked.
They went to the far side of the float and joined Tash who had resumed painting, the pink tip of her tongue sticking out in concentration. She glanced up briefly. ‘No Ollie tonight?’
Emma picked up a paintbrush and dipped it into the grey paint. ‘No, he’s got his RNLI training again.’ She let slip a sigh.
Ken watched as she applied some paint. ‘You’d do better to sweep the brush side to side and don’t load your brush too much for the first coat. Better to build up the colour gradually.’ When she was doing it to his satisfaction, he gave his niece a penetrating look and asked, ‘How often does he have to train then?’
‘Twice a week at the moment.’ Emma narrowed her eyes as she tried to paint as instructed. ‘What with my evening classes and the book group and him being out on a Wednesday night and a Sunday afternoon, we hardly see one another. And when he’s made it to crew and on call, it’ll mean even more disruption,’ she added, gloomily.
‘Just as well he’s got an understanding boss.’ Ken said. ‘The council don’t mind him having to disappear at a moment’s notice?’
‘Nah. Gary, his manager, used to crew when he was younger. He’s all for it.’
‘So he should. They do an amazing job,’ Tash put in. ‘You should be very proud of Ollie. I think it’s marvellous.’
‘I’d think it more marvellous if it brought a few pennies in.’
‘Wouldn’t be the same if it was paid.’ Ken shook his head vigorously. ‘It’s the real strength of the RNLI that it’s independent. Can you imagine what would happen if this lot in the government got hold of it? It’d be management heavy and bogged down with targets. No. Paid for with voluntary contributions. Always has been and always should be.’
Tash eyed Ken. ‘How did your first evening class go, Em?’ she said in an attempt to change the subject. Once Ken got onto politics he didn’t shut up.
Emma stood up and stretched. ‘Now that was marvellous. First hour on Chaucer. Second on Hamlet.’
Tash pulled a face. ‘Bit heavy, isn’t it? For an outreach literature class.’
‘I don’t mind.’ Emma shook her head. ‘Joel makes it all fascinating. We’re doing a whistle-stop tour of the highlights of the English literary world. Words are important. They can change you. They can change the world.’ Her eyes shone. ‘I could listen to Joel talk great literature all night.’
‘I’m sure.’ This time it was Tash who eyed her friend keenly. She’d never heard Emma talk like this. She was pretty sure she was quoting her tutor verbatim. ‘So you’re going to stick with it, then?’
‘’Course. It’s only four weeks. Just hope I can find some peace and quiet at home to do the reading. You know what it’s like.’
Ken joined them again. ‘Madhouse, your
place,’ he agreed. He pointed at Emma’s brush. ‘And words may be important, my girl. But so is my floor. You’re dripping paint all over it.’
Chapter 9
‘Em, are you sure this is the right way?’ Ollie peered through the windscreen at the narrow Cornish lane. ‘Hate to think what will happen if we meet something coming the other way.’
‘Then we’ll find a passing place.’
‘Haven’t seen one for the past half a mile.’ He changed down a gear as the road narrowed even more dramatically.
‘Oh, cheer up, Ollie. It’s our day off. The one day we’ve had together for ages. Let’s make the most of it. And as long as we keep the sea to our left we can’t go far wrong.’
He looked about him. ‘Weird countryside. Not Devon, is it?’
‘No that’s ’cos it’s Cornwall,’ Emma said, trying to be patient. She’d thought this was a good idea. She’d suggested a day out on the one day off that she and Ollie could take together. She had researched a few places used as locations for the filming of Poldark and suggested they head for the far tip of the county. Millie, knowing how strapped for cash the couple were, had packed up one of her special picnic baskets, saying it was on the house. Emma had thought a picnic and a laze on a lonely beach was just the thing she and Ollie needed to connect again. They hardly saw one another and when they did meet for a quick drink, he was more interested in hanging out with his new RNLI pals. The talk was all about rescue methods of pulling bodies from the sea and first-aid techniques. While she admired what Ollie was doing and was secretly proud of him, the conversation bored her rigid. She’d sit there, sipping her cider slowly to make it last and dreaming into the sunset of Joel explaining the theme of ‘seeming’ in Hamlet.
Getting back to the driver next to her, she could feel Ollie rigid with frustration. He hated getting lost. ‘Look, as long as we keep going downhill,’ she pointed put logically, ‘we’ll find the sea eventually.’
Fate must have been listening. They rounded a blind bend, eased past a white cottage, and came to a building right next to a tiny cove.
‘Car park sign that way,’ Emma pointed.
Once they’d parked, there was the usual scramble for change for the meter. Ollie cheered up when the sun came out from behind a cloud and he spotted the café – the building they’d driven past to get to the car park. ‘At least we can get a cuppa,’ he said, as he lifted the wicker picnic basket from the boot of his Focus.
‘What are you like? Fifty?’ Emma teased. Now she was here, she couldn’t contain her excitement. She couldn’t wait to see the first film location. ‘Come on, let’s get down to the beach.’
They navigated the narrow opening to the cove and found somewhere to sit. There wasn’t much choice because the beach was tiny. Ollie insisted on putting up the sun umbrella he’d borrowed from his mum. ‘Can’t have you burning, especially now you’re a redhead,’ he said, grinning and ruffling her still vibrant hair.
‘Ha ha.’
He scanned the sky. ‘And if it rains, it’ll keep us dry.’ Sitting down, he looked around as Emma delved into the basket. ‘Is this it? Not much sand. More shingle and rock. It’s not what I expected. Why were you so desperate to come here and not somewhere a bit bigger like Rock or Penzance?’
Emma blushed and busied herself getting the sandwiches out. ‘Ooh. Smoked salmon and cream cheese,’ she said and handed him one. ‘Good old Millie.’
It didn’t get past Ollie. The penny dropped. ‘Oh, hang on. I get it. This is something to do with Poldark, isn’t it?’
‘Might be.’
‘Oh, Emma!’
‘Well, it’s not a bad place to spend lunchtime is it?’ She looked up at the steep cut in the cliffs next to them. ‘Quiet, too. Away from the crowds. You know what Biddy always says, “September’s the season of the newlyweds and the nearly deads.”’ She looked over her shoulder at an elderly couple sitting on the bench behind them.
Ollie laughed. ‘And we’re neither.’
Emma blushed again. Marriage had only vaguely been on the agenda. ‘Is that a proposal, Oliver Lacey?’
‘Do you want it to be, Emma Tizzard?’
His use of her full name had her thinking about Joel. Her brain muddled with a confusion of excitement and guilt. She couldn’t look Ollie in the eye. And she couldn’t speak.
He took it as a refusal. ‘Yeah, well …’ he said, staring out to sea, blinking hard. ‘Weddings are expensive.’ He bit into his sandwich, ending the scrap of conversation.
‘I might have said yes had you asked me properly,’ Emma muttered into the picnic basket. ‘And if you’d bothered to be a bit more romantic.’ Taking a sandwich she stifled her frustration with food.
Millie had done them proud. As well as salmon sandwiches, she’d included a pavlova, complete with a tub of clotted cream and a flask of iced ginger-and-elderflower cordial. The delicious food was in direct contrast to the mood that had built up. They ate in an awkward silence and Emma wondered how it had got like this between them. They used to be able to talk about anything.
Lunch finished, they managed to find enough beach in between the rocks to lie down. In a gesture of reconciliation, Emma took Ollie’s hand and snuggled into his side.
He sighed heavily. ‘So, go on then, tell me what they filmed here,’ he said in a sleepy voice.
Emma began to explain about the key smuggling scene but, within seconds of her talking, she could hear Ollie’s gentle snores. He was fast asleep. Turning onto her side she watched how his straight hair had flopped back from his tanned face. He was lovely. He’d always been lovely. ‘I love you, Ollie, I really do.’ She bit her lip, inexplicably on the verge of tears. ‘It’s just sometimes you make it so hard.’ Sitting up, she wiped her eyes and reached into her bag for her book. The day wasn’t turning out quite as she hoped. ‘You’re not quite most people’s idea of beach reading,’ she told The Wife of Bath, ‘but you’ll have to do.’ She opened the book and, as she read, all she could hear was Joel’s smooth voice as he described the five times married pilgrim. ‘Gat-toothed was she, experienced in the ways of men …’
Chapter 10
‘Hi, Emma,’ Tash greeted her, as she walked into the office on the following day. ‘Have a good day off? Where did you go?’
Emma hung her bag on the back of her chair and flopped down. ‘It was a disaster, Tash.’ She thrust her hands into her orange hair. ‘And I was looking forward to it so much.’
Tash looked at her in alarm. Emma, who although enjoyed other people’s dramas, was usually placid and easy-going. ‘I’ll get the coffee and you can tell me all about it before Her Ladyship gets in. She’s gone straight out on a viewing.’
Twenty minutes, two mugs of coffee and half a packet of digestives later, Emma had told Tash everything. She slumped back on her chair, staring gloomily into her Hughes and Widrow mug.
‘So, you hadn’t told Ollie the real reason why you wanted to go to Cornwall for the day? He was under the impression you wanted a romantic day out?’
Emma squirmed. ‘And I did. As well. Oh, come on Tash, he should have guessed it was something Poldark related.’ She pouted. ‘He’s so bloomin’ obsessed with this RNLI stuff, he never takes any notice of me any more.’
‘What happened after you went to this place, Porth – what?’
‘Porthgwarra. It’s where they filmed the smuggling scenes and the one where Ross swims watched by Demelza. Ollie got a bit arsey about me not telling him it was a Poldark reccie but then we compromised. He agreed to stop at Botallack – that’s the Wheal Leisure Mine – as long as we went home via St Agnes. Then we got stuck in traffic which Ollie hates. He wanted to see the lifeboat.’ Emma made a sarcastic face. ‘It’s a D-Class apparently. Completely different to the B-Class he crews on.’
‘He’s got it bad,’ Tash said, laughing.
‘Tell me about it. It’s all he ever talks about. It’s majorly boring.’
‘Whereas you talking all things Poldark isn�
��t to him?’
‘Okay, okay,’ Emma huffed. ‘I just thought a day out in Cornwall would be romantic.’
‘Except Ollie knows all you’re doing is lusting after another man.’
Emma’s head shot up. ‘What do you mean?’ she said sharply.
‘Ross Poldark. Why, who did you think I meant?’ Tash’s voice was curious.
‘Oh yes, him.’
‘Isn’t that why you went? To see where your breeches-wearing hero once stood? Bearing in mind he’s completely fictitious, of course.’
‘Don’t get snarky, Tash. I’m at a crossroads in my life.’
Tash, by now thoroughly intrigued, perched on the edge of Emma’s desk. ‘Really? Why?’
‘Well, the M-word reared its ugly head.’
‘Oh Em, Ollie wants to marry you?’
‘I don’t know.’ Emma fiddled with her mug and then put it onto the desk with a bang. ‘And I don’t know if I want to marry him.’
‘Maybe you should try sitting down and talking about it?’ Tash said gently.
‘That’s if we can ever be in the same room at the same time ever again. It’s sod’s law that his training and my evening class are on different nights. And, when I do see him, it’s all he can do to keep his eyes open. He’s knackered after all this training. Apparently, they were practising the man overboard drill on Sunday. He said it was exhausting.’
‘Emma, it’s a good thing he’s doing. Heroic. Really heroic. Not like your blokes in books.’
‘I know. I know that,’ Emma said irritably. ‘And his boss Gary did it and his uncle. They’re all bloody saints.’
‘He’s a keeper and a good man.’
‘I know that too. It’s just we don’t have anything in common any more.’ She looked up at Tash, her hazel eyes enormous and troubled. ‘And that’s a biggie, isn’t it? Especially if we’re talking marriage.’
Tash shrugged. ‘Kit and I don’t have anything in common and it works for us.’
‘Yeah, maybe.’ Emma stared unseeing at the computer monitor. ‘Maybe I just need to go somewhere else. World’s a big place. Bigger than flamin’ Berecombe.’
