At midday, she ran through the Digey into Fore Street, down to the harbour and along to St Andrews Street. In one bag she carried her dance gear. In another – a carefully covered basket – she’d packed a selection of Dad’s specialities: a freshly baked walnut loaf, six saffron buns, and a cinnamon and apple crumble.
She stood on the pavement outside Meryn’s front door. The top half of the door had been flung open. Through it she could see down to the basement and Meryn muttering to himself, flinging a pan into the sink. The scent of roasting lamb filtered into the air.
She tiptoed through the door, left the basket of food on the table and sprinted up to the living room. It stood flooded with grey light from the harbour sea and sky. True to his word, Meryn had pushed the sofa against the wall and rolled up the scattered rugs. The wooden floor gleamed up at her invitingly.
She dashed upstairs to the bathroom.
Got to do this quickly, before I lose my nerve.
Five minutes later, she was down in the living room, standing in the middle of the floor, dressed in white tights and her special red leotard.
She heard Meryn climb the stairs from the basement, exclaim with delight at the basket of food.
“Jenna? Are these from you? Where are you? I didn’t hear you come in!” He rushed up the shallow flight of steps. “Wow!”
Jenna blushed. “This is all your fault.”
“You look great!”
“I’ve been very strict with myself all week . . . In my studio twice a day, morning and evening, warming up, exercising at the barre . . . Yesterday I could hardly move!”
“Will you dance for me?”
“Guess I’ll have to if I want any lunch!”
Meryn grinned. “Amazing how the smell of roasting lamb can sway a girl’s heart! I bought a new CD with you in mind . . . All the best bits from Swan Lake. Dance for me, Jenna. Let me see what you can do.”
Jenna felt the rhythms of the dearly loved music flood through her body. They eased her nerves, softened her self-consciousness.
She kept her eyes on Meryn’s face as she began to dance for him. Clumsily at first, gradually she gained in confidence. This coaxing of her body back to dancing life felt more important than any exam, any charity show – more important than anything she’d ever done before. She needed Meryn’s approval. She knew from the look in his eyes that she had it. And as she danced, memories of the dreadful summer months wove through her mind: the cold pale dawns when she’d dreaded facing the day; her guilt and anguish as she relived special moments with Benjie; Dad’s valiant attempts at cheerfulness; her mother’s furious silence and contempt.
Life must go on, she made her body say. Good or bad,it must go on. Every time I dance, I shall celebrate my little brother’s life – and reinforce my own.
“Thanks, Meryn.” Jenna pushed her plate aside. “Not just for lunch. For making me dance again.”
“If it hadn’t been me, it would have been somebody else. I’m no expert, but you’ve got real talent, Jenna. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
Jenna blushed with happiness. “You should have seen Dad’s face when he saw me practising in the studio.”
“I can imagine.”
“I felt as if – just a little – I was healing the hurt of . . .” She took a deep breath. “You know, of Benjie. Before, I reckoned the only way I could do that was by working beside Dad in the Cockleshell.”
“So where do you go from here?”
Jenna shrugged. “I’ve no idea. I suppose—”
In the corner, the phone rang. Meryn darted over to answer it.
“Sorry, Jenna, emergency. Must go.” He blew her a kiss. “Wait here for me. Back soonest.”
He raced out of the door.
Jenna leapt to her feet, ran over to the window to look out across the harbour.
The dreadful warning thud of the maroons shook the Sunday air.
A Wedding
Jenna stood at the window, her heart thumping with fear. She watched as the offshore Mersey lifeboat trawled its way out to sea.
Meryn’s on it, with his six other crew members.
Are they heroes or what?
Please, keep them safe among the waves.
She forced herself down to the kitchen to clear the plates from lunch, looking through the kitchen’s porthole at every opportunity. She put the furniture and carpets back to rights in the living room. Then she paced up and down by the window, which was being lashed with rivers of rain, watching the heavy clouds scudding across the sky, the dark, ominous waters of the harbour at full tide.
I can’t bear this a minute longer.
I’m going to Lifeboat House.
I’ll wait for Meryn there.
She threw on her anorak, slid the hood over her head and grabbed her bag.
She hurried down to the harbour, the roast lamb and apple crumble lying heavy in her stomach.
The doors of Lifeboat House had been flung open to allow its massive boat to slide into the sea. The space behind it stood empty and bereft. Small groups of people huddled together against the rain, waiting for the return of their loved ones or simply hoping for good news.
Jenna felt suddenly very alone.
Dad was spending the day with Hester again, but she did not know where. Mum was in London, exactly where Jenna neither knew nor very much cared. She hadn’t spoken to Aunt Tamsyn for a fortnight. She hadn’t seen Leah or Helen for weeks. Neither Imogen nor Morvah had bothered to come to the Cockleshell again. Not surprising: she had hardly welcomed them with open arms. She’d merely asked them about their plans, deliberately deflecting attention away from herself, putting a new, icy distance between them. The rest of her school-friends had probably left St Ives for colleges and careers a long way off.
Don’t let anything happen to Meryn.
He’s made such a difference to my life.
Don’t take him away from me . . .
An hour later, the Mersey lifeboat roared back on to the horizon.
Cheers went up from the bedraggled groups standing by the wharf.
Jenna blushed with relief and happiness, realising she was soaked to the skin but caring only that Meryn was safe and sound.
When the boat had docked, Meryn jumped off it. Jenna rushed straight into his arms.
“You’re a nutter,”Meryn said. “You’re wetter than I am. How long have you been out here?”
Jenna’s teeth chattered with relief and joy. “About an hour . . . I couldn’t stay indoors a minute longer. I started imagining the most terrible things.”
I want to kiss him, but not in front of all these people.
His eyes were misty as he looked at her. “You needn’t have worried . . . It was what we call a FAGI.”
“What the hell is that?”
“False Alarm with Good Intent.” He pushed her wet fringe out of her eyes. “Go home and have a hot bath. I’ll come to the Cockleshell tomorrow and tell you all about it. Go, quickly, before you catch your death.”
She watched him flap into Lifeboat House in his huge oilskins to talk to the other crew members.
Then she turned and ran all the way home, wet as the sea itself, but as if she had joyful wings.
During the weeks that followed, Jenna felt that she was steadily climbing out of the pits of dead despair, and once more into life.
Every morning, before it grew light, she spent an hour in her studio at the barre. Two or three evenings a week, and every Sunday, she saw Meryn. Sometimes, if he was on late duty, she puffed up the hill to Tregenna Castle to swim in the health-club pool as his guest. Afterwards,they ate fish and chips on the harbour, washed down with steaming mugs of tea. They went to the cinema, raced home in the rain, sat warming their feet by the fire in Meryn’s cottage. Often Dewy and Wenna were there, arguing about their marriage plans or the furnishings for their new house, discussing their wedding outfits or simply cuddling in a corner.
Jenna introduced Meryn to Dad, who was only too delighted to make
them soup and toasted sandwiches in his kitchen if he wasn’t out with Hester.
Sometimes, when they were alone, Meryn would say, “Dance for me,Jenna”– and she did. Afterwards he would take her in his arms and thank her. “Couldn’t take my eyes off you, not for a second.”
One evening Jenna and Meryn walked hand in hand down the hill from the health club, slithering on the path’s wet autumn leaves.
Jenna felt refreshed from her swim; her hair lay soft on her shoulders, her skin still smelt of chlorine from the waters of the pool. The fine November rain had stopped and the night sky glittered with stars.
Meryn said, “You know Dewy and Wenna are getting married here at Tregenna, don’t you?” He tightened his grip on her hand. “Saturday week . . . I’m going to be Dewy’s best man. My little sisters are so excited, they’ll be two of six bridesmaids. My mother will be there – and I’d like you to come.”
Lights along the path through the woods twinkled against the trees.
Jenna said slowly, “I’d love to. But I’ve got nothing half decent to wear.”
“So buy something stunning.”
“And what about the Cockleshell?”
“Surely your dad can give you the day off – or even just the afternoon. The ceremony doesn’t start until three o’clock.”
“I’ll ask him tomorrow. He isn’t going to like it.”
“Use your best powers of persuasion.”
“It’s going to take more than that.” Jenna paused before she said thoughtfully, “Though I might know someone who would fill in for me.”
“There you are.” He opened the iron gate for her at the bottom of the woods. They crossed the road and stood for a moment looking out on to the darkness of the sea and sky. “Problem solved.”
“Don’t know about that,” Jenna said. “Problem aired might be a better way of putting it . . . Wish me luck.”
Dad looked up from a pile of paperwork he was dealing with at the dining-room table.
“Our new decor is really pulling in the punters, Jenn. Usually there’d be a bit of a slump, mid-November, very few tourists, people saving up for Christmas. But this year for the first time we’re busier than ever . . . Mum will be pleased as punch.”
“I wanted to talk to you about all that.” Jenna switched off the television. “Saturday week . . . I need the day off . . . and I’d like another one this Wednesday to go shopping in Penzance.”
Dad frowned. “I can’t possibly manage the Cockleshell without you.”
Jenna flushed. “Then you’ll have to get Mum back, won’t you?”
“She’ll come home in her own good time. I can’t possibly—”
“What? You can’t possibly do what? You always leap to her defence, every time!” Jenna shot up from the couch and darted across the room. She sat down opposite Dad. “When Mum left us in August it was supposed to be for a few weeks.”
“I’m aware of that. She’s been depressed. These things take time.”
“Time for my patience to run out. Some friends of Meryn’s are getting married at Tregenna. Meryn’s going to be the best man. Yesterday he asked me to the wedding. I’ve accepted. I’ve got nothing to wear. I need to go to Penzance to buy a new outfit.”
“Why do you need a whole day?”
“Because I do! I’m not flying back in time for the lunch-hour rush. That’s the deal, Dad. Like it or lump it.”
Dad took off his glasses. He wiped his face with his sleeve. “There’s no need to be so rude.”
“Maybe there is. We’ve been treating each other like we’re made of glass, like we’ll crack up at the first angry word.”
“I’m only trying to be—”
“I’ve done everything I could for you since Benjie died. All you can do is take me for granted.”
“You know I don’t.”
“That’s what it feels like, Dad. I work for you six days a week. I do all the chores, anything you—”
“I thought you enjoyed being a part of the business. We make such a good team.”
“I have enjoyed it, in a way.”
“Then stop sounding so resentful. Lots of kids would envy you, having parents who’ve built up a solid family business. One day, when I retire—” Dad slid his glasses back over his ears – “all this will be yours, Jenn. It’s your inheritance.”
“And what about your precious Lydia?”
Dad pushed back his chair. He ambled over to the window, twitched unneccessarily at the curtains. “Is this what all the fuss is about? You and Mum?”
“So what if it is? What are you doing to get her back? That’s what I want to know.”
“I can’t do anything.”
“Well, maybe I can.” Jenna bent her head over her hands. “If Mum’s not back here by Christmas, I’m going.” She raised her head, looked at her father across the room. “Not just for a couple of days. I’ll simply leave and get a job somewhere else.”
“That’s blackmail, Jenna.” Dad’s voice quivered with indignation.
“I don’t care what it is.” Jenna stood up. “Next Wednesday I’m going to Penzance. Saturday week I’m going to a wedding. You’ll have to find someone else to do my job.” She picked up the pile of invoices and waved them at her father. “This stuff has taken over every minute of my day. I want some of my life back, not for you, not for Mum, but for me. Do you understand?”
“Of course I do.” Dad moved towards her. He threw out his arms in a pathetic gesture of apology and resignation. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you felt so strongly. I’m a bit of a chump, aren’t I? Can’t seem to see what’s under my very nose.”
Something about the way her father stood there reminded Jenna of Benjie, of his vulnerable expression, the way his glasses reflected the light, the way his mouth used to turn down at the corners when nobody listened to what he was trying to say.
Her heart melted.
“Come on, now, you plumpish, frumpish old thing.” She gave him a swift hug. “I’ve been thinking . . . Why don’t you ask Hester to fill in for me?”
Dad gave a reluctant smile. “I suppose I could . . . It’d be quite like old times!”
“There you are, then.” Jenna put down the invoices, straightened their clutter into a neat, organised pile. “And while you’re talking to her, I’ve got another suggestion.”
“What now, wonder woman?”
Jenna looked directly at him. “Why don’t you ask her if she’d like a job three afternoons a week? To give me time to dance, do my own thing?”
Dad gasped. “What on earth would Mum say?”
“Does she need to know?”
“I couldn’t possibly take Hester on behind Mum’s back!”
“Couldn’t you?” Jenna turned to go up to her room. “Think about it, Dad. In some ways, maybe you already have.”
Jenna caught an early-morning train from St Ives to Penzance, staring at her fellow passengers and wondering how long it had been since she’d managed to escape.
Her February audition.
Too long ago . . . much too long . . . It felt like years, not merely months.
And just look at the struggle she’d had to get away from the Cockleshell for a few hours. Dad hadn’t given up without a fight. Right up until yesterday evening, he’d put off talking to Hester, made every excuse not to ask her anything.
“Hester and I are such good friends,” he kept saying. “What if she thinks that’s all I want – for her to work for me again?”
“That’s rubbish and you know it,” Jenna said grimly. “Either you ask her or you will have to cope single-handed.”
She’d almost laughed with relief when she heard him talking to Hester on the phone.
By the time Jenna got downstairs, Dad and Hester were already working in the kitchen. Jenna stood in the doorway to watch. Dad was talking to a small, slender woman with a mop of chestnut curls.
“The cups and saucers are still in that cupboard,” he was saying. “Guess you already know yo
ur way around this kitchen blindfold.”
Jenna said, “Morning. Pleased to see I’m no longer needed!”
Dad spun round. “Hester, this is my daughter, Jenna.”
Hester gripped Jenna’s hand. “At last! After all these years . . . I’m so delighted to meet you.” A pair of bright green eyes met hers. “Elwyn tells me you’ve been an absolute godsend.”
Jenna blushed. “I’ve done my best . . . I’ll get some breakfast later . . . See you tonight.”
Dad pressed an envelope into her hand. “Your wages, Jenn, plus a big bonus for being such a star.”
In Penzance she bought a dark green velvet suit with long flared trousers and a short tight jacket, a white top with a sequinned edge, a pair of black shoes with a narrow heel and a small black leather bag.
She ate a salad sandwich for lunch with a latte and a slice of chocolate cake.
Not a patch on ours . . . But the best thing is not having to wash up . . .
She wandered through the shopping arcades, thought about Christmas – about what she and Dad would do if Mum had still not returned.
On the spur of the moment, Jenna had threatened to leave Dad, get another job. Could she really go through with it?
I’ll have to decide what to do if that so-called mother of mine stays in London, if Dad goes on letting her stay away.
The day of Dewy and Wenna’s wedding dawned clear and mild.
Jenna could hear Dad and Hester clattering around in the kitchen. She flung back her duvet, realised she did not have to get up just yet, punched her pillow and went back to sleep.
At midday she had a bath, washed her hair, ate the lunch Dad had left for her on a tray. At half-past two, she came down to the kitchen.
“Wow!” Hester said. “Have you seen your daughter, Elwyn?”
The Drowning Page 11
