‘Speaking of choking on food,’ Camilla says when Charles has stopped glugging water to root out the errant chip. ‘Did you try that mac and cheese? I do wish you’d told me you had a friend staying, I’d have made an extra large one for you both.’
‘Camilla’s greatest pleasure in life is feeding the cottage guests,’ Charles says.
Nathan looks between them. ‘It was lovely, thank you. And I’m afraid I’d scoffed the lot before Ness got here.’
She claps her hands together so hard that she jogs the table and sends the fizzy water flying again. ‘I’ll make another one big enough for you both seeing as you’ll be spending so much time at the cottage with your boyfriend for the Wi-Fi.’ She pronounces it ‘wee-fee’, and raises a thinning grey eyebrow that suggests all manner of naughty things that have nothing to do with the Wi-Fi.
‘Oh, we’re not … He’s not …’
‘I’m hoping she’ll be my carousel assistant,’ Nathan says.
‘Yeah. I’ll hold his ice cream while he does the work. And we’ve got a lot of practice in so far.’ I look up at him and we grin at each other.
I can sense Charles and Camilla’s eyes are on us, but looking away from Nathan proves surprisingly difficult.
‘Well, I think you’re a lovely couple to do up the phantom carousel,’ Camilla announces. ‘It deserves that after so many years of being unloved.’
‘The phantom carousel?’ Nathan’s head swivels towards her and I can almost see his ears prick up.
‘Surely you’ve heard the stories?’ Charles says.
Nathan sits up straighter and leans forward. ‘No. What stories?’
Camilla clasps her hands together. ‘Oh, it’s such a lovely story! They say that a man built it to win the heart of the woman he loved. He didn’t have much money, he didn’t have a good job and he wasn’t from a rich family, and she was a well-to-do girl and had lots of suitors, but she didn’t want any of them. She only wanted him, but he had nothing to offer her, so he decided to make this big, elaborate gift because he knew how much she loved riding on carousels. They say it took him years. He had no money so he couldn’t afford to buy fancy parts. He harvested the wood himself and carved each piece by hand, and through all the years he was building it, she waited for him. She had countless other marriage proposals from wealthy men, but she only had eyes for one, and even though she was ridiculed by society and cast out as an unmarried spinster, she still waited. Finally it was finished and he presented it to her on the day he asked her to marry him …’
Camilla pauses for a contemplative sigh.
‘And they lived happily ever after?’ I offer.
‘He disappeared off the face of the earth.’
‘What?’ Nathan and I say together. I didn’t expect the story to end like that.
‘They had mere weeks of happiness, and then he vanished. He put all of that work into the carousel and then he went out one day and never returned. Tragic, isn’t it?’
‘When was this?’ Nathan asks.
‘Oh, God knows, dear. Yonks ago. Might not even have been in this century.’
‘By this century, she means the twentieth century which Pearlholme is still living in,’ Charles clarifies.
‘So why the phantom carousel?’ I ask.
‘Oh! That’s the best part of the story!’ She claps her hands together again. ‘They say that if you walk on the beach on warm summer nights, you can hear the music as the carousel turns because her ghost rides it for all eternity, waiting for him to come home.’
Nathan looks sceptical. ‘I hate to break it to you but it’s been a long time since anyone’s been able to ride that carousel, living, dead, or otherwise.’
‘No, no, it’s true,’ she says. ‘I remember hearing the music float down the cliffs to Pearlholme when I was a little girl. They lived in a house on the cliff top. You can still see the ruins of it when the tide’s low, and they say she spent the rest of her life going around and around on the carousel, just watching the sea, expecting him to come home. She died up there, still waiting, and even in the afterlife, her ghost still goes around and around, waiting for her one true love to finally come back to her. Isn’t it romantic?’
‘I could think of a few words …’ Nathan raises an eyebrow. ‘This place on the cliff top – is that where it was found?’
‘I don’t know, dear. I assume so. It doesn’t look like the sort of thing you’d move around much.’
‘I was told it was found in the ruins of a house …’
‘See?’ She squeals at such a pitch that several species of fish in the sea outside have probably just swum off in fright. ‘It’s true. Walk down to the shore at low tide with some binoculars – there’s a pair in the kitchen drawer – and look towards the cliffs past the cottages. You’ll see. And always listen for the organ music late at night. They say if you’re really quiet, you can hear it all the way up and down the coast.’
‘I think that’s highly unlikely …’ Nathan starts.
‘Oh, Mr Musgrove,’ Camilla says suddenly, seeming to completely forget all about phantom carousels. ‘Did you find the birdseed in the kitchen?’
‘I did,’ he says, ‘I take it I’m meant to put some out every day? I put a handful in the feeder at the end of the garden this morning.’
‘Oh, you are a nice man. The little dickies will appreciate it.’
I glance up at Nathan and he looks back with a raised eyebrow at the name.
‘We make a real effort for the garden birds here in Pearlholme,’ Camilla continues. ‘The seagulls are such big bullies, the poor little dickies would never get any food if we didn’t do something. Every resident has feeders in their garden that are too small for the nasty gulls to get into, and we all put out seeds every day, and nuts and suet blocks in the winter, although you shouldn’t feed birds nuts in the summer because they can choke the little baby dickies.’
‘I didn’t know that.’ I can hear the restraint in his voice as he tries not to laugh. His arm is shaking against mine as he holds it back, and how much he wants to giggle makes me want to giggle. ‘Dickies and choking in one sentence is a bit much for me.’
It’s no good. I hold my breath to try to stem the laughter, but I can’t contain it. I let out a howling burst and it sets Nathan off too until we’re both crying with laughter, shaking so much that we’re jogging the table, leaning against each other, and every time I glance at him, he tries to straighten his face, and the attempt starts us both up again.
He turns his head towards me, so close that I can feel his hair against mine, his breath against my skin where’s he’s panting as he tries to get himself under control.
He’s got tears running down his face and I’ve given myself hiccups, and I can’t help thinking that wouldn’t have been even remotely funny without him.
Camilla looks pointedly between Nathan and the half-empty beer bottle on the table, clearly thinking it’s not his first.
I hiccup.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says eventually, taking a deep breath and sliding a hand down his face, still struggling to keep it straight. ‘It’s her fault.’ He nudges me with his elbow. ‘Everything seems funnier when she’s around.’
Camilla looks across the table at Charles. ‘I know that feeling.’
I let out another hiccup and Nathan bursts out laughing again. ‘How strong are these beers?’ he says in my ear. ‘I’ve only had half a bottle but I haven’t laughed this much in years.’
‘Tell me—’ hiccup ‘—about it.’
‘It’s the sea air,’ Camilla says.
‘It’s definitely something.’ His eyes are crinkled up with laughter as he turns back to Camilla. ‘I’m sorry. Tell me more about the dickies and the choking?’
I take a deep breath and hold it, trying to stop myself laughing at the earnestness in his voice and get rid of the hiccups at the same time.
‘I think I’d better not.’ She shakes her head, looking between us with an affectionate look on
her face. ‘I remember laughing with him like that when we first met. It certainly set us up for a good marriage.’
‘I don’t know how you found your way to the feeder given how much of a mess that cottage garden is in,’ Charles says, a teasing tone in his voice.
Camilla gasps in mock outrage. ‘Says the man whose garden is going for a year-round Halloween theme.’
‘All right, it’s a little overgrown,’ he says to her, and I get the feeling they’ve forgotten we’re here.
‘Overgrown? There are parts of the grass that haven’t been seen since 1968!’
‘We used to compete in Pearlholme’s annual flower garden festival,’ Charles explains. ‘The Prettiest Pearlholme Patch, or PPP for short.’
‘But he gave up because I always won,’ Camilla finishes for him.
‘And now I get my payback because she’s too old to do hers anymore. You shouldn’t enjoy your wife getting old but at least she can’t be so smug about her garden now.’ He winks at her as he says it.
I glance at Nathan and he’s smiling at them fondly. They seem to have such a lovely relationship.
‘The Sun & Sand always win now. There’s a lovely trophy for the winners to display outside all year, a big pearl for Pearlholme, but I haven’t got my hands on it for years now.’ She sighs. ‘He makes fun but he knows I’m devastated.’
‘When’s the festival?’
‘First of July,’ Charles says. ‘Same every year. It’s the ideal time for flowers.’
‘I’ll still be here then. What needs doing?’ Nathan says. ‘I’m rubbish at flowers but I can mow the grass and trim the hedges …’
‘And my mum loves gardening – I used to help with her flower beds at home,’ I say without thinking. ‘I could do some flowers.’
Camilla squeals in delight, attracting the attention of every other human in the pub and a black Labrador that’s asleep under one of the tables. ‘Did you hear that, everybody?’ she announces. ‘I’m going to win the PPP again this year!’
Nathan looks at me with wide eyes. ‘That wasn’t quite what I—’
‘Ooh, I’m so pleased.’ She wiggles her fingers in excitement as she turns back to us. ‘Now, when can you get started? It’s only three weeks away! Why don’t you go up to the cottage in the morning, Ness? You can use his wee-fee signal, and you can help him feed the little dickies – I never trust a man to do these things properly – and you can both get a good look at the garden too.’
‘Yeah, men aren’t good with little dickies,’ Nathan says, and I thought I couldn’t possibly laugh any more tonight but it makes me snort again, despite the fact that the idea of garden designs and winning competitions sets my heart racing. The gardens I’ve walked past in Pearlholme are all absolutely immaculate, and at least this explains why. I didn’t know they were all in competition with each other to be the Prettiest Pearlholme Patch. It’s a bit more involved than popping down the garden centre and bunging in a few flowers as I’d imagined.
‘Come up for breakfast,’ Nathan blurts out. He goes to bump his arm against my shoulder but we’re still pressed so closely together that all he can really do is press his arm against mine a bit harder. ‘We’ll have a look at the garden, and then you can stay and work for as long as you want while I head down to the carousel.’
I smile up at him because he’s so sweet, and thoughtful, and he sounds so nervous, like he expects me to say no.
Charles shoves another chip into his mouth and talks while he chews it. ‘I’d advise it, actually. There’s a kitchen where you can make your own breakfast at The Shell but the kettle broke down last night. The chap who runs the shop has ordered a new one for me but it won’t be here ’til next week.’
‘Next week?’ I try to contemplate going that long without a cup of tea.
Charles shrugs, seeming completely unperturbed by the idea of having a hotel with no kettle. I definitely should have read the reviews before I booked a room, no matter how eager I was to get here.
‘You know that we’re British, right?’ Nathan says to him. ‘Your guests will be rioting in the streets by daybreak.’
‘I take my hearing aids out when I go to bed. I won’t hear them.’
I raise an eyebrow even though I’m not sure if he’s joking or not.
‘There are plenty of people around here who’ll make you a lovely cup of tea. Charles and I are in the house on the corner of the main street, right next to the fork towards the hotel. I’d say you can give us a knock if you need anything but we’re both old and deaf and it takes us half an hour to totter down the hallway to the door. You’d be better off giving him a knock if you need anything.’ Camilla points at Nathan.
‘I have absolutely no problem with that,’ he says with a wide grin directed at me. He drops his voice to a low, sexy whisper, so close to my ear that I can feel his breath moving my hair. ‘And I don’t mean to sound too seductive, but I’ve got Coco Pops.’
I burst out laughing. ‘My favourites!’
‘Is that some sort of infectious disease?’ Charles asks, making us both laugh again. ‘Should you see a doctor?’
Camilla shushes him before we have another never-ending fit of giggles. ‘The post office does fresh pastries but you’ll have to get there early, they get snaffled up quicker than they can be made.’
I look up at Nathan. ‘I don’t think there’s ever been a better breakfast than Coco Pops.’
He beams. ‘You can’t say I don’t know how to treat a lady. Free “wee-fee” and Coco Pops.’
‘If anyone ever asks what Prince Charming was missing in the Disney films, it was definitely Coco Pops,’ I say, loving the way he starts laughing again.
* * *
‘I can’t believe it’s dark already,’ Nathan says as we leave the pub. ‘Where did the evening go?’
I’m thinking something about time flying and having fun but decide not to put the two phrases together in a cheesy sentence, unlike the ‘do you need a hand’ debacle this afternoon.
We stop and look at the pearl trophy on the way out, a big bronze flower with an iridescent pearl perched on top, displayed at the front of the pub garden. ‘I’m sorry about the garden thing. I didn’t mean to get us both in over our heads.’
‘No worries, it’ll be fun.’ By the skin of my teeth, I stop myself adding to spend more time with you.
‘Let me walk you back to the hotel?’ he says, even though he’s going in the same direction towards the cottage anyway. ‘I’m kind of curious to see if it’s as bad as it sounds.’
‘I’m starting to fear it may be worse than it sounds.’
‘Come up to me anytime you want,’ he says again as we start wandering down the main street, past the post-office-slash-tiny-shop, and rows of perfect gardens lit up by solar lights along their paving stone paths. ‘Whether you want a cup of tea, chocolatey cereal, or a shower sans pubic hair.’
‘Thanks,’ I murmur, wondering how many excuses I can find to do just that.
We’re both walking really slowly. I tell myself it’s because I don’t want to trip over the cobblestones in the dark, but really it’s because I don’t want this night to end yet.
‘So that’s your mac-and-cheese-making landlady?’
‘Yeah, bless her. I’m hoping I never have to find out what happens if I call her out to fix a leaky tap or something. She can’t carry a glass of water across the pub; she’s not going to be lying upside down on her back fixing the boiler in the middle of winter, is she?’
He’s got a knack for creating the most absurd mental images, and it makes me grin again.
His arm is next to mine as we walk, and I can feel his fingers almost-brushing mine as our arms swing, and it makes me want to edge just a little bit nearer. ‘What do you think of this ghost story then?’ I ask to distract myself.
He laughs. ‘Well, I like the story but I suspect the ghost part is bollocks. You grew up in a small village – you know how these stories go. They’re started by children s
itting around campfires and passed down through the generations with an extra flourish added every time they’re told, like a giant game of Chinese Whispers, and if my guess at the date of the carousel is anywhere near accurate then this one’s got over a hundred years behind it.’ He shrugs. ‘It’s a romantic old story and I’m not one for romance. Some parts of it are plausible, but it doesn’t help with proving who built it or when. Although if any lonely old ghost wants to ride it tonight, she’ll have a bit of a job on her hands considering it’s in bits in the tent.’
We come to the fork in the road and Nathan walks down towards the hotel with me. He looks up at the lettering with a grimace when we stop outside the door. ‘I think we should jump up and remove that “S” entirely. Who runs a hotel in Britain without a back-up kettle?’
‘I know, right? And they’ve been doing this for years. They must know that kettles don’t last forever.’
‘Camilla’s probably got four spare kettles and just won’t let him have one so her cottage will be better.’
It makes me laugh again and I wonder how I can find someone so easily funny.
‘And he ate most of our chips,’ he continues. ‘They were good chips too, but we still need to compare them to the ones on the promenade. Next time, we’re going to find a secluded corner of the beach where only seagulls are likely to nick them.’
It makes me ridiculously happy that he seems to be suggesting another chip-testing date … or not-date. Preferably with no elderly gatecrashers.
‘I don’t like leaving you here.’ He glances up at the darkened hotel. ‘There’s not even a light on.’
‘It’s fine,’ I say, trying not to think about it. ‘I was lucky to get somewhere on such short notice, and Pearlholme had to have a fault somewhere. It would be the most perfect place in the country if it didn’t have a rubbish hotel.’
‘I’m serious when I say come up anytime. I got plenty of food when I went into the next town the other day; there’s always hot water, a clean bathroom, a strong wee-fee signal … and I promise not to natter about carousels and bore you to death.’
The Little Vintage Carousel by the Sea Page 11
