She crossed over the road to the church, with the low granite wall encircling it and the grassy graveyard with its ancient lichen-covered graves. Pushing open the wooden lychgate under its protective porch she walked slowly along the gravel path. The church door was firmly closed so she wandered along the path through the surrounding graveyard. At the rear of the church were newer, well-maintained graves, with flowers and modest headstones. An ancient yew tree with a huge girth stood tall in its sentinel duty, roots spreading far and wide under nearby graves.
Thoughtfully Carrie began to search among the graves. Was Robert Trumble interred in one of these? Or had he been cremated?
‘Good morning. Are you looking for a particular grave?’
Carrie jumped guiltily away from the headstone she was reading. ‘Yes. But I’m not even sure he’s buried here,’ she said, turning to look at the man who’d spoken. ‘Good morning, Vicar,’ she added hastily as she saw his dog collar.
‘His name? Do you know, roughly, when he died?’
‘About a year ago. Robert Trumble,’ Carrie said.
The vicar regarded her steadily. ‘I know exactly where Robert is buried as I conducted the service. Lovely man. Come with me.’ He turned and led the way back down the path. ‘Were you a friend of his?’
‘No. I never met him,’ Carrie said. Then: ‘It’s a long story,’ she added, sensing the vicar was about to ask why, in that case, she was interested in finding the grave.
The vicar didn’t speak again before stopping in front of a large Victorian tomb. ‘Robert is buried here with his parents and a sister who died in infancy. He was the last of his family and the grave is now full.’
‘It’s very well cared for,’ Carrie said, looking at the weed-free plot. ‘What happens about maintenance?’
‘A family fund was set up years ago,’ the vicar answered. ‘I’m the Reverend Mat Jones, by the way. You are…?’ He held out his hand.
‘Carrie Penfold,’ she said, shaking his hand.
‘Well, I’d better get on. Parish meeting this morning. Nice to meet you.’ As he turned to leave he said, ‘If you ever want to tell me that long story, the vicarage is over there.’ And he pointed to a small cottage just outside the perimeters of the church wall. ‘If I’m not in, my wife will give you tea and scones while you wait.’
‘Thank you,’ Carrie said.
‘Are you staying in the village?’
Carrie nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘The pub is very comfortable, I’m told. Does a roaring trade in B&B at this time of year.’
‘Oh, I’m not staying there – although I might have lunch there today,’ Carrie said. ‘May I ask you something? How long did you know Robert Trumble? And how well did you know him?’
‘I’ve been the vicar here for nearly fifteen years and I knew him more than some of my parishioners and less than others.’ The vicar regarded her thoughtfully for several seconds before glancing at his watch and visibly sighing.
‘I have to go. Maybe the next time we meet we can have a proper chat. Bye for now.’
‘Bye,’ Carrie said and watched him hurry away in the direction of the vicarage.
She read the four inscriptions on the granite headstone. His sister had died at eleven months of age forty years ago, Robert Trumble Senior twenty-five years ago, and Margaret Jean, his wife, had lived for three more years. So, her paternal grandparents had been alive when she was born. Had Robert ever told them about her? Would they have welcomed her into their family? She’d never know now. It would have been nice to have had grandparents even for a short time. Both Elizabeth and Malcolm had lost their parents when they were young.
As Carrie turned away from the grave and began to make her way back down the path, her mobile buzzed. Dom.
‘Hi. How’s it going down there in the wilds? Decided what to do yet?’
‘I’ve barely been here twenty-four hours,’ Carrie said. ‘Ask me again in a couple of weeks. How are things with you?’
‘Great. Listen, Sophie’s talking about taking the kids to her mum’s holiday cottage in Cornwall for a break. Thought I’d use the time and come and see you.’
‘Be good to see you,’ Carrie said. ‘Can you stay for a couple of days?’
‘No ‘fraid not. It will be a flying visit just to see you and talk.’
‘You never did tell me what your news was? Tell me now?’ She waited expectantly.
‘One of the reasons to come and see you,’ Dom said. ‘I’ll give you a ring sometime next week to let you know the day I’ll be down.’
Switching her phone off, Carrie wondered why Dom simply hadn’t told her his news. Why all the secrecy? By the time he told her, whatever it was wouldn’t really be news, would it?
Leaving the churchyard, Carrie crossed the road to the pub where the smell of coffee drifting out of the open doorway enticed her in. Clearly centuries old, it was a typical country pub with its horse brasses, and pictures of old-fashioned haywains and comely milkmaids lining the beams and walls. An inglenook fireplace was currently filled with a large, summery flower arrangement of daisies, cornflowers, poppies and silver grass. Chunky, country-style furniture with red-leather upholstery was placed randomly around, creating a relaxed atmosphere. No jarring muzak or trendy menus here. Clearly no brewery makeover.
The lounge bar had several couples sitting enjoying morning coffee and cake. Sitting at a small round table by the window that overlooked the village street, Carrie ordered a large coffee and a slice of Devonshire cider cake and let her thoughts drift over the morning’s events.
Idly she played with the coaster on the table, a sepia picture of the pub and its hanging name sign. Carrie smiled to herself. How could she not have noticed that?
After thanking the waitress for bringing her coffee and cake she said. ‘Has the pub always been the Trumble Arms?’
‘From the year dot. Rumour has it that, back in the 1800s, the lord of the manor had an illegitimate son whom he refused to acknowledge, so when his mother died and left him a cottage, the son turned it into an inn using that name. Been run by the Trumbles ever since. Different branches of the family down the years but always a Trumble behind the bar.’
‘Good for the illegitimate son,’ Carrie said, laughing. ‘Sweet revenge. The village must be full of interesting historical stuff.’
‘The shop has a booklet if you’re interested.’
‘I’ll take a look when I pop in later.’ Carrie hesitated. ‘There used to be a lecturer at Bristol university called Trumble…’ Before she could finish her sentence, the waitress interrupted her.
‘Oh, that would be poor Robert Trumble. Died last year. Lovely man. Liked his gin did Robert. Last of his line he were. We all be wondering what’s going to happen to his house. Been in his family for generations. T’will be sacrilege if it ends up as a holiday home. There be enough of them around here as tis. Enjoy your cake.’
*
Taking a bottle of rose from the fridge, Karen wondered if Guy would be at the evening’s sundowner. She hadn’t seen him since their tennis match but she’d thought about him – and the boy she remembered from that long-ago holiday.
The last couple of nights she’d wandered along to Bruce’s in the hope of seeing Guy and talking to him again but, to her disappointment, he hadn’t put in an appearance. If he didn’t show tonight, she decided, she’d knock on No. 3’s door and check on him. Make sure he was all right. He’d worried her with his ‘the past is better than the present’ remark.
That evening’s sundowner was a real community affair. Joy and Toby, Hazel and Simon, and even their daughter, Tia, were there. Hazel, seeing Karen looking at Tia as she chatted to Wills, wandered over.
‘I love your Wills,’ she said quietly to Karen. ‘He’s having a wonderful effect on Tia this summer. His attitude to life seems to be rubbing off on her. Even talking of going back to college, the place she swore she’d never set foot in again.’
‘That’s good,’ Karen said, w
atching the two of them and hoping neither Wills nor Tia would be hurt too badly when summer finished and they returned to real life. Teenage love, if that was what was happening between the two of them, rarely stood the test of separation.
Bruce crossed the terrace towards them holding a plate of crab sandwiches, Girly at his side.
‘Can I tempt you?’
‘Mmm, thanks,’ Karen said. ‘Girly seems to have settled in all right?’
‘Definitely found her place – on the bed, on the settee – she sleeps anywhere but the posh dog basket I bought her.’
‘She’s putting on weight,’ Karen said, fondling the dog’s ears. ‘I think you’re losing it, though,’ she added, looking at him.
‘She’s getting me fit too. Three walks a day come rain or shine,’ Bruce said. ‘Ah, Guy is joining us tonight.’ And he headed off to greet Guy.
Karen glanced across and smiled as Guy saw her.
‘Name suits him,’ Hazel said quietly. ‘No. 3 is one hot guy. You’ve met him already?’
‘About thirty years ago,’ Karen said.
‘An old friend you didn’t think to mention to me? Married?’
‘Yes.’
‘Shame.’
‘Stop it. I’m going to get some more wine,’ Karen said, moving away. ‘D’you want a top-up?’
‘No, thanks. I’m going to find my husband and put all lustful thoughts about unknown men out of my mind.’
If only it were that easy, Karen thought, making for the kitchen of The Bosun’s Locker and taking the ice-cold rose out of the fridge. Guy followed her in and she held out the bottle to him.
‘No, thanks. Having a teetotal night.’
Karen glanced at him. ‘You okay? You’ve been conspicuous by your absence the last couple of days. I was going to knock and check on you later.’
Guy shrugged. ‘Just needed to try and get my head around certain things. I see Wills is doing the honours tonight. Shall we go and stand to attention?’
Karen nodded. What certain things had needed his undivided attention? None of her business, of course. Back outside they stood companionably side by side watching as Wills pulled the flag down and unhooked it.
‘Fancy running away to sea with me?’ Guy whispered in her ear.
Surprised, she turned to look at him.
‘I fancy a river trip, so not sea exactly, but…’ Guy shrugged. ‘Please come. I’d ask Bruce but he’s preoccupied with Girly. Besides, I gather he’s not good on boats.’
‘What about the others – Simon? Hazel?’
‘If you turn me down I might ask Wills, but please say you’ll come.’
Karen hesitated. Francesca and her friend were due to arrive soon, followed closely by Chris and his wife. She should really be organising things for them.
As if reading her thoughts Guy said, ‘It’s summertime, when the living is supposed to be easy. It’s your holiday too, isn’t it? Or does your husband whisk you away on a break in September for you to recover from the rigours of summer?’
Karen laughed. ‘No, he’s never done that.’
‘Have to confess to having an ulterior motive in asking you, though. You have the transport to get us to Totnes. Although I could order a taxi.’
‘And there was me thinking it was the pleasure of my company you wanted,’ Karen said.
‘Well, there is that too.’ Guy smiled at her. ‘It would kick-start the rekindling our special friendship, like we said we were going to do.’
Despite her misgivings over that plan, Karen liked the idea of the two of them spending time together. ‘OK. When?’
‘I’ll check the timetable and let you know. If we go for the 9.30 trip we can make a proper day out of it – spend the day in Dartmouth and catch the evening boat back.’
*
Karen sat at the big kitchen table writing out a to-do list for the rest of the week. Get two bedrooms ready for a) Chris and Sandra, and b) Francesca; organise Wills to collect Francesca from the station; Bruce’s secret birthday barbecue; buy present; normal housework; gardening; big supermarket shop. So much to do, but nothing really, compared to what she’d have to do if she moved here permanently and opened the house as a boutique B&B. But looking after a house and providing delicious meals was something she knew she could do, if not exactly standing on her head, then at least without difficulty.
The more she thought about Derek selling the house, the more convinced she became that it was going to happen however much she might protest. The fact the sale would ring the final death knell for her marriage, before propelling her forward into… into she knew not what, frightened her. It would definitely be a new life where her options would be limited by her ability or inability to earn a living. Nobody was going to employ her to do anything other than mundane jobs she’d hate. Turning this house into a guesthouse was becoming an increasingly attractive idea. At least she wouldn’t have to find money for a mortgage, although she might need a loan to get things moving with some decent PR and advertising.
Derek hadn’t phoned once since he’d left. Not that she’d rung him either. He might have invaded her thoughts but she hadn’t missed having him around at all. She supposed he’d just turn up in about ten days when both Wills and Francesca were here. And Chris of course. Karen sighed. It would be a lot easier in so many ways if he didn’t come down while Chris was here – the sparks tended to fly when they’d both had a few drinks. From the very beginning Chris had sided with their parents against Derek and had never bothered to conceal his dislike of his brother-in-law.
If he got an inkling of the way things were between them right now, and the likely outcome, Karen knew she wouldn’t be able to stop him voicing his opinion and telling Derek exactly what he thought of him.
Karen remembered how, all those years ago, when she’d announced her engagement, Chris had told her she could do a lot better than Derek. ‘None of us can understand what on earth you see in him. He’s far too selfish and vain.’ Furious, Karen had told him to butt out. Who she married was her business and she loved Derek and they were getting married.
Her parents had mainly been concerned that she was getting married too young. Had she been too young? She’d been happy at first. Especially when she’d had the children. Being a stay-at-home mum, filling her days with their routines, seeing to their needs, she’d been content. It was only as they grew up, needing her less and less, that she realised just how far apart she and Derek had drifted.
Blaming herself for neglecting Derek and letting the children take over her life to the degree they had, she’d attempted for a while to turn things around. Get things back on an even keel between the two of them. Grow close again. Her plan of romantic dinners for two and date nights to turn them back into a proper couple failed when she discovered that Derek actually liked his semi-detached life away from her and the children.
Two years ago he’d been headhunted by a rival firm and things had begun to slide even further into unsalvageable territory. But he’d admitted to liking the status quo and divorce wasn’t in his plans. He liked the convenience of having her at home, keeping the home fires burning, his clothes washed and food on the table. ‘Besides,’ he’d taunted her, ‘you wouldn’t survive without me, so you’re better off staying.’ The distance between them spiralled ever wider. The status quo certainly wasn’t working for her.
She was pretty certain, too, he had a mistress – or even a couple these days. She still had to discover why it was so urgent to sell the house. She didn’t believe for one moment his ‘we need to downsize’ was the only reason.
Karen sighed. And now there was this river trip with Guy. Part of her – a big part – couldn’t wait to spend the time with him. Another part, admittedly a tiny part, whispered ‘Is it really such a good idea?’ When Guy had suggested the day would kick-start their plan to rekindle their long-ago friendship, her heart had done a little flip. But that was all they’d been, special friends, during that distant summer. The fact that she’d i
magined herself in love with him and dreamt about a future life with him, only to be hurt by his disappearance, was her own fault. He’d had no idea of her true feelings, she was sure.
But could she really spare a whole day away when there was so much to do? Maybe it wouldn’t happen until next week after everyone was settled in? Chris and Sandra were the easiest of guests and always mucked in with the cooking and shopping. They’d be happy looking after themselves and Wills for the day. And she had this feeling that present-day Guy was a man who was sorely in need of old friends.
‘Coo-ee.’ Hazel stood in the kitchen doorway. ‘Fancy a swim? Wills and Tia have gone into town so we can have a good gossip about how well you knew Mr Hot Guy thirty years ago.’
Karen laughed. ‘A swim sounds good but there’s nothing to tell. Go on down. I’ll join you in five minutes. I must just pop along and make sure Bruce is okay for tomorrow night.’
Bruce was watering the pots on his terrace and smiled as he saw Karen.
‘Wills wants to practise his barbecue-cooking skills tomorrow night. Seven-thirty all right with you?’ Karen asked gently, knowing Bruce would realise she’d remembered it was his birthday tomorrow. His first without Gabby.
‘I’ll be there,’ Bruce said. ‘And Karen, thank you.’
Karen shrugged his thanks off. ‘We can mooch back here for the normal sundowner at about nine.’ She didn’t want to alert him to the fact that she planned to invite everyone from the cottages and that the barbecue was in fact a surprise birthday party for him.
*
Leaving the pub after her coffee, Carrie made for the village shop. The requisite hanging baskets with their white trailing geraniums and ivy were hung either end of the large window plastered with special-offer posters and announcements of local fêtes and carnivals and the opening times of the post-office counter. A bell tinkled as she pushed the door open and went in.
Summer at Coastguard Cottages Page 8
