by Jenny Kane
‘Yes.’ Abi studied her boyfriend’s face, trying to gauge whether he was experiencing the pressure as well, or just saying the right things because she was feeling fragile.
‘I feel it too, but we have to do what’s right for us, when it’s right. Our circumstances are our own.’
Abi smiled. ‘I love you, Mr Pendale.’
‘And I love you too, but right now I have to face last night’s other issue.’
‘Oh God, I forgot for a moment! I bet Cassandra has the hangover from hell. I wonder if she’s got any painkillers? Do you think we should go over to check on her together? I know you have a key, but I’m not sure what state you’ll find her in this morning if you just walk in.’
‘Good point. She could be collapsed half-naked on the sofa or something, and that’s a sight I could live without seeing.’ Reluctantly getting up from his comfortable position with Abi on the sofa, Max said, ‘Do you have time to check on her with me?’
‘I’m sure Beth will understand if I’m a few minutes late.’ Abi picked up her bag, not sure she really wanted to find a half-naked Cassandra either, and searched through the cupboard where she kept medicines. ‘I think I’ll take her some hangover-busting tablets in case she needs them.’
Cassandra didn’t dare move. Everything hurt. Inside and outside. Even opening and closing her eyelids made her ache. Why am I on the sofa?
With mortifying realisation, Cassandra relived the previous evening in a painful flashback. Ending with how she’d realised that her emotional rant down the phone had been rather louder than the whisper she had been convinced she was speaking in at the time, and with the stillness of the Cornish air, had probably been carried to the ears of her neighbour and friends.
She could picture Justin’s face screwed up in disgust at how feeble she was for leaving a message on his machine. It was probably just as well she couldn’t remember precisely what she’d said, but she certainly had a clear memory of pleading with him for answers.
Cassandra tried to sit up. Moving very slowly, she was unsure she’d ever be able to deal with the shame of it all when she heard a key in the front door.
‘Hello?’
Bloody hell. ‘Abi?’ Cassandra could barely get the word out.
As her neighbour crouched in front of her, Cassandra wanted to disappear, wanted to yell at Abi to go away, wanted to run away and hide, but all of those things would have involved using more muscles than was advisable at that moment.
‘Max is here to start sanding down the walls. Shall I ask him to come back in an hour?’
Cassandra tried to nod, but it felt as if her teeth were about to fall out, so she just murmured a tiny, ‘Thank you.’ The mere thought of having to listen to the scrape of sandpaper on the walls was enough to shrivel her insides.
‘I’ll sort it. Here, see if you can drink this.’
Cassandra hadn’t noticed the glass of water Abi was holding. Her neighbour gently placed the glass in her hand, wrapping her palm and fingers around it, making sure it wasn’t about to slop all over the floor.
‘It’s water with Alka-Seltzer in it. That’ll kick the hangover.’
Once Abi had gone, Cassandra glanced at the glass, and her body instantly recoiled at the thought of consuming any sort of liquid. Straightening up so she could drink without spilling it all down her front, Cassandra wasn’t sure what hurt more: her head or her pride.
***
After Calling Beth to let her know that Max was coming to unlock the gallery that morning, and that she’d be there as soon as she could, Abi returned to Cassandra.
‘Well done. I didn’t think you’d have drunk that yet.’
‘I didn’t want to.’ Cassandra took some comfort from the fact she was no longer slumped in a stupor – not on the outside anyway. ‘But nor do I want to feel this awful all day.’
The lingering smell of juniper was strong enough for Abi to guess that Cassandra had continued knocking back the gin last night after they’d heard her in the garden. ‘I’m ever so sorry, but I think you ought to know – we heard some of your conversation last night. We didn’t mean to, but…’
‘I know.’ Cassandra felt herself go crimson. ‘You must think me a fool.’
‘No.’ Abi’s reply was so emphatic that Cassandra believed her sincerity. ‘I think you’ve been hurt by someone you love.’
‘I’m so embarrassed. I knew you and your friends were there, but it didn’t register until later how much the sound travelled here.’
Abi smiled. ‘You’re used to the continual hum of noise in London. It takes some adjustment to get the hang of real silence.’
‘You’re probably right. Thank you.’
‘Not at all. Now, without wishing to sound rude, you smell awful. Do you think you can make the stairs to the shower, or do you want some help?’
Cassandra looked so surprised that Abi laughed as she went on, ‘Well, you can’t help me out at the gallery if you stink like a gin palace, can you?’
‘I’m coming with you today?’
‘I’m not leaving you here on your own. Go and get clean. There’s no rush, I’m not in a hurry. Max is keeping an eye on the gallery, so we have as much time as we need.’
‘But…’
‘Oh, stop with your buts and go and get washed. I’ll make a mug of tea.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m British, and it’s what we do in a crisis.’
‘No, I mean … why are you helping me?’
‘I told you the other day, I suffer from chronic niceness syndrome. I tell you, it’s a real pain in the arse sometimes. Now go and get clean before I have to tell you how much I hate the smell of gin and make you feel even worse.’
Chapter Seventeen
Dora fluttered her eyelashes at Dan as he arrived at her new front door with the final suitcase full of her clothes.
‘Don’t you flirt with that young man, Mrs Henry,’ Stan called through from the kitchen.
‘You can’t even see me, what makes you think I’m flirting?’
‘You’re still breathing, aren’t you, girl!’ Stan called playfully as he walked into the room. ‘Morning, Dan. Thanks for bringing this lot over.’ Gesturing to the jungle of boxes and suitcases, he added, ‘Although if you’d like to stay for a drink I can only offer you a perch on top of a box or a spot at the kitchen table.’
‘I ought to be sorting out a feud between Lionel and Geoff in the living room. Apparently their usual pre-bed match last night turned into some form of ninja dominoes – but if you’re offering a cuppa, then I’m happy to put off the evil hour for a bit.’
Dora laughed. ‘Those two couldn’t play their way out of a paper bag!’
‘Just because they haven’t yet built the casino you couldn’t shark your way out of!’ Stan wandered back into the kitchen followed by Dora and Dan. ‘Perhaps you could explain to me and Dan how our flat is going to absorb all this stuff.’
Chuckling, Dora said, ‘It does appear to have expanded a bit since it was on my shelves. I think we’d better do a car boot sale.’
Dan raised an eyebrow. ‘Without a car, or indeed any sort of boot?’
‘That’s it!’ Dora smiled, ‘Actually, I was thinking that I’d have a big sort-out and see if either the lovely Abi, Beth or Cassandra would like a few bits and pieces. The rest can go to charity.’ She reached a hand across and laid it gently over Stan’s. ‘I have all I’ll ever need in this lifetime.’
‘You know,’ Dan said as he picked up his cup, ‘sometimes it is very difficult not to envy you two.’
‘Us? With our wrinkles and the joint life expectancies of a fruit fly?’
‘Yes. Your contentment is something many would envy.’
Dora studied the care manager’s rugged face. ‘Are you alright, Dan? I didn’t have you down as discontented.’
‘I’m not. Not at all.’
‘But someone to be contented with wouldn’t go amiss?’
‘Do you know what, Do
ra, sometimes I wish you weren’t quite so shrewd.’ Dan turned to Stan, determined to change the subject. ‘Do you know if your daughter and the children are coming for the wedding? If they are, then I won’t get the cleaners to come and disinfect the hell out of Dora’s flat until afterwards; that way they can stay there, and save on hotel money.’
Stan shook his head. ‘I’ll know later. Abi Skyped them last night.’ His smile faltered. ‘I did think she would have phoned me by now to let me know how it went.’
‘Won’t she be at work?’ Dan said. ‘You told me she ran the Art and Sole place in Sennen.’
‘She does. Maybe she’ll call me afterwards.’ Stan tried to keep the nagging doubts in his head hidden. He knew all too well that if Abi had good news she would have called him whether she was at work or not. ‘I’ll let you know about the flat. That’s very kind of you, Dan.’
‘Not at all.’
‘Well, sort of kind.’ Dora winked. ‘I’m not sure about the insinuation that my home requires disinfecting by some sort of decontamination squad!’
‘I hope you don’t mind, but I had a look around while you were upstairs.’
Cassandra noticed Abi had gone around opening windows, releasing the stale air. ‘Not at all.’ Still moving slowly, she took the mug of tea her neighbour was holding out to her.
‘I wasn’t sure how you had your tea, so I’ve made it white without sugar for now.’
‘Spot on. Thank you. Again.’
‘No problem. Again.’ Abi gestured around the kitchen, leaning against the old table. ‘Actually, I have a confession to make.’
‘You do?’
‘This place; it’s nothing like I imagined. Max told me I was worrying over nothing, but I couldn’t help feeling protective of the place.’
Cassandra frowned. ‘You’ve lost me.’
‘I thought you’d ripped the heart out of the house. I saw the mess out the front and assumed you were taking your obvious unhappiness out on the house. But that isn’t the case at all. I shouldn’t have made assumptions based on my knowledge of the executive wives I knew in London.’
‘It might have been the truth if I hadn’t found that restorer’s shop in Truro.’ Cassandra winced as she sipped her tea and promptly burnt her lip. ‘It was strange; the place seemed to have a calming, positive effect on me. And Jo was sympathetic to my situation.’ She paused. ‘Everyone I’ve met here has been. I’ve never come across anything like it before.’
Abi smiled. ‘That’s the first thing that hit me when I arrived. Friendly people – that, and how cold it is when it rains!’
‘Rain? I thought it was supposed to be sunny all the time in Cornwall?’
‘Let’s say that’s a small tourist board fib.’
Cassandra managed a weak grin. ‘Everyone seems to be happy to have me here, even if they’ve never met me before. It’s a bit weird.’
Abi smiled back. ‘It takes a bit of getting used to.’
‘You’re telling me!’
‘Not every person is lovely. The place has its fair share of misery guts and worse, but in comparison to London… let’s just say that the air of grumpiness isn’t so condensed.’
Cassandra laughed, and instantly regretted it. ‘Ouch. Whatever happens, please don’t let me drink gin ever ever ever ever again.’
‘That’s a no gin policy, then.’
‘I’ll even get my new solicitor to put it in writing!’
‘Now that is serious!’ Abi checked her watch. ‘You ought to eat something. Can I get you some toast or cereal?’
Cassandra felt nausea rise in her throat. ‘No thanks.’
‘Not even some dry bread?’
‘No, really. Thanks though.’
‘Come on, then.’
‘You weren’t serious, were you? About me coming with you to the gallery? I have so much to do and, to be honest, I don’t think I want to see anyone this morning.’
Abi spoke softly. ‘I know, but if you don’t come, you’ll sit here and start over-thinking, and end up feeling sorry for yourself. If you come with me you won’t have time.’
‘You sound very sure about that. You don’t even know me.’
‘Been there, done that, bought the T-shirt, and wore it so much it went threadbare. And I have a feeling I understand something of what you’re going through, although I’d never claim to know how you feel.’
Cassandra rose very carefully to her feet. ‘You’re right. I’ll get a few things. I’d like to see the gallery in daylight anyway.’
As they walked down the hill towards the village, Abi tried to squash down the guilt that she hadn’t phoned Stan yet about her failed conversation with Sally, and said to Cassandra, ‘You know you liked Jo’s shop?’
‘Yes?’
‘She runs classes on how to do up furniture. I know I’ve sort of mentioned it before, but why don’t you do one? I know it’s a bit more homespun than you’re used to, but it could be fun.’
Cassandra stared across the horizon, so she didn’t have to see Abi’s expression. ‘I don’t come across like someone who is comfortable with homespun, do I?’
‘No, hun, you don’t.’
‘And I’m not. At least, I wasn’t, but do you know what, I think I might be now – a little bit, anyway. It’s probably only a temporary reaction to everything that’s happened, but I’m craving the chance to do something that isn’t, ummm…’
‘London?’
‘Exactly. Something not London. I’ll see what Jo offers when I go back to Truro. I’ll just be looking, but maybe… Thanks, Abi. Thanks for everything.’ Then, feeling rather awkward, Cassandra gave her neighbour the briefest of hugs. ‘Thanks.’
Surprised to find that it wasn’t Max but Jacob who was propped up on the stool behind the counter, a rival potter’s catalogue open in front of him, Abi said, ‘Hi, where’s Max?’
‘Gone to fetch some paint.’ Jacob beamed as Cassandra walked in behind Abi. ‘Hello. You must be Abi’s new neighbour. I’m pleased to meet you.’
Cassandra took Jacob’s outstretched hand. Talking in his short ponytail and casual clothes, she forced herself not to dismiss him completely, as she would instinctively have done in London.
‘Jacob lives upstairs with Beth. He is Cornwall’s very best potter.’
‘Why thank you, Mrs Carter,’ Jacob gave an exaggerated bow before pointing to the catalogue, ‘but this guy is pretty good as well.’
‘So what are you up to, sussing out the competition?’
‘More assessing how good this guy’s brochure is. I’m going to have to change my range once the baby comes, so I’m contemplating a new catalogue for my work.’
‘Baby?’ Cassandra blanched and her head thumped with a cruel reminder at the level of hangover she was suffering. ‘You were in the garden with Abi last night?’
‘Yes. We were celebrating the forthcoming arrival of the next generation.’
Mumbling, ‘Congratulations,’ Cassandra was extraordinarily grateful that Jacob hadn’t mentioned her fraught phone call, although his curious expression told her he had definitely heard it. Making sure they continued to steer away from the subject, she asked, ‘Do you have any ceramics here? I’d love to see them.’
‘Not right now. I’m in the middle of swapping studios, so most of it’s in storage. I can show you sometime if you’re interested?’
‘I’d love to. I’m doing up the house next door to Abi, and a few unique pieces of art would be most welcome.’
Jacob gave another mock bow. ‘You are clearly a woman of taste.’
‘That’s a debatable point right now.’ Cassandra gave the bemused potter a quick smile and wandered over to the newly hung watercolours, to divert the tears that were threatening.
Abi gave Jacob a barely perceptible shake of her head so that he didn’t follow their visitor. Starting to unpack her art supplies for the day, she said, ‘Hang on, Jacob, why do you need to change your range for when the baby comes?’
‘I want to do my bit. Beth loves her job, so I don’t think it’s fair to ask her to give it up. Once her maternity leave is over I’ll be a stay-at-home dad. That means doing as much of the complex arty stuff as possible now, before moving over to mugs, plates and all the quick stuff once he or she has arrived. I can do that at weekends and in the evenings.’
Abi laughed. ‘I can see you at the potter’s wheel with Jacob junior in a sling on your back.’
‘Oh, that’s a thought! I must get one of those.’ Jacob grinned at the prospect as he climbed off the stool. ‘Anyway, if you two beautiful young ladies will excuse me, I must go and see how much space there is at my new studio to store unworked clay.’
Once Jacob had gone, Abi gave Cassandra a proper tour of Serena Browne’s watercolours, before asking, ‘I’m not intending to hold you hostage or anything, but if you want to use the counter as a desk for a while, then feel free. Wi-Fi is good in here.’
Cassandra had been working at the counter for an hour. Three strong coffees had been drunk, a few visitors had come and gone, and as she sat, the artwork on the walls screaming out to be taken home with her and soft, calming music playing in the background, she found herself relaxing for only the second time since her feet had crossed the Tamar.
While Abi sat across the room, working quietly, ideas for a new business venture had begun to form in Cassandra’s head. You can’t. Don’t be absurd. The idea is ludicrous. It’s just because you are surrounded by so much creativity. But the more she tried to dismiss the thought, the more the idea refused to leave her. She knew, as the comforting environment of the gallery soothed her troubled thoughts, that the moment she gathered enough courage, she’d be throwing the plan to save the remnants of her agency in the bin.
‘Are you OK, Stan?’
Coming into the kitchen to take his leave of the old man, after helping Dora carry the things she wanted in the bedroom, Dan found Stan staring out of the window.
‘Oh hello, Dan. Yes, thanks.’
Not convinced, Dan pointed to the seats around the kitchen table. ‘Tell me.’
Stan crossed his arms. ‘Seems to be all one-way traffic with the sharing where you’re concerned, young man.’
