Zoey shook her head. ‘Bloody hell. You’ve settled in fast. Helping the neighbours, joining a collective. Then there’s Jake. He sounds like he has potential … and it’s nearly been two months now since Dan and you split. You should grab the chance while you can. The guy collecting tickets on the ferry said only two thousand people live across all the islands. Jesus, that’s less than at our insurance HQ.’ Zoey pulled a face.
‘Just as well I’m not looking and, besides, it’s way too soon after Dan, and anyway, Jake’s the last person I’d want to be involved with even if he was staying.’ Poppy tried to sound breezy to put her friend off the scent.
Zoey raised an eyebrow. ‘Really? Why?’
‘His fiancée died in a yacht accident a few years ago and he’s not over it. I think any time would be too soon for Jake. I’m not sure he’ll ever be ready to get involved with someone else, and even if he was, it wouldn’t be me.’ Poppy hesitated, wondering whether to tell Zoey about the kiss and Jake’s strange behaviour afterwards. Over the past week, he’d popped in to help with a few jobs, alongside Fen and Kelly, but he’d also been absent a lot too, presumably dealing with the prints for the launch and his other work.
‘Why not? If you like him – well, you don’t owe Dan anything.’
‘I know that, Zoey. Sorry, hun, I didn’t mean to sound sharp.’
‘OK, so you and Jake. It doesn’t have to be a big romance. You could just … sleep with him or whatever?’
‘Zoey!’ Poppy picked up a cushion and threw it at her friend, who caught it and held it up for mock protection. Then she sighed. ‘It’s not that simple. Jake is gorgeous, but he’s also – technically – a business acquaintance and he’s leaving soon.’
‘Exactly why you should sleep with him now. There isn’t time for things to get complicated.’
‘Not with me, maybe, but he’s carrying so much baggage already, it’s really not a great idea. Zoey, can we drop this for a bit, please?’
Zoey looked puzzled. ‘If you say so, but I’ll check him out over the weekend and give you my opinion.’ She held out her arms. ‘I’ve missed you. Big hug?’
Poppy hugged her, a lump forming in her throat. Now Zoey was here at the heart of her new environment, she felt disoriented, almost as if she’d dreamt the past few weeks. ‘I tell you what, I think I’d like a large glass of wine. Shall we go to the pub? I’ll introduce you to Kelly and a few of the other locals.’
Zoe gasped. ‘There’s a pub?’
Poppy picked up a cushion and threw it at her. ‘It’s not the end of the world, you know.’
Zoey glanced out of the window. ‘No, it only feels like it …’ She leaned forward and peered outside again before letting out a breath. ‘Wow. That’s something you don’t see on Broad Street on a Saturday night. Or any night. Or day.’
‘What are you on about?’ said Poppy, crossing to the window.
Zoey pointed at Jake who was walking away from the harbour, with a large cardboard container in his arms. ‘That. Him. The guy with the big package.’ She smirked. ‘Could it possibly be … the gorgeous Jake who you’re not the slightest bit interested in?’
Pulling a face, Poppy sneaked a look. Zoey was right. It was a very big package. Jake was almost swamped by the cardboard box, which he had to put down on the cobbles for a second and then pick up again. It looked more awkward than heavy. She watched as he headed for the studio, excitement making her pulse rise. He must have the photos in that box. She really hoped he had …
‘Is he coming in?’ Zoey said in a stage whisper. Poppy hoped not – she didn’t want to face Jake with Zoey watching and probably analysing every move.
He stopped outside the veranda, rested the box on the cobbles and glanced at the windows.
‘Get down!’ Poppy ducked and pulled Zoey’s arm.
‘Why the secrecy?’ said Zoey, rubbing her elbow as they crouched under the window.
‘I don’t want him to know we’ve been spying on him.’
‘Wow. He must be special.
‘Ssh. Stay out of sight.’ Poppy batted her on the arm and poked her head above the sill. She needn’t have worried about being spotted. Jake had picked up his box and was now heading towards Archie’s cottage. If the photos were in that package, as she suspected, it looked like she was going to have to wait a while longer.
He arrived later that evening while Zoey was in the shower.
‘I’ve brought the pictures,’ he said. ‘Do you want a sneak preview or are you willing to trust me?’
When it came to the photographs, Poppy did trust him, but she was still wary of getting too close to him, physically or emotionally.
‘I know they’ll be amazing,’ she said.
‘Amazing? You have more faith in me than I deserve.’ He moved quickly on. ‘I thought I’d hang them on the wall and I’ve brought a screen to cover them until the big reveal. Is that OK?’
‘It’s fine. I think that the secrecy will add an air of mystery,’ she said. ‘People love a surprise.’
‘I hope so … Poppy?’
‘Yes?’
‘The other day. Last week. It was lovely. I enjoyed it. It was … well, wow, but I just don’t think that either of us is ready to start anything.’
‘Don’t,’ she said, already on the edge of tears, with the emotion of the launch. ‘Don’t say any more. You’re right, of course. It’s a terrible idea, so can we forget the whole thing for now? I don’t want anything to spoil tomorrow.’
‘Of course. I’ll go and set these pictures up. If you can promise me one thing? Don’t look until tomorrow?’
‘I can promise you that much,’ said Poppy.
He smiled and left her digging her nails into her palm. Until he’d actually spoken about the kiss, she’d managed to convince herself it wasn’t a big deal. Now, she knew it was.
Chapter 20
Poppy and Zoey were up bright and early on the big day. Her parents arrived on the first ferry, followed by Fen, and then there was mayhem. Zoey dropped a bottle of wine on the tiles and it had to be mopped up and Poppy couldn’t find the notes she’d prepared for her speech and written on the back of an envelope and had to jot down the bullet points from memory.
Her parents and Fen seemed to have made enough nibbles and cakes to feed an army and were laying it all out on tables in the work area. But Poppy’s mind wasn’t on the food.
Jake’s photographs were hidden behind a portable presentation screen used to show slide evenings at the local community hall. After he’d left the previous evening, she and Zoey had gone to the pub, but Poppy didn’t feel able to share the intimate details of her conversation with Jake. She wished he hadn’t even spoken to her about the kiss … She’d rather they’d never mentioned it again, and as for saying she wasn’t ready to start a new relationship so soon, she’d been angry and hurt initially, but then thought perhaps he had a point. And even if she was ready, he clearly wasn’t. She definitely didn’t need a guy around her who didn’t know what he wanted, no matter how much she fancied him.
Can you trust me? His words rang in her ears.
Yes – and not quite – she thought, looking at the blank screen, wondering what lay behind it and how they’d both feel by the end of today.
‘So, please raise your glasses to Poppy, our lovely daughter and the proud new proprietor of the Starfish Studio.’
Poppy blushed as her dad lifted his glass into the air to loud cheers that echoed off the walls of the studio. There was clapping and a resounding cry of ‘To Poppy!’ then everyone cheered … Almost everyone, because she spotted Minty at the back, limply raising her glass about a centimetre and miming applause with one hand. She didn’t care. Today was going even better than her wildest dreams. Just about everyone she’d ever met on Scilly – and many who she hadn’t – had dropped by to wish her well at some point since the studio had opened for business at eleven a.m. With her family and best friend by her side, she couldn’t have asked for anything more.
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br /> She was sure they were breaking some kind of overcrowding rule and had no idea how none of the pieces had been damaged yet, with so many excited people milling around and necking Prosecco, but so far everything was going well. Fen, Maisie, Patrick, Hugo, Adam, Jess, Kelly, Ben and Lisa from the kiosk – the list of islanders went on and on, their ranks swollen by curious visitors and many of the artists whose work she was showing. Even Leo was keeping a watchful eye from halfway up the spiral staircase and had been on his best behaviour. The signs of his last escapade had now well and truly disappeared.
Jake was there too, of course, standing quietly at the end of the studio, with an encouraging smile on his face.
‘Congratulations,’ he mouthed, then joined in with the whistles and cheering. His eyes were bright and expressive; he looked happy – not to mention heart-stoppingly gorgeous in a white casual shirt worn loose over charcoal jeans. His black hair was tousled because he didn’t care how he looked and had no awareness that, actually, he was so sexy, she was having trouble framing her words. It was a shame he’d backed off from her just as things were getting promising.
Oh, shit, this was not what she wanted when she was about to give her big speech on the most important day of her life.
Faces looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to speak. She’d made speeches before in presentations and press conferences, but this was different. While she’d cared about doing a good job, today was about her dreams. It was personal in a way that no job had ever been.
She tore her eyes from his before replying to the toast.
‘Well, thank you, Dad, for embarrassing me horribly,’ she began.
Everyone laughed.
‘And thank you so much, everyone, for coming, and to everyone who’s helped me get the Starfish open – twice in fact.’
More laughter from those who knew she was referring to the flood.
‘Some of you know that it was a massive leap of faith to come out here to the middle of nowhere…’ she smiled and many nodded in agreement ‘… to this stunning and amazing place in the middle of nowhere. Some of you know that I never intended to come here on my own, but I’m so glad I have.’
She fought against the scratchy itch at the back of her eyes and the thick lump in her throat.
‘The support and kindness I’ve been shown – even though I was a newcomer with a funny accent …’
More laughter.
‘… has been incredible. So, thank you and especially to Fen and Jake. But the Starfish isn’t about me at all. It’s about all the fantastic artists and makers who have agreed to put their faith in the studio and share their work.’
Minty was positively puffing up at the rear of the studio until Kay Baverstock, keeping as far away from her rival as possible, shouted, ‘Hear, hear!’
After more applause for the artists, Poppy continued. ‘And finally, I raise my glass to the most important artist of all. One who sadly can’t be here today but who is here in spirit and will hopefully be back in person very soon. To the founder and the soul of the Starfish Studio.’ She lifted her glass high. ‘To Archie Pendower!’
After the applause died down and everyone had had another glug of Prosecco, Poppy spoke again. She caught Jake’s eye and noticed him making his way towards the front of the crowd.
‘On that note, I’m also very happy to announce some more exciting news. Most of you will know Jake Pendower, Archie’s grandson, who is a renowned natural history photographer. Or so it says on his website,’ she added.
Jake gasped amid the gales of laughter, but he was smiling too, now standing near the front of the guests.
‘Seriously, I’m delighted to reveal that Jake has kindly offered to display some of his work in the Starfish. Not only that, but the photos you are about to see are brand-new shots that are exclusive to the gallery. So new, in fact,’ said Poppy, focusing on Jake’s face, ‘that even I haven’t seen them yet.’
There were ‘ohms’ and ‘ahs’ from the crowd, and Poppy couldn’t resist a glance at Minty. Her lips were pursed as if, as Poppy’s mum might say, she’d swallowed a bottle of vinegar. Poppy moved next to the screen that had been covering the wall near to the staircase.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, I’m pleased to hand you over to Jake Pendower.’
Jake took over while Poppy took a few quiet, calming breaths.
‘Thanks, Poppy. I’m honoured to be able to show my photographs in my grandfather’s studio,’ he began in a steady voice. ‘I only wish he could be here to see them, but he is on the mend and I hope he’ll be back soon. Probably to give me his very honest opinion.’
‘Oh, he will,’ said Fen.
Jake smiled at her. ‘Some of you will know that I haven’t been back to St Piran’s for a while …’
There were sympathetic murmurs from locals and a few puzzled expressions from strangers, but Jake went on calmly.
‘These isles hold many memories for me. I grew up here as a boy and spent many happy days exploring with my parents and my grandpa. Coming back here and seeing the studio being given a fresh lease of life by Poppy has inspired me to revisit some of those places and look at them through fresh eyes myself.’
His words were simple, but knowing what the island and its memories meant to him gave an intensity to his speech that you could almost feel. Everyone who knew him was rapt and Poppy saw Fen wipe away a tear. She was almost trembling herself, wondering what the photos would show.
Jake wheeled the screen away from the wall. ‘So, without further ado,’ he said. ‘Here they are.’
Chapter 21
Poppy’s hand flew to her mouth in amazement at the half a dozen canvases hung on the wall. A collective gasp went up and people crowded forward for a better look.
Some of the photos were in full colour, highlighting St Piran’s in all its almost Mediterranean vibrancy. They showed aquamarine and emerald waters lapping white beaches, brightly coloured wildflowers and exotic garden plants in hot pinks, corals and reds. Some featured whitewashed granite cottages with blue doors, basking in the late spring sun above a sleepy harbour where families queued for ice creams. They were soothing, comforting pictures that made Poppy feel safe and sheltered.
Then there were dramatic black and white shots of remote beaches and wild headlands of the northern part of the island. Sea foam flew high into the sky from breakers crashing onto jagged rocks. They were stark and disturbing. Even though they’d been taken on a sunny day, the fear and danger leapt from the scenes.
Every photograph was stunning in its own way and captured the island in all its moods – and for those who knew him, even slightly, there was no doubt that they captured Jake’s feelings towards the island too.
The guests burst into a round of spontaneous applause, but Poppy was transfixed by two photographs in particular. The canvases had been displayed one above the other and both were of the Starfish Studio. The bottom photograph must have come from Jake’s archive because Archie was outside, carrying his easel and workbox with a ginger kitten tugging at his bootlaces.
However, it was the photo above that made her breath catch. It could have been taken only days ago because Poppy was at the centre of the scene, hanging new bunting above the veranda. Jake must have taken it without her even noticing.
People crowded in, in a disorderly queue, waiting for their turn to look at the prints. Poppy tried to speak to Jake, but he was smothered by people asking about the new pictures. Others started talking to her, asking if they could buy the prints and how much they were. Soon, she was swept far away from Jake, answering question after question about the studio until her head was spinning.
Even as she tried to answer, laugh and be the perfect hostess, one thing dominated her mind: Jake had confronted his memories and bared his soul for the studio. For her.
She had no chance to talk to him other than mouthing a ‘thank you’ over the heads of the crowd. More people arrived and the volume of chatter meant she could hardly hear herself speak. Poppy
gave an interview live to the island radio station, her heart almost jumping out of her chest. Was she speaking too quickly? Had she said the same thing over and over? Had she come across as warm and friendly and welcoming – or as an airhead who knew nothing about art?
Too late, now, the radio presenter had gone.
Hugo turned up with Basil, who was so excited that his wagging tail threatened to demolish most of the stock. Hugo tied him up outside and bought a bronze sculpture of a dog not unlike Basil.
Minty’s jewellery was horribly popular, with people cooing over it, even though Poppy thought it was a bit overpriced. She was here to make a living, so it was all good. She sold two of Archie’s original paintings. She knew that it was the Starfish’s honeymoon today and she’d never be able to create a big splash like this again.
An elegant woman came up to the desk and bought one of Rowan Pentire’s less obscene ceramic bowls. Poppy noticed her because instead of the usual hiking backpacks, she carried a beautiful velvet and leather handbag. It was so sumptuous, shimmering in the light, that Poppy’s fingers itched to stroke it. Fortunately, she managed to restrain herself.
‘Your bag’s beautiful,’ she said.
The woman smiled. ‘I made it myself. It’s inspired by Scilly even though I’m from Northampton. I’m here on holiday, but it’s part work, as I’m always looking for fresh inspiration. I’m an artist maker too.’ She handed over a card, saying her name was Pippa Day. ‘Actually, when I saw the pieces you have, I wondered if you might be interested in stocking some of my bags and purses. I’ve got some samples with me, but I can pop in another day when you’re not so busy.’
‘That would be great. We don’t have any leather and textile accessories and if you have some inspired by the isles, I’d be interested in chatting.’
‘Have you thought of running workshops?’
‘Workshops?’
‘Art and crafts classes for visitors and local people. You could charge a small amount of commission to the tutor and, of course, it would get people into the gallery.’
Summer on the Little Cornish Isles Page 18
