Summer on the Little Cornish Isles

by Phillipa Ashley

  Chapter 26

  Jake spooned coffee into two mugs. When she couldn’t get her favourite skinny decaf flat white from the Harbour Kiosk, Poppy liked her instant strong with plenty of milk. He knew her better than she thought. After the previous night, he now knew her a lot better.

  Early morning sunshine spilled onto the kitchen tiles. Making coffee had been his second job after checking on Leo, who allowed himself to be stroked and then tucked into his breakfast. He was now lounging on his cat bed, batting at a fly with his good front paw and no doubt planning to take over the world. He’d probably do a much better job than any of the current lot running it, thought Jake, while he waited for the kettle to boil.

  He’d left Poppy asleep on his side of the bed. She’d actually been down to check on Leo in the middle of the night during a break from the bedroom proceedings. Once satisfied that Leo was dozing contentedly, she’d come back to bed with a happy smile that had driven Jake insane. Phew. He was already knackered before he even started his journey to Brazil, but what a way to go.

  Grinning so hard it hurt, he carried the mugs up the twisty cottage staircase. He’d managed to find his boxers without waking her, so at least she wouldn’t have too big a shock when he delivered the coffee. Then again, he thought, he hadn’t been out of bed that long …

  A thought hit him: would she be getting dressed right now, ready to get the hell out of the cottage and vowing never to see him again? Last night had been … awkward, funny, sexy as hell. As it turned out, neither of them had forgotten how the whole thing worked. But she was sitting up in bed with the sheet pulled up over her breasts, checking her phone, when he walked in.

  ‘Leo?’ she asked.

  ‘Wolfed down his breakfast and plotting world domination from his bed. I brought you a coffee.’ He rested the mug on a crocheted coaster on the bedside table.

  ‘Thanks.’ She did a double take and her lips parted in surprise as if she’d suddenly realised he was in his boxers and she was in nothing at all. Jake’s insides did the funny little thing they had been doing for a while now when he looked at her. That weird tingly feeling ought to have been a warning not to get too deeply involved. It wasn’t one he’d heeded though, was it?

  He took his own mug to his side of the bed. ‘Ow! That bloody crate.’ Hot coffee splashed onto his arm and he cursed again. He wasn’t sure which hurt most, the stubbed toe or scalded arm.

  She scrambled down the bed and rescued the mug while he rubbed his arm.

  ‘I really need to move that thing.’

  She laughed. ‘You said that half a dozen times last night.’

  ‘I know …’

  Jake collected his coffee and sat on the bed glaring at the crate.

  Poppy sipped her coffee, then said, ‘Are those the paintings Archie left you? The ones you based your photographs on?’

  ‘Yes. Grandpa left them for me to open after he passed away, but I couldn’t resist.’

  ‘Judging by the photos they inspired, I guess they conjured a mixture of memories?’

  He nodded. ‘You could say that. Some were of me and my parents with Grandpa when I was young in our favourite spots on St Piran’s. Others … were harder to look at and harder to revisit.’

  ‘You didn’t have to revisit them. I hope that you didn’t feel you had to for my sake.’

  ‘No. I wanted to create something fresh and original for the studio and when I’d opened the crate, I had no choice. Once the idea of recreating Grandpa’s scenes took hold, I felt compelled to do it. If that doesn’t sound too up myself.’

  She laid a warm hand on his arm. The hairs stood on end at the lightness and warmth of her touch. This was dangerous. It hadn’t been just sex.

  He put down the mug. Had last night been the biggest mistake of his life or the best decision he’d ever made?

  ‘I also needed to confront the memories, to see how bad they really were. I’ve kept away from St Piran’s since the accident happened, apart from one quick visit. That was almost two years ago and I could hardly bear to be here. Every minute was torture and having to hear people’s sympathy and keep on answering politely when I wanted to scream and swear – well, I couldn’t handle it. But this time, I’ve stayed longer. I didn’t think I would, and taking the pictures, remaking the memories – some of them anyway – I did it, but there’s something else now that I can’t handle.’

  ‘What?’

  He took a deep breath before speaking. ‘It’s Harriet – her presence. It used to be with me every waking minute and in my dreams, but now …’ He hesitated but Poppy’s eyes were gentle and encouraging so he went on. ‘I’m losing her, Poppy. At first, she was seared on my mind. Every feature, every word, her voice, the scent of her, even the taste, but now she’s almost gone. I can’t see her colours so vividly or hear her like I used to.’

  Like seeing her disappear beneath the surface of the water, even as he held out his hand, as he reached down. He’d caught her and pulled her aboard, dislocating his shoulder in the process. He didn’t even notice the pain at the time, it was eclipsed by the agony of knowing she was dead.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Are you?’ He sat on the bed and rubbed his hand over his mouth. ‘That’s the problem. I don’t know if I am or not. I don’t know if I want to see or hear or feel her that strongly. For a while now, I haven’t been able to decide if it’s because things are getting better that she’s fading. Maybe she has to fade away before …’ He was going to say, before someone else can take her place, but stopped just in time.

  Perhaps not quickly enough for Poppy, who, judging by the swallow and the confusion in her expression, had read his thoughts. Damn. You weren’t supposed to talk about past partners in this situation, were you? Well, bollocks to that. They were both drawn together by loss and loneliness, and not only because he’d wanted to take her to bed almost from the first moment he’d seen her step off the boat. He could admit that now.

  ‘While I was downstairs, you checked Dan’s Facebook, didn’t you?’

  ‘No, I …’ Poppy shook her head. ‘Yes. I shouldn’t have. I couldn’t help it. I don’t do it so often now, but since he and Eve have been posting about the baby, I can’t seem to help myself. I hate looking. I want to stop.’

  ‘You will one day, but you’re not ready yet.’

  ‘Sounds as if neither of us is ready,’ she said. ‘Not quite.’

  ‘Do you love him?’

  She hesitated, which was enough for Jake. It had only been two months since she’d split with Dan, a heartbeat of time when you’d once thought you’d love someone for the rest of your life. For eternity.

  ‘I did once,’ said Poppy. ‘Now, I just don’t know … Does that sound mad when he left me for another woman and is clearly a massive tosser?’

  Jake had to smile. ‘Not at all. Plenty of women – and men – have fallen for massive tossers. And keep on loving them. Like I said, you can’t just untangle yourself from love, like untying a complicated knot. You might think you’re free one day, and then bam, you’re pulled back sharply and it hurts every time. You’re still part of that person’s life and maybe you’ll always have the tie that binds you to them. I don’t know.’

  ‘I don’t want to be tied to Dan forever.’

  ‘You might not be. I don’t know … maybe because he’s still here and you can see that he’s becoming an even bigger tosser every day, you’ll find it easier to cut him adrift.’

  ‘Jake. Last night was great. But, you know, I think I’d find it easier if we said our goodbyes now. Is that OK?’

  Her words were gentle but firm. She seemed to be pushing him away. Was she trying to avoid making the parting even more painful? Was that for her sake or his?

  He nodded. ‘Probably best. I have to get my plane this morning or I really will miss my flight to Brazil.’

  She smiled. ‘I’ll take Leo with me when I leave. I need to open the studio.’

  ‘Good idea. I’ll bring his bed and
things over with me before I go.’

  ‘I can collect them if you leave the key.’

  Wow. She really was keen to avoid a long goodbye and make a clean break. ‘Whatever you want,’ he said. ‘I’ll let you get dressed.’

  ‘If you don’t mind.’

  The fact she needed privacy was another sign to him that last night’s intimacy was at an end.

  He went to the bathroom and came back to find she was already downstairs. He made them toast, which neither of them wanted, and then she left, after the briefest of hugs, carrying the disgruntled Leo in his basket.

  The cottage was eerily quiet inside when she’d gone, with only the crying of gulls on the roof breaking the silence. Jake looked at one of his grandpa’s paintings again that had inspired his photographs. It showed the studio, with him standing outside with a fishing net. His parents were next to him, his dad with his arm around his back and his mother smiling, holding a forerunner of Leo in her arms. It was the ultimate happy family portrait. His grandpa didn’t go in for sentimentality as a rule. In fact, Jake could never recall seeing work up for sale or public view with such a personal edge. These paintings were obviously meant to be a family album and one that Grandpa Archie hadn’t felt able to share while he was alive.

  ‘I get it, Grandpa, that I should count my blessings. I know that’s your message and what you’re trying to do,’ he said aloud to the picture.

  Harriet was gone – truly gone – but Poppy was here.

  If he did admit how much he cared for her, what would she say? She liked him, he seemed to make her laugh and she’d obviously found him less than hideous or she wouldn’t have spent the night with him. And what an amazing night. The memory flooded back. They’d laughed and explored each other, tentative at first, then growing in confidence. He’d felt … like himself again. Ready to make new memories. The problem was that Poppy was still fresh from loss and betrayal. He really didn’t think she was ready to start again. Perhaps, one day …

  Chapter 27

  Fen arrived the day after Jake left. She shed buckets of tears over Leo but brightened up to find him moving around in spite of the cone. Soon his stitches were out, his collar was off and he was wandering again despite Fen’s attempts to keep him inside.

  The time crawled by for Poppy in that first week after Jake had gone. The first few days had felt almost like when Dan had walked out. The difference this time was a sense of loss without the anger. No matter how many times she’d reminded herself that she never came to St Piran’s hoping to find romance or affection, it didn’t lessen the fact that she probably had been a little bit in love with Jake … OK. A lot in love with him, despite every effort not to fall for someone so soon after Dan.

  She missed Jake’s dry sense of humour, his thoughtfulness, even his moodiness. She missed seeing the glimpse of bare skin where his T-shirt had parted company with his ancient jeans, and the sight of his firm arse bent over a tin of paint. She missed his grumbles as he emptied Leo’s litter tray or opened the hare and badger. She missed his tenderness as he carried an injured cat to the vet or caressed her bare skin until she’d clutched at the pillows and cried out.

  In his emails and WhatsApp messages to her, he almost always asked how the ‘Furry Fiend’ or ‘Ginger Peril’ was and whether he’d stolen any trainers lately or flooded the studio. Whether Leo missed Jake, it was hard to tell. He was back on the prowl and up to his tricks. Fen had caught him turning on the new taps in the workroom for a drink of water and he’d chased an unfortunate mouse into the studio and the terrified little thing had shot into the storeroom.

  Jake sent photos of himself in canoes, one of a jaguar at dusk, another of some local people with a giant anaconda they’d captured temporarily. He sent shots of breathtaking vistas over the tree canopy and of tropical birds with impossibly bright colours. He emailed heartbreaking pictures of the devastation wrought by mining and logging in the rainforest. Poppy imagined his face, smiling or serious, behind the camera, and where he might be sleeping that night.

  He sent a video of a hammock in a hut in a rainforest village. The noises astonished her: eerie shrieks and cries of nocturnal creatures, the buzzing of insects that must be gigantic judging by their voices. It sounded like Jurassic Park on steroids.

  He told the story of his trip in lots of photos and few words, just as she’d expect, but he didn’t mention when – or if – he’d be back home. Poppy didn’t even know where he thought of as home. Was it Archie’s cottage? His flat in Cornwall? His parents’ place? Or was home wherever he happened to lay his head at the time? A hammock in a hut? A tent? A hotel? The Starfish Studio? The longer he was away, the more he seemed to have been an imagined fleeting shadow who had passed through her life.

  As high summer arrived on the islands, St Piran’s surpassed itself in beauty. Colours popped on land and sea. Thousands of blue and mauve agapanthuses grew wild all over the isles, not to mention in people’s gardens. The days were still long, bringing stunning sunsets that set the sky ablaze as the sun sank below the western horizon.

  Poppy didn’t think about Jake all the time. She didn’t have time to think about him all the time because she was too busy running the studio, repaying her favours to other islanders and tending to Fen’s allotment when she could. She’d also taken up her jewellery making again in a small way, sending off for some kits and following some online tutorials. She made a necklace and earrings set that she felt was worth putting in the studio at a modest price and was beside herself when a visitor bought it within a week of it going on display.

  She didn’t have time to make much stock while the season was in full swing but the small success had boosted her confidence and made her determined to nurture her own creative side over the off-season.

  She also threw herself into island life, joining in with barbecue nights, karaoke evenings and narrowly avoiding being persuaded to join the St Piran’s gig rowing team.

  Three weeks after his accident, Leo was sufficiently healed for Fen to set off again for the mainland to spend a few days with Archie and some of her own extended family, which included a younger sister, nieces, nephews and their offspring. Poppy was petrified that something would happen to Leo again on her watch and shut him in the studio at night, even if it meant he drove her mad, meowing to be let out and pummelling her stomach and chest with his claws in the small hours. He could far more easily have been run over in the day, of course, but she felt happier knowing where he was at night, even if he kept giving her looks that would have frozen over hell.

  This time, Leo survived the week, but it was with an immense sigh of relief that a bleary-eyed Poppy met Fen at the jetty after her visit. Families were stretched out on the beach in the sun or sitting with ice creams outside the kiosk. Dogs barked and children shrieked as they splashed in the shallows. The water might look tropical but it was chilly even in summer. Once it was established that Leo was fine and Fen had had sight of him strolling along the jetty as if he was king of St Piran’s and been allowed to pick him up and give him a brief cuddle, Poppy asked Fen how Archie was.

  ‘Is he on the mend?’ she asked, walking side by side with Fen. She wore cut-offs and a vest top now that her pasty city-girl limbs had finally acquired a honey-coloured tinge.

  ‘He had a setback a few weeks ago but he seems a lot better to me, both physically and mentally.’ Fen gave a sigh of relief. ‘He’s even picked up a paintbrush again. He painted the scene from the window of the house. It was all very Archie – that angry sea and the sun and rain of a summer storm. I could tell he’s weaker than he was from the brushstrokes, but the old fire was back, which is what counts.’

  Poppy wanted to ask if the family had heard anything of Jake. It had been almost a week since his last WhatsApp message to her and she hadn’t seen any pictures on his Instagram account for a few days either. But she didn’t want to seem too eager.

  ‘That’s a great sign if Archie’s painting again,’ she said instead. ‘I’d like to
have seen his new picture. Do you think he’ll bring it home with him … when he comes back?’ she asked. Even as she spoke, she was thinking of grandfather and grandson. Would Jake come back too?

  ‘He’ll probably leave it there for Jake’s mum and dad,’ said Fen and sighed. ‘Poor Jake. He was in a bad way when he first came back to deal with the handover of the studio.’ She then smiled broadly. ‘You cheered him up though, and I thought he’d stay for good, I really did.’

  ‘I expect he had no choice, given his job,’ Poppy said, dismayed at the way the conversation was going. Fen had a way of getting straight to the point, and even if there was no malice behind her blunt comments, they still touched a raw nerve.

  Fen tutted. ‘Ah, but Jake does have a choice and that’s the whole point. He’s used his job as an excuse to keep away from St Piran’s since Harriet died. We could understand it in one way, but when he stayed away, and as far away as possible, from Archie and his parents, they were very hurt. Archie didn’t say as much and he’d never let on to Jake – he realised that the boy needed to grieve in his own way – but I could tell he was cut up and missed him badly.’

  ‘Everyone has to deal with loss in their own time, I guess,’ said Poppy, not wanting to reveal her own sense of disappointment where Jake was concerned.

  ‘They do. Archie was racked with guilt when Ellie passed away. I know that too.’ Fen’s voice trailed off. Poppy held her breath. She thought of Archie’s drawings of Fen. Nothing had been mentioned of the sketches since Jake had shown them to Poppy when they’d first been restoring the studio. Jake had thought it better for those memories to be locked away, but Poppy wondered now whether Fen was about to share her story.

  Then Fen laughed. ‘Anyway, enough talk of people who aren’t here. How are you doing? Have you managed to set up those workshops and holidays you told me about? Has Hugo helped or has he been as much use as a chocolate teapot as usual?’