The Pet Shop at Pennycombe Bay

by Sheila Norton

  ‘It’s not the best-paid job in the world,’ she admitted, telling me how she’d been relieved to be taken on by the care agency after a few months of being unemployed. ‘And it can be hard work sometimes. But do you know what? I love it. The people I look after are so nice, and grateful – for the most part!’ she added, laughing. ‘I love Vera. She’s such a character, isn’t she?’

  ‘I hope she doesn’t give you too hard a time,’ I said. ‘She can be a bit fierce.’

  ‘Nah. She’s all right. If she gives me any lip I just tell her to behave herself!’

  As it happened, I could sense that Vera was gradually developing a grudging respect for Edie.

  ‘I think you look forward to seeing her now, don’t you, Vera?’ I said the next time I called on her.

  ‘Huh. I don’t know about that. What’s a young girl like her doing working as a carer, anyway? She should be mixing with other young people, not spending all her time with old crocks like me.’

  ‘You’re not an old crock!’ I laughed. ‘You’re just a bit incapacitated. But getting better,’ I added quickly when she gave me a dirty look. ‘I’ve brought you a coconut cake, Vera. I made it yesterday. Jim told me it was your favourite. You can share it with Edie tomorrow.’

  ‘Thank you, Jess. You’re a good girl. You’re another one, though, aren’t you,’ she added.

  ‘Another what?’

  ‘Like Edie. Too young to be spending all your time with old people like me and Jim.’

  I laughed again. ‘I work for Jim! It’s my job.’

  ‘I know that, I’m not daft. But you should be out with other kids, going to discos and clubs and things. Getting yourself a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend,’ she added, giving me a quizzical look. ‘I know what goes on, I’m not daft as well as ancient. I hear all about the gay lesbians and the swapped genders and what-have-you, I’m not what-d’you-call-it – sexaphobic.’

  I laughed. ‘I think you mean homophobic, Vera!’

  ‘Whatever. None of my business, I don’t mind what people get up to in their private lives.’

  ‘I’m sure you don’t,’ I said. ‘But I’m not a kid, Vera, I’m thirty! And I never did like discos or clubs,’ I added, a bit sadly. ‘Just not really my scene. Anyway,’ I went on quickly before we could get into any more discussion about my sexuality, or lack of a partner, ‘Edie and I went out for a drink together the other night. I really like her, she’s good fun, and she’s single, like me – so there you go, I do have a social life occasionally. No need to worry about me. Now then, where’s our little furry friend? I didn’t just come round here to talk to you, you know!’

  As if on cue, Doc trotted into the room at that very moment, meowing loudly as he ran towards us and jumped up on Vera’s lap. Her whole face softened as she stroked his silky coat.

  ‘He’s settled down so well, hasn’t he,’ I said, smiling. ‘And I can see how much you love him already.’

  ‘He’s a lovely boy,’ she said, without taking her eyes off him. ‘And he makes me feel so much better – don’t you, boy? Doc by name, Doc by nature. You were right about a cat being good company, Jess. I don’t mind so much now, being on my own. Not that I have many days when that old fool Jim doesn’t come round,’ she added. She glanced up at me now, noticing my look of surprise. ‘You didn’t know?’

  ‘Well, yes, I knew he popped in now and then.’

  ‘Now and then? He’s in and out like a bloody fiddler’s elbow. Not that I don’t appreciate it, but to tell you the truth I wonder if he’s all right. What d’you think? Is he lonely or something? You know what men are like, can’t manage on their own like we do. My Albert used to be the same: I went to stay with my sister once, and when I came back he said he’d spent all weekend looking for a pair of pyjamas.’ She shook her head. ‘Men!’

  ‘Jim’s fine, I’m sure,’ I said, although it was a revelation to me that he visited Vera as often as she was implying. ‘He just likes to make sure you’re OK.’

  ‘OK? Of course I’m OK, what’s the matter with the man? No, I think he must be at a loose end, Jess. Although he shouldn’t be, with all the people he gets to chat to in the shop – and he’s got two cats of his own, more than enough company, you’d think. But have a word with him, will you? Find out if he’s lonely.’

  ‘All right,’ I said. I felt more than a little awkward, of course, knowing that probably the real reason Jim was visiting Vera so often was just that he liked being with her so much – and she didn’t seem to realise it.

  The next day, in the shop, I chose my moment carefully, and tried to avoid looking Jim in the eye when I spoke to him.

  ‘I saw Vera last night.’

  ‘Oh yes?’ He’d stopped fiddling with a display of cat food, and from his tone of voice you’d have thought I’d told him I’d seen the Queen standing on Pennycombe pier, playing the slot machines. ‘And how was she?’

  Probably the same as when you’d seen her the night before, and the previous lunchtime, and Sunday afternoon, and Saturday evening, I thought, smiling to myself. But of course, I just added calmly:

  ‘Fine. Getting Doc for her was the best thing we could have done, don’t you think? And I think she’s quite taken with Edie.’

  ‘Yes. She won’t admit it, though, of course,’ he said, giving a little resigned shrug. ‘But she seems much more like her old self, don’t you think?’

  ‘Definitely.’ I hesitated. How to phrase this? ‘She did say she was a bit worried about you, though.’

  ‘Me?’ he said, sounding shocked. ‘What on earth for?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ I shrugged, my face beginning to burn. ‘She just mentioned how often you go to see her—’

  ‘I don’t! Not really! Only … every now and then … just to make sure she’s all right, that’s all!’ he said. ‘Why? Did she say it’s too much? Does she say I’m getting on her nerves?’

  ‘No, no, not at all,’ I tried to soothe him. Oh, God, I was useless at this kind of thing! I wished Vera hadn’t asked me to get involved. ‘She was just worried that you might be lonely, that’s all. You’re not, are you?’

  ‘Lonely? Of course I’m not! She’s the one that’s lonely! That’s why we got her the cat, isn’t it.’ He sighed. ‘Maybe I am getting on her nerves, maybe I should stop going round there—’

  ‘No!’ I looked up at him now, panicking a bit. ‘No, honestly, I’m sure she loves your visits, Jim, you mustn’t stop; she just wanted to make sure you were OK.’

  He shook his head and went back to stacking the cat food in silence. I was sorry I’d brought it up. I could have just pretended to Vera that I’d talked to him, couldn’t I? But she’d made me wonder whether Jim was really lonely, so I’d felt obliged to say something.

  Neither of us mentioned it again, though, and by the time I’d made us both a cup of tea and we’d served a couple more customers, I was relieved to see that Jim seemed to be back to his normal cheerful self.

  That Wednesday, when I visited Seashell Ward as usual, I was sorry to find one of the children, a little dark-haired boy of about six or seven called Jacob, who’d had surgery on a badly broken leg, looking very upset. Even sitting with Prudence and stroking her didn’t seem to have the usual calming effect.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I asked him gently – and it was several minutes before he admitted very quietly:

  ‘I’m going home today.’

  I started to exclaim that this was good news, that his leg must be much better, but he shook his head sadly.

  ‘It means I’ll have to go back to school, and I don’t want to.’

  I talked to him for a while about school being fun, about how I wished I could still go to school, about how he’d see all his friends again and how pleased they’d all be that he was coming back – but I could see that I was getting nowhere. Finally I realised I needed to put myself in his shoes for a moment, and I began to understand that I really wasn’t grasping the point.

  ‘Are you worried that things
have changed while you’ve been away?’ I suggested.

  His little hand reached out to stroke Pru’s head, and he just nodded.

  ‘Your friends won’t have forgotten you, Jacob,’ I said.

  ‘No, but they’ll have done loads more work and stuff. I’ll be behind on the reading books.’

  ‘Ah, I see. But look, your teacher will understand that it’s only because you’ve been away from school for a little while. You’ll soon catch up, I’m sure.’

  He gave another quick little nod, but he didn’t look convinced. His face was creased with worry and I thought perhaps the best thing I could do was change the subject. I chatted to him about Prudence instead, and he told me about his cat, and when we moved on to the next patient I could only hope he was feeling a bit better. But I thought about Jacob a lot over the next few days, wondering how he was getting on back at school, and whether he’d been able to confide his fears to his parents.

  ‘Adults always think it’s easy being a child,’ I said to Prudence during our walk that evening. ‘But we have short memories. Childhood can be horrible at times, and just as stressful as adulthood.’

  You want my life. Being a dog is stressful too. I have the stress of hearing the big Alsatian over the road barking, and next door’s cat laughing at me from the top of the fence.

  ‘Yes, yes, very stressful, I’m sure!’

  And the stress of wondering whether I’m ever going to see Buddy again.

  I ended the conversation at that point. Even though it was all in my head, it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I’d been trying to avoid bumping into Nick. I purposely hadn’t gone anywhere near the beach café at Stony Cove during my early morning walks, in case he was looking out for me there. In any case, now we were into September, dogs were once again allowed on West Beach, making it quicker and easier for me to walk Prudence there before work. The weather had continued to be beautiful, as is often the case at that time of year, and I was making the most of the warm sea, before autumn really set in, by going down there for a swim most evenings too. It was another way to keep out of Ruth’s way. I always asked her if she wanted to join me, but she’d never again agreed to. Sometimes she did at least give me a smile and pretend she was sorry to say no, and that she’d come if she didn’t have something more important to do. But more often than not, I was lucky if I got more than a snarl from her. It seemed that all I was doing with my life at the moment was trying to avoid people. If I hadn’t had Jim for company during the day, my evenings with Vera and the occasional drink afterwards with Edie, plus the therapy visits to the children’s ward every week, I really would have started to feel like a hermit.

  The holiday season wasn’t completely over, of course, as September was still fairly busy in Pennycombe Bay, especially when the weather was so good. Elderly people in particular often seemed to take their holidays at this time of year, after the rush of the peak season had died down, enjoying the chance to stroll on the beach or browse the shops without being bowled over by hordes of children. It was good to be able to let Prudence have a long run on the fine, red Devon sand of West Beach, after being restricted to the shingle and pebbles of Stony Cove since April. Seeing her fly down the beach, her tail aloft, her ears waving in the sea breeze and with that special spaniel smile on her face, was enough to lift my spirits, however fed up I might have been feeling, and it always set me up for the day ahead.

  The little gift shops and cafés in the town centre were still doing a good trade; although there were, of course, fewer young families with children in Pennycombe Bay at this time of year, there was more of an adult clientele, who liked to spend their money on trinkets to take home, and on crab sandwiches and Devon cream teas. The young families in August were often on tight budgets, and tended to make themselves packed lunches and keep their kids away from the temptation of the shops. This was a good month for a lot of the town’s small businesses and if they were lucky things wouldn’t completely calm down until after the October half-term holiday. Got to make the most of it was what everyone seemed to be saying, as I walked to work through the little cobbled streets, seeing the shopkeepers put out their stands of postcards and Devon rock, T-shirts with silly slogans and little toys, hats and necklaces that people often liked to take home as treats for their grandchildren.

  Sometimes I’d have a stroll on the pier on my day off, or in my lunch break, smiling at those more mature holidaymakers ambling along, arm in arm together, enjoying the sea air and sunshine, and something would wash over me – a sense of loss, I suppose. My mum and dad might have been doing this together now, if she’d still been with us. It bothered me that I couldn’t even imagine Mum being fifty-seven, as she would have been now, couldn’t picture her being the same age as my dad, walking hand-in-hand with him in the sunshine like this. In my mind she’d always be thirty-five. I’d sit for a while on one of the benches by the pier’s railings and take out the old picture of her that I always kept in my bag. It was one Dad had taken in our garden at Exeter, before Mum became ill. She was carrying a basket of apples that she’d picked from our tree, and was smiling up at the camera, her cheeks pink from the sun, her eyes bright with laughter. I loved looking at that photo, and although it made me want to cry, in a funny way it made me happy too.

  ‘I wish you were here now, Mum,’ I whispered.

  I’d been a hurt and bewildered eight-year-old when she’d been taken from us, and nothing my dad, or anyone else, said to me had helped me make any sense of it. I’d needed my mum. And I might be a big girl now, but … the fact was, I still did.

  CHAPTER 15

  The problem with staying away from Stony Cove was that I didn’t know how things were with Kevin and Dan. I kept thinking about Kevin saying he was going to give it till after the carnival to decide whether or not to go away. Surely, if he’d gone already, I would have heard it on the Pennycombe Bay gossip grapevine? Jim hadn’t heard anything.

  ‘I didn’t even realise they were a couple,’ he said. ‘I thought they were just, you know, business partners.’

  ‘They’ve been together for years, Jim. But poor Kevin thinks Dan still wants to keep his options open.’

  ‘Hm. I don’t suppose Dan would be able to manage the café on his own, if Kevin walked away from it.’

  ‘No; that’s true. But if their relationship isn’t working, it would be really awkward for them to carry on in business together, wouldn’t it,’ I said. ‘They looked quite happy at the carnival, though, so perhaps they’ve sorted things out now.’

  I didn’t know why I was quite so concerned about them. Perhaps it was just that I’d been touched that Kevin had felt able to confide in me, that he seemed to look upon me as a real friend, despite my complete ineptitude as a relationship counsellor. I decided to go down to the café that day, at lunchtime. At least in the middle of the day there wasn’t so much chance of bumping into Nick.

  When I arrived, Kevin was wiping down the counter irritably, having just turned away a customer who’d asked for a babyccino for her toddler.

  ‘Babyccino?’ I’d heard him retort. ‘Never heard of it.’

  ‘Really?’ the rather snooty customer said. ‘All the best coffee shops in London sell it.’

  Kevin had fixed her with a frosty stare. ‘This is a beach café, madam,’ he said, ‘not a fancy London coffee shop.’

  She’d flounced off in annoyance, and although Kevin’s customer service on this occasion might have been slightly lacking, I had to stifle a giggle.

  ‘Coming down here with their snobby city ways,’ Kevin muttered to himself. He looked up at me. ‘Sorry, I suppose I just wasn’t in the mood for it. How are you, sweetie?’

  ‘I came to ask you the same question. How are things with Dan? Can you talk?’

  ‘Yes; he’s out the back with the radio on. Oh, I don’t know, Jess. We got on so well on carnival day,’ he told me wistfully. ‘I thought, surely he’s not going to throw all this away, just because he can’t bring himself to say i
t’s forever? After you and Edie left the pub that day, we went out for a nice meal together. I was so sure he was going to tell me he was sorry, that he’d marry me if that was what I wanted. But when I started to talk about it, he just shook his head and looked down at his soup. Before I could pursue it any further he’d changed the subject to pickled onions.’

  ‘Pickled onions?’

  ‘We were running out, here in the café, for the ploughman’s lunches you know. He made such a big deal of it, and every time I tried to get the conversation back on track he was back to pickled onions again.’

  ‘Oh, Kevin, I don’t know what to say. I can understand how you feel, but—’

  ‘Maybe you think I’m being ridiculous, making such an issue of it, when he’s obviously so reluctant. But he won’t tell me why. I mean, if he really doesn’t believe in getting married, or whatever, I could cope with it, if only he’d make me feel sure he wasn’t going to …’ he sighed and looked away ‘… to suddenly go off with someone else.’

  ‘He won’t, I’m sure he won’t!’ I protested. But Kevin just shrugged and went back to wiping down the counter. It did seem heartless, that Dan wasn’t giving Kevin the reassurance he so obviously needed.

  ‘Even if we could have our own little ceremony or something – it doesn’t have to be the full legal thing,’ he said miserably. ‘If he just gave me a ring and promised we’d be together for the rest of our lives, quietly like, in front of a couple of our friends, it’d make me feel happier, you know what I mean, Jess? I know we’ve been together for years, but it’s always bothered me that he won’t promise to make it … exclusive. I don’t want anyone else. But maybe he does.’

  ‘So what are you going to do?’

  I hoped, fervently, that he wouldn’t ask me to have a word with Dan. It was bad enough Vera having wanted me to talk to Jim, but this situation was so far outside of my sphere of reference, I wouldn’t know where to start. The more I heard about relationships, the less I understood.