A Cornish Stranger (22 page)

‘There is something you should see.' Fin walked up to her.

Gabe frowned. ‘Now?'

‘Yes.'

Gabe joined him at the door. He reached for her hand and her breath caught. She wasn't sure she was ever going to become used to his touch.

In the studio, the bed was pushed aside and the back wall had been opened up. Gabe stood with her mouth gaping. How had she never seen this door?

‘Jaunty knew her days were coming to an end.' Fin began pulling out canvas after canvas, followed by portfolios filled with heavy watercolour paper. ‘She showed me these paintings.'

Gabe tried to take in the completely different style of work, especially the portrait of her father as a young boy.

‘When did she show you these?' Gabe looked at him. Why had Jaunty trusted him and not her?

‘On her birthday.' He pulled out a portrait of Gabe and she gasped.

He smiled at her. ‘Stunning, both the subject and the painting.'

‘When did she paint that?' Gabe stared at the painting.

He squinted while looking at the back of it. ‘Six years ago. There is a whole series of you, from about two years old until she painted this last one a year ago.' He held up another canvas. The contrast was striking. All the softness had gone from Gabe's face and angles had appeared. Her hair, which in the previous painting hung like a burnished halo around her face, was pulled back tight. Hard, closed, totally withdrawn. She turned away and let her hair fall across her face.

Fin reached out and pulled her into his arms. ‘You don't look like that any more.'

‘How do I look?'

‘Beautiful, fragile, perfect.'

‘When were your eyes last tested?' Gabe laughed. ‘So what do I do with all of these?' Gabe swept her hand towards the many portraits, traditional landscapes and more experimental works.

‘Keep the ones you want and sell the rest.'

‘I can't sell any more of Jaunty's paintings.' She frowned. ‘Knowing what I do it would be very wrong.' She closed her eyes. ‘Even all the obituaries are wrong. Oh, why did she have to tell me?'

 

 

 

 

 

 

Eighteen

 

 

 

 

‘
I
know this isn't ideal timing but I'll be back in a day once I sort out things.' Fin held Gabe tight.

‘It's fine.' She kissed him and pulled away. ‘The train will be here in a minute. You'd better get on to the platform.'

‘I'll call you when I'm there.' He held her hand.

‘OK.'

Fin released her hand and went through the barrier and Gabe walked back to the car. This didn't feel right, Fin going away. Of course she knew that he must have a life somewhere else, but for the past weeks he hadn't. He had been a part of Bosworgy. He'd mentioned something about verifying a painting and his old business, the one that his ex now ran.

The train pulled out of the station and she could see him waving from a carriage window. Her heart beat just that little bit faster. She was falling for him, had been for ages, and this was a good thing. Her therapist had said she needed to learn to trust again, that all men weren't rapists, but for the past few years she had only trusted Jaunty. Gabe stopped abruptly. She had trusted Jaunty but Jaunty had lied and lied and lied to her.

Driving away from the station, Gabe turned on the radio, hoping music would fill the void that had opened up within her. Verdi's
Requiem
lifted her in a strange way and she decided to visit the undertakers to collect the necklace and ring. She wondered if they would allow her to view her grandmother's body. The need to see her was almost overwhelming.

‘Hello, Miss Blythe.' The old man stood up from behind his desk.

‘Hello, Mr Best. Sorry to disturb you but I've come to collect my grandmother's necklace and the ring that was on it.'

‘Of course, my dear. Have a seat and I'll go and get it.'

Gabe sat and looked at the old photos on the walls. Somehow, knowing this family had been taking care of death for years seemed comforting. A few deep breaths, then Gabe lowered her shoulders, forcing the tension to leave. Fin was only going to be away for a day or two at most. She could survive without him, even if she didn't want to.

Looking at all the bereavement pamphlets, it was clear there was one for most situations, but not one for someone who was actually someone else. They still hadn't set a date for the funeral, but the priest from Helston had been a star. It would all work out and Jaunty would be buried with her secret, and from the church where she had hoped to marry Alex for the second time.

No matter how many times she wrestled with the idea, Gabe kept coming back to letting Jaunty's secret just be that. Revealing it wouldn't help anyone. Gabe didn't need the world to know that Maria Lucia was her great-grandmother and that the real Jaunty, Jean Blythe, was dead and had been since the awful attack on the
Lancastria
. Gabe's searches had revealed that she had no family so no one had been deprived of her money or her fame.

Her grandmother's family no longer existed. With the death of her great-grandfather and no male heir, the title had lapsed and with no one to inherit what was an entailed estate, the house on the Lynher had gone to the Crown. Who knew what had become of any family heirlooms? Maybe the Italian side of the family had benefitted, as Maria Lucia would have inherited whatever her husband had left. It was all neatly tied up, so why had Jaunty disturbed the past?

Gabe jumped at the sound of a slammed door and some shouting.

‘Sorry about that. Here's your necklace.' He smiled at her.

Gabe looked up from the envelope in her hands. ‘Can I see my grandmother?'

‘Of course. Follow me.' They walked to the back room that had been made to look like a chapel of rest and he stood by the door. ‘Just come by the office when you leave or if you need anything.'

Gabe adjusted the blue scarf around her grandmother's neck. She looked peaceful and pale, but her hair was far too tidy and Gabe messed it up a bit. A lump too large to swallow blocked her throat. Jaunty's hands were folded together and looked so beautiful, despite the knuckles enlarged with arthritis and the liver spots.

‘Why, Jaunty?' Gabe fiddled with the scarf again, still not happy with the presentation. ‘Why not tell me when you were alive and I could ask all the questions that are in my head? We could have listened to your mother together and I could have appreciated it all the more, knowing the connection with you and with me. Listening to Maria Lucia, all I feel is a hole in the space between where you should have been and the sound. This link would have brought us closer together.'

There was a cough behind her. ‘I'm sorry to disturb you but I've had an urgent call to visit with a client and I must go.'

Gabe nodded and took one last look at her grandmother before she followed the man out of the little room.

 

Gabe walked into the cabin and the first place she glanced was at Jaunty's chair. A blanket lay over the back of it but otherwise it was empty and the house was too quiet. Even the wind and the birds made no sound. Gabe stopped walking, wanting to hear the water hit the quay or the wind whistle through the pines, but no, there was nothing.

The door to Jaunty's room was closed. She had shut it days ago and had not gone in there since. Gabe paused outside with her hand on the handle. Although she knew Jaunty wasn't in there having a rest, part of her still believed she was. How she could think this when she had just seen her lying in a simple pine coffin, Gabe didn't know, but the mind was a funny thing. For years she had blamed herself for being raped, knew it had to have been her fault. Despite what the therapist had said, it was there, underlining every thought and every action. But now her vision was clearing.

Opening the door sent a wave of Jaunty's fragrance swirling around her. After all these days, the scent still lingered. She walked to the dresser and made sure the stopper was on the bottle, then trailed her fingers across the surface until she reached a black-and-white picture of her father in a silver frame. He must have been about eighteen when it was taken. Thick dark hair fell across his forehead and a slight smile lit his face. Why hadn't Jaunty told him? Or maybe she had. He looked so like Jaunty with his dark hair and blue eyes.

Gabe had always thought she looked like her mother but Jaunty said that she had her grandfather's eyes. She looked in the mirror and her tawny eyes stared back. Tiger eyes, Jaunty had called them. Did real tigers ever show fear? Because that was what Gabe saw in them right now. She turned away. She wasn't ready to sort this room. It was still too soon. If Gabe closed her eyes she could imagine her grandmother was still lying in bed, but it was just a dream. Jaunty was lying in the undertakers.

Leaving the bedroom, Gabe sat down at her computer and looked her grandmother up. There was one photo of the early Paris paintings, but no picture of Jaunty. She googled images and some of Jaunty's work appeared, plus the picture used in the obituary. Only after going through several pages did Gabe find a grainy photo of what must be the real Jaunty, taken in Paris in 1938. The hair was short and dark and she wore trousers and a man's shirt, but the quality was so bad that it could be her grandmother. The secret was safe.

Gabe looked away from the screen, wanting to share her concerns with Fin, but he wasn't here. She mustn't rely on him, but she had been. As Jaunty had. Her grandmother had trusted him but Gabe's first instincts had been the opposite. He was a stranger and he brought change. But the change he brought had made Jaunty smile and he had helped Gabe begin to heal when she had thought she never could, never would. And it had happened so fast. Looking out across the creek to Merthen Wood, she noticed how the leaves had changed colour. The hillside had been green a month ago, but now it was russet. The gentle hum of the farmer's combine harvester competed with the call of the birds patrolling the mudflats. She rubbed her temples. She needed to do something, so she ran to the studio.

 

A sea fog had rolled in in the past two hours while Gabe had photographed and catalogued twenty paintings. Looking out of the studio window she couldn't even see the north shore. Turning, she looked at the cupboards behind the bed, then her phone rang and she jumped. The wind must be blowing in the right direction. ‘Hello?'

‘Hi, Gabe.'

Her breath caught just listening to Fin's voice. ‘How are you?'

‘Missing you. Missing Cornwall.'

‘Come back.'

‘I'd be on the next train but things are looking a bit messier here than I'd thought. Do you have the funeral date yet?'

Gabe sighed. ‘No. Hopefully tomorrow.'

‘Let me know as soon as you do and I'll be as quick as I can.'

Gabe frowned as she put the phone down. She missed him. She knew he had no reason to come back other than for the few things he'd left behind, that there was no obligation. He had only been in her life a few weeks, after all. She wanted him back for so many reasons, but right now it was because he knew the secret and she could talk to him about it. It just kept growing bigger inside her all of the time. How had Jaunty held on to it for so long? What had keeping it done to her?

Gabe picked up the camera and snapped a picture of a stormy sea in grey with hints of red beneath. It was like pain was poking through. Noting it down, Gabe moved on. That painting disturbed her. She turned to the door behind the bed. What was she going to do about these paintings? How could she have them valued for probate? They were so different from the rest of Jaunty's work that someone would smell a rat.

Gabe turned the kettle on and sank on to the chair. What should she do? She wasn't trying to cheat the taxman, but if she brought these pictures into a gallery for appraisal someone would question them. She knew they would. Many of them were paintings of family and of course Gabe would never part with them. In fact, she wouldn't want to sell any of the paintings that were here, except maybe the last one. That hurt too much. It was a reflection of her or how she had been, grey on the surface with flashes of pain coming through.

Now she was beginning to see more clearly, but it had taken years.

 

Gabe stood beside the organ at the back of St Anthony's church. Max was playing the opening of Schubert's ‘Ave Maria'. This she would sing for Jaunty. She had repeatedly listened to her great-grandmother's rendition and now, for Jaunty, she would sing her own. Max looked up and Gabe began. They were alone in the candlelit church. Outside the dusk had fallen and the church smelled of the many flowers that adorned the altar and each pillar. The women of the village had offered their help and Gabe had accepted. Each one had a story to relate to Gabe of some small kindness her grandmother had done. It was clear now that even though her grandmother had been a recluse, over the years she had become a part of the com­munity and they held her close. Jaunty belonged to them as much as she did to Gabe. She had come to them as a stranger, a war widow with a young child, and they had asked no questions. Gabe supposed there were so many women widowed after the war that this didn't seem unusual.

She scanned the music. She knew this well, although she hadn't sung it in years. During her student days, she had kept money coming in by singing anywhere and everywhere, and during the Christmas season she must have sung this a ­hundred or more times.

The sound of clapping snapped Gabe back to here and now. A Catholic priest stood in the doorway. ‘That was magnificent.'

‘She's brilliant, isn't she?' Max stood.

‘I've just come from talking with the vicar and everything seems to be in place for tomorrow's funeral mass.'

Father Tim looked about the ancient church. ‘I remember visiting here as a child when we came on holiday. I always wondered what it was like in candlelight.'

‘It's better when there are more lit.' Gabe realised that she recognised him. He christened Toby. He nodded as he walked up to the altar. Over the years Gabe had taken the beauty of this church and its setting for granted. How it must have hurt Jaunty to visit here over the years, knowing that this was where Alex had wanted to marry her for the second time. Yet somehow it felt right that this was the church for the funeral. It was so close to the water and being close to water was so important to Jaunty.

‘Shall we run through “Amazing Grace”?' Max asked.

Gabe wrinkled her nose. It had been one of Jaunty's favourites so she had included it, but she wanted the congregation to sing it, not for her to sing a solo.

‘I know you don't want to do this, so maybe just sing the first verse alone and then everyone can join in.'

Gabe sighed. ‘OK, although I don't know why I'm listening to you.'

‘Simple: because I am a genius.' Max grinned.

Gabe couldn't really argue with that.

 

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me.

I once was lost, but now am found,

Was blind, but now I see.