I Do Not Sleep (8 page)

Polperro

I told Adam the next day that I needed to go to Fowey. Kittow’s was the only really top-class butcher in the region, and I wanted to buy a large joint of their fabulous lamb for Sunday lunch. Also they had a really good delicatessen, and I could find some excellent cheese.

Adam was indulgent. He knew I loved Fowey, and teased me that I obviously really wanted to go back to The Romantic Englishwoman to buy more toys and fripperies for Edie and Lola. ‘And for me!’ I said indignantly, playing my part to the hilt, and he laughed.

‘Of course, sweetheart. I wouldn’t expect anything else. But you don’t mind if I don’t come, do you? There’s cricket on the telly. I know you hate it, so if you’re going out I might as well…’

My views on football and cricket were well known in this masculine family. To Adam’s credit he wasn’t a boorish sports fanatic, the kind of man who felt his membership of the human race depended on baying for his team to win. But if he got an opportunity to watch a match when I wasn’t there to cramp his style, of course he took it. And today, that suited me just fine.

So he and Danny settled in front of the television. Lola said she was going to have a much-needed nap while Edie slept, and that if the baby woke while Daddy was watching TV, well, that was too bad. Daddy would have to look after his daughter even if it meant missing an innings win or defeat.

And so I drove to Polperro: the gateway to my son’s horrible fate.

It’s beautiful, Polperro; about as charming as a village can get. White cottages winking in the sun. Swishing little weirs and streams washing around the pretty houses, many of them built on stilts so the ever-present water burbling through the streets would not disturb the tranquil lives of those who had pledged their futures here. Beyond picturesque. Wholesome, delightful, the ultimate Cornish holiday destination. With pasties for sale, fresh fish, fudge.

When you’re in it, walking through the lanes, past the quaint tourist shops selling little brass jack o’lanterns and models of a bare-legged Joan the Wad – Queen of the Cornish Piskies as she is billed, a lissom female lucky charm to help you win the lottery – it seems like a homage to bygone days of smuggling. But it’s not. People live here. Polperro’s a dense community, and like all small and close-living habitats, it’s full of tales, gossip and rumour.

I left the Volvo in the enormous car park at the head of the village, and I thought back to happier days when we’d visited the little town.
It’s a shame really, that car park
, Adam always said. So much at odds with the small-scale charm of the village, but the streets are so narrow that vehicles are forbidden; and yes, the car park is a bit off-putting in its size, but people have to make a living, and Polperro has to make a killing in the tourist season.

Every year, come Easter, the place is full, and it’s vibrant. All spring and summer long holidaymakers flock here. I love watching the children, utterly bewitched by this Cornish fishing village’s otherness, its complete differentness from the industrial towns they live in. It’s stunning, Polperro. Like staying in an enormous doll’s house, or Captain Hook’s gigantic galleon. Utter magic if you’re a kid from a big city: a place of enchantment, magic, and legend. And of course there’s always Merlin’s Kingdom; the ultimate childish treat; along with the Cornish fudge heaped in the sweetshop windows, Merlin is the icing on the cake.

Of course that’s how I used to think of Polperro, totally captivated, along with my sons, by the village’s filmic beauty. Not now, though. Now it was a different place, no longer full of swashbuckling pirates and green-capped benevolent elves, all bent on making your stay a time of wonder. For me, now, it was a place of sadness. And I had come here, for the first time in five years, to hear how my boy was never seen again after sailing from this very harbour. The harbour I now crossed to climb the rocky steps leading to the Blue Peter.

Chapter Fifteen

The Blue Peter

I was very nervous as I pushed open the old pub’s dark blue door. I hadn’t been here since we’d holidayed with the boys years before. Adam, Danny and Joey had loved the place. It was small, smoky and dark, a real fisherman’s favourite, with a blazing log fire, a bar garlanded in evergreens threaded through with white fairy-lights, wooden tables dotted around the charcoal slate floor and narrow windows looking onto the ancient harbour. When the tide was in, the local fishing boats, red, green, yellow and blue, bobbed gaily on the waves, as merry a nautical scene you could ever wish to see. But when, as now, it was low tide, the small vessels were grounded in mud. It was impossible to believe they could ever get out to sea.

Because of its size, the pub’s L-shaped room always looked busy, but today at the height of the summer season it was absolutely heaving with locals and tourists. I peered around in the gloom, but Ben was nowhere to be seen. Hardly surprising, since tension had brought me here very early. I glanced at my watch. Only half past twelve.

I found a small table tucked into a recessed window and considered braving the packed bar to order a drink. I hate being a single woman in a busy pub, especially one as masculine as this. But just as I was screwing up my courage to squeeze through the crowd I heard someone shrieking my name.

‘Molly! My God, it IS you, isn’t it? I haven’t seen you in years. Oh, good heavens, what a marvellous surprise!’

Alarmed, I turned to find the source of that loud, confident voice. And almost fell over with shock. Queenie. How extraordinary, although of course it wasn’t, because Queenie had worked behind the bar at the Blue Peter for donkey’s years. I’d forgotten; had never considered that I would bump into someone I knew. She bustled over, throwing her arms around me, a large friendly woman a decade or so older than me.

‘Oh, Moll. How lovely to see you.’ I was sincerely delighted to see her too. ‘Is Adam here?’ she asked.

‘No, just me. How are you, Queenie?’

‘Oh, you know me. Same as ever, mustn’t grumble.’ She looked at me keenly. ‘I’ll get you a drink. What is it? Still a G and T?’

‘How can you remember that after all this time?’ I asked.

‘Because I’ll never forget you telling me it’s the most civilised drink in the world. Oh, Molly, you always were so elegant.’

I laughed. ‘I don’t think so, Queenie, but actually I’d love a gin and tonic.’

‘G and T, ice and lemon, coming up. I’ll have one myself as well.’ And she swept back to the bar, ignoring all the other customers vying for her attention.

I watched her with affection. Queenie’s given name was Elizabeth, but one day, long before we began coming to Cornwall every summer, Her Majesty was in the news, and Liz the barmaid was being particularly imperious. One of the regulars teased that she was as bossy as the Queen, and from then on Queenie she was. She pretended to be annoyed about her new nickname, but secretly she loved it. It made her feel special.

She came back with drinks, and settled herself down next to me on the window seat. ‘But, Queenie, haven’t you got to work?’ I asked her.

‘No, I’m on a break. Bill will hold the fort for a bit. I want to talk to you.’

I looked down and took a sip of my drink.

‘Molly. I don’t want to intrude, or make you feel bad. But you haven’t been back here for ages. And because of what happened to Joey, we thought we’d never see you again.’

I wondered if I wanted even to talk to her, to get into this. But Queenie was so full of warmth; everything about her exuded goodness and welcome. And I’d had enough. I’d tried so hard to keep my sadness inside the family. I’d been so private; my grief about Joey had been mine alone, shared with Adam and Danny, but no one else.

And now here was Queenie. She was just an old friend, more of an acquaintance really. But I felt so burdened, so desperate to shed some of my load. And she was there, in Polperro. She had witnessed my meltdown after Joey was lost.

My throat was dry. I felt sick with the mess in my mind. Queenie sat there before me, her face genuinely concerned; I felt she really wanted to know how I was feeling. And, God knows, I wanted to tell someone.

But there was little time to confide anything. We didn’t have long before I was due to meet Ben. I told her he was coming to the pub to talk about the day Joey disappeared. She frowned. ‘Ben, Molly? Are you sure you want to talk to him?’

‘Well, of course. He was the last person to see Joe alive; who else can tell me what happened?’

Queenie was quiet for a while. Eventually she let out a breath and said, ‘I do understand that, but I’m not sure Ben is the right person for you at the moment. I mean, given your state of mind.’

‘What do you mean? You don’t even know my state of mind.’

‘Molly, love, it’s obvious. You looked so sad when you came in. And utterly lost.’

Was I really that transparent? I stared at her. I realised she was echoing Adam’s words, his warning that I was getting into deep waters.

‘Look, Queenie, is there something about Ben I should know?’

‘No,’ she replied. ‘Not really. He’s a good lad now. But…’ She shrugged. ‘It’s just there are murky depths out there. And I don’t think it will do you any good at the moment to start probing.’

Queenie looked up at the pub door behind me. Her face changed. She gave a small smile.

‘Hello, Ben,’ she said in a calm but distant voice.

‘Hi, Queenie. Hello, Molly.’

Ben. He looked much the same as the sixteen-year old boy that Joey had asked us to take in, vulnerable but forceful all the same. This young man had a powerful presence, but he was obviously ill at ease. He looked at Queenie and me, and asked if he could get us both a drink. Queenie shook her head.

‘I’ll get back behind the bar now. Bill needs some help.’

He certainly did. He was inundated with tourists demanding drinks and food. Queenie joined him, and instantly the pub settled. Requests for crab sandwiches, ham and eggs and fish and chips were immediately noted and promised swiftly.

As Ben sat down beside me, Queenie looked over and locked eyes with me. ‘I’ll see you before you go, Molly. Don’t leave without telling me,’ she ordered.

Ben didn’t notice. In fact he looked dazed, so preoccupied I wasn’t sure he knew exactly what was happening. He shook himself. ‘Do you want something to eat, Molly?’ he asked politely.

I shook my head. ‘No thanks, Ben. Not hungry. But what about you?’

‘No, I’ll get something when I go home.’

Home. That was a strange thought. His home was here in Polperro. Where Joey vanished.

Chapter Sixteen

‘Look,’ said Ben after an awkward couple of minutes. ‘Do you mind if we go for a walk? I can’t really talk about Joey here. Too many memories.’

‘OK. That’s fine. Some air will do us good. I just had such a need to see you, and to ask you about Joey’s last day.’

He looked evasive, I thought. But this couldn’t be easy for him.

We left the Blue Peter, down the steep stone steps, and turned left away from the harbour. I asked Ben where he was living, and he said at one of the Crumplehorn cottages up at the top of the village.

We walked, slowly and awkwardly. To break the silence that had descended upon us, I asked my first question: ‘Ben, why did Joey go out on his own that day? Why weren’t you with him?’

He snuffled slightly. ‘We weren’t joined at the hip. We were both competent sailors in our own right.’

‘I know. But still, it seems odd to me. Where did he tell you he was going?’

‘I have no idea. He just said he wanted to take the boat out on his own.’

‘Didn’t you mind? Weren’t you curious?’

Ben was ruffled. ‘No. We weren’t babies. We each had our own lives.’

‘Was he meeting someone? Did he want to be alone for a reason?’ I pressed on.

Ben looked truculent. ‘How should I know? Look, Molly, Joey told me he wanted to take the boat out and he’d meet me at lunchtime in the Blue Peter. What was I supposed to do? Throw a tantrum?’

I looked at him. This was strange. Why was this young man so defensive? I tried to mollify him.

‘It’s OK, Ben. I’m not implying anything, of course not. It’s just… I desperately need to know what happened. And I know you cared for Joey. I thought maybe you could give me some insight into how he was feeling that morning.’