The Cornish Affair (18 page)

“Bloody
rainin’ again,” Sam said grimly.

I
wearily staggered over to the window and looked outside. He was right.

“It
looks like just a shower,” I said hopefully.

We
looked glumly at one another. Port Charles, the drains, the sewers, the sea, the cottages and me couldn’t take another drop of rain. We were rained out.

I
had a sudden jolt as I remembered Judith. Surely she couldn’t still be standing outside? I knew that I’d have to go and look. I groaned as I pulled my wet boots back on, it was as appealing as slipping both feet into an icy cold bag of slime. The insides of my boots were clammy. They felt disgusting. I could feel the beginnings of a blister on my heel as I walked towards the door, stepping out into the rain again, I pulled my hood up and limped down to the harbour.

Yep,
she was still there.

I
sighed, and walked round the wall to get to her. The waves were slapping the wall, and the mist and spray combined with the rain to make everything feel like the inside of my boots. All the shops around the harbour were shored up with sandbags. The damage to the properties was great. All the broken glass had been cleared and some of the windows were boarded up. The signs of frantic activity were winding down now as the day ended. People were scurrying about trying to secure their homes and businesses.

Greetings
were called out to me, along with many invitations to supper, or cups of tea, or nips of brandy. We all made comments on the rain, and it was very tempting to stop and chat for a while. But the reproachful look of Judith’s back kept me going.

I
understood the depths of her worry, but standing like some tragic eighteenth century figure, mourning the possible loss of her husband in the rain really wasn’t going to help.

I
trudged around the harbour till I reached her. I gently touched her shoulder as I got close enough. She sharply turned around.

She
looked
dreadful
.

She
was soaking wet, her face seemed blanched under her dark skin and dark circles of worry were etched under her eyes.

“Judith,
how long have you been standing here?” I said, aghast at her appearance.

“All
day.”

Really
sodding useful. There was so much to do in the village, and here she was staring out to sea like some sort of John Fowles heroine. Oh, Fin, stop it. Her husband is missing, for god’s sake. Right, think, what would Nancy do?

“I
think we should go home,” I said firmly. “You need to rest and eat something. Let’s try calling the coast guard again, shall we?”

I
took her by the elbow and led her back the way I’d come. She offered no resistance, silent all the way.

This
time as we passed the shops, there were no cheery greetings, only a few nods. I glanced at Judith to see how she was taking it, but she seemed oblivious. Her cottage was up the hill and I thought that she’d be better off at The Ram, so I guided her in there.

She
paused at the threshold, and refused to budge.

“I’ll
be getting’ home. I thank you for your kindness Finisterre Spencer,” she said, quite formally and unemotionally.

“I’d
really like it if you came in with me,” I said. “Pritti will have made some food and we can have a drink, and phone-”

“No.
No. I won’t. But this I will do, give me your hand,” she said.

I
was taken unaware, and she pulled my hand out of my pocket, with surprising strength.

She
studied my palm for a moment, and gave a tiny, imperceptible smile.

“You’ll
lose and gain, girl. Lose and gain. But it’ll be worth it.” She stared over my shoulder at something and as I glanced around nervously, and she gave a mirthless laugh.

She
walked away from me, and I found myself calling after her, “Judith, please wait, let me come back with you at least!”

She
walked onwards, not letting me know if she’d heard me or not.

I
gave a quick prayer to whoever it was that we all pray to in times of need, for the safe return of The Queen Mab, and pushed the door of the pub open, promising myself a hot bath, food and bed as quickly as possible and wondering what I could put on a blister that would make it stop hurting.

I
found a bright light in my face and a microphone pushed at me by a smart young blonde girl, with icy blue eyes.

“Hello,”
she gushed, grabbing my arm, “You must be Fin Spencer - great timing. I gather you’re like, in charge here? Anyway, I’m sure you recognise me. I’m Sarah Bailey from the BBC West News programme. We’re live in two seconds, so just a few words about the great community spirit here and the extensive damage, OK? Oh, and if you could end on something cute and upbeat, that would be great.”

A
man standing behind the camera wearing headphones, started to countdown from five to one. She turned to face him, and started to talk, looking onto the camera whilst still holding onto my arm with a vice like grip.

Chapter Eighteen

Here’s a tip top tiperoo for you. Never lose your temper whilst being interviewed on TV. Oh yes, and it does help somewhat if you’ve brushed your hair and put lipstick on, or, even looked in a mirror over the past two days beforehand.

It
was mortifying.

My
father’s inherited bad temper had never come out at such an ill opportune moment. I started off being surly, and then the sight of Judith walking alone, back to her cottage surfaced.

“…
and as for a great community spirit here, let me tell you, I have just a seen a lonely woman, whose husband is still missing at sea walk home by herself, with her neighbours hardly acknowledging her, so don’t talk to me about community spirit, because at the moment there isn’t one. All we do here, we have to do for ourselves. I’ve seen no help at all from anyone who isn’t directly affected by this storm. Our hard working bakers shop is ruined, and there won’t be anything like the money needed to restore it, half the trees are gone on the hill, and I can bet my bottom dollar they won’t be replanted. Mrs Rampersauds house is badly damaged, the drainage system has packed up and the cliff is probably unsafe.”

I
was on a roll now, and didn’t know how to stop. I saw that the instantly recognisable Sarah whatever her name is, was staring aghast at me.

“Another
thing is we have no economy here… we rely on tourists who buy mermaid eggs and the odd pasty…So if you think we’re one jolly little community struggling against the odds, think again! It also doesn’t help having you lot swooping around the sky in your bloody helicopters, every time we hear one we think it’s an air ambulance and that someone else is hurt.”

I
could feel my lips curling in a snarl, and thought I’d better calm down before I got high blood pressure.

“So
naff off and leave us alone! This is a heart breaking time for Port Charles, and we haven’t invited onlookers!”

I
pushed my way rudely past her, and the cameraman, and went stomping upstairs. I caught sight of Sam’s astonished face as I went past the bar.

I
needed to calm down, and went and locked myself in Sam’s bathroom. Thank goodness the power was back, at least. I poured a hot bath and lay in it, soaking up the calming heat.

Stupid
bloody woman. How on earth did Oliver stand all that nonsense? I sank under the hot water, rubbing shampoo out of my hair.

Had
I really said naff off? Who did I think I was, Princess Anne? Oh god… still, at least it wouldn’t be shown. I had been far too bad tempered and negative – not great at all.

I
reluctantly stepped out of the bath and wrapped a towel around me. I simply couldn’t face putting my wet and dirty clothes back on, so clutching the towel to me I went into the function room to rummage about my bag for a clean pair of jeans and a sweat shirt.

You
could definitely tell that this room had been slept in last night by five men (and me, of course). Heaps of discarded clothes and the distinct smell of socks permeated the air. Why is it that men just generally smell? Pheromones? Lack of hygiene? What? It’s a mystery as dear old Toyah would have said.

I
dragged out some underwear and was searching for a top, when I heard my name being spoken. I jumped, and turned round, clutching my towel to my chest. Jace was sitting on the floor in the corner of the room, just about to light a joint.

“You
startled me,” I said, “I didn’t know anyone was in here.”

“I
can tell that,” Jace said, grinning at my towel.

“Yeah,
well, I needed a bath and I want some clean –”

In
one bound, he was over beside me, pulling the towel away from me.

For
a moment I felt like a rabbit caught in headlights, hypnotised. Instinctively my arms went round his body and I could feel myself melt towards him.

Whoa.
Hold on there one moment. Weren’t you just doing the same thing with Oliver just a few hours ago? What was wrong with me? Was I some sort of sex crazed nymphet? No, well, hardly, I agree. But… if it felt so good why was it so wrong. Wasn’t that a country and western song? Oh god, pull yourself together, I told myself firmly, whilst helplessly kissing Jace.

No,
I decided after a few moments. This was wrong. I rescued my towel and stepped back from Jace.

“I’m
sorry, I don’t think this is a good idea,” I said, moving away from him and cursing myself that I had kissed him back.

He
looked so
young
.

I
could feel my wet hair dripping down my back, and I looked desperately around for another towel.

Jace
looked very confused.

“Jace,
look, I really am sorry. I don’t want to hurt your feelings or anything, but, well, the other night after the picnic was great, and well, you’re great…” Oh god, now I sounded like the bloody TV presenter. Stop it Fin, just talk normally.

“Don’t
worry. I get it. I should have guessed really, I’m not old enough, and I’m not posh enough,” Jace said slowly.

Shit,
shit,
shit
.

“Not
like Oliver,” he said slyly, looking at me form under his eyelashes. (Which is a great trick if you are a girl or the late Princess Di, but if not, forget it.)

“Don’t
be so bloody silly,” I snapped.

Jace
pouted. Quite becomingly, I may as well tell you. But it didn’t work. He was nice to look at, no, he was gorgeous to look at. But that was it.

Honest.

Suddenly, he smiled.

“Well,
it were worth tryin’, weren’t it?” He grinned at me.

“You
cheeky little sod!” I exclaimed, picking up a tee shirt and flicking him with it.

He
moved back to the window and lit his joint. He took a deep drag and said, “Only a bit of fun, Fin. It was nice though, the other week, weren’t it?”

I
nodded.

“Anyway
me mum wouldn’t like it, not really. She wants me to go to Pakistan with her and meet this girl. Might as well, I reckon,” He said between mouthfuls of smoke.

I
scrambled quickly into my clothes, there seemed no point in false modesty with Jace there, although I did wish I had swanky, sexy underwear instead of white cotton.

“
You going to marry her, Jace?” I asked, thinking of Nelsons chatter.

He
regarded me in silence for a while.

“Might
do… No hard feelings then?”

“None
at all,” I said, trying not to laugh.

“Oh,
and Fin…”

“Yes?”

“Any time you need a seeing to, you know where I am.” He gave a wicked grin at me.

I
burst out laughing and walked out of the room, leaving him to his joint and dreams of the girl in Lahore.

I
was still smiling as I made my way downstairs. I hoped the unknown girl in Pakistan appreciated him. The TV crew had gone, thank goodness, and Sam was helping Pritti with some plates. He was also making a great fuss about bringing a TV in to the bar from his sitting room, so that we could all watch the news. I was unworried, as I knew that I wouldn’t be on it. It had been live, and they certainly wouldn’t show my outburst of temper, anyway.

I
joined Doris and Isaac at a table, and we chatted about the latest news.

“Breadpuddin’s
been causin’ a right old fuss,” Doris said gleefully. “I heard from my sister who’s got a friend who works at the royal that she tried it on with the doctor! Mind you, I feel right sorry for ‘er. Broken legs is proper nasty.”

I
laughed. The gossip was flowing again, then.

“Poor
doctor, thass what I say,” Isaac said morosely.

He
was sitting with a sheaf of papers in front of him looking worried. Doris nudged him, and he cleared his throat.

“The
thing is, Fin, we was wonderin’ if you could take a look at all o’ this, I can’t make head nor tail of it,” he said, pushing the papers towards me.

I
inwardly sighed. I wasn’t equipped to deal with insurance forms either, but somehow everyone thought I was. I looked up at Isaac’s worried face and smiled.

“Yes,
of course I will. Leave them here, OK?”

The
pub door was opening with regularity now; I went to Sam and whispered that everyone should have a drink on me again.

“Nah,
I reckon you’m done enough, girl. They’m can buy you one for a change,” Sam said.

“OK…
but Sam, will you do me a favour?” I said, leaning on the bar with my elbows.

He
looked enquiringly at me.

“That
surveyor chap is coming here tomorrow, will you come up to Penmorah with me before he gets here? I want to see what’s what up there.” I was desperate to get home, but didn’t want to go by myself.

Sam
nodded.

I
bent down, called Baxter to me and went back to the table. Friends and villagers piled into the pub. Considering the burdens of tiredness and worry we were all carrying, we had a remarkably jolly evening.

The
drinks flowed, and Pritti’s delicious food was gobbled up very quickly and gratefully. I knew that I should make some phone calls and look at insurance papers. Quite a few more had been dumped on me by villagers who now thought that could barely read or write, and that I would do a better deal for them than themselves. If only they knew, I thought, thinking of the terrible mess I had got in when my parents had died, and how Nancy had sorted everything.

I
knew I should tackle all of this, but I was just so tired.

There
was a general commotion at ten o’clock when Sam switched the news on. The newscaster ran off the headlines, trouble in the Middle East, interest rates soaring. Then came the bit we all shut up for.

‘…
and South Cornwall is still counting the costs of the freak storm, a tornado, that tore through there yesterday, causing great damage to property, roads, and rail links. Over to our West coast correspondent, Sarah Bailey in Port Charles.”

There
she was, in The Ram, and there was
me
beside her. I looked like something from a charity shop.

They
played my interview. In full.

I
had time to notice that I also looked quite demented on camera, with wild eyes, and a horrible snarling mouth.

I
cringed, waiting for the backlash.

There
was a silence for a while, and then the cheers started.

“You
tell ‘em Fin!”

“Well
done girl!”

“Bloody
emmets
, mermaid eggs
, I asks you…”

“What
you drinkin’ girl?”

“Your
mum and dad be right proud of you if they was ‘ere.”

I
stared around, bewildered. I’d virtually accused them all of being heartless bastards who had deserted Judith, and here they all were cheering me, slapping me on my back and buying me drinks.

I
heard Sam calling my name, and holding the phone out towards me.

I
went behind the bar, and pressed it into my ear.

“Hello?”

“Fin, darling! Well done… I didn’t realise things were so bad there, I’ll try and get back as quickly as I can.”

Nancy’s
comforting voice was a joy to hear.

“Oh
Nancy! I have missed you! I don’t understand, they all think I’m a hero, when all I did was lose my temper about how they all treated Judith…” I trailed off, still mystified at the reaction of them all in the bar.

Nancy
laughed, “Oh Fin, they
know
that they’ve behaved badly darling, but you know,
you’re
one of them, and
you’ve
just been on TV! They love you! I must say, you were frightfully passionate. We were all terribly impressed.”

“Who’s
there with you?” I asked.

“Harry
and Oliver. Harry says that you look completely barking mad, and the sooner you get to a hairdressers the better. Oliver thinks you were simply marvellous, hang on, they both want to talk to you…”

There
was a sound of scuffling in the background and the clinking of glasses, as the phone changed hands.

Harry
came on first.