The Cornish Guest House (5 page)

‘Hope you’ve got your pipe and slippers ready,’ he jeered, and Jesse glowered.

‘How’s your love life, then?’ he shot back, knowing full well that Alex, who was divorced, had recently been dumped by his girlfriend. Apparently she’d grown tired of his accordion playing, and his passion for fifties pop music. The last straw had been his new, black, Elvis-style quiff. Liz rather liked it, though it had a tendency to droop in the steamy kitchen. He had a penchant for crepe-soled brothel-creepers, too.

Later, Liz and Loveday leaned against the bar for a few moments and the younger girl talked about her plans for the new home.

‘I want it to be really different,’ she said, eyes glittering. ‘I’m going to get loads of pink cushions and throws and have candles and incense everywhere, including in the bathroom.’

‘Sounds gorgeous,’ said Liz, wondering how Jesse would feel about the pink theme. ‘You must say exactly what you want from me, Rosie and Robert. We’d like to get you a nice housewarming present.’

She started. ‘I know! Why don’t we go shopping on Saturday? I’ll take you out for lunch and you can choose something yourself.’

Despite Loveday’s peccadilloes, Liz was very fond of the girl as well as Jesse, and was glad that they’d found some stability. Loveday hadn’t had the easiest childhood, having been born to Robert’s sister, Sarah, when she was just eighteen. Sarah and her husband, Andy, had rowed a lot in front of Loveday when she was little, mainly about money, which was always tight, though Robert had helped out as much as he could. Now the couple were getting divorced, which clearly upset their daughter, though she never let on.

She’d been a rebellious teenager and Sarah had been only too happy when Robert had offered her a job at A Winkle In Time, far from her home town of Penzance. It was supposed to have been temporary, just long enough for her to get some experience and decide what she really wanted to do, but she’d made friends and taken to life in Tremarnock, especially now that she’d found Jesse.

After a bottle of wine and several digestifs, Rick and his girlfriend were pink-cheeked and dreamy-looking. They left around half-ten and Liz spotted them through the window, strolling arm in arm in the direction of his flat above the shop. The evening appeared to have been an unqualified success.

The other customers lingered longer, and by the time Robert had finished cashing up it was well after midnight.

‘Shall we go the long way back?’ he suggested. ‘I fancy a breath of air.’

Liz agreed because although she was very tired, her brain was working overtime and she needed to unwind. Working at the restaurant always had that effect on her. They walked along the deserted street, past Rick’s gift shop on the corner, where a soft light was shining upstairs. There was a cold wind, and she zipped her padded jacket right up to the collar, grateful to find a pair of woolly gloves in one of the pockets, her e-cig in the other.

She’d given up smoking but still reached for the substitute every now and again. She took a couple of puffs, watching the smoke curl in front of her before floating away. Robert didn’t mind, but Rosie wasn’t even aware that she’d smoked real cigarettes, and Liz wanted it to stay that way.

Once they reached the seafront, they stood for a few moments gazing up at the inky sky, splattered with twinkling stars as if someone had flicked a paintbrush, spraying splashes of radiant colour as far as the eye could see. The angry ocean hissed and clattered, but Liz found its rhythmic ebb and flow strangely comforting.

All the time that she’d lived in London she’d been almost unaware of the sea; it had no relevance to her. Yet now, like the blood that flowed back and forth through her arteries and veins, it had become a part of her, as much as the sun, moon and trees; she couldn’t imagine living anywhere but close by.

Robert was silent beside her and, lost in her own thoughts, she seemed to mingle with her surroundings, breathing in and out slowly in time with the waves, sensing the cares of the evening floating away like so much flotsam and jetsam on the tide.

She could have stood there for much longer, enjoying feeling her body relax and her mind empty, but she became aware that they weren’t alone. Glancing round, she saw the figure of a man at the opposite end of the esplanade, huddled on a bench, a phone clamped to his ear and seemingly deep in conversation.

‘He’s out late,’ she whispered to her husband, who had followed her gaze. ‘I wonder who he’s talking to.’

The spell had been broken and Robert sighed.

‘Time to go?’ he said, echoing her thoughts, and they made their way hand in hand along the seafront towards the figure, intending to turn left at Ashley House, which gleamed, white and eerie, in the moonlight.

As they drew closer, Liz could see that the man was well built, with wide shoulders and fair hair. He was wearing a bulky overcoat, his head was slightly bowed and he gestured occasionally, talking in a low, urgent voice. He looked strangely familiar, even from the back view, and she could just pick out the vowels and consonants of an accent that wasn’t from around here.

They would have passed by, but as soon as he heard them the man stopped talking and swivelled round. By now, Liz and Robert were only a few feet away and she could see quite clearly who it was: Luke.

In an instant, he finished his call, sprang up and strode towards them, his arms wide and welcoming.

‘Liz! What a surprise! And this must be your husband!’ He embraced her like an old friend before vigorously shaking Robert’s hand.

‘I went for a nightcap.’ He gestured towards the pub, The Lobster Pot, behind them. ‘It’s great in there, isn’t it? Good atmosphere.’

He had a lovely wide smile and Liz found herself thinking that he looked very handsome in the starlight. He was tall, like Robert, maybe just an inch or so shorter, and broader, with a wide forehead, a small straight nose and a close-shaven, well-defined chin. He took quite a bit of trouble with his appearance, you could tell. His hair, though longish, was carefully cut, and the skin on his face was soft and smooth, quite unlike the rough, weather-beaten countenances of the men around here.

The most appealing thing about him, however, was his bright blue eyes that he tended to fix on whoever he was talking to, making you feel like the most interesting person in the world. He and Tabitha really were a most attractive couple.

He didn’t seem in any hurry, and Liz explained that she and Robert had been at the restaurant.

‘I can’t wait to come. I’ve heard great things about it.’

Robert said Tremarnock needed a guest house and The Stables should do very well. There were plenty of cottages to rent but not everyone wanted self-catering or bed and breakfast in someone else’s cramped home, and the nearest hotel was several miles away. ‘But you know all that, of course.’

‘We’re only doing B & B ourselves,’ Luke reminded him, ‘but we’re not cramped, that’s for sure. Hopefully we’ll be sending plenty of people your way for lunch and dinner once we’re open.’

Robert, pleased, said that likewise he’d happily pass on the name of The Stables.

‘I can see we’re going to be friends!’ Luke exclaimed, slapping him on the back. He paused, as if thinking of something. ‘We’re having a party on Saturday. Bit last minute but seems like a good way to christen the new place. Seven onwards. I hope you’re free?’

Robert explained that he’d be working – ‘Saturday’s our busiest night’ – but Luke waved a dismissive hand.

‘Join us afterwards. Liz can come on ahead. We’ll be going on for hours, I promise you. We were celebrated for our parties in Manchester. We have a reputation to keep up!’

He looked at Liz. ‘Actually, I was hoping you might be able to help with the guest list. I’d like to invite the whole village but that’s probably too many, even for our place.’ He stroked his chin. ‘Would you mind writing down the names and addresses of everyone you think we should ask? We want to get to know as many people here as possible.’

Liz was slightly taken aback, remembering Tabitha’s look of horror when she and Rosie had turned up unexpectedly, and the way she’d declined her coffee invitation. She didn’t seem nearly as keen on meeting the villagers as her husband. He’d put Liz in an awkward position, though, and she could hardly refuse.

‘I’ll do a list tomorrow and stick it in your letterbox,’ she promised, thinking there was no way she’d knock. She couldn’t help suspecting that the party was a spur-of-the-moment idea, because he hadn’t mentioned it before, and, for all she knew, Tabitha might torpedo it immediately.

A dog barked in the distance and the sound echoed strangely in the blackness as the three made their way up Fore Street, their footsteps tapping on the cobbles.

They were about to say goodbye at Luke’s front door when his body tensed and he turned sharply, making Liz start.

‘Did you see…?’ His eyes narrowed as he scanned the dimly lit road, then his face relaxed, he shook his head and laughed. ‘A trick of the shadows. I’m not used to these alleyways and dark corners.’

‘It’s very safe around here,’ Liz reassured him. ‘You hardly ever even see a policeman, there’s no need.’

Luke laughed again, before giving her a kiss and shaking Robert’s hand. ‘So pleased we’ve met.’

As they moved away, Liz thought that she saw a blind move in one of the windows upstairs, but there were no lights on and it seemed that the rest of the family was asleep. She decided that she must have imagined it.

The following morning at around eight, the phone rang in Hazel’s little flat in South Devon and she felt a quiver of anticipation, fully expecting to hear that charming Detective Constable Harry Pritchard again with an update on her money.

She was hoping he’d say that the notes she’d handed over yesterday weren’t counterfeit after all. There again, he’d told her not to worry if they were. The police would replace them with real cash, no trouble at all

She hadn’t got back from the bank till mid-afternoon yesterday and by the time she’d popped the money in an envelope and handed it over, she’d been quite worn out with all the excitement. And to think she’d imagined that the most thrilling thing she’d be doing all day was going to the shops!

She’d been dying to tell Jackie about her adventure but knew not to disturb her at work, so she’d made herself a cup of tea and caught up on the soaps. Then, when she’d tried her daughter’s home number later in the evening, it had been her granddaughter, Annie, who’d picked up.

‘She’s out, Gran,’ Annie had said. ‘It’s her book group tonight. I drove over this afternoon ’cause I need to borrow a dress for a wedding. I have to go back first thing tomorrow. Sorry I won’t have time to see you.’

Annie lived some fifty miles away; she’d been to college in Cornwall and had liked it so much that she’d decided to stay. Probably wouldn’t come back ever, especially not now she’d met that nice postman, Nathan.

Hazel would have told Annie about the investigation but she’d been in a rush to meet friends. The phone buzzed again, two more rings, giving the old woman a jolt. She’d better answer quick or they’d hang up.

‘Hello?’ she said, clearing her throat and putting on her best phone voice. ‘I’m sorry for the delay, may I help you?’

But it wasn’t Detective Constable Pritchard, it was Jackie, on her way to work. The journey took about half an hour, Hazel knew, and she settled happily into her armchair.

‘You’ll never guess what happened!’ she said, thinking that for once Jackie might pay attention. Normally she had the radio on in the background and didn’t seem that interested.

This morning she was all ears, for sure, but to Hazel’s surprise she didn’t ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’. Instead, she switched off the radio and listened in silence to her mum’s account and when she’d finished Jackie said, ‘You gave them how much?’

Hazel repeated the figure and there was a sharp intake of breath. ‘I’m going to pull in, don’t go away.’

Once parked, she told Hazel to repeat the story all over again, every last detail. Hazel worried that it would make her late for work, but she said it didn’t matter.

‘Oh, Mum,’ she sighed at last. ‘I can’t believe what you’ve done.’

The words dropped like stones into a well and Hazel felt herself shrink, her hands start to tremble.

‘There’s no way the police would ever ask you to do that,’ Jackie added, exasperated. Hazel’s bottom lip quivered, just as it used to when she was a little girl. ‘You’ve been tricked, don’t you see? You’ll never set eyes on that money again.’

*

At the local police headquarters, Sgt Kent replaced the phone and sighed.

‘Bad business,’ he said, leaning back in his chair and scratching his bald head. ‘Seems an old lady in Brixham’s been scammed. Handed over ten thousand pounds yesterday to some fella claiming to be investigating a bank fraud.’

His colleague, PCSO Smith, frowned. She’d heard of cases like this in London. Elderly people were targeted because they were more trusting and the trouble was, the fraudsters were clever and left no trace.

‘Poor old thing,’ she said with feeling. ‘Must have given her a right shock when she realised. Did she sound all right?’

Sgt Kent shrugged. ‘It was the daughter who rang and she was beside herself. Kept saying she couldn’t believe her own mum had been that stupid.’

‘They’re very convincing, by all accounts,’ PCSO Smith replied. She’d listened to a report about it on the radio. ‘All sorts of people have been taken in. Doctors, teachers…’ She peeped at her colleague out of the corner of an eye. ‘Even retired detective inspectors, I heard.’

Sgt Kent tugged at the collar of his shirt as if it was throttling him. He’d been in the force a long time and still had the greatest respect for his superiors, not like some of the youngsters that came in now, thinking they knew it all when they’d only just set foot in the door.

‘I wouldn’t know anything about that,’ he growled, taking a slurp of the now cold coffee sitting on his desk and wiping his mouth with the back of a hand.

He watched as PCSO Smith removed a piece of chewing gum from her mouth and wrapped it in tissue paper before dropping it in the bin. He wished she wouldn’t do that. When he was a lad, he hadn’t been allowed chewing gum. His mum had said it was common.