The Cornish Guest House (6 page)

‘Well, come on, then,’ he said, rising suddenly, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair and tucking a pen behind his ear. PCSO Smith held out a hand to take his bag and he grunted in approval. She’d learned something since she’d started, then.

‘We can’t sit around here, watching the paint dry,’ he carried on, more to himself now than her. ‘Let’s go and catch some criminals.’

*

It didn’t take Liz long to compile a list of everyone she could think of who’d enjoy a party and drop it at The Stables. To her relief, there was no sign of its inhabitants, but by late afternoon, when she came out of the bakery in Market Square where she’d been buying iced buns for tea, she spotted Oscar in his stroller with a dark-haired girl.

It was almost closing time, twilight was approaching and the little boy, who was well wrapped up in a bright red jacket and pompom hat, was gazing at a ginger cat washing her fur in someone’s doorway. His minder, meanwhile, was talking to the fishmonger, Ryan, who’d come out of his shop in his white, blood-streaked overall and was leaning against the window, holding something between fingers and thumb.

‘Hi, Liz,’ he said, breaking off his conversation with the girl, who turned to see who it was. ‘This here’s Pilar.’ He glanced at her to check that he’d pronounced the name properly. ‘She’s from Spain. She’s an au pair.’

He said ‘au pair’ in the kind of hushed tone normally reserved for royalty or pop stars, and at the same time his dense black eyebrows, which nearly met in the middle, shot up to meet his bushy hairline.

Liz smiled. ‘Is she? Wow!’

Pleased with the response, Ryan went on to explain that Pilar was delivering invitations for a party at The Stables. Tabitha hadn’t scotched the plan, then. Liz wasn’t sure what Pilar’s English was like, but she seemed content to have Ryan speak for her.

‘I can give you a hand if you like, soon as I’ve locked up here,’ he suggested, turning back to his new friend.

Pilar looked doubtful. ‘I think there are not too many left,’ she replied slowly, taking a tasselled brown bag off her shoulder and looking inside. ‘I have nearly finished.’

Ryan was undeterred. ‘I’ll take you out tonight, then. Introduce you to our famous Tremarnock watering holes!’

Pilar frowned. ‘Watering holes? I am sorry, I do not understand.’

Ryan grinned. ‘Pubs. You know, where you go for a drink.
Una cerveza.
’

His accent wasn’t the best and Liz doubted that Pilar would know what he was talking about, but she seemed to get the gist.

‘OK.’ She shrugged. ‘I do not think there is anything else to do in this place and I am not busy.’

She didn’t sound exactly thrilled, but neither had she turned him down.

‘Good idea.’ Liz marvelled at his quick work. Mind you, he’d probably have some competition from the lads in the village. There’d no doubt be great excitement once they heard about the new girl in town, and a Spanish senorita at that.

Half an hour or so after she reached home, her invitation arrived in an envelope marked ‘Mr and Mrs R. Hart’. For a moment she thought it must have come to the wrong address; she still wasn’t quite accustomed to her newly married status, having previously been on her own for so long. Handwritten on thick white card in black ink were the words ‘Tabitha and Luke Mallon would be delighted if you can join them for drinks and food to celebrate their recent move’, followed by the address, date and time. At the bottom it said ‘No need to RSVP’ and there were two small, discreet champagne glasses outlined in silver in the corner.

As she placed it on the mantelpiece, she reflected that it was perhaps surprising Pilar had been given the task of postmistress. Luke might have wanted to do it himself, or Tabitha, come to that, as it would have been an opportunity to introduce themselves and get to know the layout of the village. Still, they were both busy with the move, and maybe Luke was also working at whatever he did for a living; he’d mentioned that it was Tabitha who was to take over the main running of the guest house.

Pat called soon after, when Liz was parcelling orders for RosieCraft, wrapping hair accessories in pink, scented tissue paper sprinkled with glitter, and sticking them in envelopes ready to take them to the post. She had a steady stream of customers now, mainly from Europe and Japan, and although she didn’t make enough money to live on, she enjoyed the freedom of working from home and was proud to be running her own business, however modest.

Rosie, who was artistic and keen on hair accessories herself, helped with new designs that she modelled at school, testing out the reactions of the other girls to see if they’d be likely to sell. One particular item, a tiny, flower fascinator hair clip with a draping chain, had been a particular hit, and Liz had been thrilled to spot two young women she’d never seen before wearing them in Plymouth.

It was after seven, Rosie was upstairs doing homework, and Liz had planned to call in on Pat tomorrow, when she’d been to the supermarket and bought the items the old woman needed. Pat, however, had other ideas.

‘Well, I’ll be blowed!’ she exclaimed, swaying in excitement on the doorstep. She was brandishing an invitation, the same one that had dropped through Liz’s letterbox. ‘I haven’t been to a party for years.’

Fearing that she might fall over, Liz quickly took her arm and ushered her to a chair in the front room, where she threw another log on the fire before settling on the charcoal-grey sofa facing her friend.

‘We can go together. It’ll be fun. What are you going to wear?’

Pat huffed. ‘Nobody wants to look at me. I’ll just wear that green dress I bring out every Christmas.’

Liz nodded. ‘Perfect.’ Then she bit her lip. ‘I’m not sure any of my clothes are suitable. Luke and Tabitha are awfully glamorous. She’ll no doubt look stunning and put me to shame.’

‘Rubbish. You’re always pretty as a picture!’ Liz was high on Pat’s list of favourite people, though Rosie came first, of course. She shuffled to the edge of her seat and leaned forward. ‘I say…’

Liz knew that expression only too well. There was gossip to come.

‘Maeve from the shop called in to sell me a raffle ticket for the church.’

The Methodist church hall on Humble Hill had a leaky roof and locals had been fundraising for a new one. Countless events took place there, from Mothers’ Union lunches to play mornings for toddlers, yoga and meditation classes to exercise sessions for ‘mature movers’. It was an integral part of the community.

They’d been using tin cans to catch the drips for years, but recently the drips had turned into puddles and even buckets weren’t big enough, so they’d had to requisition a couple of big black wheelie bins, strategically positioned in the hall with notices on saying ‘Do Not Move’. Barbara, who ran The Lobster Pot and was a great organiser, had kicked off the fundraising with a charity race night, and thanks to a number of other initiatives they were now about a third of the way to achieving their target.

‘Oh, yes?’ said Liz, raising her voice so that Pat could hear, and wondering where this would lead.

‘Well,’ she went on, relishing her moment in the spotlight. ‘Maeve told me that woman – Tabitha,’ she corrected herself. ‘She only went and bought her bread and her newspaper from Waitrose.’

It was said with such a sneer that it sounded for all the world as if she were a convicted bag-snatcher.

Liz laughed. She couldn’t help herself. ‘How on earth does Maeve know?’

‘Saw her getting out of her flash car,’ Pat sniffed. ‘Carrying the
Daily Mail
and a loaf of brown bread with “Waitrose” clearly written on the packet.’ She shook her head. ‘Maeve wasn’t impressed, I can assure you. And that couple from the bakery will be horrified if they get wind of it.’

Virtually the whole village went to Maeve’s General Stores for their newspapers, and to the bakery for delicious fresh bread, hot sausage rolls and Cornish pasties. Even so, it was hard to make a decent living, especially in the winter months, and the shopkeepers needed all the help they could get.

Liz frowned. ‘She probably hasn’t found the bakery or the General Stores yet. I’m sure she’ll go there once she knows about them. And don’t forget she’s invited us all to her house. It’s very generous, especially so soon after they’ve moved in.’

Pat wasn’t convinced. ‘She’d best be careful, that one,’ she muttered darkly. ‘Party or no party, you don’t want to go putting people’s noses out of joint before you’ve hardly even arrived.’

Liz was determined not to stoke the flames. ‘You should tell her about the shops at the party,’ she said reasonably. ‘I expect she’ll be grateful for the information.’

Pat was silent for a moment, pondering her words, then her face brightened. ‘I know, I can mention the church flowers, too! We’re one down since my friend died.’

‘Excellent,’ said Liz, though secretly she didn’t see Tabitha as a flower arranger. There again, she couldn’t pretend to know her properly yet. She might have all sorts of hidden talents up her sleeve.

*

On Saturday, Liz and Rosie took Loveday to a grim, out-of-town discount store to buy things for her new flat.

‘Are you absolutely sure?’ Liz asked, eyeing the contents of the overflowing trolley suspiciously as they waited at the till to pay.

She had originally suggested a trip to one of the smart department stores in Plymouth, thinking that they’d have lunch afterwards in the modern restaurant on the top floor with lovely views of the city, but Loveday was having none of it.

‘We need loads of stuff,’ she’d reasoned, fiddling with a large silver hoop in her earlobe. ‘Sheets, towels, cushions…’ She’d paused, racking her brain to remember all the other items on her mental list. ‘Crockery, cutlery, lampshades, curtains, ornaments. It’ll be much cheaper for you at the discount place. We can get more of everything.’

Liz had taken a deep breath. The truth was that she’d expected to buy a stylish vase for Loveday and Jesse, or a picture to hang on their wall, perhaps, not to cough up for the entire contents of their home. But neither of them had much money and, after discussing it with Robert, they’d agreed that they’d like to help. In truth, Liz was delighted to be able to do so; before marrying Robert, she’d had to watch every penny.

Loveday had taken ages to choose what she needed, spending what seemed like hours examining spotty toothbrush mugs and floral laundry baskets, and lingering over dustpans and brushes, until Liz pointed out that the flat was part-furnished so there might be one provided. Just when they thought they’d finished and nothing more could fit in the trolley, Loveday found a three-for-two section near the till.

‘Which do you prefer?’ she asked Rosie, picking up a set of patterned tea towels. ‘These, or the plain and stripy ones? Or I could have a selection of each?’

Rosie, who was tired, hungry and losing the will to live, rolled her eyes. She’d got to know Loveday well since Robert and Liz had been going out together and enjoyed having someone older to look up to, almost like a big sister. But there were limits even to her capacity for hero-worship.

‘Are you really going to do any drying up? Really? Won’t you just leave things on the side to dry themselves?’

Loveday puffed out her cheeks. ‘Honestly, you’re no help whatsoever. Of course I won’t be drying up but every house has to have tea towels. Don’t you know
anything
?’

When at last they’d settled up, they loaded all their purchases into the boot of the car then made a beeline for the ground-floor café, which was bulging with other weary-looking customers and fraught children. Two other waitresses were on duty at A Winkle In Time so Loveday had the entire day off and was determined to enjoy every minute of it.

‘I could eat a scabby horse!’ she exclaimed, examining the menu and settling on ham, egg, chips and a Diet Coke to wash it down. Rosie chose a cheese and tomato sandwich while Liz had soup and a roll.

‘Will you help me make the flat all nice and homely?’ Loveday asked Liz, who was trying to ignore the little girl at the table next to theirs. She was wiggling in her seat, desperate for the loo, while her mother, deep in conversation with her friend, was deaf to all pleading. It seemed that at any moment there might be an accident.

‘Sorry?’ She switched her attention back to Loveday, who was swigging Coke through a straw, and the girl repeated herself, adding, ‘Jesse and me want to make it really cosy so lots of people come round. His mum won’t let him have more than one friend at a time but he can have however many he likes in his own place, can’t he?’

Liz frowned. ‘You won’t be able to have endless parties and play loud music, you know. It’s a terraced house, you’ll upset the neighbours.’

‘Oh, don’t worry, we’ll turn down the volume after midnight,’ Loveday scoffed. ‘And when you visit we’ll only play old granny stuff like…’ she wrinkled her nose ‘…like Barry Manilow.’

‘But I don’t like Barry Manilow!’ Liz protested.

There was no room for the new purchases at Loveday’s friend’s house, so it all had to go in Liz’s spare room. Once they’d finished unloading, and spent a while admiring their haul, it was nearly time to get ready for the party.

‘You are coming, aren’t you?’ Liz asked Loveday. The boys from A Winkle In Time were invited, too, but, like Robert, wouldn’t arrive till the restaurant closed. Rosie had chosen to spend the night with her friend, Mandy, saying that she didn’t want to be the youngest person there, and they’d dropped her off on the way home from the discount store.

‘I guess so,’ said Loveday sulkily, ‘but won’t it be really boring with everyone just standing around talking?’

‘You might be pleasantly surprised. I get the feeling that our new neighbours are quite an unusual pair.’

While Loveday returned home to change, declaring that she’d be back at seven thirty because there was no way she was going to turn up at the party on her own, Liz went upstairs to shower and wash her hair. It was rather a luxury to be on her own for once, and she decided to open the delicious new, orange-blossom shampoo, conditioner and body moisturiser set that her father and stepmother had given her for her birthday.