A Cornish Stranger (11 page)

In the distance she could see Fin standing with a phone to his ear. Moving closer, she could hear his voice.

‘Enough, Patricia! I gave you the flat and you took the cat and the car.'

Gabe hid behind a tree, wondering what to do. She might know nothing about him and want to know more, but eavesdropping wasn't the way to go about it. Retracing her steps down the path, she realised there was something familiar about him. He was like an itch that she couldn't reach.

She stopped walking when she couldn't hear his voice, then turned around and headed to the cabin again, hoping he had finished his call. She saw Fin spin, looking as if he was going to throw his phone into the creek, but he brought his arm down again and slipped it into his pocket. He took three deep breaths, then walked slowly back into the house with his face revealing none of the emotion Gabe had just witnessed. How could he control his feelings like that? Gabe could only do that if she didn't allow them in the first place.

 

Jaunty relaxed. There was nothing on the pages that Fin could have seen that would have told him anything. Maybe he hadn't been looking at the diary but at the sketches. She laughed when she studied her nude drawing of him. How would he feel about that? Somehow she didn't think it would bother him.

In the kitchen, she found the back door open and the tea made, but no Fin. The deep timbre of his voice was audible but not the words. Jaunty poured herself a mug of tea and walked back to her desk. She felt a new spring in her step and knew it was because of having this man about the place. She also knew that underneath she was still weary, so she must make use of this burst of energy and get the truth down.

Jaunty stopped and looked at her sketches of Fin. This is what Alex would have looked like had he made it to his thirties. His cheekbones would have become more pronounced, like Fin's, and maybe the blond hair would have darkened.

The day before I was due to leave, and despite the all-present talk of war, Alex and I sailed around to the Helford. The sun warmed our skin and we anchored in Frenchman's Creek. We shared a picnic and our kisses became heated. Before long we had tied up the boat on an old quay and climbed the bank to a cabin. Blackberries were in abundance on the hillside and we gathered the ripe ones as we climbed. We called hello around the cabin but no one was home. Finding a sunny spot between the pine trees, we fed each other the bittersweet fruit. Dreams . . . How we shared dreams. We would buy the cabin and it would become ours and ours alone.

He looked at me with such longing – and I knew I loved him. With blackberries still staining out lips, we kissed and before long innocent caresses had moved beyond the point of no return . . .

Alex proposed to me and I accepted. We'd sat on the bank looking upriver and made plans. I could see our future so clearly. He wanted me to finish my final year in Paris. We knew the war was coming, but looking out on the Helford in the sunshine we still thought it far enough away from us. We agreed that next summer we would be wed and we would keep our secret until I was home at Christmas, then tell the families.

Tears flowed down Jaunty's face. Oh, such lovely dreams.

At the sound of Gabriella and Fin talking in the kitchen, Jaunty put her pen down and hid the notebook. She did not want it found before the time was right. Most importantly, she did not want to talk about it. That would be too hard. If Gabriella could read the truth after Jaunty was gone and then digest it, that would be enough. Jaunty couldn't bear the thought of seeing the disappointment on Gabriella's face, because the way Jaunty had actually lived went against everything Jaunty had taught her granddaughter.

There was a tap at the door. ‘I've made some dinner.' Gabriella stood in the doorway, not coming into the room. Jaunty frowned. This wasn't normal.

‘Lovely. Are we eating outside?'

‘If you'd like.'

‘Yes.' Jaunty levered herself out of the chair. Her hip joints had stiffened while she'd sat. Gabriella was still standing in the doorway watching her. It was almost as if her granddaughter was seeing her for the first time – and maybe she was. Jaunty felt she was doing the same, seeing herself for what she was: a liar and a thief, and more.

 

Gabe steadied Fin's boat as he climbed aboard. It was going to be towed to the boatyard in Falmouth for repair. She handed him the empty plastic shopping bags and waited while she heard him move about the cabin. Something about this whole thing was wrong. Not the part about helping out someone in need – he didn't appear needy. He was well spoken, owned a boat, and appeared to be in control of everything, except maybe his ex-wife. Didn't he have a job he needed to go off and do?

He walked on to the sloping deck and handed several bags to her. ‘Just a few more things and the rest should be fine to leave on the boat for a while.'

‘OK.' Gabe took the bags and carefully placed them in a dry spot on the dinghy. Fin disappeared again and Gabe debated looking into the bags. What would the contents tell her about the stranger in their midst?

Gabe checked to make sure that Fin was still inside the boat and began to rummage through the bags. It was mostly clothes and the odd book. His reading choice was intriguing. John Le Carre, Dorothy L Sayers and Shakespeare. She closed one bag and peered in another one, but stopped when she heard his footsteps.

‘That should do it.' He held several more bags and a laptop in a protective case. Gabe wondered why he hadn't moved it earlier. She wouldn't have left hers unattended in a boat. She looked to the field above. It was filled with cows ready for milking. OK, maybe she was being hard on him. He was a man who had happened to chat to Jaunty and then had had the bad luck to have been caught in a storm and nearly drowned. She should cut him some slack. She didn't have to look for the worst in everyone; she had been doing that too long.

The bags safely stored, Gabe went to the far side to balance the boat as Fin stepped in, smiling.

‘Thanks for the help.'

He had a grin that made a mockery of her fears, transforming his serious face to one that was almost childlike. She smiled back. ‘No problem,' she said, then looked away. It
was
a problem, but she was going to try and be grown up about this. It was time she moved on, even just a bit. She could be gracious. It was in her somewhere. Well, it used to be.

They set off. Above, the sky was dark blue as the last of the colour of the sunset disappeared, and this evening a wind blew in from the mouth of the river, whipping the surface into little waves. It worked against them. Gabe watched his back while he rowed and a feeling stirred inside her. She tensed. She might be willing to tap into her once-pleasant self, but she wasn't willing to go to the place of attraction, the place where she made herself vulnerable again. It was that vulnerability which had destroyed her and all her dreams.

 

 

 

 

 

Eight

 

 

 

 

S
unlight broke through the clouds and highlighted the bank of oak on Merthen Wood. The light made it appear closer than it was and Jaunty raised her hand, wanting to touch it – a bit like these memories. Rolling her shoulders back made them ache but Jaunty felt time running away from her. Fin's presence here was a gift, a gift from the sea. He was bringing the memories back into sharp focus and he could help her if she could trust him.

Telling this tale was never going to be easy, Gabriella. Maybe that is why I have waited so long. I don't know how much you need to know but I will continue with my memories as they come to me.

When I think back to how naive I was, it frightens me.

I went back to Paris filled with dreams and I left Alex with my heart full. He placed his signet ring on my finger and we stole back to the cabin one more time before I left on the evening train.

The water laps at the stone quay. Alex ties the boat on and flashes me a smile. I swallow down the excitement building in me and grab the picnic basket. I am not hungry for its contents. Alex is what I need, not food or wine. Now that we have broken the restraints I think of nothing else.

He takes my hand and we run up the hill. The cabin is still empty and we spread the blanket on the pine needles. I lie back, seeing the blue sky through the branches, and feel Alex's hand as it travels up my thigh.

Jaunty shivered. A sleepy wasp came through the window and rested on the edge of her mug. Summer was coming to an end. There was a chill in the wind despite the sun's warmth, and she must focus on writing for Gabriella.

It hurts even now to think about it, knowing what I know. We lost so much time. But back then my step was full of joy. I placed Alex's ring on a chain around my neck so that my grandmother wouldn't question it when I passed through to say goodbye on my way to Paris.

My last meeting with her had been less than pleasant. She had been dismissive of Alex's family. They were merchants. She almost spat the word out. I just let her talk. Her plans for me were for next summer: the season. But I had no intention of being a debutante. I was too old. Nor was I intending to go along with her plans to marry me to a lord.

Alexander Carrow would be my husband and my miserable grandmother would just have to live with it.

And so, despite long-distance pleas from my father, I returned to Paris just two weeks before war was declared . . .

‘Jean, Paris will be OK, won't it?' I look up from my canvas.

‘The Nazis wouldn't dare, or so the Parisians say and have been saying all summer.' She walks around to look at my work. ‘My God, he's well built.'

I hit her with my brush. I can't get Alex out of my mind, nor do I want to.

‘I can tell what you were up to on your holiday.'

I giggle.

‘Are you in love?' Jean takes up the paintbrush and dabs it in the cobalt. She dots it lightly at the knee joint. The painting is instantly balanced and I am in awe.

‘Yes – and how do you do that?'

She laughs her deep throaty laugh. ‘Simple. Step back from your work. Half close your eyes and all will become clear.'

I do this but nothing is obvious.

‘You are looking too hard and trying to hold it close. You must let it go.'

But Paris was fine, I thought. The French felt the Nazis wouldn't dare. Jean had spent the whole summer in Paris working. She assured me that all was well. I don't know why I believed her. Her mastery of the language was such that she had trouble ordering a meal, so how could I trust she would know anything? But I did. I stayed put and began to work very hard. I needed to make a name for myself. When the war was over, Alex would be a barrister and I a society portrait painter. That was our plan.

However, my summer of playing and very little painting showed up badly against Jean's hard-working one. She had moved on in leaps and bounds while I was away. I helped her to send more paintings to the gallery in London. Something had altered her vision, and it was stunning.

We settled down to life again, both painting and working with Pierre. My work moved more and more into the abstract and hers remained realistic. Egging each other on, we painted from life and were challenged by the changing face of Paris. Her work became stronger while I was pulled towards portraits from my memory. In secret I kept sketching Alex, trying to keep him close. His ring hung above my heart and his letters became less frequent and told me nothing, which in a strange way told me everything.

 

After walking up the track to get enough signal to receive her emails, Gabe was quickly reminded by the influx that she had been neglecting her job. They needed the money, so she couldn't let work slide or the commissions she relied on would dry up. Her piano was in the studio and that was where Fin was, and she couldn't move it into the cabin, she knew that, but her keyboard would fit in her bedroom, just.

She brushed against the bay hedge and stopped to enjoy the aroma. Some places didn't smell of anything much, but here at Bosworgy there were so many scents and the individual fragrances vied with each other to be the dominant one. The time of day and the heat of the sun seemed to aid some more than others and now, as she moved closer to the studio, the scent of pine erased the bay. A heron, startled by her footsteps, flew from its perch on the fallen branch below. Gabe started. Her nerves were on edge. As much as she didn't want to think about it, she wasn't happy to be around men any more, and she understood this was a natural response – the therapist had told her so. But it wasn't convenient when half the population was male, and having one take up residence in the studio wasn't good.

The door was slightly ajar. She found herself inwardly shouting, ‘Why are you here?' But if she didn't vocalise the question Fin could never answer it. She knocked.

‘Come in.'

Gabe walked in to find Fin putting on a shirt and looked quickly away from his bare torso.

‘I've just come to collect my keyboard.'

‘Do you want to work here?' He did up his buttons.

Gabe watched the deft fingers at their task. ‘No, it's OK. My computer is set up in the bedroom so I'll just take this and get to work.'

‘Do you need a hand?'

‘No, thanks. I can manage.' But Gabe fumbled when she unplugged the keyboard and collapsed the legs. Fin grabbed the console before it hit the ground and his arm brushed hers. She backed away.

‘Thanks.'

‘No problem. I'll just carry it for you.' And before she could refuse he was out of the door, leaving her to gather the cables and follow. A gull screamed just outside and Gabe wanted to do the same.

She made her way back to the cabin, expecting to find Fin in her room, but he had left the keyboard on her bed and was nowhere to be seen. He might be with Jaunty. Gabe frowned. She didn't like the amount of time they were spending together.

The scent of Fin filled her bedroom and Gabe shut the door. It was no longer her space. After setting up the console she put on her headphones, blocking out the world. Before she looked at her brief, she took a deep breath, then regretted it: lemony aftershave.

Pulling her shoulders back, Gabe held the position and lowered them, opening her chest. She felt her spine click and brought her arms forward slowly before pulling them back again just a bit further. She felt better. Her fingers hovered above the keys. The pain in her left hand from the holly cut stilled her fingers. Gently she played some slow chords then tried a Chopin mazurka
from memory. She missed a few notes by hitting the wrong keys but the scabs held. Still, it did mean that her reach was limited, and her playing would be as well until her hand had fully healed. She played ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star', letting the childhood tune soothe her. Only then did she read the brief for a second-hand car salesroom outside of London that needed a chirpy tune for a radio advert. She sighed and went to work, playing with sounds until she hit what she felt would fit the remit. That done, she connected her computer to the keyboard and downloaded the tune. Once on the computer she added the other instruments to the composition and scratched her notes down on sheet music. This was never what she imagined her life would be like.

She pushed through the sheets of music beside the keyboard. A keyboard was fine, but right now only playing on the real piano was going to chase her demons away. She found her own work, something that she had begun a few weeks ago. It was not for a commercial, not for the public; it was a symphony, a symphony of loss, but as yet it was incomplete. Picking it up, she set off towards the studio, hoping Fin was still somewhere else.

In the sitting room she looked for Jaunty, but she wasn't around. She popped her head into the bedroom and Jaunty wasn't there either, but on the desk were sketches, sketches of people. Gabe wasn't sure what she was more surprised about: that they were of people or that they were of a naked Fin and a portrait in charcoal that looked like Fin but not quite. It was of a younger man. Jaunty had captured Fin to perfection. Desire swelled up in Gabe and she looked around, hoping that no one could see her ogling the nudes. Her fingers ran down the outside of the sketch collecting the gritty remains of charcoal on it. She pulled back and swallowed. She had no place for desire in her life.

 

The dreams of the night drifted away as Jaunty watched Fin's head disappear from view down the bank. She put her hand to her heart:
Alex
. She looked to the sky. Rain was moving in from the north. It was a changeable season, fruitful and frantic yet strangely peaceful on the river. At this time of year it was more like it had been in the past. Few boats cruised by the point and the sounds filling the air were of the birds and the cows.

Yes, each year as the autumn moves on to winter the Helford goes back in time. It is more how I remember it. It is only of late that the loud powerboats fill the creek at high tide and the reckless young power around in circles when they should take it slow.

When I came here the second time, I was a young mother, wet behind the ears. I had left the security of Mrs Bartholomew's bed and breakfast. She had been a woman of few words, but she saw my fear, my loneliness and ineptitude. In the quiet time, before Philip was born, she taught me to cook, to wash and to clean. Gabriella, life here in this part of the world was not as you know it now. There was no electricity or running water.

The boom of an air cannon went off on a nearby field and scattered the river birds, setting them off low above the water until they rose on the air currents, complaining all the way. Jaunty listened to the increasing sound of a helicopter from
RNAS
Culdrose. She couldn't see it yet, but before long it would be in view.

The war had begun but Paris thought the Nazis would never make it that far. My parents were in panic and when spring came my father began to pull strings because he was determined to get me out of Paris. He had left Mother in New York and come back to serve but I was reluctant to leave. I hadn't heard from
Alex. His last letter had told me to trust him and to pray. I did both. There was no point in heading back to London. Alex wasn't there. But Father became insistent and even I realised I would need to leave when the Nazis were just outside the city.

Father made arrangements for me to depart on the
Lancastria
out of St Nazaire. I packed what few things I could, consigned my paintings to the concierge, and readied myself to go, but there was one problem: Jean. She had no connections to get her out. I told her to pack and come along. There was no way that they would leave a British citizen in occupied France, or so I thought.

Nothing had prepared me for the chaos of the port. The numbers of civilians and soldiers trying to return to England heightened the combustible atmosphere. I tried to get her name on the lists, but it didn't work. I didn't stop at the first attempt or the fourth.

‘Go.' Jean pushes me into the crowd but I cling to her hand. We are moving along with the flow and she tries to free her hand but I won't release it. Tears flow down her face and I feel her fear. My stomach is in knots. I can't leave her.

 

The cold grasp of the water took Gabe's breath away as she slipped into the creek. The river was strangely still and she set off across it. Again her dreams had been filled with thoughts of the competition and its aftermath. When she woke sweat poured from her as if she had run a marathon, and her limbs were bound with the twisted sheets. Now the deep thump of an engine reverberated in her ears. She paused to check for the boat. They wouldn't see her in the low morning light. She kicked harder until she had reached the safety of the north shore. She panted as she looked back towards the cabin. It was almost invisible behind the trees. If she didn't know it was there she wouldn't find it. However, she did, and she could just make out Fin walking from the studio.

She began a more leisurely breaststroke for the first part of the swim, but the further she reached the more she thought of her nightmares. She changed to the butterfly to try and eliminate them from her mind. She almost lacked the strength to climb up to the cabin when she had reached the point but physical exertion always helped.

After showering, Gabe went into the sitting room. No sign of Jaunty. She peered into her grandmother's bedroom and Jaunty was sitting at her desk at the end of the room. Her head was down and she clutched a pen in her hand. She didn't look up. Gabe tensed, then crept up to her to make sure she was just sleeping. Looking around, Gabe wondered what she had been writing but saw no paper. Backing out of the room, she crashed into Fin. His hands grabbed her shoulders and Gabe sucked in a mouthful of air. She pulled herself together and walked past him to the kitchen. He followed.