A Cornish Stranger (15 page)

Jaunty coughed. Just thinking about all of this brought the pain too close.

The Major gave me money for a ticket to London, and his sister's name and address. I could stay with her. I sat on the train to London knowing that I was a married woman, but I couldn't prove it so I couldn't go to Alex's family. They would be worried sick about him. How could I say I was his wife and I was pregnant with his child when I didn't know whose child it was that I carried? I couldn't – no, I wouldn't – turn to my grandmother. As the train slid past the lush English countryside I knew I had to remain Jean, but how?
 

 

Gabe left Fin patching a hole in the shed roof. He was handier around the place than she would ever have imagined, and he seemed determined to earn his keep. The week had passed quickly and she was thankful that he had been with Jaunty when she'd had her attack. Walking down the path towards the cabin she could hear the deep throb of a boat engine. She looked out over the creek but couldn't see the source. The breeze came from the west and it felt warmer than a summer's day.

‘Don't want to hear any more reports of any more illness,' a male voice said.

Gabe heard Jaunty laugh.

‘That's an order. I'll just put the fish in the sink.' Mike Gear came strolling out of the kitchen.

‘Hello, Gabe.'

She grinned.

‘I won't give you a hug.' He looked down at his fish-smeared overalls.

Gabe twitched her nose. ‘Yes, I'll take a rain check.'

‘I was just dropping some monkfish cheeks off for Jaunty. I know she loves them.' His phone rang and he delved inside his pocket and pulled it out. ‘Hello, darling. I'll be home in about a half-hour. I just popped by Bosworgy to check on Jaunty.' He smiled at Gabe and she could hear his wife, Sue, on the other end. ‘Yes, I remember the folk group is at the pub tonight.'

Gabe watched gulls circle and knew it was because of Mike's boat below. He must be tied up to the quay.

‘There's an idea. Come to the pub tonight, Gabe. There's a men's group singing. It'll be like old times.'

‘Sounds great.' Gabe bit her lower lip, thinking of nights with her father at the pub, where he and others would sing. ‘But I can't leave Jaunty.'

Mike nodded. ‘Hadn't thought of that. Shame.'

‘Enjoy it for me.'

‘No worries there, and put the fish in the fridge if you aren't going to eat it tonight.' Mike waved when he reached the bend in the path and shortly after she saw his boat pull out into the river.

 

Gabriella, my head is muddled. I can hear your voice and memories of you and Philip fill me. I do not need to share those memories with you; you have your own of your father. He was so different from me. If I had been him I would have resented you for taking my love away but he, dear sweet soul, loved you more.

Jaunty rubbed her temples. She must push onwards.

I walk through the gallery door just before five. This much I know. I have to do this. I am Jean Blythe. I pray she will understand. Jeanette died on the
Lancastria
. I can do this.

I scan the room and see three of Jean's paintings on promin­ent display. The price listed is triple what her first painting sold for. I spin around and I spot two more. They were painted one sunny morning sitting by the Seine and these paintings are sold.

A man in a dark suit walks up to me. ‘Hello. You have wonderful taste. Her work is brilliant, so collectible. I wish we had more but these may be the last ones.' He shakes his head. ‘I haven't heard from her since the invasion of Paris.' He frowns and looks me up and down. I am concious of my tatty clothes.

‘I wish I could tell her how acclaimed her work has become.' He seems sincere.

My heart races. ‘Peter Knowles?'

‘In the country; the bombing wasn't good for his dickey heart.'

I breathe. I must do this. I look heavenward and ask Jean to forgive me. I would rather she was alive and we would survive together. ‘I'm Jean Blythe.'

The man claps his hands together. ‘Someone who has made it through this awful war! I cannot tell you how happy I am to meet you. I'm Paul Nichols. We've corresponded.'

‘Yes.' This at least is true. I had written all Jean's letters. ‘A pleasure.' I change the shape of my mouth slightly. Jean was from London. I picture her in my head and affect her mannerisms.

With no choice left to me I have come to the gallery as Jean, hoping she will forgive me for taking her name, her fame and her money.

Leaving the gallery I wander the streets of London, go past our old house. A bomb has wiped out the terrace. From there I walk to the Brompton Oratory and in its cool, dark interior I light a candle for my mother. I have no idea where she died or where she is buried. I pray for my parents. I pray for Alex. I pray for the child growing in me. The flame flickers in the draught and I think of my grandmother and debate if I should turn to her and just be me, Jeanette. It is not too late to stop this subterfuge. But as I look up at the statue of St Francis I know I can't do it. She will throw me out and then I will have nowhere to turn.

The confessional beckons and I long for forgiveness.

‘Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been four years since my last confession.' I take a breath. Where should I begin? ‘I have returned from France. I . . . I can't say why I was there.'

‘What you say in here is safe.'

I nod but I hold back. I can no longer trust.

I knew that I couldn't risk staying in London; someone from my past might recognise me. So I made a plan to move to Cornwall. I was unknown in the west and I would be close to Alex. Before I left London
I went to a hairdresser and had my hair cut short. It changed my whole look; I was someone else now and always would be.

 

 

 

 

 

Twelve

 

 

 

 

G
abe was handing Fin the last glass to put in the dresser when Mrs Bates appeared at the door. ‘Good evening, Gabriella.'

‘Yes?'

‘You look surprised. Didn't Jaunty tell you she rang and asked me to come over?'

Gabe shook her head and looked at Fin, who shrugged as Jaunty came into the kitchen. ‘Keziah, come and sit down.' Jaunty took Mrs Bates's arm and walked through to the sitting room. ‘Gabriella, would you make us a pot of tea before you head to the Shipwrights?'

Gabe shook her head and grinned. Obviously Jaunty had overheard Gabe's conversation with Mike. ‘Fin, fancy a drink at the pub? There's a local folk group singing tonight.'

‘Sounds great. I'll just grab a sweater.'

Gabe made the tea and took it to the two women. Jaunty entertaining anyone was odd, but Gabe knew her grandmother was worried about her move here, didn't want her to be alone, but Gabe had left London to find solitude and instead she was being pulled into the social whirl.

Mrs Bates came to the kitchen. ‘Don't forget your torch, dear. The nights are drawing in.' She leaned closer to Gabe and whispered, ‘No need to rush back. Have a lovely evening out.' She patted Gabe's arm as Fin appeared on the terrace. ‘He's a looker.'

‘Thanks, Mrs Bates.' Gabe dashed away from Mrs Bates's knowing look, well meaning though it was. Once they were well away from the cabin, Gabe turned to Fin. ‘Thanks for all your help with the shed and, well, everything really.'

‘Not a problem, it's the least I can do.'

‘Well, yes, you could strim the field and help me harvest the apples.' She cast a sideways glance at him and a smile spread across his face.

‘I suppose I could, but I had the impression you wanted me gone?'

Gabe pursed her lips. ‘Might have done, but you've turned out rather handy.'

‘Have I now?' They paused and turned to see the sun set behind them. ‘I would never tire of seeing that,' he said.

‘Me neither.' They picked up the pace and reached the pub just as the group began singing. The harmony of voices rang out with ‘Haul Away Joe'.

Fin leaned close. ‘This time I can buy you that drink.'

‘Pleased to hear it. I'd love a cider.'

‘As you wish.' He disappeared into the throng at the bar as Gabe spotted Jenna across the terrace and made her way to her.

‘Who is the dishy guy?' Jenna pointed at Fin.

‘He's Fin.'

‘Fin who?'

‘Fin Alexander.'

Jenna raised an eyebrow. ‘I like the five o'clock shadow he's sporting.'

Gabe looked at Fin standing chatting at the bar, then turned to Jenna. ‘Yes, I rather like it too.'

‘He kind of reminds me of someone from the telly, but I can't think who.' Jenna studied him.

Gabe didn't know what he did. What if she'd been right and he was a journalist?

Someone tapped Gabe's elbow and she swung around to find Max. ‘Hello.'

‘Great to see you here.' He smiled at Jenna and Jenna sent a knowing glance at Gabe. Gabe rolled her eyes.

‘Max, have you met Jenna?'

Max extended his hand.

‘No, we haven't met but didn't you organise the wonderful concert?' Jenna asked.

Max nodded.

‘It was brilliant and you raised a few thousand pounds, which is fantastic. Well done,' Jenna said, beaming.

The singers began again and Max whispered, ‘Have you thought about the opera at all? I'd love to hear your comments?'

‘Are you sure?' Gabe studied him. He seemed sincere.

‘Yes, please. I really would.'

‘I'll take a look, but I won't sing.'

He tried the wide-eyed look. Gabe laughed and shook her head. She turned to watch the men who had begun ‘Shenandoah'. Her eyes met Fin's as he scanned the crowd. A smile lit up his face and a feeling she had put away ran through her. She took a few shallow breaths. This was very dangerous.

 

Gabe hadn't had a swim in days. Sitting on a tree stump, cradling her coffee, she looked down at the rocks below. The water was clear and among the weed swam hundreds of minnows. They moved together like an Olympic synchronised swimming team, first with the tide and then against it, covering the same area.

Climbing down to the bottom step, Gabe placed her foot on the rock below. The wind blew around her. She would need her wetsuit before long, but the water was warmer than the air at the moment. If she hesitated any longer she would never do it. Taking a shallow dive, she hit the water and kicked past the weed out into the middle. Strong strokes took her into the haven of the creek. She slowed and took time to see the trees reaching out to her. As a child, depending on her mood, they had been both welcoming and threatening. Today they were neither.

Since she'd arrived the leaves had begun to turn and the holly was covered in berries. Switching to breaststroke, she stopped when she heard a splash behind her that was far too big for a fish. Turning her head, she glimpsed another swimmer. It must be Fin. Since her father had died she had never had anyone swim in the creek with her and with each stroke she pulled harder, but he was catching up with her. Their unofficial race would come to an end soon as the water was becoming too shallow for proper swimming the further they went.

‘Morning.' Fin came up to her. ‘When I saw you dive in, I thought it seemed a good idea.'

Gabe didn't reply but turned over on to her back to let the water carry her away. It was strangely intimate to be in the creek alone with Fin. The distant hum of a boat engine coming down the river provided the backbeat to the cry of a curlew and the screech of the gulls. The sky was pale blue behind the fast-moving clouds. If she focused on these things, and not on the man beside her, the world was good.

Voices carried on the wind and Gabe flipped over. A boat was about to break their solitude by turning into the creek. She pointed to the side and Fin nodded. At full throttle the powerboat approached and only slowed when the driver spotted them in the water. The raucous laughter was not followed by an apology, as it should have been. Even though it was out of season, speed restrictions should still be respected. The boat ignored Gabe and Fin and motored on.

‘That was close.'

Gabe nodded and maintained a slow breaststroke back towards the mouth of the creek. Being in the water with Fin was a perilous experience.

‘I'm sorry I disturbed you.'

Gabe turned to him. He did disturb her, but she could ­handle it. It was good, in a way, to feel attraction, and it was safe. He wouldn't be here for ever. Beside her, the surface of the water was covered with an armada of fallen leaves setting out to sea on the tide. She smiled, then splashed him. ‘Race you!'

 

A steady thumping noise flowed out of Gabriella's bedroom. It sounded like a beat of some sort but Jaunty wasn't sure. Gabriella must be working. She had muttered something about a zoo before she shut the door to her room after breakfast.

A sharp shower had begun and Jaunty rose to close the windows. The terrace was covered in puddles and the river and sky merged together, but if she looked east the sky was clear. She left her room and found Fin sitting in an armchair reading a book on illuminated manuscripts. He was waiting for her, Jaunty sensed, and she too was ready, but Gabriella was near. Even though Jaunty knew Gabriella would be wearing headphones the risk was too great.

‘Can you help me out to the studio?'

Fin looked up from his book. ‘Of course.' With care he marked the page and came towards her. She was unsteady on her feet now and with the path being wet he might have to carry her, but she couldn't talk to him with Gabriella so close. He took her arm and they made it to the door.

‘I had better let Gabe know where we are so she doesn't worry.' He smiled then dashed off to Gabriella's room.

‘True.' Jaunty held on to the dining table. He was a good soul. She was right to trust him. He would do as she asked and there was information that she wanted now. He would help her find it.

A man walked up to the door carrying a toolbox. ‘Morning. Is this Bosworgy?'

‘Yes.'

‘Excellent. I'm here to connect the Internet.'

Jaunty's eyes widened. The Internet? She opened her mouth to speak, but Gabriella came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder.

‘Wonderful. Come in out of the rain.'

Jaunty took a few steps backwards. She knew what the Internet was but she didn't know why they needed it. The phone was intrusion enough. Fin took her arm and with his other held an umbrella above her head. It kept the rain off her, but he was drenched by the time they reached the studio. Each step was an effort for Jaunty. She sucked breath in great gulps but it didn't seem to fill her lungs any more. Time was racing away like the tide at the moment. From here she could see the mudflats and across the river the beach at Calamansac looked large. The landscape became alien during these extreme tides and this evening the water would cover the quay, erasing it from the terrain.

After they entered the studio, Fin swiftly tidied the bed and took a towel off the back of the door to dry his hair and ­shoulders. Jaunty hobbled to the armchair. This was not going to be comfortable, but she must be brave. She could still remember how.

Fin filled the kettle and turned it on. He would make this easy for her. She just needed to begin. It didn't require a preamble but she might. How to start?

‘Is camomile tea OK?'

‘Yes, thank you.' He moved confidently about her things. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a key. When he handed her the mug she gave it to him.

‘What's this for?'

‘I need your help.' Jaunty tried to breathe. Her chest tightened, but not like the other day. ‘I have a secret and you have guessed that already.'

He nodded.

‘Well, I know the truth needs to be told but—' Jaunty stopped and closed her eyes as she brought her hands together. ‘I have realised that it needs to be told not just to Gabriella as I had thought, but to the world.'

‘Yes.' Fin sat on the edge of the bed.

‘Promise me you will do as I ask?'

‘How can I promise when I don't know if I can comply?'

Jaunty laughed. ‘True.' She looked at the camomile tea in her mug, then back at Fin. ‘All I'm asking you to do is to not reveal the truth until I am dead and that you do it as soon as I die.'

Fin frowned.

‘It sounds mysterious but I must do this my way. In the past I thought no one needed to know and the secret could go to the grave with me, but in recent years I have come to understand that Gabriella needs to know, that it might help her in some way. And now, as the end approaches, I realise the world has a right to know the truth.' She took a sip of tea then began. ‘Behind the head of the bed is a concealed door to a false wall. That key opens it . . .'

 

The engineer departed and Gabe smiled. She wouldn't have to go out to send her work off now and life would become easier.

Fin and Jaunty were still out in the studio. Jaunty was becoming very close to Fin, and Gabe didn't want to resent it, but she did a little. For years she had been the only other person to feature in her grandmother's life, but now there was someone else. She walked into the kitchen and pulled out the ingredients for sandwiches. When had she become possessive? She hadn't been as a child. Was it all connected to one event? She ripped bits of lettuce off the head and laid it on the bread, then remembered that she hadn't buttered it. Why, after all this time, did it still shape her life? Wasn't that letting him win?

She knew that answer and didn't like it. Opening a tin of tuna, she pushed him to the back of her mind and began humming the tune from Max's score. It was stunning; somehow the music had captured the Cornish landscape with its quiet moments followed by bleak passages that portrayed the moors with such heart-breaking beauty. The lush refrain brought the wooded river valleys to her mind. Even without the words this piece of music evoked Cornwall. As the heartbroken man travelled the length of the county looking for work, the music conjured the varied landscape and in her head she heard the swift notes and saw the light dancing off the turquoise water before it fell to the drumbeat of the waves hitting Lizard Point. Desolation.

The sandwiches in front of her were far from a work of art. She must do better if she was going to entice Jaunty into eating more than a mouthful. Gabe glanced out the back door. The rain had softened but she would still get soaked on the way to the studio if she tried to carry a tray. Maybe she should just go and get them? But what if Jaunty was actually working? Not likely, but if she was happy in the studio then she should stay.

Gabe could wrap up the sandwiches and take them out – it would disguise their dull appearance for one thing. She laughed. She was deluding herself and she had become very good at doing that.

‘Hi.' Fin dashed through the door shaking the rain off like a dog. ‘You read my mind.'

Gabe smiled. ‘How's Jaunty?'

‘Good. She's nodded off in the chair so I thought I'd make some lunch and take it to her, but you beat me to it.' He grinned and looked all boyish.

‘Great minds or something like that.' She cast him a sideways glance, loving his grin.

‘Are we connected to the world now?' He looked through to the sitting room.

His broad shoulders were soaked and his shirt clung to him. She took a deep breath. ‘Yes.'

‘Did you get any work done?' He picked up a baby plum tomato and ate it.

‘No, not while he was here.' Gabe sighed.

‘Much to do?'

‘Unfortunately yes.'

‘Well, don't worry about Jaunty. I'll keep an eye on her.'