Plotted in Cornwall (12 page)

‘I just thought…’

‘That you know best. No mystery about it, he’s left his wife and moved away. He’s
probably helping his new woman wash up the Sunday lunch dishes as we speak.’

Rose ignored the sarcasm. There were several occasions when she had been proved right and Jack knew that. ‘Did they say why they wanted him to contact them?’

‘Usual thing. As you guessed, a legacy. The last of his elderly aunts died recently.’

‘Does Louisa Jordan have any claim to part of it?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Well, as far as I’m aware they’re not divorced. He buggered off on the day they were due to move and she’s not heard a word from him since.’

‘So she tells you. It may not be true. And your language hasn’t improved with age.’

‘Oh, dear. My apologies. I didn’t mean to ruffle the nice policeman’s sensibilities.’

‘It’s never stopped you before. Now, if that’s all, I’ve got a few things to do, I’ll speak to you soon.’

‘Bye, Jack.’ Rose did not ask what those things might be. She remained by the telephone table chewing a thumbnail while she digested what Jack had told her. It all sounded plausible and Louisa’s husband would be the right age to have an elderly aunt. Rose shook her head. Plausible, yes,
but Jack had not met the family and therefore was unable to sense the undercurrents which ran through it.

Forget it, she told herself as she went upstairs to run the bath.

Miranda, her mother and her aunt were walking on Bodmin Moor. All three were wrapped up against the cold wind which blew across the flat landscape despite the brightness of the day. Miranda had been home for almost three weeks and was finally beginning to loosen up. She still wasn’t sure why she had admitted to seeing Joel. There had been too many secrets in the past and she wanted some honesty now. Perhaps she had hoped to draw her mother out. She had talked about her flat and job and now, as they walked, she spoke of how she had met Michael.

‘How do you feel about him?’ Louisa asked.

‘I’m not certain. I thought I was sure when I was in London but everything seems different now that I’m back.’

Louisa took her arm. Any chance to be tactile was welcome. ‘And now? Today?’

‘I miss him. I suppose there’s been too much else to think about for me to analyse
it properly.’

‘If you’re not sure then he isn’t for you.’ Wendy spoke with conviction. It was one of her few remarks since they had left the house. She had been mostly silent since her return from Newlyn knowing she ought never to have acted as she had done. In fact, going there at all had been a big mistake. It was always better to leave things be.

‘Mum, could I ask him to come down? That way, seeing him out of his own surroundings, I might get a clearer picture of my feelings. It isn’t fair for me to keep him hanging on if it isn’t going to work.’

‘What a good idea. Why not ask him for Christmas if he has no plans? What do you say to that, Wendy?’

Wendy kept her eyes on the ground. ‘Our household grows larger by the minute. But it’s entirely your decision, Louisa – it is, after all, your house.’

Mother and daughter exchanged a look of surprise. There was bitterness in those words and Wendy had been acting strangely ever since Miranda’s return. ‘But you share it, and you pay your way. I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.’

‘I know. I’m sorry. I think, maybe, I’m coming down with something. I’m not
myself at all at the moment. Of course he must come.’ Her sister must never be allowed to know that she was jealous of Miranda. For the first time in her life Wendy had had Louisa to herself.

‘Then phone him tonight, Miranda,’ Louisa said. The matter settled, they retraced their steps and went back to the house for the Sunday roast which they had decided to eat in the early evening.

The dishes washed and put away, Miranda rang Michael who was thrilled to be invited. ‘My parents won’t mind. In fact, they’ll probably be relieved. My sister and her husband will be there and they’ve just had a baby. He’s the centre of attention at the moment.’ He made a note of the directions Miranda gave him. ‘I’ll see you next week. I can’t wait, I’ve really missed you,’ he said before he hung up.

Wendy, who had been listening to half of the exchange, said she was having an early night. ‘I really feel under the weather, I do hope I’m not ill for Christmas.’

‘Do you fancy a drink?’ Louisa asked when Wendy had gone. It was the first time she had been properly alone with her daughter. ‘We’ve got almost everything.’

‘I’d love one.’

They sat in armchairs each side of the blazing fire, their legs stretched out, their drinks in their hands. Until that moment neither of them had realised the strain that Wendy’s constant attendance had produced.

‘Can you tell me, darling, why you left the way you did?’ Louisa finally asked what had been on her mind since she had first seen Miranda on the doorstep.

‘No, Mum. Please don’t ask me. It just seemed the right thing to do at the time.’

‘To leave without saying goodbye, to not tell me you were safe and well? I’ve been worried sick and I missed you so badly. I know you left a note but it wasn’t enough, Miranda. I feel you owe me some sort of explanation. Were you with your father? I know things weren’t always good between the two of you but I thought you might’ve gone with him.’

Miranda met her mother’s eyes and knew that she had been extremely stupid. She had got things very wrong. ‘No. I wasn’t with him. I told you I had my own flat in London. I’ve no idea where he is.’

‘Then why? You’d have been at university, you needn’t have come here if you didn’t want to, in the vacations, I mean. You gave up so much. Tell me, was any of it to do with
Wendy? She’s been acting very oddly since you came back.’

‘No. It isn’t.’ Miranda felt the heat in her face, it was a lie, but a necessary one because her view of what had taken place the previous year had altered radically.

‘Then why are you and she so distant? She loved you almost as much as I did before we moved.’

‘Maybe she’s as disappointed in me as you are.’

‘I’m not disappointed in you, I don’t care what you do with your life as long as you’re happy and healthy.’

Tears filled Miranda’s eyes She should have stayed and faced things out, she had been mistaken about her mother, maybe all the rest of it was also a mistake. ‘Do you have any idea what happened to Dad?’

Louisa shook her head. ‘None whatsoever. One minute he was there, packing his things, the next he had gone. He only took one suitcase and his personal papers. He must’ve planned it months in advance.

‘As I said, things hadn’t been good, he had financial problems, but he seemed as keen as I was on the move. I thought it would provide us with a second chance, just the two of us, away from everything we knew,
away from temptation…. Obviously I was a fool to imagine it would work out.’

‘You still loved him despite…’

‘Despite the other women.’ She smiled wryly. ‘Oh, I knew about them but there weren’t as many as rumour would have it. They were affairs, nothing serious, I always thought he’d stay with me.’

‘But how do you cope, financially? You’re not divorced, I take it.’

‘No, we’re not. Your father sold the Penzance place and bought this one which was much less expensive, putting it in my name. I rather suspect the profit was used to pay off his overdraft because I haven’t heard a word from the bank. He could never resist a business gamble. Sometimes they paid off, sometimes they didn’t. Over the last few years he was becoming more reckless and consequently, more careless. I’ve no idea of the true state of his finances, all I know is that they haven’t affected me. I’ve an income of my own, Wendy pays her share and the house is fully paid for.’

‘Do you think he was using you?’

‘In what way?’

‘Well, once the house sale went through and he was solvent again perhaps he felt his conscience was clear. You were provided for
so he could take off.’ She prayed this was the case.

‘Maybe.’ Louisa threw a dry log on to the fire, unable to meet her daughter’s eyes. Sparks flew up the chimney and the flames cast shadows around the room. Outside the wind was gaining strength. It howled eerily across the open moorland and whistled down the chimney, making them both wonder if there was any truth in the supposed sightings of wildcats in the area which might have been released from captivity when stricter laws regarding keeping such animals as pets had come into being.

Wishing to prolong this new intimacy with her daughter, Louisa suggested another drink.

‘Didn’t you have any idea he was going?’ Miranda asked as she accepted the glass.

‘No. Any more than I did about you.’

‘I’m sorry, Mum. Can you ever forgive me?’

‘I forgave you the moment I saw you.’ She shook her head. ‘Whatever your reasons at least you came home. I thought your father was still helping with the packing. I was down at the bank sorting out all those last minute things and when I got back he had gone. Wendy told me he simply picked up a
suitcase and told her he was never coming back. She tried to stop him, to talk some sense into him, but he wasn’t having it.’ She shrugged as she studied her fingernails. ‘I suppose one could say that it was typical of Frank. Anyway, that’s in the past. I’m sure he’ll get in touch if he ever wants a divorce.’

‘Then it means he’s still got some claim on this house.’

‘Yes, I suppose it does. The law works both ways these days. No doubt he can prove it was his money that bought it.’

‘The day he left, Wendy told you all about that? Then she must’ve been alone in the house with him.’

‘Yes. Why?’ Louisa frowned, she was certain something was wrong between aunt and niece.

‘Oh, nothing.’ She paused. ‘It was great seeing Joel again. I’ve been such a fool, not keeping in touch with anyone. I must’ve had a brainstorm, perhaps it was the thought of leaving everything I had ever known and loved.’

‘What did you talk about, you and Joel?’

‘Old times, what we’d both been doing. He’s going to be an artist. Rose Trevelyan thinks he’s got it in him. I liked her, Mum, I had a feeling she’d help me, just as Joel said
she’d helped him.’ If her mother knew what she had told Joel she would be horrified.

‘But if you were so keen to see him why didn’t you go to the house?’

‘I was embarrassed. I wasn’t sure what Uncle Roger and Petra would think of me after all this time, especially as they were so good to me. I just wouldn’t have been able to explain why I hadn’t kept in touch but I knew Joel would understand.’

But you haven’t really explained your reasons to me, either, my darling, Louisa thought, but she knew better than to press Miranda that night. Her flimsy excuses didn’t ring true but at least she had begun to talk. Wendy and Miranda suspect something, she thought, but I really can’t imagine what. Not the truth, certainly they couldn’t have picked on the truth.

‘I’m tired, Mum, I think I’ll go up. It must be all this fresh air and exercise. It’s a different kind of tiredness to what you feel in London, nicer, as if you’ve earned it somehow.’ She leaned over and kissed Louisa’s cheek. ‘See you in the morning.’

‘Take a lamp.’

Miranda smiled. ‘I keep forgetting. It’s rather fun in a way.’ She lit one and left the room.

The stairs creaked beneath her feet even though she weighed little. Passing Wendy’s room she heard the light snores of someone starting a head cold. How can she sleep so soundly? Miranda wondered. How can she sleep at all? Yet I manage to sometimes, she realised as she placed the lamp on the bedside table.

Her shadow danced across the walls as she undressed. Five minutes later she was sleeping soundly.

Louisa leaned back in her chair. Would she have to alter her plans? Would Miranda ever understand? And what about Wendy? What a fool she had been allowing her to move in. But I was lonely and missing Frank dreadfully, she admitted. As I still do.

She got up. It was time to go to bed.

Barry Rowe was waiting on the pavement outside his shop when the taxi pulled up. The lane at the rear of the building was too narrow for traffic although he could reach his first-floor flat from there by way of a
metal staircase. It could also be reached via stairs at the rear of the shop. ‘Wow, very glam,’ he said as he slid into the back seat beside Rose. Beneath her open coat was a silky dress in apple green. She had left her hair to fall loose around her shoulders and had spent more time than usual on her make-up.

‘You don’t look too bad yourself.’ She glanced at his jacket. It was another new one. He had finally decided to spend some money on himself. And not before time, Rose thought.

‘Will I know anyone?’

‘I’ve no idea. Apart from Roger and Petra it’s doubtful if I will either. But you never know.’ The community within West Penwith was tight-knit, there was more than a chance they would meet someone they knew or someone who was a friend of someone they knew.

As they left the outskirts of Penzance Rose gave the driver directions. When they reached the house it was once again ablaze with lights but this time there were several cars parked in the spacious drive. Barry paid their fare as he had promised. Rose shivered. It had been hot in the taxi but the wind was blowing now, seemingly from
several directions as her coat swirled at the hem and her hair was lifted and tossed around her face. Bare trees and evergreen shrubs rattled as they made their way to the front door.

Roger Penhaligon let them in. ‘We’re glad you could make it, Rose.’ He shook Barry’s hand, managing to manipulate a whisky glass and a thick cigar in his left hand as the introductions were made. ‘We’re not a big crowd, just a few friends. As we’re deserting them all for Christmas we felt we ought to do our bit first.’

Money, Barry thought as he assessed his surroundings quickly, and plenty of it. These were the Penhaligons, the people with whom Rose had become involved. How many times had he told her not to get involved? How many times had Jack done so? But money was a powerful thing, the root of many crimes. Maybe she was right to take an interest in this family.

When they entered the lounge Rose was surprised to see Joel talking to contemporaries of his parents. She had imagined he would have taken himself off somewhere with some of his own. He smiled when he saw her and came over to say hello.

‘This is Barry Rowe.’ Rose wondered if
Joel would come to the wrong conclusion about their relationship, and if he did, why it mattered.

‘Hi. I’m Joel Penhaligon.’

To Barry’s surprise he held out a hand. His grip was firm. The boy was more mature than he had expected, and better-looking.

‘Let’s not monopolise our celebrity guest, I want to show her off,’ Roger said as he took Rose’s elbow and led her around the room, introducing her to the other guests. Barry followed them doggedly, hoping that he could have Rose to himself for at least a part of the evening.

Petra was in the kitchen surrounded by trays of food. Either she was an excellent hostess or they had hired caterers. ‘Hello, Rose.’ She frowned. ‘Do you think there’s enough to go round?’

Rose grinned. ‘Masses. What do you think, Barry?’ But when she turned he had disappeared.

‘I always worry when we entertain. I know those people are all old friends, but—’

‘Everything looks fine, Petra,’ Rose interrupted just as Barry returned and placed a glass in her hand. Rose thanked him. ‘I didn’t expect Joel to be here.’

‘Neither did we. Duty dictated, I think. He suddenly decided he didn’t want to come to Madeira with us so I assume he felt obliged to do his bit this evening.’

‘What’s he going to do over Christmas?’

Petra shrugged and brushed back her hair. ‘Who knows what boys that age will do? I thought Roger would be furious but ever since you came that night he and Joel seem to have come to some sort of an understanding. Joel’s given his word that there won’t be any wild parties. We have to trust him. After all, he’ll be eighteen in January. A man. It doesn’t bear thinking about.

‘Anyway, we know he’s spending Christmas Day with a friend and his family. The rest is up to him.’

‘He’s more than welcome to come to me if he needs a square meal,’ Rose said, ignoring the scowl on Barry’s face. ‘When did he change his mind?’

‘Last week. He simply announced he no longer wanted to come. Still, at that age few boys want to go away with their parents.’

Miranda, Rose thought. Joel had changed his mind since their meeting. How much did he know? How much had Miranda confided in him? Enough to give up the chance of a holiday? She would have loved to have
been able to overhear their conversation.

She and Barry circulated and made the requisite small talk but it was not a party either of them particularly enjoyed. Money seemed to be the main topic of conversation, money and boats. Rose loved the sea, but only when viewed from the land. She was not a good sailor.

‘Roger, did you follow up on what I told you?’ she asked some time later when he was alone at the drinks table.

‘About Miranda? No. It’s enough to know that she’s safe. She knows where we are if she needs us. Joel took the news very calmly. I was surprised.’

So Roger had told Joel that Miranda was back before I passed on her message, Rose realised, which explained his lack of surprise.

Just before they left Rose found an opportunity to speak to him. ‘Look, I know you’ll be on your own over Christmas. You’ve got my number, just give me a ring if you want to. I’ll be more than happy to cook you a meal.’

‘Thank you. I’ll do that. Actually, I was going to ring you anyway.’

‘Oh?’

Joel shook his head. What he wanted to say
would have to wait, he could not discuss what was on his mind with so many people around.

A loud knock on the door let Rose and Barry know that their taxi had arrived. Barry looked relieved. Socialising was not one of his strong points and when he engaged in it he preferred more intimate gatherings. At least Rose hadn’t known anyone other than their hosts, a fact which surprised him. ‘Room for another drink?’ he asked as they pulled out into the main road.

Rose glanced at her watch. Eight forty; it wasn’t late. They had decided in advance that two hours was the optimum time to stay. To leave too early or to linger after others had gone would have seemed impolite. ‘No, not tonight, Barry. I’m a bit tired.’ And although she refused to admit it, she was still upset about Jack. An early night would do her good.

In bed she realised she had missed an opportunity to learn anything new about Frank Jordan and his family. The Penhaligons would be out of circulation for a while now.

For the next two days Rose was able to work outside. She had decided to paint the Minnack 
and its dramatic setting. The open-air amphitheatre was carved out of the cliffside and had spectacular sea views. To one side, way down, was a sheltered beach of fine white sand edged with an aquamarine sea. Ahead was the Atlantic ocean. She had been to many productions at the Minnack, once or twice with Jack, but she would not let those memories interfere with her work.

On the first day, Thursday, she found a spot out of the breeze, hoping it wouldn’t change direction. She pulled on her fingerless gloves and surveyed the scene, deciding upon the best aspect. The myriad colours of the sea would take some capturing but she was sure she could do it. After twenty minutes she began preparing the blank canvas.

It was just what she had needed. Four uninterrupted hours of fresh air and pure concentration. Four whole hours without thinking about Jack or the Penhaligon family. She would have stayed longer but the December days were short and already the light was changing, the colours were no longer vibrant. She watched a cormorant skim the surface of the water before disappearing around the jagged cliffside. Shadows lengthened, altering the vista
further. Impossible to work any longer.

The good weather lasted and by Friday afternoon Rose began to hope that the painting would turn out to be as good as the Zennor one. Sitting beneath a blue sky in which a few curls of white cloud had appeared she watched the gulls drift in the air currents. It was hard to believe it was almost Christmas. And I still have things to do, she remembered.

She stood and stretched, feeling the wind in her face once she was no longer protected by the rocky outcrop. Home. Home and a nice quiet evening.

Rose was in the kitchen, a glass of wine in her hand. It was dark but the house was warm and cosy. She studied the mackerel in front of her, head on one side. Grilled, she decided, because it was easiest.

The telephone rang. Quickly topping up her glass in case it was Laura wanting a long chat, she went to answer it.

‘Is your offer still on, Mrs Trevelyan?’ Joel asked.

‘Of course.’ Rose had wondered if he was being polite at the party. What teenage male would want to share a meal with a solitary middle-aged woman? Over the past two days she had put his eager response down to
a drop too much of his father’s excellent wine. But she hoped he didn’t intend coming that night; she liked plenty of time to prepare when she was entertaining.

‘Mum and Dad left this morning. I think I’ll enjoy being alone in the house. Is tomorrow too soon?’

‘Tomorrow’s fine. What time would you like to come?’

Instead of answering the question he asked one of his own. ‘Would you think it rude of me if I asked if I could bring someone?’

‘Not at all.’ Miranda, Rose thought. It has to be. ‘Your cousin?’

‘Yes.’

‘Does her mother know?’ Rose did not want a repeat of the scene with Wendy Penhaligon.

‘Yes. She had to know because Miranda will be staying with me overnight. We have things to discuss.’

I’ll bet, Rose thought, longing to know what they were. But the telephone was not the best medium by which to conduct the conversation she wanted to have with him. Tomorrow would do. Yet she sensed the young couple needed someone in whom to confide and that questions might be
unnecessary. ‘Good. Then come for lunch. Is there anything either of you don’t eat?’

‘No. Nothing at all.’

‘In that case I’ll expect you any time after twelve.’ It would mean no work tomorrow but a day off wouldn’t hurt. And her curiosity had been aroused anew. It was at such times she missed Jack badly. She could have invited him to make up a foursome and he could have formed his own opinion about her guests. Except, she realised, they probably wouldn’t confide in her if there was someone else present.

Rose went back to the kitchen and prodded the vegetables. They were just beginning to tenderise. Perfect timing. The petrol colours of the mackerel gleamed. She placed it, whole, under the grill. Within minutes its rich, oily aroma made her realise how hungry she was.

Sitting at the kitchen table, the radio playing quietly, she planned the lunch she would prepare tomorrow.

At eight she rang her parents to confirm the Christmas arrangements. She still had no idea what to buy them. They seemed to have everything they needed. But time was running out. Monday was the twenty-third and the day of their arrival, that was the only
morning left in which to shop. Something would catch her eye, it usually did at the last minute.

She had decided to cook a traditional roast for Joel and Miranda. She never bothered to do so just for herself. By eleven o’clock on Saturday morning the meat was in the oven and the vegetables were prepared. Rose went outside to inspect the garden. Her father was sure to comment upon its winter untidiness. She weeded the border at the side and cut back the geraniums in their pots. There was already new growth shooting out from the joints.

A car turned into the drive and came to a stop behind hers. Miranda pulled hard on the hand-brake because of the steepness of the drive. They had arrived fifteen minutes early.

‘It’s nice to see you both again,’ Rose said with a smile as they got out. ‘Come on in and we’ll have a drink. Just let me wash my hands.’ She dumped the plastic bag of garden rubbish in the bin and scraped the soil from her hands beneath the kitchen tap. ‘Now what would you like? I’ve got beer, wine, sherry or something stronger.’

‘Wine for me, please,’ Miranda said as she unwound her scarf and shook out her hair.

‘I’ll have a beer,’ Joel replied, wondering how on earth they could tell this woman what they suspected. But someone ought to know. It was not fair to Miranda to have to keep such knowledge to herself for ever. He realised he hadn’t been totally shocked when she told him her fears. The same thought had crossed his mind in the beginning.

‘Lunch won’t be ready until one. Let’s go into the sitting-room. I’ve lit the fire.’

Sunshine spilled in through the window where Miranda and Joel stood admiring the view.

‘If only you knew how much I’ve missed all this,’ Miranda said with a sweeping gesture of her hand. ‘I don’t know how I stuck it in London for so long. Well, I’m back now.’ She smiled at Rose. ‘And back in contact with Joel, thanks to you.’

All three sat, Joel and Miranda on the two-seater settee, Rose in an armchair near the fire. Lighting it had not been necessary, it was merely a welcoming gesture. The sitting-room door stood open so it wasn’t too hot. ‘You told me you didn’t feel you could meet Roger and Petra,’ Rose began, wanting to break the ice. She could sense their slight discomfort. ‘Was there any reason other than your embarrassment after
such a long time?’

Miranda sighed. ‘Yes. I didn’t want them asking me questions about Dad. Mrs Trevelyan, I really don’t know what to do. I might’ve wasted a year of my life over something which has been driving me mad even though I don’t have any proof. Joel knows, and I think he agrees with me. Would you mind if I told you what it is?’

‘No. And I can assure you I’ll do or say nothing to anyone unless you wish me to.’

‘I don’t see what anyone can do.’ She sipped her wine and placed the glass on the small table beside her. ‘I think my father is dead. Everyone assumes he went off with another woman, but I don’t think he’d have left Mum. When I look back on it I think he loved us. But when time passed and neither he nor my mother made any effort to find me I became more and more convinced that something was dreadfully wrong. I just couldn’t face going home or even making contact in case I was right. Anyway, from things I’ve learned I realise now that my mother had nothing to do with it.’