The Way We Were (5 page)

‘Ca
mell
ia,' Archie had always cried impatiently. ‘It's pronounced ca
mell
ia. Not ca
meel
lia! How do you pronounce be l l? Bell. How do you pronounce mell? Me l l. Right, so it's camellia.'

The whole family, impressed by his passion, had abided by his dictum.

Em set out the French wrought-iron table and chairs, heard the car approaching and went swiftly inside and through the house to meet Liv. Standing at the top of the flight of steep stone steps, watching her getting out of the car, Em's heart gave a little painful tick: how like her mother, the young Julia, this beloved child was. How often Julia had come smiling up these steps, sometimes with Andy and Liv running ahead and Charlie astride her hip, or carrying some little offering as Liv did today.

‘Hi, Aunt Em.' Holding the cakes aside, Liv leaned to kiss the older woman. ‘What a magic day. Can we be outside?'

‘We can indeed, my darling. Go on through. I'll switch the coffee on and be right with you.'

As she decanted the cakes on to a plate, Em watched Liv as she stood for a moment in the sunny courtyard. Slender and supple, she lipped her face towards the sun, rising on her toes, stretching out her arms: the gesture reminded Em of some ancient ritual. Picking up the plate, she went out to her.

‘So how is life at Penharrow this morning? Clearly not
too
busy.'

Liv sat down. ‘I shouldn't really be here,' she admitted. ‘But it was such a fantastic day I simply couldn't resist. I can always work on later if I need to.'

Em nodded: she understood. From childhood onwards, the twins, Andy and Liv, had been subject to these mood swings; a sudden need to be outside in the sun and wind, free from constriction, would seize them. Frustrated by routine, easily bored, they'd conformed, up to a point, but still the wild adventuring spirit would come upon them, driving them on to new places or new jobs. Em could see that helping to get Penharrow up and running was exactly the kind of project that appealed to Liv: a new challenge, new ideas, new people to meet. All her energy was focused on it just as, at present, Andy's was concentrated on his rapidly expanding Internet company. However, Em knew how much Julia and Pete worried about the twins so she was always alert to any way in which she could encourage Liv and Andy towards the more conventional path whilst respecting their individualism and nurturing the particular essence of their creative spirits.

‘Have you thought what you might do after Penharrow?' she asked. ‘You've always given the impression that it's a shortterm project.'

‘Well, it is.' Liv settled comfortably, face to the sun, eyes closed. ‘I think they'll need me for a bit longer but, to be honest, I'm a kind of comfort zone they're not quite ready to move out from, if you see what I mean. The tourist industry is a totally new way of life for them and, after all, they've only been at it for a few months. I thought that I might look for something else after the summer season but I don't know where yet. Something will turn up, I expect.'

Em looked at her with amusement. This was so typical of Liv – and the odd thing was that something generally did turn up. Liv had a wide-flung web of friends owning hotels, bars, leisure centres across the West Country, one of whom always needed someone to help out at short notice, and Liv was not afraid of hard work so long as she could surf and sail and swim.

‘Did you watch
Antiques Roadshow
last Sunday?' Liv was asking. ‘No? I didn't sec it either but I had an email from Andy about it. Someone had brought along a little bronze and one of the experts was talking about its similarity to
The Child Merlin
that's in some German museum. Apparently there's some question whether the
Merlin
is a fake and Andy was asking if we still had our little statue. Do you remember the little Merlin, Aunt Em?'

Em drank some coffee and thought about it. ‘Yes, I do. Though I haven't seen him for years.'

‘We loved him when we were little.' Liv smiled, remembering. ‘He was rather sweet with the falcon on his wrist. It wasn't ours though, was it? It was Tiggy's. She brought it with her when she came to stay that summer. Can you remember Tiggy? Sometimes I think I can and then I think it's more what we were told about her than actually remembering.'

‘Of course I remember Tiggy. She was such a romantic figure, arriving in a snowstorm after that long journey from the Welsh Marches with her little dog.'

‘I remember the camper van,' said Liv. ‘Gosh, we loved that van. I must ask Mum about the little Merlin when she gets back. She and Dad have gone to Tavistock to help Caroline with the unpacking. Anyway, I doubt it's very important. There's bound to be hundreds of copies of it.' She stretched and sighed. ‘I suppose I'd better make a move or Val will be gelling twitchy.'

‘I should think she ought to be used to you by now,' suggested Em. ‘You and Andy were never ones to be ruled by the clock.'

Liv chuckled. ‘I know we're hopeless but we do our best work at odd times. Val's the complete opposite: everything by the clock. Poor old Chris has to hold the balance between us. Thanks for the coffee. And don't forget I need some new cards for the shop. Have you thought about it? I know we can reproduce the old favourites but I hoped you might be inspired to paint something new.'

‘I'll think about it,' promised Em.

CHAPTER TWO

2004

At Penharrow, Val and Chris were having another row.

‘She must see that it's just not on to dash off whenever she feels like it.' Val's face was pinched with frustration. She thrust her short dark hair away from her face with thin fingers. ‘The trouble with Liv is that she's never grown up. She sees herself as a free spirit who isn't subject to the ordinary rules that other people live by. And you encourage her.'

Chris sat at the table, his eyes on his empty plate, gently pushing the fork handle to and fro. He felt irritated: after all, he could have hardly ordered Liv to slay and work.

‘She does more than her fair share,' he said coolly. ‘We'd never have got Penharrow up and running without her and, just occasionally, she needs to let off steam. She'll probably work until late this evening.'

‘You always stand up for her.'

‘Oh, for God's sake,' he said impatiently, ‘I'm simply saying that this isn't some nine-to-five office job. It's a twenty-four seven project—'

‘You're telling me. And if I'd realized what a strain it was I'd never have let you talk me into it.'

‘Talk you into it? Come off it!' He shoved the plate to one side. ‘You were just as keen as I was. It was you who wanted to live the good life, if you remember.' A little pause. ‘And it was you who'd lost your job.'

She stared at him angrily, arms clenched and folded tightly beneath her breast. ‘Thanks,' she said. ‘Thanks for that.'

He made a gesture of conciliation. ‘I'm sorry. But—'

‘Always a “but”. Never just “sorry”.'

Chris stood up quickly, snatched up his plate, but then stood for a moment, considering.

‘We asked Liv to help us,' he said at last. ‘We both wanted to try this holiday letting business and Liv was here, on the spot, knew the area and the locals. All of that. She's had a great deal of experience in getting new projects off the ground. Don't forget she's got a very good reputation for it and we were very lucky she agreed to help us. She found Debbie and Myra for us, talked to the local craftspeople about stuff for the shop, designed the layout for the café. She takes a very small wage because she knows we need time to build things up, and she grafts damned hard and doesn't mind what she does. Every now and then she freaks out and dashes off to go surfing or to the pub with her mates. She told us she would and we accepted it because we both know how Liv operates. She worked her way round Australia; she temps; does odd things because she doesn't like to be tied down. But you know as well as I do that she is putting in much more than she's taking out and neither of us is in a position to tell her what to do. It's not that kind of set-up. We'd have looked a right pair of tools without her, I can tell you that much.'

‘And meanwhile who's going to help Debbie this afternoon now that Myra's got some kind of drama at home?'

‘I will,' he said briefly. ‘It's fine. I can manage.'

Val was silent, fingers balled into fists, out of her depth for the first time in her well-ordered life. Chris watched her, his irritation dissolving into compassion.

‘Val's finding it hard,' Liv had said to him privately. ‘She always needs to be in control and it scares her when she isn't. She's too high-handed with Myra and Debs because she's frightened that they'll take advantage but she'll have to learn to trust them a bit more. Meanwhile she needs lots of hugs.'

Chris thought: The trouble is I don't feel like hugging her at the moment. Right now I don't even like her very much.

The thought shocked him into action. He went round the table and put an arm round Val's stiff, unyielding shoulders.

‘Come on, love,' he said. ‘Let's not make a drama out of a crisis. Or is it the other way round?'

She wouldn't look at him or acknowledge his feeble joke, but he sensed a wavering and he bent and touched his lips lightly to her temple.

‘I'm going over to help Debbie out,' he said. ‘I enjoy it actually, chatting to the visitors. What do the locals call them? Emmets? It's good fun. Part of why we're doing this. Don't lose sight of that, Val.'

‘I'm so tired,' she said defensively, ‘and these headaches are wearing me down.'

‘It's just the stress of getting everything in full working order in time for Easter,' he told her. ‘And we've done it. The units are booked up way ahead and the café is picking up lots of passing trade. I know we can't sit back and put our feet up but we can try to enjoy parts of it.'

‘I'm not so good at fooling about with the staff as you are.' Val moved slightly away from him. She picked up his plate and began to load the dishwasher.

He watched her dispassionately: she'd lost weight and this new thin tautness didn't suit her, made her face look too sharp, rodent-like. And for heaven's sake, did she have to call Debs and Myra ‘the staff'?

‘Well, it's a good job that one of us is,' he said lightly. ‘Helps to get the work done. See you later.'

He went out, crossing the yard to the café, reacting with pleasure to the warmth of the sunshine and the crying of the gulls. The small kitchen was clean and smelled delicious. Myra and Debbie were conferring together and looked up anxiously at him as he came in.

‘I'm ever so sorry,' Myra said at once. ‘It's just the school's phoned. Gary's been sick and they want me to collect him. I've been trying to get hold of Mum but she's not answering.'

‘It's fine,' Chris said reassuringly. ‘Not a problem, Myra. You dash off and I'll give Debbie a hand. We can manage, can't we, Debs?'

‘Course we can.' Debbie beamed at him. ‘I was just telling her to get off.'

Chris went through into the high-raftered room and looked around. Four of the six tables were occupied and two women were lingering at the far end amongst the shelves and tables that held hand-painted cards, delightful pieces of pottery, guidebooks and a display of silk scarves. Everything was made locally; all the food products locally sourced. Chris felt a great surge of pride and smiled at a woman who was now approaching to pay her bill.

‘That was scrumptious cake,' she said appreciatively, taking out her purse.

‘Glad you enjoyed it,' he said, ‘and here's the cook,' as Debbie came out of the kitchen.

‘How do you manage to stay so slim with all this temptation about?' asked the woman saucily, looking him up and down as he rang up the till. She winked at Debbie. ‘I expect you keep him busy.'

‘Oh, I do,' agreed Debbie promptly. ‘Night and day. Never let up for a minute.'

They all laughed, enjoying the simple joke and the sunny day. Through the window Chris saw Val crossing the yard. Head bent, lips pursed, she seemed unaware of the sunshine; preoccupied with anxiety and weighed down by care. Another woman approached the counter; she carried a pretty hand-painted silk scarf, two cards with scenes of Port Isaac and a pottery candle-holder. He totted up her bill whilst an elderly couple came in and ordered two cream teas from Debbie: more jokes, more friendly chatter. When he looked again Val had disappeared.

Val checked out the laundry-room, wiped down the machines and swept the floor. It was important that it should be spotless at all limes; everything must be tidy. Debbie or Myra were supposed to give it the once-over each evening after the shop and café had been cleaned but she wondered if they always remembered it. Liv usually gave them a hand; she often heard them laughing and exchanging backchat; Liv never minded helping out with the most menial tasks.

As Val came out into the yard she saw Liv climbing out of her car, bag over her shoulder, holding a spray of flowers. It occurred to Val that Liv was so often carrying something – a bag of cakes, flowers, a bottle of wine – something received or to be given.

Watching her waving a greeting, her face flushed by the sun, Val resentfully wondered why Liv should be the recipient of so much generosity. There was a lightness about her; an air of spontaneity to which people responded with delight.