The Cornish Guest House (13 page)

Just then they heard a cry and saw Sylvia, Rick, with another spade, and Audrey hurrying towards them, followed by Felipe, carrying what looked very much like a pair of bellows and a heavy saucepan.

‘What the—?’ said Tony, but there was no time for speculation because Rick had jogged ahead of the others and come to a halt in front of the group, panting and red in the face.

‘Not found her yet?’ He was still wearing his swimming trunks, now clinging wetly to his hairy thighs, plus a grey sweatshirt and old trainers. Luke continued digging.

‘Felipe’s got an idea,’ Rick puffed. ‘His mother breeds terriers in Rio. Very popular there apparently.’

Tony raised his eyebrows and Audrey, who’d now caught up, elucidated. ‘Brazilian terriers. They’re quite famous.’ She was still in her soggy towelling robe and, though bedraggled, managed to bat her eyelashes when Luke glanced up and give a fetching smile.

Felipe, behind, pushed forward so that he was standing next to Luke at the mouth of the warren. ‘My mother’s terrier are always getting stuck. Most annoying. But they are very good for catching rats and mice – and skunks. Also for crowding chickens.’

‘Herding,’ Tony said helpfully, but his partner, brandishing the bellows, didn’t hear.

‘This is what we use in Rio.’ He gestured for Luke to move out of the way, set the saucepan down in front of the hole and lifted off the lid, releasing a waft of meaty steam.

‘That’s my soup!’ exclaimed Tony, only just realising. ‘What are you doing with my soup?’

Liz peered into the saucepan, filled with grey-brown liquid, barley and bones. It didn’t look much but smelled delicious.

‘I was going to have it for lunch,’ Tony added ruefully, but everyone was watching, fascinated, while Felipe crouched down and proceeded to pump soupy steam down the shaft with the bellows.

Liz wanted to giggle but managed to control herself. Meanwhile Sylvia sidled over to Luke and asked in a low voice if he was cold in just his shirtsleeves.

‘Would you like to borrow my coat?’ she offered, and he laughed. ‘I don’t get cold. I’m a man.’

‘I can see that,’ she simpered, and Audrey shot her a dirty look.

There was silence for a few moments until they heard a short, sharp yip, followed by a furious scrabbling.

‘It’s her!’ Jenny cried joyfully, jigging up and down on the spot. ‘It’s working!’

Felipe nodded sagely. ‘It works every time, I tell you. Much better than digging.’

Liz glanced at Luke, who seemed almost annoyed, or was she imagining it? But he quickly rallied, standing over Felipe and shining the torch down the cavity.

‘I can see her! She’s right there. Come on, girl, that’s it, there’s a good dog.’

He took a step back and while Felipe pumped a bit more, Jenny’s nose suddenly popped out of the opening, followed by her front paws and upper body. She was covered in earth.

‘Quick, grab her!’ said John, and as Luke leaned forward and tried to seize the collar he accidentally knocked into Felipe, who tumbled backwards, sending the saucepan and its contents flying.

Sally, who couldn’t believe her luck, quickly heaved herself out of the hole and fell on the food, licking and gobbling up as much as she could before anyone could intervene.

‘Oh!’ Jenny cried, alarmed. ‘She’ll choke on the bones. Quick! Somebody stop her!’

Now it was Sylvia’s turn to lunge forward, but her foot hooked round Luke’s ankle, and he keeled over and landed flat on his face in the mound of sticky mud that he’d dug from the hole.

There was a collective gasp, then she bent down and tried to yank him up by the arm as she grasped Sally’s collar.

‘Leave me alone!’ he roared, shaking Sylvia off, and she backed away, still hanging on to the dog for dear life.

‘Are you all right?’ she squeaked, ignoring Rick, now hovering by her side, but Luke didn’t say anything as he got on to his hands and knees and rose slowly, turning only when he’d reached his full height and everyone could see the damage.

He was literally covered in thick wet muck, all down his clean blue shirt, over his chinos and nice tan shoes and across the palms of his hands. But the worst part was his face, which was caked, too. Even his eyelids were encrusted in goo so that he could scarcely open them.

Laughter bubbled inside Liz again, it was all too much, and this time she simply couldn’t stop.

‘Are you hurt?’ she spluttered, hoping that he’d see the funny side and join in, but instead he stood stock-still, trembling with anger. If a body could glower, then his was incandescent with rage, which somehow only made it funnier.

‘Oh, dearie me,’ Tony tutted, ‘oh, lordy lumpkins,’ which made Liz snort again. ‘Here, take this.’ He produced a clean white hankie from his trouser pocket which he offered Luke, but he couldn’t see so it had to be placed in his hand.

The others now sprang into action and began casting around for more tissues and Liz managed to find a small pile in her coat pocket. Meanwhile, Sylvia fussed and flapped around, trying to get at Luke’s face with a corner of her sleeve.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she was saying, ‘I didn’t mean… I was trying to grab the dog…’

Luke raised his arm like a shield to fend off her advances – ‘I can do it. Leave me alone!’ – while Audrey stood back and watched the show, looking suspiciously as if she was enjoying her rival’s discomfort.

Jenny now had Sally in her arms and was stroking her affectionately. ‘Bad dog!’ She wasn’t fooling anyone. Sally, though filthy, didn’t seem any the worse for wear and yelped and wriggled furiously, but her mistress held fast while John attached the lead.

‘Thank God for that,’ he said, slapping Felipe on the back. ‘We couldn’t have done it without you!’

Felipe gave a modest shrug while Tony grinned from ear to ear.

At last, when Luke had cleaned his face enough to be able to see properly, Sylvia plucked up the courage to ask again if he was all right. ‘Let me wash your clothes,’ she said abjectly. ‘It’s the least I can do.’

‘We’ll come back to your place and you can give them to us,’ Rick chipped in. ‘The mud will come off those shoes no problem. I’ve got a special brush.’

Luke stamped his feet and shook the dirt off his hands. He seemed to have regained at least some of his composure. ‘I’m fine. No damage done.’

Then he smiled; his handsome face lit up and he was the old Luke again, charming, relaxed, friendly Luke, everyone’s friend. ‘What an adventure, eh? Thank goodness we found the dog!’

He turned to Sylvia, hovering by his side, and congratulated her on catching Sally. ‘If you hadn’t made a dash for it, she might have disappeared down that hole again!’

Sylvia’s shoulders relaxed and there were no objections when he put his arm round her waist and gave her a squeeze, despite the fact that it made her fake-fur coat dirty. All, it seemed, was forgiven, though Liz thought that if he’d snarled like that at her, she wouldn’t forget in a hurry.

As they headed back to the village, Sylvia and Audrey stuck close to his side, chatting and laughing. If Rick minded, he didn’t show it, but Liz did wonder if he’d have liked his girlfriend to walk with him.

The others trailed behind, talking about what had happened, and Jenny commented that Sally must have been terribly frightened down that hole. ‘I’ve heard of terriers getting stuck for days. She might have starved to death!’

John harrumphed. ‘If you ask me, that dog was having a grand old time and had no intention of coming up till she was good and ready. We should have saved ourselves a lot of trouble and left her to it.’

‘Rubbish!’ said Jenny. ‘How can you be so heartless?’

Liz rather suspected that John might be right, but she hung back and waited for Tony and Felipe to catch up, sensing that it would be imprudent to get involved.

Rosie broke up from school a few days before Christmas, and she and Liz had a happy time wrapping presents, writing cards and putting up decorations. Liz’s father, Paul, wouldn’t be joining them, having promised to spend the festive season with his wife in London. Liz and Rosie didn’t mind too much, however, because they’d enjoyed his company so much last year and were content just to be with Robert. They’d fix up something with Granddad in the spring.

The lights went up in the village in early December, amidst much fanfare as usual, including the annual carol-singing in the market square led by the Methodist church choir and a big brass band. Everyone joined in, and it gave Rick an opportunity to show off his booming baritone. Barbara, from The Lobster Pot, kindly provided free mulled wine and mince pies, and quite a few people got tipsy, including a number of teenagers whose parents either failed to notice or turned a blind eye.

When the singing finished, it was the turn of the local Morris dancers, including Barbara’s son, Aiden, who created a stir in his splendid Cornish kilt, tattered jacket and black top hat adorned with leaves and feathers, bell pads jangling merrily from his shins. Some while back, he’d managed to persuade Alex to join the ranks, on the basis that he’d only have to stand in a corner, playing his accordion, but little by little Alex had become more involved and now he jigged, stepped, bashed his stick and waved his multicoloured handkerchief like the best of them. No one had ever seen an Elvis-style Morris Man before.

A Winkle in Time was open on Christmas Eve, so Liz and Rosie stayed at home while Robert worked, and Pat joined them for a glass of her favourite green ginger wine. Liz kept a bottle in especially. They were joined by Jean and Tom, who were alone this year as their married children were staying with the families of the other halves. They weren’t exactly bereft, however, having booked ten days in Florida, leaving on the twenty-seventh. Jean was quite beside herself with excitement.

They were sitting round the fire in Liz’s cosy front room, in one corner of which stood a lusty green tree covered in lights and glittering baubles. Rosie had also strung white fairy lights round the mantelpiece and tucked sprigs of holly with deep red berries behind the picture frames on the walls, and there was a spray of mistletoe tied to the ceiling lamp in the centre of the room. The place looked very jolly.

‘I really shouldn’t. I’ve managed to lose half a stone,’ said Jean, eyeing the plate of smoked salmon triangles on brown bread that Liz passed across. ‘I don’t want to look like a whale in my swimming costume.’

‘You couldn’t possibly. You always look lovely,’ said her husband gallantly. He was sitting beside her on the sofa, nursing a pint of lager. ‘Have one if you fancy it.’

‘Oh, go on, then,’ said a relieved Jean, helping herself to a canapé. ‘It’s only small.’

They chatted for a while about village life and Jean wondered if anyone had seen Tabitha recently.

‘Not for ages,’ replied Liz. ‘It’s extraordinary. I don’t think she ever leaves the house.’

Jean sniffed. ‘Perhaps that’s the custom in her culture. I wouldn’t know.’

Liz shot her a look. ‘I don’t believe the customs are any different in Manchester, are they? She was born and brought up in the North.’

Jean was a dear friend, but Liz couldn’t abide the casual racism that sometimes slipped out of her mouth, and unfortunately she wasn’t the only one around here. It was important to challenge ignorance because only then would people start to change.

Pat, who thought well of everyone unless disappointed and was generally pretty broad-minded, would normally have backed Liz up. Instead, however, she shook her head.

‘Tabitha doesn’t belong in Tremarnock, that’s for sure. She doesn’t understand our way of life.’

‘Maybe she’s just shy,’ Rosie chipped in, sensing the frostiness that had crept into the atmosphere. ‘Anyway, Luke fits in well. I really like him.’

‘Excellent fellow,’ Tom agreed. ‘Always stops by to admire the garden and say hello.’

Liz rose swiftly and took the empty glass out of Pat’s hand. ‘Time for a top-up? It is Christmas after all.’

When the guests left, she and Rosie made their way up Humble Hill to the Methodist church, pausing for a moment to gaze at the myriad stars glittering in the night sky.

‘Can you see Santa and his reindeer?’ Liz asked, knowing that Rosie was really way beyond such childishness.

‘I think so!’ she replied, amused. ‘I hope he doesn’t forget me!’

As they approached the little steps that led up to the main entrance, a gang of rowdy youths passed by, laughing and swaying on their way back from the pub.

‘Don’t get too drunk!’ they shouted, and Liz gave a wry smile in return.

The church was quite plain inside, with simple wooden pews and an unadorned altar, and she half expected they’d be the only ones there, as many people preferred the candlelit service at the Catholic church. But in fact there was a decent crowd, the place smelled of polish and was cheered up by one of Pat’s displays of red and white flowers near the pulpit, as well as a sweet nativity scene and a big Christmas tree with an angel on the top. She and her helpers had been busy.

Rosie spotted Audrey and her aged mother right up front, wearing magnificent fur hats, as well as Barbara and a female relative. A few minutes later, a visiting family arrived with their two handsome teenage boys, and Rosie sat up straight and peeped at them out of the corner of an eye. Liz felt a pang, because she was certain that the boys hadn’t registered her. Never mind, her time would surely come.

The minister was a strange-looking fellow with a bald head, little round glasses and a stubby nose that was almost swallowed up by his big red cheeks. Rumour had it that he enjoyed a glass of port or three, but no one held it against him as he worked hard and kept a close eye on his admittedly dwindling flock. He spread his arms wide to welcome the congregation before they sang the opening carol, ‘O Come, All Ye Faithful!’, and a warm feeling spread through Liz, like hot tea on a cold day. Christmas was finally here!

Rosie yawned a few times during the sermon and rested her head against her mother’s arm, but she perked up for ‘Away in a Manger’, then had to stifle a giggle during Communion when Audrey’s old mum’s fur hat fell off into the aisle and she made a huge song and dance about retrieving it. To crown it all, she put it back on skew-whiff, giving her the appearance of a tipsy Hussar.