The Cornish Guest House (16 page)

‘Hold on, we’re still moving.’

Once Liz had parked, Rosie hopped out with a quick ‘Bye’ and hurried, lopsided, towards the boy, who was strolling in her direction. He smiled shyly until he caught sight of Liz then looked away, embarrassed. She quickly checked her mirror before pulling off; she’d be in trouble with her daughter otherwise.

The way home was in the same direction from which she’d come, but she decided against doing a three-point turn as it would have prolonged her daughter’s mortification. Instead, she set off up the road, intending to take the next turning and double back, grinning to herself as she gained speed and left the school far behind.

Ever alert to the possibility that Rosie was being bullied or that her illness had returned, it had never in a million years occurred to Liz that she might have a boyfriend, or someone she was keen on anyway. Perhaps it was Tim that she’d been on the phone to; it would certainly explain the secrecy. Liz couldn’t wait to tell Robert.

In her excitement she somehow managed to lose her way. It had happened many times when she’d first moved to the area, when all the country roads had looked the same and she’d frequently had to stop and ask. Now, however, she felt like a native and couldn’t remember the last time she’d been confused.

This morning, though, she was distracted and managed to take a wrong fork and ended up on an A road heading in the wrong direction. She drove several miles without coming to a roundabout, then decided that instead of pushing on, she’d take a left and double back along the lanes. It couldn’t be too difficult.

Before she knew it, however, she was in an unfamiliar territory, on tiny country roads with no signposts. The more she went down, the more bewildered she became so that she started to wonder if she was going round in circles. On either side, she couldn’t see over the tops of the hedges, which were broken up only occasionally by identical wooden gates leading to identical fields, where the January weather seemed to have leeched all the colours into indistinct browns, tans and greys. There wasn’t a soul in sight.

After a while she began to feel tired, nauseous and a little desperate, and cursed herself for failing to fix the satnav; she’d talked about it often enough. It was cold out and the heating was on full blast, but that only made her woozy so she decided to stop for a moment in a lay-by and gather her thoughts. She wound down the window and gulped a few deep breaths of fresh, chill air, telling herself to keep calm.

Feeling a little better, she pulled her phone out of her bag and noticed, as she’d suspected, that the battery was dead. There was nothing to do but soldier on until she reached a sign or familiar landmark, or came across a real live person at last. Had she passed this sharp bend before? She had no idea because there were so many others like it. She thought that if she weren’t so cross and weary she’d find it funny, and wondered if she was going mad. Either that or she was unwell; she certainly wasn’t thinking straight.

The road swerved to the left and she accelerated up a short, steep hill. Just before reaching the top, a battered blue car careered over the brow and screeched to a halt in front of her, narrowly avoiding a collision. They’d both been going too fast and Liz unlocked the door, preparing to jump out, apologise and ask where they were at the same time. Before she could do so, however, the driver, a bald, red-faced man, slammed a fist on the horn and flashed his lights furiously. Thinking better of it, Liz turned and reversed halfway back down the slope until she could pull in and let him pass. The last thing she needed right now was a fight with a foul-tempered motorist.

As he went by he lowered his window and swore at her and she surprised herself by bursting into tears. This wasn’t like her; normally she’d have shrugged it off, or shouted something rude in return. Come to think of it, she hadn’t been quite herself for several days. It was hard to describe what the matter was, but she’d felt out of sorts – weak, vague, tearful and, yes, a little queasy. She’d imagined that it was the time of year, that post-Christmas blip when everyone seemed to pick up coughs and colds and complain about nasty bugs going round, as well as the weather. It usually passed when the first daffodils poked their heads through the hard earth and pale green leaves started to appear on the trees.

A thought flashed through her mind and her stomach lurched, as if she were on a boat. It couldn’t be, could it? The idea was at once so terrifying and thrilling that she could scarcely entertain it, and she felt like screaming at the top of her voice at the distant cattle and sheep in the fields beyond. But she might be wrong, of course, she shouldn’t leap to conclusions. There was one sure-fire way to find out…

Newly refreshed, she set off once more until at last she came to a sign saying ‘Netted logs and ducks for sale’. She pulled hard on the wheel, swooped into the turning and there in front of her was a white farmhouse with a barn alongside, housing a muddy red tractor. The place looked deserted but she could hear a dog bark so she rang the bell and soon, to her relief, a small woman in jeans and a green sweatshirt appeared. Liz blushed slightly, embarrassed to have to admit that she was lost, but the woman was unruffled.

‘I know what it’s like,’ she said with a smile, resting some paper against the wall and drawing a sketchy map. ‘I’ve got no sense of direction whatsoever.’

She slipped on a pair of clogs and walked to the gate, pointing to her left. ‘Follow the road a few hundred yards until you reach a wooden stile and a notice saying public footpath.’ She indicated where it was on her map. ‘Turn sharp right after that, then second left, then first right and you’ll see a sign marked, “Caution! Otters crossing”.’

Liz thought she knew the sign; she and Rosie had passed it once and commented. They’d opened the windows and craned their necks, looking for evidence, but much to their disappointment hadn’t spotted a single animal. From the sign, it wasn’t far to the A road that she’d taken earlier and once there she could find her way back to Tremarnock.

‘Thank you so much,’ she gushed. ‘I was beginning to think I’d be driving in circles for ever!’

She felt like cheering when she reached the crucial fork and spotted the sign, and vowed to phone the garage that very day about the satnav. She was itching to go home but instead took a well-known detour into the local town and parked the car in the high street. As she put money in the meter she saw Esme, pulling a lurid pink and black zebra print shopping trolley on the opposite side of the road, but pretended not to notice. Then she hurried into the supermarket to buy a few items for Pat, followed by the pharmacy, hoping that she wouldn’t spot anyone else she knew.

Anxious to reach home, she was planning to just drop Pat’s groceries off without going in, but when the old woman came to the door it was obvious that something was wrong. Pat pulled a strange face, then gestured with a thumb in the direction of her front room and mouthed words that Liz couldn’t decipher.

‘Are you all right?’ she asked, thinking that Pat must have lost her voice. ‘Have you got that nasty laryngitis again?’

Pat shook her head vigorously and pointed once more to her front room. Realising that her plans would have to wait, Liz plonked the groceries on the floor and ventured in, bracing herself as she had no idea what to expect.

Her eyes fell immediately on Felipe, who was sitting in one of Pat’s armchairs, beneath her porcelain lady collection on the window shelf behind, weeping quietly into a tissue.

‘What is it?’ Liz cried and he looked up, red-eyed, and blew his nose.

Pat, who was right behind, found her voice and answered for him.

‘He’s had a tiff with Tony,’ she explained breathlessly. ‘Tony accused him of having an affair with that Bungle from the art club. Tony’s gone to London and taken all his clothes with him and he’s not answering his phone. Felipe hasn’t slept a wink and he can’t eat a thing and he’s going mad with worry. Oh!’ She wrung her hands and sighed.

Liz’s head had started spinning. Bungle, so called because of his fondness for rescuing items found in skips and junkyards and restoring them to some sort of dubious usefulness, was a local artist who had run the club on Friday afternoons for years. He was very popular, owing not just to his skills as a painter but also his whacky sense of humour, but Liz had never thought him a Casanova. For starters, he’d always seemed more interested in animals than relationships to her. He owned four mongrels, to whom he was devoted, and, as far as she knew, had never had a partner. Besides, Felipe and Tony adored one another, for goodness’ sake. It made no sense.

She racked her brains, trying to think of something helpful, but could only come up with platitudes. ‘All couples have rows and they usually blow over. Sometimes it’s good to clear the air.’

Felipe looked at her reproachfully. ‘Eez not just a little row, is a huge bust-up.’ He clenched his fists like a boxer to demonstrate. ‘Tony has removed his wedding ring. He says we are finished.’ He sobbed again and Pat, still hovering behind Liz, passed him a box of tissues from the little lamp table displaying some of the items from her precious owl collection.

‘He’s very upset,’ she said, as if Liz hadn’t noticed. ‘I think he’s going to have a nervous breakdown. He’ll end up in one of them mental hospitals if he’s not careful. Like Tina Pocock. She wasn’t the same again, poor soul, after they took her away.’

Felipe flinched and Liz considered it wise to halt Pat’s flow right there. ‘Why don’t you put the kettle on and make us all a nice cup of tea?’

The old woman shuffled off and Liz returned to Felipe. ‘
Are
you having an affair? I mean, you don’t need to tell me but—’

It seemed so unlikely, but she was about to say that if she knew the truth she’d be in a better position to advise. She didn’t get the chance, however, because he sprang up, red-faced, and dropped the box of tissues on the floor.

‘I would never do such a thing. Tony is my, how do you say, spirit mate?’

‘Er, soul-mate?’

‘Yes, soul-mate,’ he repeated hotly. ‘I would never love another man. My heart is his alone.’ He look at Liz reproachfully. ‘I thought you knew me better than that.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Liz, gesturing for him to sit down. ‘I never imagined you would. So why has Tony jumped to the wrong conclusion?’

Felipe sighed mournfully and stared at Pat’s swirly carpet. ‘Because I said Bungle has pretty eyes. I said I wish I had nice blue eyes like him because mine are brown and brown is a boring colour. Everyone in Brazil has brown.’

‘Oh, dear. What colour are Tony’s eyes?’ Liz couldn’t remember but had a nasty feeling that she knew the answer.

‘Brown,’ Felipe snapped. ‘I wish I had kept my teeth shut.’

‘Mouth.’

‘Mouth, teeth, it makes no difference. English is a stupid language anyway.’ He whacked the side of his head with the base of his palm.

Liz frowned. She knew how sensitive Tony was and that he had a tendency to fly off the handle, especially in matters of love. He’d had a string of failed romances before meeting Felipe, but had been so happy of late and she’d become very fond of Felipe, too. She couldn’t bear to think that this little misunderstanding might drive them apart.

‘What did you say to him when he accused you?’ she wanted to know.

‘I tried to explain. I said blue is like the sky and brown is like mud. It’s true, no? I am not telling lies. But Tony started packing his bags and would not listen when I begged him to stay. He says it is obvious I prefer Bungle and I must go to him, but I do not want to.’

‘You must get the next train to London,’ Liz insisted. ‘And on the way buy him something brown – a present, chocolates or something.’

Felipe looked doubtful. ‘He does not like chocolates because they make him fat, he prefers savoury things.’

‘Well, his favourite blend of coffee, a brown jumper, anything. And wrap it up beautifully. You know how he loves gifts. Take his wedding ring, too, and ask him to put it back on. He’ll relent, I’m sure of it. He adores you, Felipe, he’ll be missing you dreadfully.’

By the time Pat returned with the tea, Felipe had calmed down and was already talking about the brown leather jacket that Tony had spotted in Plymouth and that he’d nearly bought, before concluding that it was too expensive. Apparently it matched Tony’s colouring perfectly.

‘I will buy it for him before I board the train. It’s a very nice brown, very soft leather.’

‘Well, I never,’ Pat said to Liz when he finally left, with a new-found spring in his step. ‘I had him down as a basket case, I really did. Thought they’d be carting him off in one of them straitjacket things. Thank the Lord it hasn’t come to that.’

Of course Liz had to stay and calm Pat’s nerves, too, then hear about her friend Elaine, from Saltash, who had another friend, Beryl, who knew Rick Kane’s girlfriend Sylvia, or knew of her, more like. It seemed that she had a bit of a reputation.

‘Apparently she’s been married and divorced three times.
Three times
,’ Pat repeated, ‘fancy that! She’s had more husbands than I’ve had hot dinners!’

‘Gracious! She sounds like Elizabeth Taylor!’

Pat pulled her chair closer to Liz’s.

‘Elaine says she only married the last one for his money. He was a wealthy solicitor but he packed in his job because he didn’t like it so she ditched him. Made sure she got a good pay-out first, though. You saw the way she was gawping at Luke Mallon on Christmas Day. That Rick had better watch his step or she’ll have his shop off him.’

Liz snorted. ‘It can’t be worth much and, anyway, Rick’s not keen on getting married again, he told me. He’s having too much fun playing the field.’

‘You mark my words,’ Pat said darkly, ‘she’s a gold-digger. You should never trust a woman with that brassy-coloured hair, they’re always after something.’

By the time Liz managed to escape it was almost midday and she was desperate to complete her mission. With trembling fingers she unwrapped the pregnancy kit that she’d bought and read the instructions, forcing herself to slow down and do it properly. This wasn’t something you wanted to mess up.