The Cornish Guest House (48 page)

Keep going, Lizzie,’ Robert hollered, ‘you’re doing brilliantly!’ and to the operator, ‘yes, the shoulders are out… The rest is coming… It’s slippery...’

Liz gave a long, low groan and pushed with all her might, feeling as if the entire contents of her insides were spilling on to the sheet beneath her.

‘Oh!’ Robert’s bloodcurdling yell brought her to her senses.

‘Is it all right?’ she asked, frozen with panic. Nothing else mattered, just this one crucial fact.

She could hear him gabbling, ‘Yes it’s breathing… Pinkish…’ Then there was a high-pitched, unmistakable cry, the most wonderful sound that Liz thought she’d ever heard, and Robert’s responding laugh was like a stream gurgling over mossy pebbles: ‘It’s a little girl!’

The next thing she knew was that gentle hands were turning her on her back, propping her head against a pillow, then her husband placed the warm, waxy, slithering body of their new baby daughter on her chest, close to her heart.

‘You’ve done it, Lizzie!’ he said, squatting beside her and stroking her damp hair, her cheek, before wrapping her and her baby in a soft blanket. His eyes were sparkling like jewels. ‘We have a beautiful baby girl!’

At that moment, Liz felt as if all her life she’d been waiting for this moment; if she were to die now, she wouldn’t be short-changed, because she’d completed the task that she was always meant to, she’d fulfilled her destiny and brought forth not one but two beautiful girls, and she couldn’t imagine ever being happier or feeling more truly blessed.

‘You clever, clever girl,’ Robert said, kissing first her head, then their daughter’s, and tears of wonder and gladness trickled down her cheeks, which Tabitha wiped away with the soft edge of a towel.

In the months to come, Liz would tell people that she could scarcely remember what happened in the next half-hour or so after that. She knew that the paramedics arrived and checked her and the baby over, that she delivered the placenta, they pronounced everything well and then, eventually, left, but their names and what they looked like were a complete blur.

Following their departure, though, her recollections became less vague. She could still picture Tabitha, Molly and Loveday fussing round her, lighting the fire, fetching more pillows for her head and handing her a cup of sweet tea while they chatted in low, happy voices with Robert, Tony, Felipe and Jesse. ‘God, I was worried… Never imagined I’d deliver a baby… We were a good team… Baby cows eez more easy, I think… She’s gorgeous!’

The birth wasn’t exactly as Liz had planned but, looking back, she had to admit that there was something rather wonderful about the way it turned out. She was at home, after all, in her favourite room, surrounded by friends and family and the man she loved, who’d risen to the challenge and proved utterly heroic in an emergency. She thought he was a complete star.

And despite her hazy, milky, post-birth memory, there was another thing that she’d have no trouble bringing to mind. She was still settled by the fire, the baby suckling contentedly at her breast. Robert had been to fetch Rosie from Tim’s house, and Tabitha, Molly, Loveday, Tony, Felipe and Jesse were on the point of leaving. No one had bothered to check the time but it must have been at least 3 a.m., later perhaps, because the night sky had just started to turn from black to inky grey.

‘What are you going to call her?’ Tabitha asked suddenly. ‘You haven’t mentioned a name.’

Robert, who had collapsed on the sofa looking white and exhausted, scratched his head. ‘We’re not sure yet. We haven’t been able to agree on anything.’

Liz was about to throw a few suggestions into the ring when Tabitha made a strange noise, and they all turned to look.

‘I can’t leave Tremarnock, Molly,’ she blurted.

Everyone was startled, because it had come from nowhere.

‘But…’ Molly protested, before letting out a long sigh. ‘I feared you might say that.’ She peered at her friend through bright blue lashes. ‘Can you be persuaded?’

Tabitha shook her head firmly. ‘I’ve made up my mind. This is my home now.’

There was a pause while everyone digested the news, then Rosie, who’d been on the floor beside her mother, suddenly cleared her throat and rose, pulling back her shoulders and puffing out her chest.

‘Lowenna,’ she declared. ‘That’s what we should call her.’

Liz raised her eyebrows. ‘Lowenna? I’ve never heard it before. I rather like it.’

‘It’s Cornish,’ Rosie informed her. ‘It means joy.’

Liz glanced at Robert, and then the others in turn. ‘What do you reckon? The delivery was a joint effort. Let’s have a democratic vote.’

‘It’s pretty,’ said Tabitha and Molly in unison, and the rest muttered their approval, all apart from Robert.

‘What’s your view?’ Loveday asked him. ‘You haven’t said anything yet?’

‘Lowenna…’ He grinned at last, rolling the name round on his tongue. ‘I think it’s perfect. A Cornish maid, made in Cornwall.’

He gazed first at his wife, then at Rosie, then at his new baby daughter, and his love seemed to wrap around all three, binding them together like ivy round a tree.

‘Lowenna it is,’ they chorused.

We hope you enjoyed this book!

Emma Burstall’s next book, is coming in spring 2017

For more information, click the following links

I had a great deal of help in the writing of this novel from Inspector John Shuttleworth from Devon and Cornwall Police, who patiently answered my questions about fraud investigations and gave me invaluable advice. Any errors regarding police procedure are entirely my own.

Huge thanks, also, to Sarah and Dylan McLees Taylor, from Westcroft Guesthouse in Kingsand, Cornwall, whose gorgeous rooms I cannot recommend highly enough, and to Dawn Leopold, manager of the Devonport Inn, Kingsand, who serves the best mussels I have ever tasted. Patricia Crowley, from the Hermes Hotel, Kingston upon Thames, kindly told me much about the ups and downs of running a bed and breakfast establishment.

I couldn’t haven written this book without the support of my husband, Kevin, our children, Georgia, Harry and Freddie, and my sister, Sarah Arikian, the most widely read woman I know.

Last but not least, thanks as always to my wonderful agent, Heather Holden-Brown, my fantastic editor, Rosie de Courcy, and all at Head of Zeus for their brilliant expertise and unstinting support.

E
MMA
B
URSTALL
was a newspaper journalist in Devon and Cornwall before becoming a full time author. She now lives in South West London with her husband and three children. Tremarnock, the first novel in her series set in a delightful Cornish village, was published in 2015 and became a top-10 bestseller.

Tremarnock is a small Cornish village. Houses cluster around the harbour, it has a pub and a sought-after little restaurant. The village is crowded with holidaymakers in the summer, but is a sleepy backwater at other times of the year.

But there is more going on than first appears – as with all villages, there are tensions, secrets and ambitions.

Find out more

Find out more

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First published in the UK in 2016 by Head of Zeus Ltd.

Copyright © Emma Burstall 2016

The moral right of Emma Burstall to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN (HB): 9781784972493

ISBN (E): 9781784972486

Map: Amber Anderson

Jacket painting: Claire Henley

Author Photo: Anna McCarthy

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