Читать книгу The Cliff House: A beautiful and addictive story of loss and longing - Amanda Jennings, Amanda Jennings - Страница 17

CHAPTER EIGHT

Tamsyn

July 1986

All I could think about was going back to The Cliff House to see Edie again. Reasons to go tumbled over and over in my mind as I lay in bed and stared at the cracks that fractured the ceiling.

Perhaps I could tell her the green-tagged key had fallen out of my pocket and my mother was furious and had ordered me to retrace my steps? Or I could tell her I’d lost a ring, or a bracelet, or a pair of socks. Maybe I could offer to show her around? Be her guide. Take her to Porthcurno and the Minack, to St Ives and Logan’s Rock, to Land’s End, or to Penzance to buy paper bags of penny sweets and watch the helicopters take off on their way to the Scilly Isles. I imagined walking her around St Just, our postcard-pretty town. Imagined my patter: Population four thousand, most westerly settlement in mainland Britain, until recently home to a thriving mining industry…

But even if I found the perfect excuse I still couldn’t go. It was Friday morning and on Friday mornings Mum cleaned at The Cliff House in preparation for their possible arrival. Of course, she had no idea they were already there, that they’d arrived early and with a daughter she didn’t know they had.

I lay on my bed and watched her through my open door as she got dressed on the landing. She took her cleaning clothes out of the airing cupboard, her stone-washed denim jeans, white T-shirt, a grey sweatshirt over the top. For work she always tied her hair into a tight ponytail, high enough to be out of her way, and her earrings were simple gold hoops. She didn’t wear any make-up, just some briskly applied Oil of Ulay.

‘You okay?’ she asked with a warm smile as she caught me watching her.

I turned on my side on the pillow and nodded.

‘You look happy snuggled up there,’ she said. ‘I wish I could come and jump in with you. But’ —she sighed— ‘no rest for the char lady.’

I was desperate to share the fact they had a daughter. A girl with white-blonde hair who was called Edie after très glamoureux Edith Piaf. But I stayed quiet. If I told her, she’d ask questions and I might let slip I’d been taking the key and letting myself in, which I knew would send her mental.

She closed the front door and I listened to her footsteps ringing on the pavement until they faded to nothing. My immediate thought was to get out to the rock with my binoculars and watch her in the house with them, but it wasn’t worth the risk. She knew about the spot where Dad used to take me. He’d taken her there too. Even as a boy it had been his favourite place to watch the sun set over the sea and spy on the gulls and kittiwakes and choughs. The chances of her glancing in the direction of the point were significant and if she saw me I’d have to explain why I was there. So I tried to ignore the gnawing lure of the house by keeping myself busy. I cleaned the kitchen, washed-up and dried, changed the sheets on Granfer’s bed then sat with him a while, listening to him attempting to breathe whilst grumbling about the godforsaken government who murdered the tin mines and this being the hardest jigsaw he’d ever tried to do. Then I made him a cup of tea with two and a half sugars in which made him wink and flash me his gap-toothed smile.

When I finally heard the latch click and the front door open, I ran to the top of the stairs, desperate to hear about the house and the Davenports and Edie.

She was hanging her coat on the hook.

‘Hi,’ I said. ‘Good time?’

‘Cleaning?’ She raised her eyebrows and wiped her forehead with her hand. ‘It’s hot today. And I nearly missed the bus and had to run.’ She paused, stared up at me, her brow knotted. ‘The Davenports were there.’

It was then I noticed she held an envelope.

‘What’s that in your hand?’

She looked down as if confused by it. ‘It’s for you.’

‘For me?’

She hesitated. ‘Their daughter asked me to give it to you.’

‘What?’ I squealed and ran down the stairs taking them two at a time and when I got to the bottom I thrust out my hand.

She didn’t give it to me. Instead her hand moved fractionally closer towards her body.

‘Can I have it then?’

She furrowed her brow. ‘I didn’t even know they had—’

But I didn’t let her finish. ‘I can’t believe she wrote to me!’ As I grabbed the letter from her an electric charge shot through me. I stared down at my name which was written across it in the neatest writing I’d ever seen, all the letters even and rounded and perfectly joined up. I beamed at Mum but my smile faded when I saw her expression.

‘How do you know each other?’ she asked with forced indifference.

I gripped the letter hard as my brain turned over and over.

‘Oh. Well, yesterday…’ I hesitated. ‘You know… when you were working at the chip shop? It was a really nice day so I went for a walk. On the cliffs. And, well, I ended up going past their house, and, this girl – their daughter, it turns out – was on the terrace. And I smiled at her. Like you always tell me to. I mean, you’re always saying I should smile more, aren’t you? Anyway, I did smile and she said something. Hello, I think. Then she said something about the weather. Isn’t it sunny? Or maybe something about rain coming. Anyway, we sort of got talking and then she asked me to come in for a drink. A Coke. One of the fancy American ones from the adverts. I think her name’s Edie. Something like that.’

Mum nodded vaguely, her face slick with mild confusion.

‘She’s here for the whole summer,’ I said.

‘Yes, Mrs Davenport told me today. Christ, I nearly jumped out of my skin when I opened the door and the woman was sitting there. I wish I’d known. I’d have worn something a little nicer. You should have seen the way she looked me up and down. Snooty cow. I hated cleaning with her there. So much nicer when it’s just me. Can you believe she actually followed me round? I swear she ran her finger along a windowsill after I’d cleaned it. I mean, even though I know I cleaned it I was terrified it would come up covered in grime.’ She sighed. ‘She said Mr Davenport is finishing a book. Can’t be in London, she said, because it’s too noisy or too crowded or something like that. So they’re here until the end of August. Anyway…’ She took a breath and smiled. ‘Whatever the reason, she’s given me more hours. Three times a week plus more on the weekend if they have guests.’

‘That’s good,’ I said, relieved she seemed happy enough with my garbled account of meeting Edie.

‘It’s come just when we needed it, to be honest. I don’t think we’ve ever had this little money.’ She rubbed her face. ‘Maybe Gareth will advance me some this month.’

The letter throbbed in my hand. All I wanted to do was tear it open and I willed her to let me go.

‘Mrs Davenport said they need some help in the garden. Painting the railings. She asked if I knew any local tradesmen who might be able to do it. I was cheeky and suggested your brother. Obviously he’d have to fit it in around the yard, but he’s only there every now and then, so it would be ideal. She wants to meet him first to make sure he’s suitable. Whatever that means. Is he still asleep?’

‘I don’t think so. I saw him up earlier.’ A lie. He hadn’t emerged from his room yet but she hated him sleeping past eleven and I didn’t want her to storm up there and wake him just so they could fight about it.

I stroked the envelope with my thumb.

‘How’s Granfer doing?’

‘Nearly finished the sky.’

‘He’ll be pleased about that.’

We stood in silence for a few minutes. She glanced down at the envelope with an expectant look on her face. I held it behind my back and she nodded imperceptibly then turned to go into the kitchen.

Clutching the letter to my chest I shot up the stairs like a bullet from a rifle. With the door to my box closed, I fell onto my bed, tore open the envelope and unfolded the single piece of heavy cream notepaper.

Dear Tamsyn

Can you come over later? Max is doing a barbecue for supper. I asked if I could invite a friend and he said YES. Your mother didn’t know if you were busy or not.

I REALLY hope you aren’t!!

Please say you’ll come! I am LITERALLY going out of my mind with the boredom. I think I might DIE of it soon!

Call me on Penzance 3483 to arrange.

Edie x

To make sure I hadn’t misread a word of it, I read it three times over. Then I held the notepaper up to my face and kissed it. This was the single most exciting thing that had ever happened to me. Had she really called me a friend? I read the note a fourth time to make sure while a heat burnt inside me like a bonfire. An invite to a barbecue? I couldn’t believe it. I’d never even had a barbecue. But there I was – me! – with a proper invitation in blue fountain pen on watermarked paper. No more sneaking around. No more fear of getting caught. I was going to The Cliff House as an invited and welcome guest. It was – as Edie would say – literally a dream come true.

‘Mum! Mum!’ I called as I ran down the stairs. ‘Can I borrow ten pence?’

I grabbed her bag from the hook and took out her purse then hared out of the front door. She called something after me, but I didn’t hear what she’d said so I lifted a hand and shouted, ‘Back in a sec!’

When I reached the telephone box on the corner I yanked open the door, recoiling a little from the smell inside. Jago said it was where drunk men peed after the pub closed. So disgusting. Breathing through my mouth and not my nose, I pushed my hair off my face and blew sharply upwards against my sweating brow, whilst retrieving a coin from Mum’s purse.

My hand shook as I picked up the receiver and placed it between my shoulder and cheek. Holding the letter up to read the telephone number, I carefully turned the dial for each digit. As I waited for the numbers to click though I had the sudden fear that this was an elaborate practical joke, that perhaps the number she gave me was made up and she was hiding nearby, watching me make a fool of myself with tears of laughter pouring down her cheeks. My stomach churned so ferociously I nearly slammed the receiver down. But then it began to ring. Two rings in my ear. Two in The Cliff House. Two in my ear…

I pictured their phone on the hall table. Black and new-fangled with buttons like a calculator. I imagined its ring echoing around the house and Edie walking towards it with her hand outstretched. Nerves catapulted around my body. What on earth was I going to say? I had to keep calm. I’d been invited for tea. If I wanted to go – and, oh God, I did – then I had to get through this.

Someone picked up the phone. Then the phone beeped demanding its money. I swallowed and pushed in the coin. It dropped into the box and the beeps silenced.

‘Penzance three four eight three?’ said the poshest voice I’d ever heard. It wasn’t Edie. It must be her. Mrs Davenport with her creamy skin and honeyed hair. My stomach pitched.

‘Erm, hello…’ My throat constricted, forcing my words into a strangled squeak. ‘It’s… Tamsyn.’

‘Who?’

‘Can I… speak to Edie?’

There was talking in the background. Muffled. The receiver must have been smothered by a hand as the voices became faint. Then distant footsteps. A muted ‘It’s for you.’

Then Edie’s voice. ‘Tamsyn?’

‘Hi. I… got your… letter.’ My finger went to my mouth and I chewed on my nail, now certain this couldn’t be real and she was about to explode with cruel laughter.

But she didn’t.

‘Can you come?’ she said.

I closed my eyes as relief flooded me. ‘Yes,’ I breathed.

‘That’s great.’

‘I’d love to. I really would. And I’ve got nothing planned. Nothing at all.’ I was aware I was speaking too fast, tripping over my words in my desperation to get them out.

‘Excellent. Max thinks he’s God’s gift to barbecuing, so I apologise in advance for any weirdness. And bring your swimming costume. I’m not sure your bra and knickers are appropriate.’

She laughed and a prickling heat swept over my neck and cheeks as I relived hauling myself out of the pool in my translucent underwear while she looked on, clothed and beautiful.

‘Come as soon as you can, will you? I wasn’t lying when I said I was dying of boredom. I have no idea how you exist down here. God, I miss London.’

The beeps signalling the end of my ten pence began to chirrup. ‘Okay. I’m walking, but I’ll leave now.’

‘When you get here we—’

The line clicked dead so I missed the end of her sentence.

Despite being delirious with happiness, the claustrophobic atmosphere in our dark cramped house closed in around me in an instant. I hated it. There used to be a time when this house felt like the safest place in the world. When the air rang with laughter not devastated silence. It had been a place of bedtime stories and playing Snakes and Ladders in front of the fire. Now it was cold and unwelcoming, any joy snuffed out by loss and worry.

My mother stepped out of the kitchen as I came in. She held a packet of Jaffa Cakes. ‘Want one?’

‘Jaffa Cakes? What are we celebrating?’

‘My extra hours.’

‘Maybe later,’ I said, as casually as I could manage. ‘I’m going to the Davenports’ for a barbecue supper.’

‘A what?’

‘Supper.’

‘Supper?’ Her face clouded in confusion again.

‘Tea. A barbecue tea. Edie asked me. That was what was in the letter. I checked. Just now on the phone.’ Saying the words aloud made it all seem even more thrilling and I beamed. ‘She said bring a swimsuit.’

A look crossed my mother’s face which I couldn’t read. ‘Why?’

‘For a swim.’

‘No, I mean why’s she asked you for tea?’

‘Supper not tea. And I already told you. We met yesterday and she likes me.’

My mother shook her head. Her brow knotted. ‘She likes you?’

The way she kept repeating everything I said whilst looking so bloody suspicious made me want to scream, but I took a breath and kept my voice level. ‘It is possible for people to like me, you know.’

‘I know. I’m not saying… It’s just…’

My irritation boiled over like a forgotten milk pan. ‘What?’

‘Well, they’re… I don’t know. It’s…’

‘It’s what?’

‘They’re different. To us.’

‘What are you talking about? They’re not royalty.’

‘They might as well be when it comes to the likes of you and me.’ She sighed and rested her hand on her forehead. ‘Look, he’s rich and famous, in and out of the papers, and they’ve got so much money.’

‘That doesn’t mean anything anymore. Things aren’t like they used to be. People aren’t so stuck in their places.’

‘I’m their cleaner.’ My mother looked down at her hands and regarded them as if she wished they weren’t her own. ‘I’m not sure about it.’

‘Edie knows what you do and she doesn’t care. So why should we?’ I crossed my arms and jutted a hip out.

She sighed. ‘I suppose you’re right. She’s bound to be bored being an only child in that big empty house. I can see why she’d want to spend time with someone her own age. But be careful, okay? I’m not sure about any of them, if I’m honest. Especially Mrs Davenport.’ She put the packet of Jaffa Cakes on the side, then smiled at me. ‘I’ll save a couple for you. Granfer and Jago will be on those like weevils. Will you tell her – Mrs Davenport – that I’ll send your brother up in a bit? Remind her it’s about the painting. And say nice things about him, that he works hard and he’s suitable.’

When she said the word suitable she wrinkled her nose. I could tell she was implying something, that there was some sort of meaning hidden beneath the words she spoke, but I decided not to pick up on it. I didn’t have time. I had to find something to wear for a barbecue at The Cliff House. I wished more than anything I hadn’t already worn Mum’s rainbow dress. It would have been perfect, but I’d read a copy of Cosmopolitan in the doctor’s waiting room once which said you could never wear the same dress twice, so I’d have to search out something else.