Читать книгу The Postcard: Escape to Cornwall with the perfect summer holiday read - Fern Britton, Fern Britton - Страница 12

In the vicarage in Pendruggan the sun was still hiding behind the cliffs – and Penny wished she could hide under her covers. She felt lightheaded. She hadn’t slept well because Jenna had had her up three times in the night. Teething was horrible for both of them. Night feeds were usually rather special. Jenna and she would sit in the silence, staring into each other’s eyes, sharing comfort and love. But last night had been awful. Jenna had wanted to bite down on Penny’s nipples to relieve the pain in her gums but she did it once too often and Penny tapped her leg in anger. In the split second before she opened her lungs and screamed, Penny saw her look of shock and disbelief.

‘Jenna, darling! I’m so sorry. Shh, Daddy’s sleeping. Shh. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.’ Penny was beside herself. How could she have hurt Jenna like that? She wrapped her up in a cot blanket and held her close as she carried her downstairs. She went to her study, the room furthest from their bedroom, so that Simon wouldn’t be disturbed.

‘Darling, shh, shh. I love you. I’m so so sorry.’ She rocked Jenna back and forwards until she calmed a little and reached out to touch Penny’s face. Penny kissed the tiny palm and smiled. ‘Forgiven?’

She fumbled for her handbag, which was on the floor next to her desk, and found the travelling sachets of Calpol. ‘Here, darling, open wide.’ Then she found the teething ring she’d bought the day before and offered that to Jenna too. At last peace reigned again.

Penny got herself and Jenna comfy in her desk chair and she idly turned on her computer to see if there were any messages from Mavis. There were about fifty messages. She scrolled through them. The first dozen were spam or unimportant. Then she saw Jack Bradbury’s name. Three emails, one after the other, all of them with the same subject. URGENT: MRTIBBS

She felt her pulse quickening and her breathing become shallow. Her fingers were shaking. She couldn’t make herself open the emails. She scrolled down to see if Mavis had replied. Nothing. A black dread settled over her. She heard the roar of her own blood in her ears. Shit shit shit. What was she going to do? Where was the old Penny who would have known what to do and would have done it? Overwhelming grief at the loss of herself bore down on her shoulders and she wept silently, her tears falling on the sleeping Jenna. She deleted Jack’s emails and shut her computer down again.

And now it was just after midday and she was exhausted, but this feeling was not simply tiredness. Since she’d heard about the death of her mother an extra layer of darkness, an invisible membrane, was separating her from the world. She had often felt like this as a child, particularly after her father had died. A feeling that she didn’t really exist, that life rushed around her and she simply glided through it like a ghost. Occasionally she’d reach out a hand to touch a wall or her leg, just to make sure she was real, but it still didn’t feel right.

As a child, she had tried explaining it to her mother. ‘You’re liverish,’ Margot had sniffed.

‘What does that mean?’

‘That there’s nothing wrong with you.’

It was one of the many things she looked up in later life. Her computer dictionary gave the meaning as ‘slightly ill as in having a liver disorder’ or ‘unhappy and bad-tempered’.

Well, she’d certainly been unhappy.

And now her mother was dead and the feeling had come back. She wandered through the downstairs rooms and hovered at the closed door to her office. She told herself that she should go in and get on with some work. Work had always been her salvation; a raft to cling to when storms raged.

‘Keep going, Penny, keep going,’ her father had told her when she started to learn to use her Hula Hoop. She had kept going every day of the summer holidays until she became really very good at it. It was the same mantra she had applied to her work and to every contraction that had squeezed Jenna into the world.

Keep going, Penny, keep going.

Now, standing outside her office door she said it to herself again. ‘Keep going, Penny. Just open the door. Keep going.’

‘Hellooo.’ A stranger’s voice came from the back door and startled her.

She jumped in fright.

Her heart was in her mouth. ‘Hello? Who’s there?’

Thank God Simon had taken Jenna out for the day. If she was to be murdered by a stranger at least they were safe.

The voice called out again. ‘Hello? It’s your new neighbour. Kit?’

The bloody man with the uncontrollable dogs! She’d tell him where to go.

Penny stomped to the kitchen where she found Kit standing apologetically at the open back door with a large bunch of flowers. He smiled, not unattractively she was annoyed to notice, and proffered them to her. ‘Good morning. These are from Terry and Celia and me.’

Penny’s pursed lips were not the reaction he had expected but he continued valiantly, ‘As way of an apology for the way they behaved yesterday.’

‘I’m very busy, but thank you.’ She took the flowers. ‘I’d offer you tea or something but—’

He stepped over the threshold. ‘That’s very kind of you. I’d love a coffee. I won’t keep you long as I have a busy afternoon ahead.’

Penny frowned. She had been about to tell him that she had a busy afternoon ahead. ‘I don’t have much time myself,’ she said acidly.

He pulled a chair out from under the table and sat down. ‘What a lovely kitchen.’

‘Thank you.’ She filled the kettle whilst quietly hating him.

‘Are all the cupboards original?’ he asked, looking around.

‘Yes. Do you take milk? Sugar?’

‘Black, two sugars. They look Edwardian.’

‘They are.’ What was this, Bargain Hunt? ‘Here’s your coffee.’

‘Thanks. How long have you been here?’

‘A while.’ She looked pointedly at the wall clock above the Aga.

‘I’m sorry – I’m being intrusive. I’m just interested in getting to know the village and my neighbours and all that stuff before Adam comes down.’

In spite of herself she was interested. ‘Ah yes. Where is he at the moment?’

‘Finishing off some odds and ends at his old practice – he’ll be here before Christmas though. I’ve been sent ahead to get the cottage set up with all his little home comforts. I’ve got a builder coming later this morning. I have permission to put in a couple of skylights.’

‘Oh? I thought all the building work had been finished.’ She took a mouthful of coffee and thought of all the noise and dust she had just endured.

‘I’m a painter. The spare bedroom will be my studio and the roof windows will give me the northern light that is so good.’

‘Who’s your builder?’

‘Bob. Bob the builder.’ Kit laughed at his own joke.

Penny smiled and said ‘Sinewy bloke? Very brown? Favours short shorts and always has a cigarette on?’

‘That’s him.’

‘He’s known as Gasping Bob.’

‘Behind his back, I hope?’

‘No, no. To his face. Almost all the locals have nicknames here: Dreadlock Dave, Flappy, Twitcher, Simple Tony—’

‘Simple Tony? That’s a bit un-PC, isn’t it?’

‘Not here, and anyway, it’s what he likes to be called. He’s a dear man and a very good gardener.’

‘I’m looking for a gardener. Perhaps you could give me his number?’

‘He doesn’t have a phone. He says they make him go all fizzy or something. But you’ll find him in the back garden of Candle Cottage. Polly owns the house and she lets Tony have the Shepherd’s Hut there. Best let Polly introduce you to Tony as he’s a bit shy.’

‘Is he good? At gardening?’

‘Well, put it this way, a couple of years ago Alan Titchmarsh came to open the village summer fayre and Tony gave him a few tips.’

Kit drained the last of his coffee. ‘Great. I’ll get in touch.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Well, I’d best be off. Gasping Bob said he’d be here by two thirty and I know you’ve got a lot to do.’

Penny felt a sudden fear of being left on her own in the house. Simon had taken Jenna out in order to let her absorb the news of her mother and think more about contacting her sister. ‘Go for a walk on the beach,’ he’d said. ‘The fresh air will help clarify your thoughts.’ But now she found the company of Kit, a stranger, very important to her sanity.

‘Don’t go. Not yet. Bob’s not known for his timekeeping. Let me make you another coffee?’

Kit looked surprised but he accepted and watched as Penny filled the kettle from the old brass tap over the butler’s sink.

With her back still to him, she said, ‘I’m sorry if I’ve been rude. I had some bad news yesterday. My mother died.’

Kit looked at her with concern. ‘I’m so sorry. And it’s me who has been rude. I shouldn’t be here. Would you like me to go?’

‘No. Please stay. She and I didn’t get on very well and I haven’t seen her for quite a while. But, it’s still been a shock.’

‘It must be.’

Penny nodded. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you this. It’s made me feel rather numb and … I can’t explain it.’ She brushed away the embarrassing tears that had sprung from nowhere. ‘It feels unreal.’

‘I’m a good listener and very discreet if you want to talk?’

She shook her head. ‘That’s kind, but I’m fine. It has felt good just being able to say the words out loud to somebody. I am going to have to say it a lot more now, I suppose. I have to tell people that my mother is dead. It’s convention, isn’t it?’

‘I don’t know. We could practise it a few times if you like.’ She shook her head and wiped her nose on the back of her hand.

He continued, ‘Or we could talk about something else?’

‘Oh, let’s talk about something else.’ She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and rubbed at her tired eyes. ‘Let’s talk about you. What do you paint?’

‘Ah well, I paint landscapes for myself, and portraits for money. That’s why I’ve come down here with Adam, actually. I have a commission to paint Lady Carolyn Chafford of Chafford Hall, near Launceston.’

‘How very posh!’

‘Not quite as she sounds. She and her husband bought the title – feudal, of course, so not in the peerage – with the manor, but they are very nice and very loaded, so she’ll do for me.’

‘And tell me about your partner, Adam.’

‘Partner?’ A frown wrinkled Kit’s clear brow then he started to laugh. ‘He’s not my partner. He’s my cousin.’ He sat back in his chair and tipped his head to the ceiling, letting out a deeply infectious laugh. ‘Oh my God, that’s why Queenie said the dogs were like children to me!’ He reached for a handkerchief in his jeans and wiped his eyes. ‘She’s very open-minded, I’ll give her that. Wait till I tell Adam.’

Penny was smiling too. ‘Typical Queenie. She loves a gossip. She was convinced you were going to be the only gays in the village.’

Kit blew his nose and put his handkerchief back. ‘Oh, that’s so funny. Sorry to disappoint her, but Adam and I have lived together, practically from birth. Adam lost his dad in the Falklands War and so his brother, my dad, took him and Auntie Aileen in and we grew up as brothers.’

Penny’s mobile phone interrupted him. Penny looked at the screen and saw it was Jack Bradbury from Channel 7. A familiar surge of panic made her clench her hands. She could feel her pulse quickening. She reached for the phone and cancelled the call.

Kit felt her mood change. ‘Are you OK?’

‘Fine, yeah.’

‘I barely know you but I can see you are upset,’ he said gently.

Penny flashed a wide smile at him and pushed the phone under a pile of newspapers. ‘Just a work thing. It can wait. Want a biscuit?’

Penny and Kit spent the rest of the lunchtime swapping snippets about their lives, work and village characters.

‘Just look out for Queenie,’ Penny warned, ‘she’s not the sweet innocent old lady that she likes to pretend to be. She has a sharp business head with a love of gossip but a heart of gold. Pendruggan wouldn’t be the same without her.’ Penny hesitated for a moment then added mischievously, ‘Let’s not tell her just yet that you and Adam aren’t a couple.’

‘You are very naughty for a vicar’s wife, aren’t you!’ Kit nudged Penny’s arm with his elbow.

Penny sighed. ‘Well, I used to be naughty – before I married – but let’s just say this last couple of hours have been the most entertaining I’ve had in a long time.’

‘Intriguing. What was your life before this one?’ he asked.

Penny told him about what she did, about her production company and Mr Tibbs, her thrilling time in Hollywood with the film Hats Off Trevay.

‘That was your film?’ asked Kit in amazement.

‘Yep. Well, me and quite a few other people too, but it was amazing.’

‘What a life you’ve had. How on earth have you managed to settle down in sleepy Pendruggan?’

She shrugged. ‘Oh. You know. I have a wonderful husband and Jenna my gorgeous daughter. Lots of blessings.’

‘You must miss the excitement of your old life, though?’

She picked up their coffee mugs and took them to the sink. ‘Maybe. A bit.’ She kept her back turned so that Kit wouldn’t see the disloyalty she felt at having suggested her marriage wasn’t happy. She and Simon were going through a difficult patch admittedly. Everything he did annoyed her. The way he ate, breathed, looked— She pulled herself up sharply at these terrifying thoughts. Keep going, Penny, keep going.

‘Well, I’d better be off.’ Kit was standing and tying his stripey jumper round his neck.

Startled, Penny stood up straight. ‘Yes of course. Well, thanks again for the flowers and the company.’

She opened the back door to let him out and found her best friend Helen rounding the corner.

‘Oh Helen, you must meet Kit. Helen, this is Kit, our new neighbour at Marguerite Cottage.’

Helen shook his hand. ‘Lovely to meet you. Queenie is all agog with the news of two young men arriving in Pendruggan.’

‘We’ll try not to disappoint,’ smiled Kit, tapping his nose conspiratorially.

Penny turned to him. ‘If you want any fish or lobster, Helen is the woman to go to. Her partner, Piran, catches them all the time.’

‘Sounds amazing. Adam loves my curried lobster.’

Helen beamed excitedly at him. ‘Oh, Piran and I love curry.’

‘Well, I must cook for you when we’re settled.’ Kit bent to kiss Penny’s cheek and shook Helen’s hand. ‘Lovely to meet you, but I have a date with Puffing Bob.’

‘Gasping Bob!’ Helen and Penny shouted in unison and they watched Kit stroll over to Marguerite Cottage just as Gasping Bob’s rusty Rascal van rattled its way towards him.

‘He seems nice,’ said Helen.

‘He is. Very,’ said Penny, and immediately burst into tears.

Helen bundled Penny back into the kitchen. ‘What’s happened, darling?’

‘It’s my mother,’ sobbed Penny. ‘She’s dead.’

‘What?’ Helen was shocked. ‘When?’

When Helen had heard the whole story, short though it was, she became very practical.

‘You must phone your sister and ask her when the funeral is.’

‘I don’t think I have her number.’ Penny’s head was in her hands. ‘And the last time we spoke it was so awful. I can’t ring her.’

‘For goodness’ sake, Penny, she’s your sister. She should have phoned you by now, anyway.’ Helen stood up and looked purposeful. ‘Right, where is your address book?’

Penny looked at her, pale-faced. ‘In my office somewhere.’

‘In your desk?’

‘Probably.’

‘Right. I’ll get it and we’ll call her.’

‘I’m not sure I’m up to that.’ Penny struggled out of her hair and followed her friend to the office. ‘Please, Helen. I can’t. I need to feel a bit stronger before I—’

It was too late. Helen was in the office and pulling at a drawer. As she did so the house phone rang.

‘Don’t answer it!’ Penny almost screamed. ‘Leave it.’

The two women stared at each other before the answerphone picked up. They listened to Penny’s recorded voice telling the caller that she was unavailable and to please leave a message. She would get back as soon as possible.

It was Jack Bradbury.

He was shouting. ‘Penny! Jesus. Don’t you ever answer your calls or look at your emails? Mavis Crewe is pulling out and if you don’t get me six new scripts and a Christmas special soon I can promise you that you will never work for me or Channel 7 ever again!’

He hung up.

Helen looked at her friend properly.

Penny shoved her hands inside the saggy pockets of her ancient cashmere cardigan dropping her pale,swollen-nosed and red-eyed face to the floor.

It was the first time in twenty-five years that Helen had ever seen Penny Leighton look defeated. ‘Open your emails,’ she said.

Penny hovered for a moment; she’d got into an awful habit of hiding things and Helen would be cross with her if she knew the emails were deleted. She took a deep breath and then made her decision. She went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine.