Читать книгу A Cornish Carol: A Short Story - Fern Britton, Fern Britton - Страница 6

Finally giving up on the doorbell, Helen stepped back for one last look at Piran’s cottage before returning to the car. She climbed into the driver’s seat, rummaged in her bag for her mobile and hit the speed-dial button for what seemed the hundredth time that morning. Piran wasn’t at home and had clearly turned his phone off. Once more she heard the familiar robotic voice: It has not been possible to connect your call …

She pressed the Call End button and silently cursed Piran Ambrose. He’d volunteered weeks ago to come over on Christmas Eve and help her prepare for their big feast tomorrow. It was going to be roast turkey with all the trimmings, and Piran had been the one who’d insisted that the preparations would have to be done in advance if the big day was to be a success. Helen was making a simple starter of smoked salmon with prawn and salmon roe, but there was stuffing to make (Piran would never countenance anything so ordinary as Paxo, though Helen was a bit partial to it herself), parsnips and potatoes to parboil, giblets to be boiled and turned into stock for gravy – for which Piran had some secret recipe – pigs in blankets to prepare, not to mention their little ritual of injecting the Christmas pudding with another syringe full of brandy. They would be lucky if they didn’t set the whole of Pendruggan ablaze when they lit the flame tomorrow, it was that potent.

It wasn’t the end of the world that Piran hadn’t shown up as arranged, but after last night’s rotten business with Audrey at the pub, Helen couldn’t help but feel anxious about him. She gazed up at his window and let out another sigh of frustration. Trust her to bag herself a mercurial so-and-so like Piran Ambrose! But no matter how she tried to pass it off as just Piran being moody as per usual, she couldn’t help feeling that this time there was more to it.

She pushed the thought away, reminding herself that Sean, Terri and Summer were back at Gull’s Cry waiting for her. She was determined to see to it that they had the best Christmas possible, regardless of Piran and his moods. He’d just have to pull himself together, and that was that.

No sooner had she put the key in the ignition than her phone rang. She felt a thrill of pleasure when the caller ID flashed and she saw it was her daughter Chloe.

‘Chloe, darling! Where are you? I miss you so much!’

‘Mummy, hello, I’m fine. Everything is OK here.’

‘Remind me where here is? I keep forgetting!’

‘Oh, Mum, stop teasing! You know full well I’m in Madagascar. We’ve been exploring some of the most remote parts of Masoala National Park – you wouldn’t believe how amazing it is. Tomorrow, we’ll be staying somewhere there’s an Internet connection, so I’ll send photos.’

‘Make sure there are some pictures of you too and not just the monkeys! I want to see you’re all right. You’re still my little girl and it’s so far away, I can’t help worrying. I hope you’ve got nice people out there taking care of you.’

‘Everyone is lovely, Mum, and like me, all they want to do is help protect the environment here. We’re trying to support the locals’ efforts to stop logging companies from destroying any more of the rainforest.’

‘Oh, darling, I know it is what you want to do and I’m so proud, but I do wish you were here with us. Summer is growing so fast.’

‘I know, I Skyped Sean and Terri the other night. They reckon she looks a bit like me.’

‘She does a bit, but she’s got Terri’s eyes.’

‘How is everything else? How are you and Piran getting on?’

‘Oh, you know what Piran’s like.’

‘Impossible?’

‘That’s the word!’

They both laughed. It felt so good to hear Chloe’s voice.

‘When are you coming home, darling? Whenever I see Mack on the beach messing about with his surfboard, he always asks after you.’

‘Soon, Mum. Tell him soon.’

‘I will, sweetheart,’ said Helen. She could hear someone in the background yelling to Chloe to end the call, the bus would be leaving any moment. ‘Bye, Chloe – love you. And don’t forget to call your father!’

‘I won’t! Love you too, Mum. I’ll Skype tomorrow,’ Chloe promised and rang off.

Oh, damn, thought Helen as she started the car. I forgot breadsticks!

It seemed the whole of Trevay were busily stocking up on last-minute items, as if the shops would be closed for weeks instead of a few days. Helen darted in and out, picking up a few more crackers, some chocolate decorations that Summer could dress the tree with, more Sellotape, more wrapping paper and a big slab of smoked bacon rashers, which would do for breakfast on Christmas morning and for dressing the turkey with. As she went about her errands she scanned the crowds for a familiar face, but there was still no sign of Piran.

Heading back into Pendruggan, she passed by The Dolphin. Don, the pub’s owner, was busily rolling a barrel from the back of his pick-up truck towards the pub. When Helen tooted, he abandoned his barrel and waved for her to stop.

‘What have you got there, Don?’

‘Ah, this, this here is me special Pendruggan Christmas Ale. Comes from a secret brewery that only I knows about and I can only get me hands on one barrel a year. Folks come from far and wide to try this. We crack it open on Christmas morning and it’s all gone by lunchtime.’

‘Secret?’ Don’s wife, Dorrie, suddenly appeared in the pub doorway, wiping her hands on a tea towel. ‘Nothing secret about it at all. He brews it in his shed and drinks most of it himself on the day!’ They laughed good-naturedly at this and Helen laughed along with them.

‘Well, I might be along to try it myself.’

‘Make sure you bring that Piran Ambrose with you ’n’ all. He’s quite partial to a bit of this.’

‘I’ll try, Don – if I ever find him.’

‘Find him? Well, he be down on his boat – I were out over Trevay Harbour way and I saw him. Set to be there all day from the look of ’im.’

‘Oh. I see …’ Piran used his boat the way a lot of men used their potting sheds. It served a purpose that went beyond fishing trips – he used it as a place to think. Or a place to be alone. Why had he gone out there today of all days, knowing that she was counting on his help?

‘Thanks, Don. Save some of that ale for me!’

‘Ah, no special treatment, I’m afraid, you’ll just have to be early doors tomorrow!’ he called after her as she gave another toot of the horn and drove off.

*

When she got home, Helen insisted that Sean and Terri leave Summer to her while they had some time to themselves. They needed little encouragement; within minutes they’d grabbed their coats and set off for a bracing walk along the cliffs.