The Golden Oldies Guesthouse (ARC) Read online

  ‘Well,’ said Jackie, beaming at everyone, ‘haven’t we got a clever bunch here! There’s Dominic the author, Celia the painter, and now Titania the actress! Makes us feel ever so dull, doesn’t it, Joe?’

  ‘No,’ said Joe.

  Jackie ignored him. ‘But we ran a very successful company, didn’t we, Joe? We shouldn’t tell you really!’ She paused, plainly waiting for everyone to say, ‘Go on! Do tell us!’ which nobody did, so she giggled and went on anyway. ‘We made ladies’ undergarments – you know, stuff to hold you in, firm you up, like Spandex. It might sound funny but you’d be surprised at how many ladies are tightly controlled by us!’ She laughed at her own wit. ‘But we’ve sold up now, and we’re free to get on with the rest of our lives, aren’t we, Joe?’

  ‘Aren’t we just,’ he growled, filling up his wine glass.

  ‘Well, we’re certainly an interesting lot,’ Dominic said. ‘And at least retirement offers us choices. I used to be a publisher and now I can only hope that some publisher might like my literary efforts. Gamekeeper turned poacher, you might say. A complete reversal of roles.’

  ‘Well, I have no intention of retiring,’ said Titania, brightening up as Simon himself came in with the main course. ‘But lovely Simon here was an actor, too, and look at him now! Mine host!’

  Simon smiled. ‘And Tess was a skilled dressmaker,’ he said, ‘and she’s had to turn her hand to cooking and baking and bed-making.’

  ‘Ooh!’ said Jackie. ‘Now I know where I’ve seen you! You’ve been on the telly, haven’t you?’

  Simon smiled modestly. ‘Now and again.’

  ‘Oh Joe,’ she prattled on, ‘do you remember that serial we watched on the telly last year? What was it called?’

  Joe shrugged. There followed a detailed discussion about every TV programme and film that Simon might have appeared in and who he’d starred with. It was all about Simon. What about her? She’d been treading the boards while he was still in diapers, and no one was asking her anything!

  Titania hitched up the strap of her pink top which had slid over her shoulder and down her arm and, if she wasn’t careful, her right boob would be on show for all to see. At least that might make them sit up and pay attention!

  She might fancy Simon but no way was he better known than she had been in her heyday. It was time to remind them of that.

  ‘I remember playing Desdemona in Bristol once,’ she said dreamily, ‘and dear Henry was Othello. They were wonderful days!’

  There was a polite silence before Jackie said, ‘We don’t go in much for Shakespeare, do we, Joe?’

  Joe snorted.

  ‘Henry was so brilliant as Othello,’ Titania added.

  ‘Who was Henry?’ asked Jackie.

  Titania looked at her with disdain. Who was Henry! ‘Henry Houseman, of course! My partner, my mentor!’ She paused for effect.

  ‘Can’t say I’ve ever heard of him,’ Jackie said, heaping potatoes onto her plate. No wonder that dress was bulging.

  Then dear Simon came to the rescue. ‘I remember him, Titania.’

  ‘He was so handsome!’ Titania closed her eyes, the better to recall his dark eyes, chiselled features, that sensitive mouth.

  ‘I bet you fancied him, then?’ asked the stupid, inane, asinine Jackie.

  ‘We were together for years!’ Titania snapped. ‘He was my lover, my soulmate, my life!’

  She noticed Celia looking distinctly uncomfortable. Good. The old prune probably never had any man in her life.

  ‘We made love in every major city in the UK and Europe,’ she added for good measure.

  ‘Is he dead, then?’ asked Jackie.

  Titania sighed. ‘If he were alive, my dear, he’d be here.’ That wasn’t strictly true but she felt confident that none of this lot knew anything about that woman, whose name would not sully her lips. Well, Simon might, of course. And Dominic, who was no spring chicken.

  Dominic cleared his throat. ‘Quite so. Now, just to change the subject for a minute, Simon, how ever did you cook this pork? It is absolutely delicious.’

  Simon then launched into a long monologue about marinades and herbs and things, and the moment was lost.

  Titania dabbled with her pork for a few minutes and wondered when would be the best time to get Simon on his own. She didn’t want it to be public knowledge that she was planning a trip down to the Lizard, because the less people who knew of her whereabouts the better. She declined pudding and followed Simon into the kitchen where, fortunately, there was no sign of Tess.

  ‘Simon,’ she said, helping him to unload some plates, ‘I hope you don’t mind me following you in here but I just wanted to pick your brain.’ And lots more besides, she thought to herself. ‘You must know this area pretty well by now and I just wondered what might be the most direct route across Cornwall to the Lizard? I fancy doing some sightseeing.’

  ‘I’m afraid I’m no expert,’ he said. What a modest man he was! ‘I’ve never actually been down to the Lizard myself – just never had the time. But we’ve got some good maps which I can lend you. I’m assuming you haven’t got a sat-nav, then?’

  Titania shook her head.

  ‘Well, Tess has. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind you borrowing it.’

  ‘Oh, no, no,’ Titania said hastily. ‘Maps will be fine. Even better if there’s someone to read out the directions!’ She looked to see if he was likely to respond. ‘You’d be most welcome to come along for the ride if you fancied a day away from here.’

  ‘Oh, that’s a kind thought, Titania,’ he said, heading towards the dishwasher, ‘but there’s so much to do here. If you wait in the lounge I’ll bring in some maps with your coffee, as soon as I’ve finished serving the desserts.’

  ‘So where’s your lovely wife?’ Titania asked.

  ‘She’s having a nice long bath. She’s the one who did the pork that everyone’s raving about. Did you want the recipe, too?’

  ‘No, thank you,’ snapped Titania. ‘I’d like my coffee on the terrace, please.’

  Provided, she thought, that tiresome Jackie woman isn’t out there.

  24

  NO PEACE FOR CELIA

  Jackie Merryweather was becoming a nuisance; Celia didn’t wish to be rude to her, but really! Celia had carefully chosen this secluded little spot among the gorse so she could enjoy the morning on her own. But Jackie seemed to be everywhere, minus the husband. Not that Celia blamed her for that; how had she ever come to marry such an unsociable oaf in the first place? Now she kept appearing whenever Celia set up her easel, and she was nosy. Why had Celia chosen Portmerryn? Why had she waited so long to start painting? Why had she chosen such a flashy car?

  A flashy car! It wasn’t flashy; it was just red and, she supposed, fast. Not that she’d ever had it above fifty. And she’d wanted to know all about Mummy, too. Had Celia never considered putting her in a home? Why had Celia spent the best years of her life looking after a doddering and demented mother?

  ‘She wasn’t doddering and demented,’ Celia had snapped. ‘She was just an invalid.’

  ‘Call it what you like,’ Jackie said, ‘but you’d have had to sell the house, of course, to fund her care, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘No,’ Celia replied, ‘we wouldn’t. The house was rented.’ Then she cursed herself for having told her.

  ‘Rented?’ Jackie spent a few moments digesting this. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘perhaps she kept her money under the mattress!’ Then she laughed inanely.

  How rude! Celia knew now for sure she should not have told her the house was rented and she was not about to inform her either that her mother had been virtually penniless. I’ve had to rely on myself, and myself alone, to acquire this money.

  ‘Can we change the subject?’ Celia asked. ‘Why did you choose Portmerryn?’

  ‘’Cos it’s just so different from where we normally go,’ Jackie replied. ‘It’s quiet and peaceful and I thought maybe we might be able to recapture how we felt about each other forty
years ago.’

  Celia added some water to the blue. ‘And are you?’ she asked. ‘Are you recapturing how you felt forty years ago?’

  Jackie shook her head. ‘Not yet, but it’s early days, of course. Joe doesn’t like it here. He’s either in the pub or he sprawled out in the lounge reading his whodunnits.’

  ‘Perhaps you should go to the pub with him then,’ Celia suggested. Instead of poking your nose into my business.

  ‘Who wants to sit in a gloomy old pub when there’s all this lovely scenery?’ Jackie asked, waving her arm about.

  ‘Well, your husband obviously does,’ Celia said.

  ‘Yeah, to be honest I’m beginning to fancy the idea of being free like you, Celia. I envy you, you know. You can please yourself, do what you want, go where you like. Didn’t you ever fancy getting married?’

  ‘It never happened,’ Celia said shortly.

  ‘Funny, that. Ah well. So, do you think I should leave him, Celia?’ Jackie asked as she plonked herself down on the grass beside where Celia was trying in vain to add froth to the waves in her painting. It wasn’t going well. She wondered if she should scrap this painting and start all over again. Perhaps she should have chosen to work in oils and then she could slap one lot of colour on top of another. Maybe she just wasn’t a very good artist. And it didn’t help that she was constantly distracted by this wearisome woman.

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ Celia replied.

  ‘I mean, it’s not too bad being on your own, is it?’

  ‘I’m quite content.’

  ‘It’s just that Joe keeps saying he’s bored and wants to go home.’

  ‘Well, tell him to go then,’ Celia said wearily.

  ‘But I don’t want to go. Anyway, we’ve booked for another three weeks.’

  Celia gave up on the froth and laid down her paintbrush. She’d been about to say, ‘Well, you stay then,’ but thought better of it. Another three weeks of this woman would drive her demented.

  ‘I suppose I could stay on by myself, couldn’t I?’ Jackie appeared to be deep in thought.

  Celia didn’t reply.

  ‘Right! I’ve decided! I’ll tell him I’m staying right here and he can sod off home if he wants to. It’s all paid for, anyway.’

  Celia dipped her paintbrush in clean water. She might as well pack up.

  ‘It’ll either make the heart grow fonder, Celia, or bugger up our marriage altogether. At least I’d know, wouldn’t I?’

  ‘There’s no point asking me,’ Celia said. ‘I’m no authority on the subject.’

  ‘Oh, but you’ve helped, Celia. You’re such a good listener! I’m going to talk to Joe tonight.’

  Celia began to dismantle her easel and pack everything away.

  ‘Can I help?’ Jackie asked, scrambling to her feet. ‘That’s a beautiful picture, Celia.’

  ‘No, it isn’t,’ Celia said. ‘It’s rubbish. I’m going to scrap this and start again.’

  ‘Oh, you can’t do that – it’s lovely!’

  ‘Well, you can have it then,’ Celia said in the hope that Jackie and her horrible husband and the disastrous seascape would all leave together this very evening.

  ‘Oh, I couldn’t! I’ll pay you for it, Celia.’

  ‘No, you won’t. If you don’t take it I’ll tear it up right now in front of you.’

  ‘Don’t do that! I’ll take it! That’s so kind of you! I’ll find a way to repay you, Celia. I’ve never had an original watercolour before. Do you suppose there’s somewhere round here where I could have it framed? Or maybe I’ll wait and get it done in Colchester. Oh, thank you so much! Hey, I love your watch!’

  Celia said nothing.

  ‘It’s a Rolex, isn’t it? What does it do?’

  ‘It tells the time. Now, if you don’t mind, I really need to concentrate on what I’m doing.’

  ‘Oops! Joe always says I talk too much. See you later, then!’

  Celia sighed with relief as she watched Jackie descend the coastal path. She was going to have to find another spot to do her painting where, hopefully, she’d be difficult to track down. She pondered their conversation and her purchases. Considering she didn’t wish to draw attention to herself, why on earth had she been persuaded to buy that red car? She’d bought it because she liked red, because it represented her new freedom and, perhaps, adventure, and because the suave salesman had assured her that it would retain its value if and when the time came to sell it. That would only be when she decided to relocate permanently. And the watch was pure indulgence. Who could blame her after years of never having anything nice, of making do with cheap clothes, cheap furniture – cheap everything. She’d loved the look of that watch, its white mother-of-pearl face and the stainless-steel bracelet, and she liked knowing the date. And she liked it being waterproof.

  She hadn’t gone mad. She’d bought the car, the watch, a few items of clothing and a few weeks at Sparrows’. The rest was to fund her new life, when she decided where that should be. Somewhere remote: the Outer Hebrides? Shetland? She’d buy a cottage there and paint all winter, selling the pictures to the tourists all summer. That was the dream. For now all she needed was a little time, some peace, some quiet. Perhaps she’d made the wrong decision in coming to The Sparrows’ Nest?

  25

  DOMINIC’S DATE

  Dominic lowered his newspaper to get a better view of Gideon. He really was a most attractive man, probably in his forties. Would a thirty-year difference in ages matter? Well, certainly not to me, thought Dominic. He’d caught Dominic’s eye a couple of times and smiled. There must be a way to get to know him better; he hadn’t felt such stirrings since the early days with Patrick, so perhaps he was finally recovering. Of course he’d come here mainly because of Patrick and the one thing he had to do before the matter could be laid to rest. But he could clearly hear Jed talking to his son.

  ‘No point in goin’ on about it, lad,’ Jed was saying, ‘you’ll have to go on the bus ’cos I’m goin’ to be needin’ the van.’

  Gideon groaned. ‘You know it can take nearly all day to get to Penzance, and I only got a couple of days off!’

  Dominic picked up his empty glass and headed towards the bar.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he said, ‘but I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation, and I have to make a trip to Penzance in the next few days, so perhaps I could offer your son a lift?’

  Gideon turned, met Dominic’s eye, and noticeably brightened up.

  ‘Well, now,’ said Jed, ‘that be right kind of you, sir, but we wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be any trouble at all,’ said Dominic. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you for some time about the history of this coast, the shipwrecks, the smuggling, that sort of thing. Tess tells me you’re something of an expert.’

  Jed puffed himself out and beamed. ‘Well, now you come to mention it…’

  ‘So I’d be returning the favour, if you see what I mean?’

  ‘Well, that’s one way of lookin’ at it, I suppose.’ At this point Annie emerged from the kitchen, her grey hair askew, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘This kind gentleman’s offerin’ our Gideon a lift to his brother’s.’

  ‘That’s very kind,’ confirmed Annie.

  Gideon smiled and nodded. ‘That would be great, sir. It’s my brother’s birthday on Tuesday, see.’

  ‘Please call me Dominic.’

  ‘Thanking you, Dominic, and what would you be wantin’ to know about the pirates an’ that?’ Jed asked.

  ‘Anything you can tell me, Jed. I’m writing a book, you see, all about smuggling, and I’m going to need some accurate information.’

  ‘A book, eh?’ Jed was clearly impressed. ‘Didn’t know you was an author, like. Fetch ’im another pint of Doom Bar, Gideon – and this one’s on the ’ouse, Dominic.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Dominic said, not really wanting another pint but not wishing to offend. It was now more likely he’d be sleeping rather than writing this
afternoon. He was about to ask Gideon when he planned to return when Jed said, ‘If you was to come back Wednesday afternoon I could come to fetch you. Haven’t seen Michael and the kids for a month or so, ’ave we, Annie?’

  ‘No we ’aven’t,’ Annie agreed.

  Jed turned back to Dominic. ‘That’s Michael, our other son, an’ ’e runs a nice little bar in Penzance. ‘’E does food too and ’e’d give you a nice little lunch when you drop Gideon off.’

  ‘That’s a very kind thought,’ said Dominic, ‘but I have some business to attend to so I’ll be moving on. Some other time perhaps.’

  Arrangements were made. Dominic would pick Gideon up at 10 a.m. on Tuesday morning.

  ‘You sure that’s OK?’ Jed asked anxiously,

  ‘Oh, I’m quite sure,’ Dominic replied.

  * * *

  Dominic turned onto the A30, heading westbound. His passenger, in T-shirt and jeans, seemed completely unaware of how very attractive he was. That in itself was a novelty; most of the good-looking men he’d encountered in the past had been only too aware of their looks.

  ‘So,’ Dominic said, ‘you’ve never fancied leaving your parents and perhaps having your own little business somewhere? Like your brother’s done?’ He felt a little sorry for Gideon, who seemed to be permanently at his father’s beck and call with little life of his own.

  ‘No,’ Gideon replied. ‘Perhaps I’d feel different if I was married like him, though.’

  ‘And have you never been tempted to marry?’

  ‘Nope, never.’

  ‘There must be pretty girls around?’ Dominic persisted.

  Gideon shrugged but said nothing.

  ‘Wouldn’t you like to have children, Gideon?’

  ‘My brother’s got three of them and that’s enough for me! How about you, then?’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yeah, how come you’re not married either?’

  ‘Ah well, just never found the right person,’ Dominic replied. And that, he thought, is such a lie. I did find the right person but he found someone else. And that’s why I’m here and that’s why I’ll be heading for St Ives the moment I’ve dropped you off.