The Golden Oldies Guesthouse (ARC) Page 18

  ‘Oh well,’ sighed Gideon, ‘I guess that makes two of us.’

  You don’t know how right you are, Dominic thought.

  They arrived in Penzance about midday, Gideon giving directions to his brother’s pub.

  ‘You’d be ever so welcome to lunch,’ Gideon said as he got out of the car.

  ‘Thank you but no thanks, Gideon. I have some business to attend to. Enjoy your visit.’

  ‘I feel I should be paying you something,’ Gideon said.

  ‘Of course not! I was coming here anyway. It’s been a pleasure. Let me give you my number just in case your dad isn’t able to pick you up tomorrow. I’d be happy to help.’

  ‘That’s real nice of you,’ Gideon said, pocketing Dominic’s card. ‘But Dad will be here tomorrow.’

  ‘Don’t forget, if there’s any problem…’

  ‘I won’t. Thanks.’

  As Dominic drove off he wondered again if he might be recovering from Patrick at last.

  Now he needed to find a florist. He had no idea where to begin looking but, as he drove out of the town, he spotted a supermarket and decided that would have to do. As he walked through the floristry section he caught sight of a collection of hydrangeas in pots: perfect. Patrick loved hydrangeas, particularly the blue ones and, as luck would have it, there was one little blue one sandwiched between several pinks. Dominic wandered round the supermarket with the blue hydrangea in his basket and added a few further purchases including toothpaste and shaving cream.

  It was a short drive from Penzance on the south coast to St Ives on the north coast across the narrowest part of the Cornish peninsula. He’d never been to St Ives; St Ives, with its exceptional light and its colony of artists and sculptors. If he had time, he’d go on there today after he’d carried out his task.

  After he’d bypassed Hayle and Lelant he tried to drive slowly, studying every bend on the road, which proved to be difficult since he was part of a steady stream of holiday traffic. And so it was with some relief that he came across a layby where he was able to park. He got out of the car and looked around.

  The traffic was relentless. He should have known not to come at this time of year; he should have come in winter. Now he realised there was nothing for it but to walk because what he was looking for was round here somewhere and he was pretty sure he hadn’t passed it, so it must be ahead. The walk would do him good provided he wasn’t annihilated in his quest to find the gate to Lemerton Farm which was where it had happened.

  Dominic set off walking, keeping as tightly into the roadside as possible as car after car roared past. It would surely be a cruel twist of fate if he were to come to grief here, too. And then, after about five minutes, he saw the gate with the sign. The road was a little wider here and he dashed across it, dodging the traffic in both directions, to where there was a ditch. Would there still be tyre tread marks? he wondered. Probably not, bearing in mind the rate at which everything grew down here.

  He began to examine the ditch closely through the dense growth of cow parsley and campion and through which the water was barely visible. A few yards further on Dominic found a deep rut, now partly grown over but still indented. It must be the right place. He clambered over the ditch and sat on the bank. Oh, Patrick, he thought. How often did I lecture you about driving like a bloody maniac? It could have been me with you. But no, it was Finbar. Could I have done anything to prevent this? Could I have persuaded you to stay with me a little longer? Would you still have drunk too much on that night in June last year? Now I’m still here, but you and Finbar are gone.

  Dominic had bought a little trowel in the supermarket which he now withdrew from the bag and tried to find a spot where the ground might be soft enough to dig. It wasn’t going to be easy because the earth was dry and hard, but perhaps he could moisten a small area. He removed his canvas deck shoes and lowered himself into the ditch to scoop up water, with his trowel, to the chosen spot. It was going to be a slow process.

  Then he saw some shards of glass shining in the water not far from where he was standing. It confirmed not only that he was in exactly the right place, but that he was also in imminent danger of lacerating his feet. It was lucky that he hadn’t already stood on some. He mustn’t move his feet while he completed his task.

  Cars continued to whizz by, their occupants no doubt curious as to what an elderly man was doing pottering around in a ditch. What if a police car came along? Dominic continued with his labours for a good five minutes before he felt the earth relent a little and he was able to dig in a few centimetres with his trowel, before repeating the process again and again.

  It took almost half an hour to excavate a hole large enough to accommodate the blue hydrangea. Then Dominic sat on the bank and looked at it while the sun beat down on him and his feet dried off. He hadn’t thought to use any sun protection so he’d probably suffer later. Never mind. He stroked the large papery pompoms and hoped it would grow into a sturdy shrub. Patrick would have been pleased.

  Dominic put his shoes on again, vaulted over the ditch, and headed back to where he’d parked his car.

  26

  TITANIA EXPLORES

  Titania had done some research on Clarice D’Arcy. She’d googled her, read all the showbiz articles about her, and knew that Clarice had a pied-à-terre in London but that her main residence was here in Cornwall. There had even been a five-page spread in Hello! magazine about Clarice’s amazing cliff-top residence. Another cliff-top residence! The house was called The Hideaway but Titania wondered how it could possibly be a hideaway when you allowed photographs of the place, inside and out, to be plastered across pages of a magazine which most people browsed through in the doctor’s or the dentist’s waiting room. Titania had pulled the article out of the magazine as surreptitiously as possible while waiting for the hygienist and while the waiting room was empty except for a gum-chewing adolescent who didn’t glance in her direction. She’d memorised every detail of the pictures, even the one of the bedroom with the ornate antique four-poster which Clarice had described as ‘the love-nest I shared with my darling Henry’.

  Clarice was, of course, a little younger than she was. Not much, though. And men liked younger women, a lot younger than Clarice was. Titania liked younger men, come to think of it, but that didn’t mean she’d have deserted Henry for the first toyboy that cast an eye in her direction. Not that any of them did, unfortunately. And she wasn’t making a great deal of headway with Simon Sparrow.

  The article had given no clue as to where The Hideaway was, only that it was somewhere on the Lizard peninsula, on a cliff at Black Rock Cove. Why was everyone so obsessed with looking at the sea? Titania wondered. She was sure she’d get fed up of staring at water all the time, particularly as, for most of the year, it was grey and boring. She thought she’d prefer to be looking at the countryside: fields, trees, grazing cattle. No, she wouldn’t. She’d prefer to be looking out over Regent’s Park and red double decker buses.

  Simon had provided her with a map she didn’t really need because she’d already worked out how to get to the Lizard. Finding The Hideaway would be the main problem, since Hello! gave no indication as to where on the Lizard Black Rock Cove might be and it didn’t feature on any map. It was a huge area with miles of coastline so this could well be a search for the proverbial needle in the haystack. But find it she would, although she would probably have to make several trips and do a lot of asking around.

  Titania had reckoned it would take her at least an hour to drive from the north-east of the county to the south-west, but she was in no hurry and it gave her time to think and to strengthen her resolve.

  Because she’d never forget the day Henry told her he felt ‘compelled to leave’. Titania had suspected he might have been unfaithful occasionally because, after all, he was still a very handsome man and he worked in a world full of young aspiring starlets. It was inevitable that some pretty, empty-headed little trollop might try to seduce him but it would mean nothing to him.
She had to accept that. But Clarice D’Arcy! Clarice had had a well-publicised succession of lovers – usually other people’s – and then she wanted Titania’s Henry. ‘I feel I’ve been hypnotised,’ he told her that fateful June afternoon two years ago. Hypnotised indeed! The evil bitch had set out to get him ever since they did that six-week stint of Antony and Cleopatra at The Globe that previous year. That gave Clarice ample time to cast her net and slowly, slowly bring in her haul.

  It had broken Titania’s heart. She’d become aware of the pitying glances, she was offered fewer and fewer parts, and it signified the beginning of the end for her career and her love life.

  * * *

  Titania stopped for lunch at a roadside café: Di’s Diner. She was on the Lizard now, heading down the one and only main road and making forays to the east coast. It was all very scenic: tiny thatched cottages clinging together in coves, small fleets of fishing boats, jagged black rocks jutting out to sea.

  Surely Black Rock Cove must be around here somewhere? She hadn’t passed a pub for some time and she was hungry, having only had a continental breakfast at Sparrows’ because she’d wanted to get away early. She ordered cottage pie and a pot of tea and looked around. The little café was busy and appeared to be run by a cheery, very overweight middle-aged couple, who Titania took to be Di and her other half.

  When the other half delivered her pot of tea, he asked, ‘Going far?’

  Titania hesitated for a moment. ‘I don’t suppose you know of a Black Rock Cove somewhere round here? I’ve very stupidly lost my friend’s address.’

  ‘No, never heard of it,’ he said and then, turning towards the counter, he yelled, ‘Ever heard of somewhere round here called Black Rock Cove, Di?’

  ‘Can’t say as I have,’ Di yelled back.

  ‘Must be further on down,’ he said.

  Titania planned to do as much of the east side of the peninsula as possible today, stopping at every village and hamlet. She’d ask in shops, pubs, post offices. Particularly post offices, although there weren’t many of them left these days. She’d look for red mail vans; the postmen would know.

  She bought newspapers and peppermints she didn’t particularly want and queued up for stamps she didn’t particularly need at the one and only post office she found, all in an attempt to ask the vital question. No one knew anything about Black Rock Cove. She got as far as Cadgwith and realised suddenly that it was half past four and she should be making her way back. She’d want a shower and several gins before dinner. There was still the Lizard itself and the other coast to explore. She’d continue her search in a few days’ time.

  27

  JACKIE

  ‘What the hell are you talking about?’ Joe Merryweather asked as he emerged, naked, from the bathroom after his shower. ‘And where did you put my pants?’

  Jackie indicated a drawer and tried to remember the speech she’d spent half the afternoon concocting.

  ‘Like I said, Joe, I know you’re bored here, but I’m not. I like the peace and quiet and I’ve become quite friendly with Celia.’

  ‘What – that old prune?’

  ‘Don’t be so rude! Anyway, I was thinking that, as you and I seem to be leading separate lives down here, maybe you’d like to go back?’

  Joe donned a pair of black-and-white striped pants. ‘Good idea. We can leave any time you like provided I get my money back.’

  Jackie sighed. She’d obviously not got her point across. ‘What I mean is, you go if you want to, but I’d like to stay on for a bit.’

  ‘Why the hell would you want to stay in this godforsaken hole? I’ll have a word with the Sparrows about getting my money back and then we can get out of here. With a bit of luck I could be home in time for Norwich’s game with Ipswich.’

  ‘I’m staying here,’ Jackie said.

  ‘Like hell you are! What would people think? You’re my wife and you’re coming with me.’

  ‘No, I’m not.’ And, as she spoke Jackie realised that she had never defied him before. Never. ‘I’m staying on for the three weeks we’ve paid for.’

  He stopped in the middle of buttoning up his shirt. ‘In that case, don’t bother to come back at all!’

  ‘All right, I won’t!’

  ‘Stay here with your new friend, then!’

  Jackie could see the purple rising in his face which indicated fury and – one of these days – a heart attack. ‘She’s a nice person! And she’s given me one of her lovely paintings.’

  Joe looked around the room until he finally noticed Celia’s rejected seascape propped up against the wall on the bedside table.

  ‘What a load of crap!’ he bellowed as he thundered across the room, grabbed the watercolour and began to tear it in two.

  ‘No, no, please don’t!’ Jackie was weeping now and grabbing him by the arm in an attempt to stop him. It was too late; he’d torn it into several pieces. ‘How dare you, Joe!’

  He dropped the pieces of paper on the floor and advanced towards her.

  ‘You bastard!’ she shouted, just as he struck her across the face, his signet ring hitting the side of her cheek, close to her eye. Sobbing and holding her head, Jackie sank to the floor, while he pulled a suitcase out of the wardrobe and began to pack, chucking in unfolded shirts, trousers and pants. Then he grabbed some toiletries from the bathroom and slammed them on top.

  ‘You can stay here and rot as far as I’m concerned,’ he snapped, picking up his case and his car keys, before heading out of the door and slamming it behind him. With tears streaming down her face Jackie watched from the window as he flung his case into the back seat of the Merc, then got into the car, revved up noisily and roared down the drive.

  She sat down, her head in her hands, and wondered how she’d be able to face everyone. Their row and Joe’s departure had been noisy so probably everyone in the house had heard. Jackie felt a mixture of emotions: fear, sadness, confusion. Relief? Should she hide away in her room? She’d have to explain the situation to the Sparrows because they’d expect her, and Joe, for dinner as usual.

  Jackie dried her eyes, brushed her hair, took a big breath and headed downstairs. Tess, at the desk in the hallway, looked up as she approached. ‘Are you all right, Jackie?’ she asked.

  Jackie burst into tears all over again. Without waiting for an answer Tess said, ‘Come into the kitchen and I’ll get you something to drink. Simon’s working outside, so it’s only you and me.’ As Jackie let herself be led into the kitchen Tess added, ‘I think you need a brandy.’

  With a brandy in front of her at the kitchen table, Jackie took a sip and felt the warmth creep across her body. She dried her eyes again and said, ‘I’m so sorry, you must have heard us rowing upstairs.’

  Tess didn’t reply but knelt down to examine Jackie’s face. ‘Did he do that? He’s just missed your eye, thank goodness.’

  ‘Does it show very much?’

  ‘You’re going to have a bit of a shiner over the next few days. The bruise is coming out now so you need to put some ice on it, to reduce the swelling.’ Tess took some ice cubes from the freezer, wrapped them in clingfilm and instructed Jackie to hold it to her face.

  ‘I’m so sorry to be such a bother,’ Jackie said, trying not to cry again.

  ‘You’re not a bother.’

  ‘Can I stay here for the three weeks, please?’

  ‘Of course you can. But I’d prefer it if that husband of yours doesn’t set foot in here again.’

  ‘He won’t,’ Jackie said.

  ‘Good. Now, do you want to have dinner with the others tonight, or would you prefer to be on your own?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Jackie replied.

  ‘Well, have a think about it. Has this happened before, Jackie? I can easily call the police if you’d like me to.’

  ‘No, no, really! Honestly, it’s fine.’

  Jackie was used to his tantrums and the last thing she wanted was any kind of fuss. Then she tried to work out what she’d like least: to
be all alone in her room with dinner on a tray, or to be with the others who would probably remark on her swollen face and ask where Joe was. Without a doubt Titania would have something to say. She thought for a minute. If she didn’t face them tonight she’d have to face them tomorrow, so she might as well get it over with.

  ‘I’ll eat in the dining room with the others,’ she said.

  * * *

  The ice had helped but the area round her eye was noticeably swollen and already badly discoloured. Jackie thought she might be able to disguise the discolouration with make-up, but she could do very little about the swelling. They’d guess what had happened anyway, particularly as she would be on her own. She decided to go down early to have a pre-dinner drink and get their reactions out of the way.

  Jackie chose her outfit with care, deciding that the blue would look good against the beginnings of her tan. She was on her own now, and she’d better get used to it. She’d email her sons tomorrow, but neither was likely to be very surprised. They’d never got on well with their father and rarely visited these days; maybe things would change now.

  She took some deep breaths before she walked into the lounge, and was surprised to find only Celia there, reading her book and drinking something clear and fizzy. Water? Tonic? Lemonade? Jackie knew from the way Celia refused wine at dinner that she hardly ever touched alcohol. Celia looked up and lowered her book. ‘I heard you,’ she said, ‘and I think you’re well rid of him.’

  Fancy Celia saying that!

  ‘Thank you, Celia,’ Jackie said.

  ‘Did he do that?’ Celia asked, pointing at her eye.

  Jackie nodded. ‘He’s always had a terrible temper.’ Then she remembered. ‘Oh Celia, I’m so, so sorry – he tore up your beautiful watercolour!’ She could feel her eyes welling up again.