Girl, (Nearly) 16: Absolute Torture! (17 page)

‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘Could you tell me where the Old Pilchard Loft is?’

The woman frowned, and shook her head. ‘I dunno, dear,’ she said. ‘Over by Downalong, I reckon.’

‘Where’s Downalong?’ asked Jess.

‘Over the other side of the harbour,’ said the woman.

‘Where – er, sorry, but where’s the harbour?’ asked Jess.

‘Just go down there to the end of the road, turn left, and then right, keep going, go down on the left-hand side of the church, and you’ll come out by the lifeboat station,’ said the woman. ‘Then you just walk around the quayside and round the other side and then up again. That’s Downalong.’

Jess ran down the road to the corner, followed the instructions and within seconds was standing by the lifeboat station. The harbour stretched away in a curve, with higgledy-piggledy old buildings lining the quayside, mostly shops and pubs, all glittering in the sunlight. The tide was out: there were lots of little boats lying on the sand of the harbour. Children and dogs were running around the quayside. Old people were sitting basking in the sun, their eyes closed. Young people were eating pasties.

A Cornish pasty! Jess’s stomach rumbled. She went into a pasty shop. She didn’t want to arrive ravenously hungry at Dad’s house. It wouldn’t be very polite to turn up out of the blue, a day early, and demand food immediately.

Jess’s mum had given her ten pounds that morning, so she had enough money for a pasty, and selected a cheese and onion one. She bought a Coke to go with it, and went out and sat on the harbour wall. Seagulls screamed overhead, and several dive-bombed her, looking jealously at her pasty with their greedy little light-coloured eyes.

Jess had seen a notice imploring people not to feed the gulls, so she sort of hid her pasty inside her jacket and told them to
peck off
. She sat in the sun, enjoying her solitary picnic. Music drifted from an open window. People laughed nearby. It seemed a happy place.

She finished her snack and decided it was time to find Dad’s house.

‘Excuse me,’ said Jess, selecting at random an old couple sitting on a bench. ‘Do you know where the Old Pilchard Loft is?’

The aged pair squinted at her, their faces looking like ancient maps.

‘Sorry, love,’ said the woman. ‘We’re only on holiday.’

‘Is it a restaurant?’ asked the man.

‘No,’ said Jess. ‘It’s where my dad lives. It’s his house.’

The old people looked a bit mystified. They clearly thought it a bit odd that Jess didn’t know where her own father lived.

‘Mum and Dad are divorced,’ said Jess, embarrassed. ‘I’m paying him a surprise visit and this is the first time I’ve been down here.’ This was getting a bit silly. She had only wanted to ask for directions but she had ended up telling them half her life story.

‘Ah,’ said the old woman. ‘Never mind, dear. We’re divorced, too.’

Now it was Jess’s turn to look puzzled.

‘You’re divorced?’ They didn’t look very divorced, sitting on a bench in the sun and sort of cuddling up close like a couple of old cats sunbathing.

‘We’re divorced from other people,’ the woman went on. ‘Jim’s divorced from Joan and I’m divorced from Harry.’

This conversation, though more and more bizarre, was somehow reassuring.

‘Lots of people are divorced nowadays,’ said Jess. ‘In fact, when I grow up I’m just going to get divorced straightaway without bothering to get married first.’

She had thought this was quite a good joke, but the old couple just looked confused. This stand-up comedy business was harder than she had thought.

‘Why not try the tourist office?’ suggested the man. ‘They usually know where everything is.’

‘Good idea!’ said Jess. ‘Where’s the tourist office?’

Eventually, after a lot of confusion, Jess found the tourist office and a kind woman helped her by giving her a street map and colouring Dad’s street in green. It was a cobbled street, very narrow and old, with glimpses of dazzling sea between the houses. All the doorsteps were spilling over with flowers and here and there a palm tree flicked its glittering fronds in the breeze.

‘The Old Pilchard Loft.’ Suddenly she saw the hand-painted sign. Her heart started to beat very fast. She hadn’t seen her dad for months – not since Easter, when he’d come up to see her in town. The house looked a bit like a small warehouse or a barn. Beside the front door was a ship’s bell. You had to pull a rope to make it ring. Jess hesitated, embarrassed about the noise it would make.

There was also a vast brass knocker shaped like a pineapple. Jess didn’t want to use this either. It would so obviously be deafening. She knocked on the front door with her knuckles instead. She waited. No reply. She knocked again, so hard it hurt. No reply. What if he was out? Jess’s heart began to sink. It was all going horribly wrong.

OK, it was time to ring the bell. Maybe he hadn’t heard her knocking. Jess reached up, and tugged the rope. A deafening peal rang out, up and down the street. Jess cringed and blushed. But there was the sound of movement somewhere, far away in the house, and a few moments later, above her head, a window opened and her dad’s head looked out.

Chapter 26

‘Jess!’ he said, astonished. He blushed. He was so socially inept, the moron. But he was the best dad in the world, so Jess was prepared to forgive everything. ‘I wasn’t expecting you till tomorrow!’ he stammered. ‘Wait a minute, I’ll be down in a sec.’

He disappeared, and the window closed. Jess waited by the front door. She looked up and down the street to see if anyone had witnessed their touching reunion. But, thank goodness, there was nobody about.

So this was her dad’s house. It was semi-divine. She was longing to see the inside of it.

A few minutes later, the front door opened and Dad appeared, his funny straw-coloured hair all over the place. Jess’s heart overflowed with love.

‘Dad!’ she said, and buried herself in his arms. ‘Big big hug!’ she muttered into his sweater. It was what she always used to ask for when she was a little girl. Dad felt warm and safe. As moments go, it was one of the very best.

‘So,’ said Dad, once the hug was over. ‘You look fabulous – almost human. Where’s your mum?’ And he looked up and down the street as if he expected her to be lurking in someone’s garden, crouching behind a wall.

‘Oh, Mum doesn’t know I’ve come,’ said Jess. ‘I got the bus over from Penzance. We’re staying there. She said we were coming to see you tomorrow, but I couldn’t wait!’ She beamed up at her dad, and he gave her a nervous smile.

‘Well – er – that’s great,’ he said, with just a tiny dash of anxiety. ‘But we’d better ring her, just to let her know you’re safe.’

‘Let’s go in, then!’ said Jess, peeping past her dad into the interior. She could see a vase of flowers on the hall table. ‘I’m dying to see your house!’

Suddenly, astonishingly, Dad went pale and pulled the door shut behind him. For a split second he looked completely panicked.

‘No – tell you what,’ he said, ‘I was just going out – to do some shopping. And I was going to have fish and chips for my lunch. There’s a great little chippy just down the road – come on!’

‘But Dad – can’t I just have a quick look round your house, first? I’ve just had a massive pasty anyway!’ said Jess.

‘When we get back,’ said Dad, putting his arm round her shoulders and setting off firmly down the road. ‘You may not be hungry, but I am! And before anything else, we’ve got to ring your mum.’

As they went off down the road, Dad got his mobile out and dialled Mum’s number.

‘Mad?’ he said. He still called her that. Short for Madeleine, but also quite appropriate. ‘Hi, guess what? Our impulsive daughter has turned up on my doorstep . . . No . . . no, she hasn’t . . . it’s fine, really. No problem at all . . . OK, then. Right . . . Well, I might, if the right moment presents itself . . . Bye, then. Lots of love.’

‘What was all that about the right moment presenting itself?’ asked Jess.

‘It’s a secret,’ said Dad. ‘You’ll just have to wait and see.’

‘Was Mum OK about me coming here?’ asked Jess.

‘Well,’ Dad grinned. ‘She was a bit shirty at first, but she soon calmed down. Probably because she was surrounded by amazing plants.’

‘Mum should chuck the library job and go to work in a garden centre,’ said Jess.

They cut down a side lane to the harbour and bought some chips, and then, at last, Dad began to relax.

Jess was on guard, though. Something a bit odd had happened back there at his front door. It was as if, back at his house, there was something – or somebody – he was ashamed of. Was it anything to do with this
secret
business?

‘Let’s go to Porthmeor,’ said Dad, placing his chips inside his sweater to keep them warm. ‘You’ll love it there – it’s the surfing beach.’

‘Dad, you complete dingbat!’ said Jess. ‘Your sweater will stink of chips. Plus you look pregnant, which, let’s face it, is unusual in a man.’ And even as she said it, a horrible idea flashed into her mind. Maybe Dad
was
expecting a baby! With another woman! Or, even worse – maybe he’d
already had one
.

Jess walked on at Dad’s side. He was talking about something to do with an art gallery, but Jess wasn’t listening. Her mind was racing. Who was back at his house?

A horrible vision flashed before Jess’s eyes. It was the woman who had taken Mum’s place: younger, obviously. No man ever traded in a young wife for a middle-aged one. Incompetent though her dad was, Jess didn’t expect him to have acquired a crone.

She was pretty, with blonde curly hair and a delightful trim figure, even though she had given birth so recently. And what if she’d had twins! There could be two babies wailing away in the Old Pilchard Loft. Although Jess hadn’t heard any wailing when she’d knocked.

They rounded the corner of a little lane and suddenly a wide beach appeared before them. Huge waves raced up the shoreline, and people in wetsuits were performing acrobatic acts on their boards before toppling delightfully into the foaming surf.

‘I’m going to have my chips here,’ said Dad, sitting down on the sand. He got out the chips, unwrapped them and offered Jess one.

‘Sorry, Dad,’ she sighed. ‘I just can’t manage it.’ She felt a bit queasy, but not because of her previous lunch. She felt sick with dread in case her dad had somehow smuggled a whole new family into his life and not told her.

Obviously, the new family would be favourites. Babies especially seem adorable even when pooing in their pants, dribbling, burping and yelling all night. How unfair life was. If Jess behaved like that, she’d be in big trouble.

Dad watched the surfers and quietly ate his chips. Suddenly Jess noticed that there was a ring on his finger. She hadn’t seen it before. It was silver, and plain, but it was on his wedding finger. Was this the new ring to celebrate his new wife? Was he staring at the waves and saying nothing because he didn’t dare to break the news to her?

OK
, thought Jess
, as usual I’m going to have to coax my useless parents towards some kind of communication.

‘It’s great to see you again, Dad,’ she said, grinning.

‘Great to see you, too, you strange little fish,’ said her dad. He threw his arm round her and squeezed her tight.

‘Some of my friends never get to see their dads,’ Jess went on. ‘Eleanor, for example.’ Eleanor was a complete invention. Jess had taken the name from Lady Eleanor at Berry Pomeroy Castle. ‘Her dad went off to live in Los Angeles. He married a really young woman and they’ve had two babies. Called Carlo and – and – and I’ve forgotten the other one’s name. Bonzo.’