The Holiday Home (13 page)

10

F
rancis knew Belinda was somewhere in the house. He called her name but she couldn’t hear him over the sound of running water. He found her in the shower. Her curvaceous outline was blurred by the rippled glass of the shower door, but he watched as she tipped her head back under the shower. Shampoo suds caressed her ears, shoulders and breasts before they splashed into the shower tray and slid down the drain. He called her name again, ‘Belinda?’

‘Frankie? Is that you?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ve been waiting for you.’

‘Have you?’

‘Of course. Take your clothes off and join me.’

Naked, he opened the shower door and stepped into the humid warmth. He found her lips and kissed them. She put her arms round him and he quivered as his chest met the warm softness of her breasts. She called his name again and again: ‘Francis. Francis, do you want some lunch?’

What a strange thing to ask at a time like this. Nevertheless he answered, ‘Yes. What would you like?’

‘Francis! I am asking you!’ She shook his shoulder with more strength than was necessary. He opened his eyes and saw Pru’s concerned face leaning over him.

‘Francis! You’ve been out for the count!’ He sat up with a jolt and looked at the bedside clock. Two p.m.

Greg put his head round the door. ‘Hello, Rip Van Winkle. Had a good snooze?’

The dream of Belinda was rapidly receding. ‘Hello, Pru, Greg. Sorry. I should get up. Things to do.’

‘There’s nothing to do, darling. I’m going for a walk and later on we’re ordering in a Chinese takeaway. Just came to check on you. Hungry?’ Pru was being very kind.

‘I’m fine. You go and have a walk and I’ll sort myself out.’

‘Sure?’ She was touching his hand. ‘I’m a bit worried about you. That bang on the head. Do you feel sick? Are you seeing double? Got a headache?’

‘No, no. Sleeping it off, that’s all. I’m fine. Really.’

‘OK. Well, I’ll see you later.’

Pru left with a sympathetic smile, Greg with a wolfish wink.

*

Francis gingerly got out of bed and crept on to the landing. From the stairs window he saw Belinda’s car bouncing down the lane and then watched as she drove into her driveway, scraping only a small section of the drystone wall as she did so. He slunk behind the curtains, peeking surreptitiously as she climbed out of the car and ferried backwards and forwards between car and house, laden with shopping bags. Finally she locked the car, went into Dairy Cottage and closed the front door. He allowed himself to breathe out, then padded downstairs. His heart was pounding and his stomach felt jittery; Belinda’s sudden arrival in the midst of his family life had unsettled something inside him.

The house was quiet as he entered the kitchen. A voice made him jump.

‘You sly old dog. Didn’t think you had it in you. Hats off!’

Greg had followed him in.

‘What do you mean?’ Francis tried to keep his voice light.

‘Belinda! She’s one sexy lady. Why on earth would her husband let her slip through his fingers?’

Francis put a wholemeal bagel into the toaster and ignored the question.

Greg continued: ‘You’re playing it dangerously, aren’t you? Having a woman like that, fancying you the way she does, on your own doorstep. Takes guts.’

‘We work on the PTA together, that’s all.’

‘So why invite her down to spend the summer here?’

‘I didn’t,’ Francis said angrily. ‘She won’t leave me alone. It’s making me ill.’

Greg looked disbelievingly at his brother-in-law. ‘Then why was she kissing you in your bed?’

Francis sat down and put his head in his hands. ‘I don’t know. She’s just being kind and caring. It’s her way.’

‘Rubbish, old chap. I’m a man of the world.’ I understand how these things work. Some women are attracted to married men, and it’s our duty to help them.’ He gave Francis another wink. ‘What the eye doesn’t see the heart doesn’t grieve over, eh?’

Francis bristled. ‘What kind of man do you think I am? I love Pru and I take my marriage vows seriously. I would never ever be unfaithful to her.’

Greg sighed and crossed his legs, weighing something up.

‘Look, Francis, I can help you. We can help each other. A problem halved and all that. You see, the thing is … I’m in a bit of a pickle myself.’

‘Pickle?’

‘Yes … With Janie, my secretary.’

‘Oh yes. Has she had any more dates with the soldier?’

‘She has. Apparently things have been going very well. Too well.’ He looked meaningfully at Francis, nodding his head.

‘Great! So your friend can end the affair?’

‘Ah, no. He’s really rather, ha ha … put out. Jealous, maybe.’

‘Well, he has no right to be!’ exclaimed Francis, ‘I think it’s best all round if Janie finds a man her own age.’

Greg looked momentarily wounded. ‘There’s not much of an age difference, actually.’ He lowered his voice: ‘Look, I won’t say a word to Pru about you and Belinda, if you don’t mention a word about Janie to Connie.’ He gave Francis a sly grin. ‘There’s honour among brothers-in-law, eh?’

Francis was horrified. ‘Hang on a minute, what are you saying? I have nothing to hide, and neither should you. It’s not your fault your secretary is seeing someone in your office. If you want my advice, don’t get involved with their problem.’

‘Ah, well, there’s the rub: I already am involved. You see, the reason why Connie mustn’t know is because, well, it’s me Janie’s having the fling with.’

Francis looked aghast. ‘You mean you’re having an affair with your secretary?’

Greg glanced over his shoulder and then back. ‘Shh. Do you want everyone to know? We’re in the same boat, you and I – we both have our little secrets.’

Francis spluttered indignantly, ‘I don’t have any secrets.’

‘Ah yes, but …’ Greg watched Francis slyly, ‘… you wouldn’t want me telling Pru that I saw you and Belinda canoodling in the marital bed, would you?’

Francis shook his head, feeling like a man facing a firing squad. ‘That wasn’t canoodling. That was her seeing if I had a temperature … or something. Belinda and I are just friends.’

‘Stop kidding yourself! Anyone with half a brain can see what’s going on. I’ll keep schtum, and in return you can help me with the Janie situation. If I ever need a little alibi, you’ll be there, won’t you, old bro-in-law?’

Francis’s heart sank – he was snookered.

*

Pru was taking a walk on the cliffs. It wasn’t like Francis to be ill. It had shaken her. To be truthful, seeing Merlin on the beach had shaken her more, and she needed to get out of the house and do some thinking. She walked across the lush lawn surrounded by lavender, box and poppies, then out of the gate and on to the cliff path. She wondered whether to walk straight on and down to the beach or turn left towards the headland. She chose the headland. The beautiful old path lined by perfumed gorse was so familiar to her. To her left were lush fields full of grain crops. Further on, a field of tall grasses was being cut for hay. Skylarks were nesting somewhere. She could hear one singing very close by, but she couldn’t spot the shy little bird.

A breeze blew in from the ocean on her right, ruffling her hair. After yesterday’s rain, when it had been rough and coloured with sand and seaweed, the sea now twinkled deepest blue and reflected the small clouds in its ripples. She reached a wide gateway and carefully opened and closed the heavy latch. She felt the silky wood of the gate, made oily with the years of hands rubbing over it. She smiled at the touch. This gate, leading down to Figgoty’s Beach had been her meeting place with Merlin a lifetime ago.

Merlin had been her first true love. The love you get over but never forget. Above her a seagull laughed. She thought back to that long-ago summer.

She had not long turned nineteen. Connie was sixteen and very popular. She had always been the girlier of the two sisters. Her blonde hair, full bosom and friendly nature captured the affection of both sexes. Her girl-friends adored her and all the boys enjoyed flirting with her. Pru, on the other hand, was more serious. She was at university and enjoying the academic life. She had a couple of admirers. Both a bit worthy and dull, but good for the odd night out. Where Connie was pneumatic, Pru was a washboard. No bust, no hips, but with a stunning six-pack.

Connie’s friends happily absorbed Pru into their group, enjoying having someone a bit older around them. Mainly because she could drive.

‘Pru … Pru?’ wheedled Connie one afternoon.

‘What do you want?’

‘Would you like to come to a party tomorrow night?’

‘Where?’

‘Newquay.’

‘And you want me to drive you?’

‘Me and Trace and Maz.’

‘Only if you pay me for the petrol.’

‘But it’s Mum’s car.’

‘Yes, and she’ll ask me to replace the petrol.’

‘Oh, all right, we’ll split it.’

The party was on the beach. A hot August night. A huge moon hung fully in the heavens surrounded by a carpet of bright stars.

As soon as Pru got to the beach road, her three passengers leapt out and disappeared while she was left to park.

When she got down on to the sand, there was no sign of her sister or her mates. She collected a tin of cider from a trestle table and mooched around the outer circle of the party. Pru knew a few people, who nodded to her, but no one came forward to chat. She found a cool piece of clean sand and lay down to watch the stars. Back then she used to love searching for satellites as they tracked their way across the heavens.

A soft Cornish voice broke into her solitude.

‘Can I join you?’

She turned her head, feeling the sand shift beneath her. He was wearing sawn-off jeans and a Debbie Harry T-shirt. His face was in shadow, but she could see the outline of curly hair.

She sat up. ‘Be my guest.’

‘I’ve been watching you.’

She felt a little scared and turned towards the party to see if she could glimpse Connie.

‘It’s all right. I’m not a nutter. Mind you, if I was that’s exactly what I’d say, isn’t it?’

Pru laughed nervously.

‘I thought you looked like someone I’d enjoy talking to, that’s all.’ He smiled and in the moonlight she made out kind sea-green eyes, nice lips and slightly wonky but very white teeth.

‘Oh.’

He sat down next to her and rolled a cigarette. ‘Want one?’

‘No, thank you.’

‘Good girl.’

There was silence for a while as he sat gazing at the moonlit waves gently breaking on the sand. Pru thought she had never seen anyone so gorgeous.

After blowing a series of smoke rings, he turned to her, holding out his hand: ‘Merlin Pengelly.’

She held it. Rough and coarse but clean and strong. ‘Prudence Carew. How do you do.’

He laughed. ‘Oh, a posh girl! I’ve never met a Prudence before.’

‘Well, my family and friends call me Pru.’

He looked at her steadily and took another draw of his cigarette. ‘Got a boyfriend, Pru?’

She wasn’t sure how to answer this. The true answer was no, but under the circumstances she didn’t want to look an idiot. ‘Oh, you know.’ She shrugged. He shrugged too.

‘And what do you do, Pru Carew?’ He smiled.

‘I’m at university.’

‘Posh
and
clever.’

‘Don’t make fun of me.’

‘I’d never make fun of a girl like you,’ he said softly. He stood up and held a hand out to her. ‘Want to go for a walk?’

She smiled up at him. ‘OK.’

They moved away from the main party and walked and chatted and laughed together until the first streaks of dawn were visible on the horizon. He told her he was a lifeguard for the summer and in the winter he’d do some labouring. He was Cornish born and bred. In return she told him about the courses she was taking for her business degree, the family firm and Atlantic House. Hoping that he might come and find her. ‘I’m here all hols,’ she said.

She didn’t know what it was that made her feel so comfortable with him, but when she finally got home to Atlantic House and her bed, it was his sea-green eyes fringed with sunkissed blond lashes that burned in her memory. His freckled nose bending towards her, slowly blurring as he gently kissed her goodbye. The feel of his warm hand holding hers as she left to go and find Connie, Tracey and Marion. He had stood and watched from the sea wall as she drove away. She prayed he would come and find her.

*

More than two decades on, an older, wiser Pru smiled ruefully at the memories. Merlin had taught her a lot about life. But that was a lifetime ago. She had moved on – there was no changing the past.

When she reached the top of the cliff above Figgoty’s, the beach below was deserted. Pru scrambled down the steep and awkward path. Some of the rocks were slippery, but she remembered the hidden footholds and managed to jump the final six feet on to the smooth sand below. Only the locals knew about Figgoty’s; no visiting families encumbered with pushchairs and windbreaks would dare make the tricky descent. The beach was sheltered by the huge natural curve of the cliffs. The sea here had a deep swell and the undercurrents could catch out the most seasoned of swimmers. It was here that she and Merlin used to escape on his days off. They would take their clothes off and lie naked on the sand before racing each other into the water and enjoying the pleasure of the cool waves running off their warm skin. She hugged herself.

Why not?
she thought.
No one can see from the cliff
. She pulled her sensible Marks and Spencer hoodie over her head and stepped out of her Rohan shorts. After another quick look to make sure there was no one watching, she slipped off her bra. Placing everything neatly on a dry rock, she ran across the sand and into the icy sea. What would Francis say if he saw her now? Maybe she’d bring him down here when he felt better.

Pru didn’t stop running until she was up to her shoulders, then she took a deep breath and ducked under a breaking wave. When she surfaced, she floated on her back and looked up at the periwinkle sky. It felt so good to be this liberated and unencumbered, she couldn’t help laughing out loud. Turning back on her tummy, she swam through the breakers and out to where the sea was smooth. Again she lay on her back and felt the sun warming her front. Presently she heard another kind of splash over the sounds of the sea. An oar. She flipped over and saw a man in a sea canoe coming ever closer to her. He hadn’t seen her … yet. What should she do? She bobbed quietly, her nose just above the water. He was less than six feet away now and when he saw her he almost dropped his oar.