The Loner Read online

  ‘Look, I’m here now. We could have a drink and –’

  ‘Can’t, sorry.’

  ‘All work and no play –’ His heel caught against the sill and he stumbled back outside. Jess slammed the door shut.

  Her head full of all the things she wished she’d said, should have said, she crossed to the kitchen and picked up the kettle. It slipped out of her shaking hand and clattered onto the worktop. She caught it before it tipped over, but water shot out of the spout.

  A double-rap on the door made her start. What the hell was he playing at? She had been polite, given him a face-saving way out. He’d have to be really stupid not to see that she wasn’t interested. Cursing under her breath she grabbed the sponge and mopped up the puddle. Then lifting the lid she held the kettle under the cold tap.

  The knock was repeated. Her heart lurched and anger surged. Answer or ignore it? Then she heard Tom’s voice.

  ‘Jess?’ The door opened.

  She crashed the kettle down and flipped the on-switch with a trembling hand. ‘Come in, why don’t you. Everyone else does.’

  ‘I just passed Colin Terrell on your path. I thought he finished this afternoon.’

  ‘He did. And I paid him. He came back tonight to ask if there was anything else he could do for me because I must be lonely, especially at night.’

  Tom’s laughter pierced her like a shard of ice. ‘You think it’s funny? You think it’s OK for a married man to tell me because I live on my own I must be desperate?’

  His smile faded. ‘Hey, no need to get teasy. Colin Terrell tries it on with every attractive woman.’

  ‘No one thought to warn me.’

  ‘I expect they thought you already knew. ’Sides, you got more sense than to fall for his chat. Come on, Jess. You’re taking it too serious.’

  ‘How dare you! I’ve had two days of him being over-familiar. He turns up uninvited offering to “do me a favour”, but when I get angry I’m over-reacting? If you think that you’re as bad as he is.’ She was trembling with a fury whose violence shocked her.

  ‘Enough.’ Tom raised both hands. But instead of apologising he turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

  Her breath hitched and she burst into tears, furious with Colin Terrell, with Tom, and with herself. She hadn’t known about him. But she should have said something at his first suggestive remark. If he hadn’t come back she could have shrugged it off. What made her uncomfortable might not have bothered someone else.

  But his turning up this evening showed he thought he was in with a chance. And that meant she had left it far too late to stop something she should never have allowed to start.

  She hadn’t trusted her instincts. She’d been afraid of being wrong. She had been wrong about so much. So what? She could have apologised – not that he deserved an apology. He’d been testing her to see how far he could go. Like a fool she had put up with it.

  She ought to have seen what he was up to. How? She had no experience of men like him. Her husband had been just such a man. Only she hadn’t known until after his death.

  Pulling a tissue from her sleeve she wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and took several deep breaths. Sod Colin Terrell, sod Alex, and sod Tom. Taking it too seriously? How could he have said that to her knowing what he knew about Alex’s mistress and his secret daughter?

  Bloody men. The kettle boiled and switched itself off. She started to reach for the coffee jar, changed her mind and gulped down a glass of water instead.

  The cottage felt like a cage. Grabbing her jacket off the peg by the door, she put it on, stuffed a notepad and pen in her pocket, plugged headphones into her mobile, and with rock music pounding in her ears, set off for the churchyard.

  The evening was cool, the sun low, and the light a mellow gold by the time she reached the cemetery. The brisk walk had dissolved her rage. Swapping rock for a compilation of movie themes, she opened the small wooden gate.

  In the older part of the churchyard she walked along recently mown grass paths overshadowed by giant yew trees. Volunteers had been busy, cutting back tall grass, cow parsley, nettles, and Queen Anne’s lace around the rows of graves.

  Some of the headstones were slate, others were granite. The older ones were patterned with rusty lichen, their names and epitaphs hard to read. Yet here and there even these had fresh flowers on them.

  Then Jess found what she had come for, the grave of Francis Albert Chamberlin. The inscription on his headstone read, 1906-1986. A beloved husband sadly missed.

  A lump swelled in Jess’s throat. Because of the septicaemia that had killed him, Alex had been cremated in Turkey. He had flown out there alive and well, and come back as ashes. Alex’s boss had stood beside her as she scattered them in the garden of remembrance. Had he known about the woman in Dubai?

  She pushed the thought away. That was all in the past. Except it wasn’t. Nearly three years on she was still dealing with the fallout.

  Beneath Francis Chamberlin’s name was his wife’s. Ellen Margaret, 1910-1997. Jess wrote the names and dates in her notebook. Now she had a starting point for her search.

  Chapter Six

  ‘Is Tom coming this afternoon?’ Gill asked.

  ‘He might.’ Jess continued carefully slicing a jam and cream-filled Victoria sponge.

  Sliding a large quiche off greaseproof paper onto a serving plate, Gill turned to study her, resting a hand on her hip. ‘All right, what’s happened?’

  ‘I don’t know if he’ll be coming. This is a busy time at the yard –’

  ‘That’s not what Tom said when he came in the shop yesterday. Most of the winter lay-ups are in the water now. He’s still got plenty of work but the rush is over. So what’s wrong? Had a row?’

  ‘No! It’s just – Colin Terrell came to fix a leak in my roof.’

  ‘You were lucky to get him. He’s a good roofer and always busy.’

  ‘He had a cancellation.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So he did a good neat job, guaranteed it for six months, I paid him and off he went.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Then he came back that evening all smartened up wanting to know if there was anything else he could do for me because I must be lonely living on my own, especially at night. Bloody nerve!’

  ‘He’ve had trouble keeping it in his pants since he was fifteen. My niece Amy thought she’d tame ’n.’ Gill snorted. ‘We warned her. But she was determined to have him.’

  ‘He’s married to your niece?’

  Gill nodded. ‘Tis a wonder to me they’re still together. But he makes good money, she don’t want for anything and their place is lovely. Kath would like grandchildren but I can’t see it happening. Amy likes her job too much.’

  ‘What does she do?’

  ‘Works in a beauty salon. They do massages and makeovers, makeup for weddings, and all like that.’

  They looked at each other and spoke simultaneously. ‘Morwenna.’

  ‘That would be some fun. But what has Colin Terrell got to do with you and Tom?’

  Jess sighed. ‘Gran brought me up to look after tradesmen. She used to say they were far more use than pen-pushers. So I made coffee and tea just like I used to for Fred and Jason. But Colin would come in without knocking. He called me Jess and everything he said had a double meaning.’

  ‘You should have told him to watch his mouth.’

  ‘I know that now. But I thought if I said anything –’

  ‘He’d tell you it was all in your mind?’

  Jess nodded.

  ‘He’s a crafty devil. Thing is, most times it works.’

  ‘You’re joking.’

  ‘I’m not.’ She dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘He was having it away with Trish Roskelly the whole time he was working on their extension.’

  ‘What about her husband?’

  ‘He never knew. Or if he did he kept quiet. When the work was finished Colin moved on. Twelve years him and Amy have been married and he
started playing away six months after the wedding.’

  Jess sighed. ‘If I’d known … I feel such a fool, Gill. But Tom was my first boyfriend. When we split up I married Alex and we were together nearly twenty-five years – though with him being abroad so much, we probably only lived together a third of that. In all that time I never looked at another man. I was raising the boys, looking after Gran and Grampy, then Alex’s father after his stroke. I wouldn’t have recognised a pass if I’d tripped over it. And all the while my husband had at least one mistress, a daughter I’ve only just found out about, and gambled away all our money on dodgy shares. Not the sharpest knife in the drawer, am I?’

  ‘You stop that!’ Gill kept her voice low. ‘What Alex did is on him. Did you tell Tom about Colin?’

  ‘He said I was over-reacting and I flew at him.’ Jess shook her head. ‘I’m right off men at the moment.’

  Gill nudged her gently. ‘There isn’t a woman born who don’t feel like that sometimes. It don’t matter how good her man is, or how much she love him. It’ll pass. Tom’s a good soul, Jess. He’d never do anything to hurt you.’

  ‘I know. It’s just – He wants us to be more than just friends.’

  ‘About time too. Dear life, what you waiting for? He’s a fine-looking man and you’re not getting any younger.’

  Jess’s snort of laughter took her by surprise. ‘Thanks, that makes me feel a lot better.’ But Gill’s remark had dissolved her bad mood and she felt lighter. ‘It’s funny really. Back in our teens Tom broke up with me because he wasn’t ready for commitment. Now we’re together again. Only this time I’m the one holding back.’

  ‘Why? Don’t you fancy him?’

  ‘Of course I do. He’s got hunky shoulders, he makes me laugh, and he’s the kindest man I know.’ She pressed a hand to her burning cheek. ‘I feel daft, blushing at my age.’

  ‘I think it’s lovely. You’re lucky, bird. Not everyone gets a second chance.’

  The back door opened and Morwenna came in lifting a lidded plastic tub out of her canvas shopping bag as she announced, ‘I made two dozen splits.’

  ‘All right, Mor?’ Gill called.

  ‘Lovely.’ Morwenna beamed at her. Putting the tub on the worktop she dug into her bag again, bringing out another container and a folded apron.

  ‘Hi, Mor. How’s your kitchen coming on?’ Jess asked.

  Shedding her shower-proof coat, Morwenna hung it over the newel post at the bottom of a narrow staircase leading up to a storeroom where, during the Christmas carol concert, a baby had been born to a young couple fleeing for their lives.

  ‘Nearly finished. Looking proper ’andsome. I got a new stainless steel sink and worktop. Fred put in a tilt and turn double-glazed window. I can’t believe how much lighter ’tis. The old sash window had all they tiny panes. They was murder to keep clean. And he’ve put a new false wall in the bathroom to stop the mould.’

  ‘Elsie next door says she gets through bleach by the bucketful,’ Jess said. ‘That was why I gave up my second bedroom to have an inside bathroom.’

  ‘When you’re old with a weak bladder,’ Annie said over her shoulder as she added another jug full of water to the big electric urn, ‘you’ll wish you had one built on downstairs like Mor and Elsie.’

  ‘Dear life, Annie. Cheer us up why don’t you,’ Gill said.

  ‘You’re very quiet, Viv,’ Jess said. ‘Are you OK?’

  Short and plump, Viv was wearing an orange sweatshirt and lime-green leggings with two combs decorated with yellow sunflowers holding back her fair hair. She clattered one of the cups onto its saucer. ‘Yes. No. I don’t know.’

  ‘Well, that covers it,’ Annie said.

  ‘I keep having these awful sweats. Leave me limp as a rag they do. And I’m some moody.’

  ‘How can you tell?’ Annie opened a drawer and took out another tea towel. ‘You’ve always been up one minute and down the next.’

  ‘It’s part of your charm, Viv,’ Jess said over her shoulder as she rinsed her hands.

  ‘I know. But this is –’ She burst into tears.

  ‘Do you think you’ve picked up that there flu bug?’ Morwenna asked, concern puckering her forehead.

  ‘’Tisn’t flu, Mor. Looks like Viv might be on the change.’ As Jess moved to shield Viv from anyone looking through the hatch, Annie put an arm around Viv’s heaving shoulders.

  ‘Think you’re going mad, do you?’ she asked with surprising gentleness.

  Viv raised her tear-streaked face. ‘How did you know?’

  Annie handed her the tea towel. ‘Here. I’ll get another one. You could have fried an egg on my face. Nights were the worst. Sweating so much I had to change the bed, then waking an hour later shivering.’

  ‘I’ve had a few of those,’ Jess said. ‘I thought I might be getting a cold. But I didn’t, so I put it down to stress.’

  ‘You and Mor got stuff to be stressed about. I haven’t,’ Viv wailed.

  ‘Go down the surgery Monday morning and see the doctor.’

  ‘Who’s on?’

  ‘What does that matter? You want to feel better don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, of course I –’

  ‘Then do as you’re told.’

  ‘You’d never guess she used to be a district nurse, would you?’ Gill whispered and Jess bit her lip so she wouldn’t laugh.

  ‘How many cups of tea and coffee do you drink in a day?’ Annie demanded.

  Viv blinked. ‘I don’t know.’ She thought for a moment. ‘It must be a dozen.’

  ‘Too much caffeine. Cut it to six. Four would be better. Drink water instead. It worked for me.’ Giving Viv’s shoulder a brisk pat she crossed to the sink and ran hot water into the washing-up bowl.

  Viv wiped her eyes with the tea towel and took a deep breath. ‘I’m all right now.’

  ‘’Course you are,’ Jess said. ‘But do what Annie says.’

  ‘It’s all right for her, Jess,’ Viv whispered. ‘I need at least two cups of coffee to get me eyes open. Still, I’ll give it a try for Jimmy’s sake. The poor soul never knows what he’s coming home to. I’m up one minute and down the next. Wearing me out it is.’ She turned to Morwenna who had halved the splits and was spreading them with jam.

  ‘How’s Percy’s cough, Mor? They missed him at Lunch Club last week.’

  ‘Dragging him down awful. He’ve had two bottles of cough mixture but it didn’t do no good. Annie, what would you give ’n?’

  ‘Two spoonfuls of honey and two of lemon juice in hot water with a drop of whisky,’ Annie said over her shoulder.

  Mor nodded. ‘I’ll tell Ben. I hope it works for Percy’s sake, dear of him. But even if it don’t stop the cough, the whisky will cheer ’n up.’ She dug into the jam jar with her knife.

  Annie called Viv to give her a hand covering the green felt-topped card tables with disposable paper cloths.

  An hour later the hall was packed. Tall and lean, his white dog collar visible at the neck of a blue shirt, the Reverend Paul Griffin smiled as he gazed round the crowd. ‘You know what I’m going to say. The committee wants your money, as much as you can spare, so the hall roof can be made watertight before next winter. So please, dig deep. Now I have great pleasure in declaring the Spring Fete open.’

  ‘Mrs Griffin here, is she?’ Gill whispered.

  ‘I haven’t seen her,’ Jess said.

  ‘You know what they’re saying?’

  ‘I thought you didn’t listen to gossip.’

  ‘I never said I didn’t listen. You wouldn’t believe some of the things people talk about in the shop. I said I didn’t repeat it.’

  They joined in the applause, then, as conversation quickly rose to a roar, they returned to the kitchen. Gill seemed to have forgotten what she was saying about the vicar’s wife. Though itching to ask, Jess resisted.

  People crowded round long trestle tables holding rows of second-hand books, plants, cakes, bric-a-brac, items made by the craft group, and gifts
donated for the raffle.

  In the kitchen, Jess, Gill, Annie, Viv, and Morwenna moved around each other, making and pouring tea, replenishing plates, and washing up. Out in the hall, Frances Chiddock, smart in a pale blue jumper, silk scarf, and navy trousers, loaded used cups and saucers onto a tray.

  ‘Whose family tree are you working on now, Jess?’ Viv asked as she carried a stack of clean tea plates to the hatch, passing Annie who had just taken another bottle of milk from the fridge.

  ‘I’m tracing the history of a property. You know Marigold’s, the café opposite the chemist’s in town?’

  ‘The one with the poster of Mor’s great-grandparents?’

  Jess nodded. ‘It’s had several names in the past fifty years. Before it was a vegetarian restaurant called Beanz it was a burger bar, and before that a coffee bar done out like an American diner. Simon Opie inherited the property with the rest of the Chenhall estate. When he found the box of posters and playbills in the attic he also found the name sign. He had it repainted and put back up and asked me to find out who Marigold was and how her name came to be on the building.’

  ‘How are you getting on?’

  ‘Slowly.’

  ‘You’ll find her,’ Viv said. ‘Look what you did for Mor.’ She put the plates on the worktop and went back another stack.

  Jess poured milk into the jug, then glanced through the hatch.

  ‘Frances Chiddock is giving me the evil eye again,’ she murmured to Gill.

  ‘Take no notice,’ Gill advised.

  ‘I wish I knew what I’m supposed to have done.’

  ‘Nothing. It isn’t you, it’s her. You know she’s related to the Nichollses who farm Tregarrick up on the downs?’

  The news surprised Jess. ‘I didn’t realise she was local.’

  Gill nodded. ‘Her mother was nanny to Dr Ivey’s children. They used to live along the road to the marina. There was some trouble. Back during the war this was. Anyhow, the family moved away. Frances’ first husband was some high-up civil servant. When he died she moved back to the village and bought a bungalow in Roseveare Meadow. She got married again to this chap who passed himself off as wealthy. But after the wedding she found out he didn’t have a penny to his name.’