Page 31 of Autumn at the Cornish Garden Café

Rosa grabbed the driest blanket and a handful of pins from the board behind the counter, then she started pinning the blanket over the hole in the window. It moved in and out like a flapping sail, making a sucking noise on each outward movement, but it held fast and would keep the worst of the weather out.

Then she retreated into the shop to sit and wait it out. Damage had been done, but she wouldn’t know how much until tomorrow. Sinking onto the floor in front of a bookcase in the children’s section, she buried her face in her hands. She would stay there like a captain with his sinking ship, hoping that the storm would pass, hoping that tomorrow would be a brighter day.

21

HENRY

Henry had noticed there was a gap in the hedge at the back of Christopher’s garden by the shed. It backed onto woodland and so he’d followed a narrow path through the trees at the back of the garden and found a small clearing. There, at the centre, was a hole. It was about the size of an access hole over a drain and looked like the surface had just given way.

If it was some sort of sinkhole and Bobby had fallen into it, Henry had no idea what the dog’s chances would be. He felt sick to his stomach and the back of his throat burned with bile. Shining the torch on his phone over the hole, he peered into it, but it was hard to see clearly with the rain lashing down and the wind blowing things around.

He looked at his phone screen, wanting to check if Rosa was OK, but he had no signal so he’d have to wait until he could get back there. Either that or he could check on her now and then come back and?—

Wait. What was that?

He held his breath and listened and when the wind died down a little, he could hear it again.

Whimpering.

He cupped his hands around his mouth and leant over the hole, then shouted, ‘Bobby! Hey boy!’

A bark came in reply.

‘Bobby! Don’t worry, I’m coming for you!’

He had no choice. He couldn’t leave the small dog, Christopher’s entire world, trapped underground. The poor dog would be terrified, and anything could happen to him if Henry didn’t get him out.

‘I’m coming boy!’ He shouted into the hole.

He crouched down on the ground and lowered his legs into the hole, then he slid into it, still holding his phone and asking the universe to help him out here. If he got stuck too, then at least Bobby would have some company.

He slid through the small opening and landed on his feet in a space the width of a phone box. Because the space was barely five feet high, he had to bend over, but he shone his torch around and saw that it was part of a tunnel. The smell of wet wood, rotting seaweed and old tides enveloped him and he wretched at its strength.

‘Bobby?’ he called out, and a bark rewarded him. ‘Where are you?’

The bark came again, so he followed the noise along the tunnel until he came to what he realised was a cave. And there, trembling in a corner, was the little dog.

‘Come here, boy,’ he whispered, crouching down.

Bobby whimpered, so he went closer and held out a hand. Bobby sniffed it then wagged his little tail, but he was clearly scared by what had happened and freezing cold. Henry lifted him tenderly, unzipped his jacket and tucked Bobby inside it, then zipped it up again. At least this way Bobby would have the benefit of Henry’s body heat and hopefully feel more secure.

Henry shone the phone torch around with one hand while supporting Bobby with the other and he realised he was in an old smugglers’ cave. He had heard rumours of smugglers’ tunnels beneath many coastal areas of Cornwall, but he’d never been in one before, and he was fascinated.

However, he reminded himself; it was time to get back to Christopher and then to Rosa. He could always return to the cave another time and have a good look around.

As he made his way back, he stumbled once when he stepped on something. He was about to kick it out of the way when he realised it was a small bag, so he picked it up and shone the light on it. It looked like it could contain something of interest, so he tucked it into his pocket and carried on, making his way back to the opening in the ground behind Christopher’s home. The tunnel was narrow, and the phone light was fading, so he suspected the battery was running low, but it held until he reached the opening. He climbed out, taking care not to squash Bobby on the way.

When he was above ground again, he sucked in the fresh air, grateful to feel the rain on his skin and the wind buffeting him from side to side. He could still smell the dank earth of the tunnel and cave, still feel the chill in his bones from being down there, but Bobby was safe and he needed to get him warm and dry.

He hurried along the garden and through the back door, put the phone on the table and kicked off his muddy boots, then unzipped his coat and grabbed a towel from the radiator and folded it around Bobby.

‘Christopher!’ he called. ‘I’m back.’

In the lounge, Christopher was waiting in his chair and when he saw Bobby, he clapped his hands and his eyes glistened in the firelight. ‘Oh my boy,’ he said as opened his arms.

Henry set Bobby on Christopher’s lap and he wrapped the blanket he had around him around Bobby too.

‘He could do with a wash, but he needed to see you first,’ Henry said.

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