Page 87 of Kate and Clara's Curious Cornish Craft Shop
While I’m waiting I text Anita at the shop.
Going to be a bit longer than first expected. Don’t think you’ll be busy in this weather. But if you are call me. Kate x
As I’m putting my phone back in my bag, Anita texts back.
Everything fine here lovey. You take as long as you need. Everything just fine. Don’t worry about anything. x
I stare at the phone for a moment. Why does that text from Anita seem odd? I’m just reading it through again when I see Julian through the window. He has our hot chocolates in a cardboard carrier in one hand and a big black umbrella in the other.
I hurry to the door to let him in. He passes me the drinks and then he shakes his umbrella outside. ‘It’s still torrential out there,’ he says. ‘I don’t know why you were out in it in the first place.’
‘Just got caught in it,’ I say. ‘Thanks for going and getting these – they smell delicious. Where did you go? You were gone a while.’
‘Oh, one of the little cafés along the harbour,’ Julian says, leaning his damp umbrella against the back of the door. He turns around and his eyes almost pop out of his head when he sees I’m only wearing a white fluffy dressing gown. ‘You found them then – the robes, I mean.’
‘Yes,’ I say, pulling the robe a little tighter around me, ‘and the tumble-drier, thanks. My clothes should be dry in about half an hour, I hope.’ I sit back down on one end of the sofa, praying that Julian will sit at the other.
He doesn’t quite do that, but sits far enough away that I feel comfortable.
‘So,’ I begin casually, after taking a warming sip of my hot chocolate. ‘You said your father bought this cottage a long time ago?’
‘Yes, I think not that long after he left St Felix. I guess he must have wanted a little bolt-hole to come back to from time to time.’
‘But you’ve no idea when that was?’
‘Er … I think he left St Felix in the late fifties, so possibly around then. Perhaps the early sixties?’
I nod. I had to be careful or Julian might get suspicious. To be fair, I didn’t really know why I was asking all these questions. I just knew I might learn something important.
‘Most of these little cottages would have been owned by fishermen back then, wouldn’t they? They wouldn’t have been holiday homes like they are today.’
‘No, I suppose not, but even back then the fishing industry was beginning to die out. The smaller fishermen couldn’t compete with the big boys with the big boats. It’s a shame, but that’s progress for you.’
‘Yes, I suppose so. Do you think your father got a bargain with this place? I mean if a fisherman had been living here who couldn’t afford to any more, he might have been able to buy it for next to nothing.’
‘I doubt any fisherman living here owned this house. He probably rented it, so my father would have had to buy it from his landlord.’
‘Oh yes, I hadn’t thought about that … but still, that would have been expensive, wouldn’t it? Your father must have been doing well with his painting to afford to buy a cottage here and still continue to live somewhere else.’
Julian looks suspiciously at me. ‘Why all the questions, Kate?’
I shrug. ‘No reason. I’m interested that’s all.’ As Julian doesn’t look all that satisfied with my answer, I continue, ‘I’ve always been interested in the history of St Felix. I love to talk about its past. Someone has always got a story or two to tell.’
‘That is very true. Most of it is nonsense, of course. You don’t want to be listening to all the tittle-tattle, only the true stories with historical significance.’
‘Well, I don’t know about that—’ I begin.
‘Really, Kate, there are some dreadful tales. I’ve heard them.’
‘From who?’ I ask, wondering who Julian had been gossiping with. Usually most of the tales were told in The Merry Mermaid of an evening, and I didn’t think he’d spent much time in there.
‘A few people,’ he says carefully. ‘Apparently my father isn’t all that popular here, despite the gallery putting on a special exhibition of his work.’
‘Really?’ This was the first I’d heard of this. ‘Who told you that?’
‘A couple of folk. Not that I’d treat what they say with any seriousness. They were propping up the bar in one of the local hostelries at the time.’
‘Which one?’
