Page 17 of New Beginnings At Pencarrow Bay
‘We should find out,’ Ted insisted. ‘We could book a double plot. I have friends who’ve done that in other churchyards.’
The image of them lying side by side in the cold earth– even in such a spectacular setting– made Peggy shudder. ‘I don’t want to be buried,’ she said, taking Ted’s arm and squeezing it in reassurance that he was still flesh and blood, alive.
‘I’m dying first, anyway,’ he teased, although she knew he wasn’t joking– he’d said so often enough. ‘So you can be poured over me.’
They laughed, but none too heartily. Peggy didn’t think she was scared of death, per se, more the path she had to tread before she eventually reached it, but the image was disturbing nonetheless.
They wandered out of the graveyard and sat down on wooden picnic benches in the fresh May afternoon for a delicious cream tea: fluffy golden scones, raisins for Ted, definitely none for Peggy, fresh strawberry jam and lashings of clotted cream, washed down with a strong mug of Smugglers Brew tea from the café near the church. Then they took a leisurely stroll back across the fields and up the hill to the house, stopping to talk to the donkeys on the way. Bolt loved them, his tail wagging to beat the band, giving small barks of welcome, although the donkeys seemed unmoved by his presence, more interested in the human potential for carrots or other edibles.
The graveyard and their talk about death and burials had jolted Peggy.I still have so much life to live, she thought, as she lagged behind Ted on the path up to the house.I’ve got to get on with it, work out what I want to do, stop over-thinking and wasting my thoughts on what used to be… what I’ve lost.Because she was so blessed. Not least with Ted and the beautiful village in which she was so privileged to live.
The next morning Ted got up even earlier than usual for his run because Mo, the technician who maintained and repaired the solar inverter that ran the electrics on the van, was meeting him beside Henri at seven. The power had cut out twice, just briefly, the other morning. Ted had only a sketchy knowledge of what might be wrong, and absolutely no idea how to fix it.
He was upstairs getting showered and dressed, Peggy in the kitchen making them both porridge with blueberries, when his phone, charging on the kitchen counter, began to ring, vibrating loudly on the marble surface. Ted had no patience with voicemail, and had disabled the feature on his mobile– people could text him if it was important, he insisted– so it went on buzzing.
‘Shall I get it?’ she called up, thinking it might be Mo saying he’d been delayed or something. It was too early for anyone else.
‘Please, yes. Just coming,’ Ted called down.
She grabbed the mobile and opened the leather flap. ‘Hi, Ted’s phone,’ she said quickly, without checking the screen for caller display, keen to get to the person before they clicked off.
After a brief silence, she heard a muffled ‘Oh… Nevermind.’ Then the phone went dead, but not before she’d seen the name of the caller. And recognized the voice.
Ted pattered down the stairs in his socks to find her still clutching his phone and frowning.
‘Who was it?’
Peggy stared at him, didn’t reply.
He looked puzzled. ‘What?’
‘They hung up.’
‘Oh, well. They’ll try again, if it’s urgent.’
Handing Ted his phone– he didn’t check to see who’d called– she hesitated. She was trying to think it through, unwilling to kick off with him if there was a rational explanation for Lindy calling him at seven in the morning, then hanging up when Peggy answered.There isn’t, she concluded, and took a deep breath.
‘It was Lindy.’
‘What?’ Ted asked, as he bent down to lace his trainers.
‘Lindy.’
As Peggy watched, Ted slowly straightened. His expression seemed frozen as his cheeks coloured beneath the tan. He looked away and her heartbeat quickened. ‘What’s going on?’ Her voice sounded weak, hardly more than a whisper. She cleared her throat, tried again. ‘Ted, please.’
Bolt was fussing round Ted, knowing he was just about to go out. Ted reached down and gave the dog a stroke. She heard him sigh as he brought his gaze up to meet hers. ‘Listen, sweetheart, I haven’t got time to explain now. I need to get down and let Mo in so we can open up at eight… with a bit of luck.’ He paused, clearly unsure what to say next.
A horrible,unthinkablequestion froze on Peggy’s lips asshe waited for him to go on. But guilt was clearly written on his face about something.
Now he came round the kitchen island and put his arm around her shoulders. ‘I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not that.I promise you, Peggy. On my life.’
She saw something like resignation in his eyes, but was there also relief? She felt pent up, wanting to shout and cry and remonstrate and bang her fists on his chest until he told her the truth,right now. But Ted, having dropped a tender but brief kiss on her cheek, was moving towards the door, Bolt close on his heels. ‘I’m sorry but I’ve really got to go. I absolutely promise we’ll talk later, though, and I’ll tell you every single thing.’
For a few minutes after the front door closed behind him, Peggy just stood there.Do I believe him?she asked herself, heart still hammering in her chest. Despite all her uncertainties, she was forced to admit that he’d seemed genuinely relieved about coming clean. But coming clean aboutwhat?
The day ahead– until she could speak properly to Ted– seemed dauntingly long. Peggy, as she so often did on these days of unemployment, baked to pass the time: blackberry jam tarts. She would give them to Ted to take to the van tomorrow. It felt like something she had to do, something that proved everything was normal, that she and Ted were still solid.
The jam was from last year, and brought back such pleasant memories. The hedges along the lane running down from the castle were thick with brambles, yielding a rich crop of blackberries every autumn. One beautiful sunnyearly September evening, Peggy and Ted had spent a lovely hour filling their containers, eating some of the berries as they picked and finally sitting on a bench overlooking the sea cradling their precious swag, like a couple of kids.
