Page 30 of New Beginnings At Pencarrow Bay
‘I’m meeting Sienna Rybicki,’ she told the barely smiling front-of-house, who materialized at her side, the woman’s black-framed glasses and hard red lipstick greatly enhancing her aura of power.
But at the mention of the name the FOH almost stood to attention. ‘Follow me, please,’ she said, leadingPeggy outside, where more guests breakfasted in the sunshine– although a stiff wind was buffeting the large canvas umbrellas shading them, making a disturbingly loud snapping noise.
Sienna was at the far end of the long terrace, sitting alone and very still, her long fingers folded over her mobile phone, which lay on the cover of a thick leather notebook balanced on her knees– embossed, Peggy saw, with instantly recognizable Liberty print. Her dark-eyed beauty was almost fascinating close up, although she was older than Peggy had previously supposed from rare glimpses at the farm shop.Older than Paul by a good many years, she thought.
Dressed in what Peggy was sure were cashmere joggers, Chanel leather trainers and a silk T-shirt, all in muted cream, she seemed to be trying to appear low-key and casual, but was too rich to pull it off. A cup of black coffee sat on the low glass table in front of her, apparently untouched.
Looking up as she approached, Sienna straightened, sweeping wispy strands of her long ash-blonde hair back over her shoulders. She didn’t get up, just indicated the chair opposite as she greeted Peggy politely but with minimal warmth.
Peggy sat. She was gasping for some coffee, but the waiting staff were clearly not venturing to this end of the terrace, as if the area had been designated Sienna’s private office and she was not to be disturbed. For a moment she hesitated.
Then she thought,Stuff it.I’m too old to pander to anyone.She said, ‘Excuse me while I order some coffee,’ and got up. Collaring a curly-haired youth in a waiter’s apron, shewas about to order a croissant too. But something told her that would be a step too far– wrangling crumbs on the chin and buttery fingers was not a good look for a first interview– and she settled for an Americano, milk on the side, her stomach grumbling menacingly at the decision.
‘So you’re opening a forest school?’ Peggy took the initiative once seated again.
The ex-model’s carefully contained expression sprang to life. ‘It’s not really a “forest” school, in the accepted sense, more an environmental academy.’ She stared past Peggy. ‘I want the kids to experience their learning through the natural world. Through the prism of the earth that supports them, the plants that nourish them, the birds and animals that help the eco-system to flourish.’ It was clearly a speech she’d delivered more than once from the way it tripped off her tongue, but it was passionate and seemed genuine enough. ‘Do you understand?’
Peggy couldn’t say she entirely did. ‘Is it a free school, then?’
Sienna nodded. ‘It falls into the category of alternative provision. I want children– all ages from eleven to eighteen– who’ve been excluded, for instance, or have long-term mental health problems, are victims of bullying, that sort of thing… Misfits.’
‘Sounds admirable,’ Peggy said, and meant it. It occurred to her that maybe Sienna considered herself to be in that category with her unusual beauty and, Peggy pondered, perhaps a touch of neuro-diversity, implied by her strangely dislocated manner.
‘Holism. The interconnectedness of this beautiful land of ours,’ Sienna went on. ‘You’ve heard of Sky Woman,the origin story of the Iroquois? The sky goddess falls to earth and the animals, birds and plants nurture her.’
Peggy shook her head, but Sienna was looking away across the water as she spoke and seemed to drift off. Peggy wondered if she’d fallen into a sort of trance, her vision for the future acting like an intoxicant. ‘Our children will be soothed and healed by the power of nature,’ Sienna insisted, no longer dazed. ‘The feel of rich Cornish soil through their fingers, the touch of bark on their palms, the sun on their faces, the animals and birds around us. And our piskies will protect and guide them. Show the kids how to save the earth and all that lives in it along the way… including themselves.’
Her vision, despite sounding a bit bonkers, seemed oddly lovely and right.But Sky Woman? Piskies?There was silence, Peggy with little idea how to respond.
‘I can see from your face you think I’m soft in the head,’ Sienna murmured unapologetically. ‘But right now there’s a tiny pisky on your left shoulder.’
Involuntarily, Peggy shot it a glance.
‘Hmm,’ Sienna went on thoughtfully, head cocked to one side. ‘Seems to like you.’
Peggy, although pretty sure– but not hard-line certain– she didn’t believe in fairies, felt a shiver go up the back of her neck. Then her would-be employer suddenly snapped out of it, like a switch being flipped. She must have caught sight of something or someone on the other side of the glass doors. She waved her hand angrily in that direction. ‘There he is. The bastard. The villain of the piece.’
Peggy, startled by the venom in her voice, turned to see Tudor Kostas, the owner of the hotel– smartly turnedout, as always, in a grey bespoke suit and slicked-back dark hair– talking to the front-of-house with the red lipstick.
Sienna was ranting on. ‘The horrific amount of energy it must take to wash all these millions of glasses and launder the piles of linen every day… Kostas is bringing the planet to its knees almost single-handedly. But he doesn’t give a toss about anything except money.’
Peggy almost laughed.You don’t have to come here, she thought.She said, ‘I suppose you can’t charge someone four hundred quid a night and expect them to share a towel with the whole corridor.’
Sienna stared at her, then burst out laughing. Her whole demeanour softened, her dark eyes coming alive. ‘I’d like to try, though, just to see their faces.’
Peggy laughed too, charmed by this glimpse of the human side to Paul’s wife, while still recovering from the fairy devotee. ‘To get back to your school,’ she said. ‘I’m uniquely qualified if you’re talking kids with educational challenges.’ She went on to tell Sienna about her work at Great Ormond Street.
By the time Peggy had finished her coffee, the conversation was flowing. Sienna seemed to have shrugged off her proselytizing cloak and was showing fewer signs of the strange euphoria, the disconnection, that had overcome her earlier. They talked more about how the school would work. Peggy got the sense that although Sienna was slightly out of her depth in the minefield of running an educational establishment, she would find whatever help she needed– throw money at it if necessary– to make it work. Peggy respected that. In fact, having been in the system for thirty years, she thought she could probably be quite useful to Sienna.
The meeting was winding up. ‘So this isn’t your second home?’ Sienna asked, almost as an afterthought– she had so far not enquired into Peggy’s life.
Peggy flinched at the term ‘second home’, almost expecting a lightning bolt to split the otherwise bright blue sky and strike them down. The phrase, to the permanent residents of the bay, was like shouting, ‘Fire!’ in a packed theatre. They immediately started ranting about mythical ‘young families’ who’d been priced out of the market– now so long gone, they might never have existed at all.
Peggy was pretty sure, too, that these families wouldn’t stay even if they could afford the houses. Without the tourists renting the second homes and indulging in pricey crab sandwiches, boat hire, ice creams and Spanish crisps at five pounds a bag, there would be no work for miles. It would be like winter, all year round. It was a case of Catch-22.
Now she shook her head. ‘We’re totally committed to the bay. My partner, Ted, runs the coffee stall up by the castle. We’re retired but not retired.’
Sienna raised a well-shaped eyebrow. ‘Good coffee,’ she said, with a smile, giving her still full cup a disdainful glance. ‘Okay, now, a pic for Insta. Lean forward,’ she said, raising her mobile. ‘I want to involve people in my process, each stage of getting this school up and running. It’ll be a documentary in itself by the time I’m done.’ She angled the phone. ‘I’m posting about every single move I make… to chivvy our supporters, get them inspired.’
