Page 8 of New Beginnings At Pencarrow Bay
‘Oh, you know.’ Hearing her friend’s voice, Peggy felt suddenly a little tearful. She shook herself, took a breath. ‘The sun’s shining, the sea’s blue, the coffee’s hot…’ She ran out of positives.
‘Oh, my God, what’s wrong?’ Annie demanded.
‘Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. I promise.’
Peggy heard a trying-to-be-patient sigh. She inhaledslowly. ‘Well, it’s Ted. He’s not been himself, recently. He seems… I don’t know… sort of distracted, distant at times, as if something’s preying on his mind. And I genuinely have no idea what.’ She stopped, annoyed that she’d fallen at the first fence when she’d been so determined not to mention the problem.
‘And you’ve tried asking him, of course?’
‘Well, no, not specifically,’ Peggy admitted, sheepishly. Not at all, in fact.
Her friend chuckled. ‘And why not?’ Then she harrumphed. ‘Hate you being so far away. I can’t trust you on your own not to panic about nothing.’
Peggy sighed. ‘Maybe it is nothing.’ She didn’t sound certain, despite her best efforts, and her friend heard.
‘Talk to him, darling. Just talk to him. When Sat and I went through problems it was because we weren’t communicating.’ She gave a theatrical sigh. ‘Not that communication is Sat’s forte… unless you’re a molecule, of course. The most I get out of him, on the rare occasions he lifts his head from his microscope, is a grateful pat on the head when I’ve washed his lab coat.’
It was Peggy’s turn to laugh. ‘You know he adores you.’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ Annie replied briskly. ‘Let’s get back to Ted… Same applies to him obviously. He absolutely adores you. He’s told me often enough–ad nauseam, if I’m honest. If you’re worried he’s straying, it won’t be that.’ She paused. ‘Hmm, what are the other options? Money worries? Vodka in his water bottle? Thinks he’s got prostate cancer?’ After a moment she went on triumphantly, ‘Yes, that’ll be it. Prostate. Men always hide it for as long as they can. It’s so tied up with their manhood. Idiots.’
This did have the merit of making Peggy laugh properly. ‘You’re not helping.’
‘Sorry, darling. But I know you so well. I’m trying to tease out how serious this problem is. Or if there even is a problem. You are Oscar-winningly famous for inventing stuff that only exists in your head.’
Annie’s right, Peggy thought, and let go of a breath she seemed to have been holding since that morning.Only exists in my head.
‘Pegs? Are you there?’
‘Yeah. Listen, I’m glad I’ve told you, because just speaking it out loud makes me realize how stupid I’m being. But I’m not very good at change.’ As she said it Peggy felt the pain of her fourteen-year-old self after the much more dramatic upheaval of her childhood… the strangeness of her grandmother’s house and town, the agonizing, earth-swallow-me shyness she felt when the kids at the new school had stared at her as if she had two heads. ‘And I still haven’t really found my feet here… Although this morning…’ And she began to relate the story of Quentin and the shark, reducing her friend to uncontrollable laughter. It did them both good, and the call ended on a more upbeat note. Although Peggy couldn’t help saying, ‘I miss you,’ to her friend.
‘Miss you too, Pegs. Your fault for moving to the ends of the earth, though.’
5
Ted had promised to come home straight after closing Henri for the day. Peggy was delighted. He so often went off with someone to sail or paddleboard or run, last minute, now the evenings were longer and the weather more clement. So she decided to concentrate on having a lovely evening with her partner– or ‘lover’, if Quentin had his way. She hurried down to the deli in the arcade and collared Jake Pascoe, who owned the shop and ran it like a Swiss train.
‘I’m crap with wine, Jake,’ she said. ‘I want something good for tonight.’
Jake was pretty. No other word. Golden blond curls tumbling around large luminous cornflower-blue eyes, a refined nose with a delicate upward tilt, a rosebud mouth that wouldn’t have been out of place on Scarlett Johansson. He was also very charming and expert at his trade: a perfect ten, his only flaw being that he clearly knew it.
‘Something special? Buzzy little Camel Valley Brut, perhaps?’ Jake asked, in his slightly mangled public-school tones. These had been modified by a West Country twang, gleaned from long years slumming it in the grungy mobile homes of surfers camped out near Fistral Beach on the north shore… Until his mother, Bunny Pascoe, had summoned him home.
Bunny was now in her eighties and quite reclusive, except when out with her four dogs or taking her dawnsea swim– whatever the weather or temperature. Jake lived with her in the large white tumbledown house on the hill just up from the harbour, which no one could properly see because it was surrounded by a thick phalanx of trees. The Pascoes had been in the bay– in Pencarrow House, indeed– since there was a village or anyone in it, according to local history. Village gossip had invented a rivalry between Bunny and Lindy– two powerful women in possession of the two most notable houses– Old genes versus new money, as some wag had quipped– but Peggy thought this was nonsense. Lindy’s house had been in Gordon’s family for decades.
‘No, no, just a light red perhaps,’ Peggy replied, her eyelids fluttering in horror at the prices scribbled on the sparkling wine tags.
‘What’s the occasion? Seduction night, is it?’ Jake enquired cheekily.
Peggy bent to grab a packet of ludicrously expensivejamón ibéricocrisps from a large basket at her feet– to give herself a moment in case she blushed– then decided to brazen it out. ‘Oh, absolutely,’ she said, as she straightened up, smiling in what she hoped was a nonchalant manner.
Pulling a bottle from one of the shelves in the glass cabinet just outside the shop, Jake ran his hand lovingly across the label. ‘This one should do the trick, then,’ he said. ‘I know Ted likes it. Took a couple of bottles out last time we went for a sail.’ Jake had a beautiful yacht in the bay– he was an accomplished sailor, according to Ted.
‘Oh, okay. Thanks. I’ll take one of those, then. And some cheese, please… Maybe the Helford Blue,’ Peggy said. She was cooking one of Ted’s favourites: chicken schnitzelwith a Parmesan and crunchy breadcrumb coating, served with caper and lemon butter, and fresh butterhead lettuce salad– Arthur next door left the lettuces on an upturned wooden crate outside his gate when there was a glut. This would be followed by the rich, creamy, tangy blue cheese, and some early local strawberries slathered with clotted cream. Ted loved clotted cream, but Peggyadoredit, finding endless vehicles for the stuff to prevent herself eating it neat from the pot.
She’d decided on the walk down that she was not going to nag Ted tonight, ask if anything was wrong, as Annie had suggested. Because hopefully nothingwaswrong– except in her crazy head. She was just going to give him a wonderful evening andlove him. Which wasn’t exactly hard.
As Jake was busy preparing her purchases, Gen came into the shop. She and Jake were an item, Peggy knew. But seemingly a rather on-off one, according to the odd remark Gen had made when they were poring over potential paint colours for the house. ‘He’s… How can I put it? Dragging his heels?’ Gen had told Peggy one day, laughing and rolling her eyes as she spoke. But Peggy could see she was serious. And upset, too– although Gen’s and her friendship was still young and they hadn’t shared many confidences.
