Page 21 of New Beginnings At Pencarrow Bay
‘You say youthinkshe– I assume it’s a “she”, it usually is– is “sort of” being coerced? So you’ve seen something worrying?’
Peggy sighed. ‘No, I haven’t seen anything. But what she’s described I can’t imagine anyone making up. It’s someone very close to her. A family member.’ She paused, then added, ‘Have you dealt with these cases in court?’
‘I was in corporate law, so no. That’s for the criminal and family courts.’ He pulled into the side of the road, concern written on his face. ‘I have to ask… You’re not talking about yourself, are you?’ He stopped, clearly almost shocked that he’d even considered the question. ‘I can’t believe Ted–’
‘Oh, my God, no!’ Peggy exclaimed. ‘Absolutely not.’ She bit her lip. ‘I shouldn’t have brought it up with you. I was sworn to secrecy and here I am, the first chance I get, blurting it out.’ She hadn’t realized Quentin was a corporate lawyer– she’d hoped he might have come across the problem in his work. She longed, in fact, to tell him everything, but knew she could not.
‘Well, my dear, you haven’t exactly blurted anything out, have you? I have no idea to whom you’re referring.’ A reflective smile began to spread across his craggy features. ‘Although my mind is whirring. Hmm, now who could it be?’ He held his finger to his chin in mock thoughtfulness.
She laughed. ‘Stop it. This is just what the person was afraid of, why she didn’t want me to know. Village gossip.’
‘Reasonable question: why did she tell you, if she didn’t want you to know?’
Blast, Peggy thought, regretting with every bone in her body that she’d opened up this can of worms. She let out a frustrated groan. ‘Please, Quentin, can we change the subject?’
He nodded slowly. ‘To answer your initial question, there is a national domestic-abuse helpline, of course, and various charities deal with the problem. Maybe you should persuade your friend to call one. I’m sure there are details all over the internet.’
‘Thanks, yes, good idea. Should have thought of that,’ she said, her reply brisk, closing down the discussion.
They moved on in silence until they saw the farm shop up ahead, Peggy inwardly sighing with relief that their destination would provide a different focus for Quentin’s curiosity. The large converted barn was painted stand-out red with white trim round the windows and door– sort of New England style, Peggy thought– the sloping roof covered with solar panels. There were no cars parked in the area in front of the shop today, she was surprised to notice, where normally vehicles jostled for the limited space available. In the summer they often spilled out onto the main road, parking randomly along the kerb and disrupting theflow of traffic out of the village. There had been protests in the past, Ted had told her, but nothing was ever done because the people parking were bringing valuable tourist business.
‘Hmm,’ Quentin commented. ‘Looks closed. Shame.’
But as they drew level, they saw Paul Messinger seated on a bench to the right of the high barn door. He was on his phone, but when he saw them, he clicked off and waved. ‘Hey, Quentin! You’re a sight for sore eyes. You must have sensed I was having a bit of a crap morning.’ His accent was London with a hint of the US. ‘Power’s out.’
‘That is crap, indeed,’ Quentin replied sympathetically.
‘Yeah, but I’ve got cake. Ginger. Ma bakes early.’ He indicated the battered old metal oven tray on the bench beside him. Peggy saw neat squares of something dark brown and glossy, imprinted with apple rings and scattered with a melted layer of Demerara sugar, an ivory-handled knife with a broad blade balanced on the lip. ‘Can’t do coffee to go with it, but you’re very welcome to a chunk.’ He turned his large dark eyes on Peggy. ‘Hello. I’ve seen you about, but we’ve never been introduced.’ He chuckled. ‘Your snazzy new steed a babe magnet then, Quent?’
‘Oh, absolutely,’ Quentin replied, reaching eagerly for a sticky slab of cake from the tray Paul held out to them. ‘This is Peggy, my newest best friend. She’s fair-Ted-at-the-coffee-van’s lover.’ He winked at his use of the term.
Peggy grinned. It sounded romantic, put like that.
Paul gave her an appraising stare, making the heat rise to her cheeks. She felt suddenly self-conscious about her appearance: knowing looks carried such a premium in his and Sienna’s world. She never usually worried about suchthings, just hoped she was wearing well enough for her age. Ted said he adored her large hazel eyes, told her she had a gorgeous mouth. She did pride herself a little on her smooth, clear skin– which she’d always looked after, Granny Maud drumming skincare into her almost daily as she handed out brimmed hats and sunscreen to the reluctant teenage Peggy. And she counted herself lucky that her thick dark-auburn hair had, for reasons of heredity she assumed– her father had kept his colour into old age– not yet gone grey. Now, to cover her blushes– and because it looked yummy– she, too, looked at the tray Paul offered and prised out a piece of cake.
‘Sit,’ Paul offered, shifting along the bench and stowing the cake tray on the ground by his feet– which were bare beneath his faded jeans. ‘You’re a teacher, right?’
She nodded, marvelling yet again at the village grapevine: someone she had only seen in passing already knew the details of her life. It felt sort of cosy, as if she were part of something she felt was in touching distance, but which she hadn’t yet grasped.
‘You know Sienna’s setting up this forest school? It’ll be in that wooded area, up by the water tower. You can’t see the building from the road, but it’s almost finished now. Opening for the September term if all goes well. If you’re interested, I know she needs people.’
Peggy straightened, heart jumping. ‘A forest school?’ She was aware this was an ill-defined term in teaching circles– some saw it as more of an adventure club– but that it was essentially learning in a woodland setting, building confidence and exploring the natural environment. Whatever it was in Sienna’s terms, it would be with children.It would be teaching.
Paul nodded.
‘That’s very exciting. Well, yes, I’mdefinitelyinterested.’ She felt a huge spike of hope.This is exactly what I need. Something to make her feel useful, something that would give her life purpose again. Paul handed her his phone and she typed in her number.
‘I’ll get Sienna to call you.’
She thanked him and they all subsided into an easy silence.
‘Thought solar panels would protect you from power cuts?’ Quentin suggested, through a mouthful of cake, gazing up at the barn roof.
‘Yeah, me too. Sienna tries to explain about battery storage and such like– she’s the planet-saviour in the family– but I’m afraid I’m bone-headed about the mechanics of life. Bit of a thickerton at school.’
Quentin scoffed. ‘You sell yourself short, my friend.’ Swallowing a mouthful of cake, he added, ‘Rory and I were wondering… are you planning another movie night? Last year’s was such a success.’ Paul, a film nut, had arranged and sponsored a drive-in screening ofThe Wizard of Ozin the castle car park the previous summer, to everyone’s delight.
Paul nodded. ‘Yeah, thought I might. FanciedSome Like It Hot. Although Lindy favoursGone With the Wind. What’s your vote?’ He was asking Peggy.
