Page 68 of New Beginnings At Pencarrow Bay
Ted stopped what he was doing. Dropping his palms to the counter, he leaned forward, staring at her, clearly bewildered. ‘You thinkLindyhad something to do withthose emails? Oh, my God… How is that possible?’ he muttered, sounding dazed as he turned the tap full on in the little sink in the island, the water splashing everywhere as he messily rinsed cheese off his hands.
Peggy got up, her heart banging in her chest. ‘You don’t see it,’ she said quietly, although she felt like screaming. ‘Lindy is obsessed with you. I’m pretty certain she did organize those emails, Ted. And I’m not convinced about the Felix narrative either– although I don’t know for sure, of course. But what I do know is that she’s reeling you in. You’re being played.’ What she was saying felt dangerous, confrontational– and Peggy hated confrontation. But she was glad, nonetheless, to have got it off her chest. It was meant as a heartfelt plea, not an accusation. A plea that he would understand what was going on.
Ted didn’t look at her as he turned to find a towel with which to wipe his wet hands. ‘Okay, I hear you,’ he mumbled. But he didn’t say more, still didn’t meet her eye.
Then he gave a heavy sigh, as he gazed at her. ‘Come here, Pegs… have a hug.’
She didn’t move as Ted opened his arms.He says he’s heard, but has he really?She was not convinced. And not in the mood for hugs.
‘Where have you been all day, anyway? I texted you this morning,’ Ted asked, dropping his arms in a resigned gesture when she rejected his embrace. He looked, she thought, utterly miserable and was clearly searching around for something to say that would change the focus of their discussion.
‘I went across to Falmouth with Liam,’ she said. ‘We had lunch and a wander.’
Ted nodded. ‘Where is he now?’
‘In the pub.’ She didn’t add that he was hoping to meet Gen. Didn’t want to spark another eye roll, another sarcastic comment.
They viewed each other across the kitchen island. The Greek salad, still half finished, the greaseproof packet of sliced ham from Jake’s, the olives waiting to join the cheese, cucumber and tomato in the wooden bowl, all seemed to mock her in their promise of a peaceful supper on the terrace with the man she loved. But that man had somehow been hijacked– bewitched, even– by the beautiful, charismatic, but troubled Lindy McDonald.
‘What’s happening to us?’ she asked, wanting to cry but determined not to.
Ted blinked, looked away. When he turned back to her, he said, ‘You’ve got to trust me, Peggy.’ His voice was tight with something she couldn’t define. Was it sadness?Was it guilt?Whichever it was, it seemed an odd thing to insist, when she wasn’t challenging him on that front.
31
By tacit agreement, Peggy and Ted ate supper in the kitchen. Outside, the June evening light, the scents, the blooms radiating colour seemed too lovely, too at odds with their current mood. They didn’t bother to make conversation, just finished the food quickly, Peggy barely tasting it. After they’d cleared up, Ted said he was going for a run. He took Bolt with him, leaving the house filled with a dull, foreboding silence. She didn’t know what to do, where to go, how to break the impasse between them.
In the end, she too went out, wandering disconsolately down to one of the benches on the slope leading to the beach. The sun was still an hour away from setting– the longest day only just past– the tide coming in, water calm and empty of activity at this time, waves darkening as the light began to fade over the western hillside. There were many holidaymakers promenading lazily up and down the strip, chatting quietly, enjoying the balmy evening air. More were ensconced in the pubs or various eateries, from which she could hear music and loud shouts of laughter.
The wooden bench was rough and cool, wonky as Peggy sat down, one of the weather-beaten slats loose at the end. She took a deep breath and let it out very slowly, feeling her thumping heart begin to slow for the first time in hours. It had been a very, very long day.
As she sat in the peace of the evening, Liam’s suggestionthat she was wasting her life down here came back to her. Now her son had voiced it– claimed Dan was in agreement– it hovered on the edge of her tired brain, niggling at her.
Have I made a terrible mistake?she wondered.Was thinking I could retire and be happy in a place so different from London just a foolish dream?But shehadbegun to be happy in the village. She’d begun to feel her life could be satisfying and fulfilling– fun, too. Despite her sons’ gloomy insistence, Peggy had no desire whatsoever to move back to the city. She knew, even after so short a time away, she would never settle again in the noise and the dirt, the busyness of urban life, having experienced the gorgeous tranquillity of Pencarrow Bay.I desperately want to live here now, she thought,as much as Ted does. That came as something of a surprise to her.
She shifted on the bench, let out a small sigh.What did Ted mean when he said I should trust him?She felt she could no longer read his mood, work out what he was thinking. What she’d seen as his open, enthusiastic approach to life seemed to have disappeared recently, his communication with her faltering to such a degree, she wasn’t sure how much shecouldtrust him any more.
Peggy noticed the sun had gone down and shivered in her thin T-shirt. She rose stiffly and made her way up the hill towards home in the gathering darkness. The lights were on in Lilac House, and she was curious as to what was going on inside.For all I know, Ted’s in there right now, she said to herself as she walked past. It wouldn’t have surprised her.
Peggy had nearly reached the castle, when she heard thesound of pounding feet and whoops coming up the hill fast behind her. As she turned, startled, she saw, appearing out of the gloaming, Paul and Sienna, hand in hand, running towards her. When they saw her, they stopped dead in their tracks, breathless and laughing– clearly intoxicated.
‘Peggy? Come with, we’re storming the castle!’ Paul said, grabbing her hand and pulling her along. She tried to protest, but he paid no attention. ‘Follow me,’ he shouted. ‘Bring your clarinet. We’re having a party.’
Peggy found herself dragged along, even found herself laughing with them, their crazy antics seeming a fitting end to a bizarre and confusing day.Why not?she thought, as they reached the ruins. Paul yanked her across the ditch and over a pile of mossy stones in a gap between two much higher stone walls. Peggy had read in the blurb about the history of the fort that this area represented the guardhouse.
The centre of the exposed square was now grassed over, kept trim by English Heritage, and Paul and Sienna threw themselves down. The sky retained enough light for Peggy just to be able to make out their faces. Sienna lay flat on her back, arms and legs splayed in her floaty, calf-length dress– which was an acid green not many people could get away with. Paul sat comfortably cross-legged beside her as he pulled something from the top pocket of his denim shirt. Peggy flopped down, winded from the run, and stretched her legs, feeling the coolness of the grass beneath her cargo shorts and wondering what on earth she was doing there.
A moment later, she saw the flame of Paul’s lighter and the glow from the end of what appeared to be a large spliff.He sucked on it, held his breath and handed it wordlessly to Peggy. She shook her head, but he kept holding it out, waggling it at her, as he slowly released the smoke in a long stream.
‘Go on,’ he urged, grinning. After another moment’s hesitation, she cautiously took it between her thumb and forefinger.
It was years since Peggy had smoked anything, let alone hash. Those were Max days, when all sorts of substances had circulated at the parties he’d dragged her to in their youth. Occasionally she had sucked on a joint as it was passed around, until one New Year’s Eve they’d been to dinner at the house of a batty film producer friend of his. ‘Good stuff, this,’ Bruce had declared, as he produced a tray of neatly made joints. ‘Hindu Kush,’ he added, as he passed them around the party. Peggy hadn’t smoked much, but half an hour later, she felt herself go cold and start to sweat. Max, who never touched the stuff– he abhorred anything, like yoga or incense or pot, which smacked of hippie culture– had looked at her in drunken alarm. ‘You’ve gone green,’ he said. She only just made it to the bathroom, where she was violently sick. It took her at least twenty-four hours, she remembered, to feel normal again. She’d never touched the stuff since.
But tonight Peggy found she didn’t care. Sucking in the mellow smoke in the darkness, she lay back on the grass beside Paul and felt all the thoughts that had hammered painfully at her brain since dawn begin to lose traction.
‘They’re out tonight,’ Sienna murmured, pointing up into the night sky with a wobbly hand. ‘Can you see them?’ she asked no one in particular. When neither Paul norPeggy replied, not knowing what she was talking about, she went on, ‘The piskies. They love the solstice. Hang around in their hordes for days afterwards. Magic time. Look, there… And there.’ She kept moving her finger to alert them to another of the fairy folk that she could spot but which Peggy, certainly, could not. Although she did find herself squinting into the darkness, wishing, suddenly, that she could see them.Their presence would be a comfort, she thought. Paul just gave an amused harrumph, but said nothing.
Sienna was singing now, a melody Peggy didn’t recognize at first, barely in tune, more of a drunken whisper than a song. Then Paul took it up and Peggy realized what it was: ‘The Rose’. A tender ballad about the vicissitudes of love, it was first made famous by Bette Midler in the late seventies and Peggy had always adored it. Paul’s voice was beautiful, a pure, mellifluous tenor with perfect pitch.
