Page 9 of New Beginnings At Pencarrow Bay
As usual, Gen looked gorgeous in a simple blue linen dress under an oversized neon peach cardigan, white plimsolls without laces on her feet. She wore all her clothes with elegance and panache, making other women instantly want to wear the same– although most couldn’t pull it off as stylishly as Gen, with her slim figure and thick dark brown hair, the fringe tickling the lashes of her stunninggrey eyes. She had charisma, Peggy thought. And bags of charm. Jake was foolish if he didn’t appreciate that.
‘Hi, Peggy,’ Gen said, with a warm smile, running her hand lightly across Peggy’s shoulders in a friendly greeting. ‘I saw that curtain material you chose in a designer’s Insta post the other day. You’re right on trend.’
Peggy laughed. ‘That’d be a first.’ The material in question was a beautiful soft grey-blue pattern on a lighter background. It complemented the calm, clean lines of their sitting room, with the Cambridge blue sofa and Moroccan-style kitchen tiles. Gen had provided the inspiration, but the room felt very much Peggy and Ted’s taste– not some swish interior-design effort.
Gen looked across the counter at Jake and her eyebrows rose. ‘Are we on for tonight?’ she asked, her tone suddenly a little edgy, Peggy thought.
Jake, in the process of neatly wrapping the Helford Blue in greaseproof paper, looked up and frowned. ‘Of course,’ he said.
Gen’s face relaxed. ‘Great, see you at six?’ Waving goodbye to Peggy, she said, ‘Drop by the shop for a chat some time? I’m seldom busy for long.’ Then she hurried out.
Jake raised his eyebrows with a resigned sigh as he handed Peggy her cheese and other purchases in a brown-paper carrier bag. ‘We’re meeting Gen’s dad for supper. It’s his birthday.’
Peggy knew what that might mean. Joey Dixon had been a world-class sailor. He’d won silver at the Olympics in the Flying Dutchman class with his friend Charlie. Now in his sixties, though, he was the village drunk. A sad figure, talland rangy, but wasted, he would wander up and down the harbour road in a tatty pair of rust-coloured shorts and a stained T-shirt, chatting amiably– but pretty nonsensically– to anyone who’d listen. Peggy often stopped to hear his ramblings. She felt sorry for him. And for Gen, although she had never bad-mouthed her father.
‘Hope it goes well,’ she said to Jake, as a look of understanding passed between them.
Ted and Peggy sat outside on the terrace in the balmy May evening, the sun gliding slowly behind the hills to the west, casting a softly beautiful tangerine glow. She’d been so looking forward to the evening, but Ted had been largely silent during the meal, any attempts at conversation on Peggy’s part falling flat. In the end, Peggy, frustrated, put down her knife and fork.
‘You’re very quiet,’ she said.
She’d quizzed him about the environmentally friendly takeaway-cup meeting earlier, and got a monosyllabic response. ‘Way too pricey.’
Then she’d wittered on about her day– not very exciting, perhaps, but Ted would usually have responded with more than just a nod.
He looked up from his plate. ‘Am I? Sorry. Tired, that’s all. It was hectic today.’
‘It’s just…’ She didn’t finish her sentence. What she wanted to say was that being tired had never stopped Ted chatting on before. That was one of the things she loved about their relationship: a seemingly endless flow of stuff to talk about. In those early days together, they’d seldom drawn breath. She tried again: ‘It’s just recently you’veseemed sort of preoccupied. You’re not worried about anything, are you?’
He frowned. ‘Worried? Umm, no. I’m fine.’ Then he appeared to shake himself, stretching his hands up towards the darkening sky and yawning. ‘That was absolutely delicious,’ he told her, with a wide smile. ‘Five stars. Thanks, sweetheart.’ Then, after a moment’s silence, he went on, ‘So I see you’ve become besties with old Quentin.’
It’s almost as if he’s making small-talk, Peggy thought, disappointed that the beautiful setting, the supper she’d so carefully prepared had not created the loving atmosphere she’d hoped for. Or any meaningful response to her gentle probing. But she found a smile. ‘He’s hilarious. I love him.’
‘And very clever, apparently. He used to be a successful barrister, until his back started playing up and he couldn’t concentrate for the pain.’
Peggy could believe this. Even in the short time they’d spent together she had seen he was quick-witted and loved grandstanding. ‘How awful for him. What’s wrong with his back? I didn’t like to ask.’
Ted shrugged. He was averse to discussing anything medical, purporting to have little clue as to how his body– or anyone else’s, for that matter– actually worked. Which Peggy had always found strange for a fitness obsessive. The vagueness was accompanied by various odd theories, like burned toast making him pee, or his nose running when he drank Merlot. So she wasn’t particularly confident of a coherent reply, even if he knew the answer.
‘Can’t quite remember the name. Something about the spine narrowing, trapping the nerves? It can’t be resolvedwithout risky surgery, apparently. Lindy says he’s been to every back quack in the country.’
‘That’s so sad,’ Peggy replied.
‘It is. I hope I die before it gets to the stage where I can’t walk.’ He shuddered, then got up and came round the table, reaching down to put his arms around her shoulders, squeezing her tight. ‘I get so frightened about what’s going to happen to us in the future. When we get old.’
She rose quickly and pulled him into an embrace, completely understanding and sympathizing.Maybe this is what’s been niggling at him, she thought. Turning sixty a couple of years before, then their retirement, had focused her mind on the next twenty years with a new intensity. Perhaps it was the same for Ted.
‘Love you. We’ve just got to make the most of every minute,’ he whispered urgently, pressing his face into her hair. ‘Experience anything and everything we want to, while we still can. Don’t hold back.’
Peggy barely heard his last remark. All she heard was the emotion in Ted’s voice when he said he loved her. How stupid I was to worry,she thought. Hugging him closer, she felt his lips, soft on the bare skin of her shoulder, and desire tingled slowly up through her body. It had been a while– another reason for her neurotic thoughts– but none of that mattered now as they smiled at each other and silently made their way upstairs.
6
The following Monday, Peggy strolled down to Lilac House for her four o’clock tutoring session with Ada. She’d been on another long walk that morning– this time taking the ferry over to Falmouth and trekking around Pendennis Castle on the coastal path, where she’d taken away a coffee to drink on the headland, overlooking the sea. Later she’d sat in the garden reading a fascinating Cornish cookery book she’d picked up from the phone box on the corner of the harbour. Since the advent of mobile technology, it now served as a book exchange, which she checked almost every time she passed, frequently dropping off her latest read to share. This book was a treasure compared with the mostly dog-eared holiday paperbacks normally on offer. It focused on old recipes, with instructions such as: ‘Boil potatoes and pilchards in thin cream or dippie. This dish is called “Dippie” and was very popular before cream was demanded by the factories.’ She wondered what Ted would make of boiled pilchards, but she rather liked the sound of it.
As Peggy came round the bend into the village, Piers Norton, the vicar, hove into sight, plodding slowly, as was his wont, head bowed, hands clasped behind his back, his tall, spare frame– which always looked undernourished to Peggy– monk-like in its detachment from the world. She often wondered if she was doing him a disservice bysaying hello, interrupting his reverie, so to speak, although his reply, today being no exception, was always warm and friendly.
‘Beautiful,’ he said softly, waving a hand around to indicate the coral-red buds of honeysuckle on the stone wall, the sea, the perfectly blue sky. And Peggy smiled and nodded as he passed by.
