Page 52 of The Cornish Cream Tea Holiday
‘What? What’s wrong?’
He pointed behind her and she turned, looking up at the large wooden beam over the front door. ‘This,’ he said, ‘is no longer stable. Best not stand under it for too long.’
‘Oh. Oh, right.’
‘What are you doing down there?’ Sylvia called. ‘Having a tea party?’
Ben gestured to the staircase, and Thea clutched the wooden handrail and started walking up it, feeling the treads shift beneath her. ‘Are these safe—’ she got out beforesomething dive-bombed her, something fluttery and small that flew at her face then swerved off into a shadowy corner. She shrieked and spun, and Ben’s arms came around her, his hand pressing her head gently against his chest, shielding her. She was too terrified, too panicked, to enjoy the moment.
‘Fuck,’ he said emphatically. And then, ‘Are you OK?’
‘W-what was that?’ she stammered. She could feel Ben’s heart pounding against her ear.
‘I told you!’ Sylvia called down. ‘There arethingsin here!’
After a moment, Thea felt composed enough to release herself from Ben’s embrace, even though she didn’t want to. He gestured for her to go forwards again, and she took the last few steps hesitantly, emerging onto the top floor, which was mostly open plan like downstairs, but a lot more homely.
To her right, was a bedroom. A large bed with a wrought-iron frame stood up against the wall, a patchwork quilt laid neatly over the sheets, a single bedside table with a lamp that was already switched on. To her left was the sitting room, which had an open fireplace and a couple of armchairs, their green fabric faded, a round coffee table between them.
The kitchen was along the back wall, with a row of cupboards and a gas hob, a modern, shiny microwave. A door at the back of the bedroom led, she assumed, to the bathroom. The big windows at the front of the building would let in so much sunlight, and show off the stunning views of Port Karadow. Right now, however, they were letting in a whole lot of dark, though Thea could just make out the sea in the distance, the last slice of sunset a deep red line marking out the horizon.
‘Nice of you to join me,’ Sylvia said. ‘I see you’ve had a taste of what I’ve been enduring for the last few days.’ She was sitting in one of the armchairs, wearing a pale blue dress with buttons down the front. She looked, Thea thought, far too put together for this building that was so obviously falling into disrepair.
Ben gestured to the other chair, and Thea sat down, still a bit shaky from the horrible encounter on the stairs. Whatwasthat?
‘Hi Sylvia,’ she said, her voice wobbling slightly. ‘Sorry we took so long.’
Ben glanced at her, his brows lowered, then crouched in front of Sylvia’s chair. ‘We got here as soon as we could,’ he said calmly. ‘Are you doing OK?’
‘Fine, Benjamin. I’m always fine, as you well know. Except for all this … fluttering.’
Ben sighed and dropped his head. ‘Bats,’ he said, making the word sound like a death sentence. ‘How long have you had them?’
‘How the hell should I know?’ Sylvia said. ‘I don’t have night vision cameras set up, as I think you can probably tell.’
‘That was a … a bat?’ Thea put her hand to her hair, thinking of the waft of air she had felt outside.
‘Yup,’ Ben said. ‘And that makes things a whole lot more complicated.’
‘Why?’ Sylvia asked. ‘Just get old farmer thingamy to come by with his shotgun.’
Ben chuckled, holding onto the arm of Sylvia’s chair as he balanced on his haunches. ‘There are so many things wrong with that suggestion.’
‘Name them.’ Sylvia folded her arms and pinned him with a steely gaze.
‘Firstly,’ Ben said, ‘bats are protected. You can’t just shoot them, you need to get someone to come in and extract them in a humane way, find them somewhere else to go. Secondly, it would take a world-class sharpshooter to take down bats going about their business in the dark, and even they would need something a lot more precise than old farmer thingamy’s shotgun. Thirdly …’ He rubbed a hand over his eyes. ‘I think the first two are enough, actually.’
Sylvia narrowed her eyes. ‘So what do you suggest I do?’
‘You need to call your daughter, Sylvia. Move out of here as soon as you can. Then the council can deal with the bats.’
Thea’s heart squeezed at the gentle tone Ben was using, but there was weariness there, too. Perhaps it was the fact that he couldn’t fix things for Sylvia, couldn’t make the bats or the disrepair go away with a snap of his fingers, and allow her to leave the building in the way she so obviously wanted to: handing it over to the council in a good state, because doing anything less would damage her pride.
Thea glanced around her. Its state was a long way off good, but that didn’t stop her being enchanted by it. It was unusual, she thought, for an old building to be so open, but perhaps when it was built, that was considered the best way for it to serve its purpose: the staircase up the middle as much a feature as functional; the large spaces upstairs and down more versatile than smaller rooms, and so light, too, when the sun flooded in in the afternoons. Even in its current condition, it was magnificent. She tried to picture it once it had had the attention it deserved.
While she’d been daydreaming, Ben and Sylvia had been talking quietly, and now she heard him say, ‘You’re sure you’re going to be all right?’
‘Of course, Benjamin. Now I know it’s bats and not flying phantoms come to drag me to hell, I’m much less likely to throw myself out of the window to hasten their task. And how about you, Theophania? How is your vacation panning out?’
