The Newcomer Page 9

  Angela ignored her. ‘Would anyone be interested in a Twitter page for Pendruggan? And also a community website?’

  Several more hands went up.

  ‘That’s so encouraging,’ beamed Angela. ‘By some miracle, does anyone here have a good enough knowledge of computers and tech in general to help create both those things?’

  At the back, Helen put her hand up. ‘I can do a bit,’ she said.

  ‘Bless you, Helen. That’s marvellous.’ Angela put a hand to her thumping chest and sent a silent prayer of thanks. ‘Right, I have said enough. Over to you. Any ideas?’

  ‘I could run a cycle club,’ said a young man at the back. ‘For the children. Teach them road safety and go off-roading for fun.’

  ‘Yes, that’s an excellent idea. Come and see me after, would you?’ She scanned the room. ‘Anyone else?’

  Simple Tony put his hand up.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I would like to dig out the village pond.’

  ‘Have we got a village pond?’ Angela was interested. ‘Where is it?’

  ‘On the lane down towards the Shellsand Beach,’ said a man sitting in the front row. ‘Not much left of it now.’

  ‘Why’s that?’ asked Angela.

  Tony shot his hand up again. ‘The water got bad. Them say it was cursed.’

  ‘Who said it was cursed?’ asked Angela.

  ‘I don’t know who said it.’ Tony scratched his head. ‘But my mum said that one summer the farmer took his cattle there to drink and they’m all died afterwards.’

  ‘I’m not a believer in curses,’ Angela said reassuringly. ‘But it sounds an intriguing idea.’ She looked at Mike Bates. ‘Mike, do you know about the pond?’

  Mike shook his head. ‘The first I’ve heard of it. But I am a relative newcomer. I’ve only been here twenty-six years.’

  There was laughter.

  Angela turned to Audrey. ‘Audrey, how about you?’

  Audrey’s thin lips had vanished, replaced by a thin slit from which she spat, ‘No.’

  Angela looked back at the sea of faces. ‘Well, if we can find out a bit more about the pond, and as long as there are no reasons as to why we can’t dig it out, that might just become a terrific village project. Thank you, Tony.’

  Simple Tony ducked his sleek black head in embarrassment and pleasure.

  Angela once again scanned the room. ‘Anyone else? No? Well, that was an excellent start. If you suddenly get inspired, no matter what that inspiration is, let me know. Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your time.’ She sat down feeling both relieved and excited.

  9

  ‘How did it go?’ Robert welcomed Angela with floury hands and a brief kiss. ‘I’ve been thinking about you. Any takers for the running club?’ He went back to his dough-kneading.

  ‘They were interested, certainly. And they loved the pet service, and Helen has put herself up to create some social media activity.’

  ‘Well done, darling.’

  ‘By the way, have you seen the iPad? I forgot to take it. Had to think on my feet.’

  ‘Nope. Must be here somewhere.’ He shaped the dough into a loaf and covered it with a tea towel. ‘Thought we’d have fresh bread for tonight.’

  Angela was preoccupied. ‘Is Mamie here? I wonder if she picked the iPad up.’

  ‘She’s out.’ Robert rinsed his hands under the tap. ‘Does she know how to use an iPad?’

  ‘Rude. In fact, she was asking me the other day about updating her phone.’

  ‘Whatever for?’

  ‘She wants to take photos.’

  ‘At her age?’

  Angela gave him a hard stare. ‘Stop it. She’s only in her seventies. I think. She’s always been a bit mysterious about her age.’

  ‘I’m just winding you up.’

  ‘Mission accomplished.’ Angela shifted a pile of newspapers on the table. ‘I must find the iPad.’

  ‘Fancy a cuppa while you search?’

  ‘Yes, please. Is Faith home yet?’

  ‘No, she’s having tea at a school friend’s. She told you this morning?’ He put his head to one side and gave her a questioning look. ‘You are getting forgetful, aren’t you?’

  ‘No.’ Angela was irritated. ‘I have a lot on my mind, that’s all.’

  He held his hands up in defence. ‘OK. Understood. Premenstrual?’

  She continued walking and said without turning, ‘You’re on very thin ice.’

  Sitting at Simon’s desk Angela opened each drawer in turn before looking behind it and under it. Next, she checked all the bookshelves, tipped out her handbag and went through the filing cabinet. No iPad.

  Upstairs she went through her bedroom, bathroom and wardrobe. Nothing.

  The same with Mamie and Faith’s bedrooms.

  Back downstairs, she checked the cloakroom, the sitting room and returned to the kitchen.

  ‘Tea’s getting cold,’ said Robert, who was now scanning the local paper. ‘Any luck with the iPad?’

  ‘No.’ Angela sat down next to him and pulled her mug towards her, feeling defeated and anxious.

  ‘It’ll turn up.’ Robert turned to the back pages. ‘Things always do. Remember your car keys?’

  ‘That was the removal men’s fault. I know I put them on the old hall table.’

  ‘And yet they were in your handbag.’

  She rubbed her eyes with one hand. ‘I think the move and the pressures of coming here must have muddled me, although the keys were definitely moved. I’m so sure I put them on the hall table.’

  He put the paper down and nudged her with his elbow. ‘Early onset dementia?’

  ‘Oh, just shut up.’

  ‘Joke, joke. Just a joke,’ he laughed.

  ‘Well, it’s not funny.’ She racked her brains and couldn’t think where else to look. ‘What time does Faith want picking up?’

  ‘She’s going to text me.’

  Angela picked up her tepid tea and took a sip. ‘Eugh.’

  Robert got up. ‘I’ll make you a fresh one.’

  ‘Thank you, darling.’ She leant back in her chair. ‘By the way, you know that odd chap who washed Mamie’s car the other day?’

  Robert chucked a tea bag in a mug. ‘Yes.’

  ‘He says there’s an old pond in the village that needs digging out.’

  ‘Let me guess, he wants a Big Village Pond Dig?’ laughed Robert.

  Angela’s eyes gleamed. ‘That’s it! That’s what we shall call it! It’s exactly the sort of thing to get the community united.’

  ‘Aren’t there committees and votes and whatnot to get through?’

  ‘The chairman, a nice guy, Mike Bates, seems on side even though he has never heard about it before.’

  Robert passed her a fresh cup of tea.

  ‘Thank you.’ She took a sip. ‘Lovely. The thing is, we don’t know exactly where it is.’

  ‘There must be some old parish records and maps?’ Robert lifted the tea towel covering his dough to check on its development. ‘Nearly ready. Get your Mike fella to check.’

  ‘Yes, he said he’d do that. Quite fun. Tony says there’s a curse on it. A lot of cattle died drinking from it.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Don’t know. It’ll be in the records if it’s true.’

  ‘Can’t you exorcise it? Say a few prayers to chase the curse off?’

  ‘I can certainly bless it. That and the new dog poo bin for the village green.’

  ‘The romance of being a village vicar, eh?’

  ‘Oh, and would you help Helen with setting up the website? She’s pretty good but so are you. Between you, you’d do a good job.’

  ‘No problem.’ His phone buzzed. ‘It’s Faith. I’ll go and get her now.’

  ‘You do that and I’ll give Helen a call. Strike while the iron’s hot.’

  Piran put the two heavy shopping bags down and knocked on the front door of Gull’s Cry. He hadn’t seen Helen since the dinner last night and, as much a
s he’d never admit it, he missed staying over. He knocked again.

  ‘It’s open,’ she called.

  He turned the heavy old handle and bent his head to clear the door lintel. Helen was on the phone. She blew a kiss and continued with the phone call.

  ‘Yes, that would be lovely, Angela. We’ll give it a try. God knows if it’ll take off or not but thank you for supporting the idea.’ She stopped and listened then replied, ‘I had no idea we had a pond either but then I’ve only been here six years. It would be fun to dig it out. I might be able to get some info on the history from Piran … Yes, he’s good at all that stuff.’ She turned and looked at him, smiling at his scowling face. ‘He’d be delighted to help. OK, Angela. Thank you. Bye.’

  She put the phone down and looked at Piran. ‘Have you missed me or are you just hungry?’

  ‘Both, actually.’ He held up the bags. ‘I’m cooking. Lamb chops, new potatoes, and a couple of beers.’

  She went to him and kissed him properly. ‘You’re like an old alley cat with buttered paws.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘It means, you don’t ever want to be owned, but you know where the best dinners are.’

  He grunted and turned to the kitchen. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’

  Helen followed him into the kitchen and began helping him to unpack the bags. ‘Did you know there was a village pond here?’

  ‘Of course I did.’ He pulled at his dark beard. ‘Down between the fields and the footpath to Shellsand. Open that beer, maid.’

  She reached for the bottle opener and a glass.

  ‘How come nobody else knows about it?’ she asked.

  Piran unwrapped the chops and began rubbing oil and seasoning into them. ‘There’s some old folk tale of a child been drowned in it.’

  Helen shivered. ‘That’s horrible. How long ago?’

  ‘Mebbe a hundred years? When I was a lad, the old farmer told us kids that it was cursed.’

  ‘Is it?’

  He looked at her as if she was stupid. ‘Of course it ain’t. It was a story to make sure none of us were daft enough to get ourselves drowned.’

  She took a sip of her beer. ‘Simple Tony said it was cursed because all the cattle died after drinking from it.’

  Piran shook his head and growled, his gold earring glinting among his dark curls. ‘That lad is full of stories. Anyway, why do you want to know about it? Pass me a pan for these potatoes.’

  She pulled a saucepan out of the cupboard. ‘We had a parish meeting today to welcome Angela and she asked us all to suggest things that the village might like to do.’

  ‘As if we ain’t got enough to do. I bet the dog shit bin was mentioned.’

  ‘Of course. And I think that might just happen with Angela in charge. Drink?’

  ‘Beer, please.’

  She poured two glasses of beer and continued. ‘Anyway, Tony suggested digging the pond out and Angela wants to find out about the history and the stories.’

  ‘Huh.’ Piran closed the oven door on the lamb chops. ‘And you volunteered me as local historian.’

  ‘Well, you are.’

  ‘I am an archaeologist and, by default, local historian.’

  ‘Exactly. And your office is the local museum where all the county history is kept.’

  ‘Not all.’ He drank his beer. ‘And don’t wheedle me. I can’t stand a wheedling woman.’

  ‘I’m not wheedling. I just thought you might like to help, but if it’s all beneath your level of academia then sod you.’

  He laughed, his white teeth gleaming from his tanned face. ‘Helen Merrifield, you be a funny woman. I’ll think about it. OK?’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Hey, Mum,’ Faith called as she came home, ‘guess what Dad and I found?’

  Angela was laying the kitchen table. ‘What?’

  Faith entered the kitchen waggling Angela’s iPad in her hand. ‘This,’ she crowed triumphantly.

  Angela dropped her collection of cutlery. ‘Oh, thank goodness. Where was it?’

  ‘On the front seat of the car.’

  Robert came in, smiling. ‘Under your running fleece.’

  ‘Really? How did it get there? I don’t remember taking it out to the car.’

  Robert put a loving arm around her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. ‘I might have picked it up without thinking. Anyway, it’s found.’

  Mamie came in from the garden with a bunch of bluebells. ‘Aren’t these lovely? Smell them.’ She saw the iPad in Faith’s hand. ‘You found it!’

  ‘It was in the car. Robert found it,’ said Angela, taking the bluebells and sniffing them. ‘These are lovely. I’ll get a vase.’

  ‘So,’ said Mamie to Robert, ‘she’s not an elderly amnesiac after all.’

  ‘I did not say that exactly,’ Robert said defensively. ‘And if it sounded that way, I apologise.’

  Angela put the vase of bluebells on the table. ‘You are forgiven.’

  ‘What’s for supper?’ asked Faith.

  ‘I thought you were having tea with your new friend?’ said Angela.

  ‘He forgot tell his dad and so we had some crisps, that’s all.’

  ‘Another poor stay-at-home husband caring for his family,’ Robert said tragically while Angela poked him in the ribs.

  ‘His mum and dad are divorced,’ said Faith. ‘He stays with his dad three days a week in Trevay, just down the road from the school. The rest with his mum. She’s just moved into Pendruggan with his baby sister.’

  ‘Hang on.’ Angela halted Faith’s flowing chatter. ‘This new friend is a boy?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Faith stuck her chin out. ‘What of it? Can’t I have friends who are boys?’

  Mamie, who had been calmly preparing a green salad, stepped in before any more could be said. ‘I’m sure he’s charming. Now go and wash your hands, I have a fish pie in the oven. And before you ask, I haven’t made it. I wouldn’t know how. I bought it frozen.’

  In their bedroom that night, Angela, doing her hamstring stretches, was worrying about Faith. ‘It’ll be nice for Faith to have a friend in the village,’ she said, trying not to sound worried. ‘Did you meet him?’

  Robert came out of the bathroom, turning the light out behind him. ‘I caught a brief glance.’

  ‘And?’

  Robert got into bed and pulled the duvet round him. ‘Oh, you know. Spotty. Thin. Weird haircut. Trousers hanging too low. Pretty standard.’

  ‘Oh.’ She started on her triceps. ‘What about the father?’

  ‘Didn’t see him.’

  ‘Well.’ She finished and got into bed. ‘I’m happy for her.’

  ‘No you’re not.’ He reached out and patted her hand. ‘You’re worried sick. Faith is an attractive young woman.’

  ‘Yes, of course I am. She’s only just fifteen.’

  ‘And she is growing up. We have to acknowledge that. Remember what we were like at that age?’

  ‘Speak for yourself,’ Angela said. ‘It was just Mum and me, and I was never a rebel. Auntie Mamie was the naughty one. She and my mum were like chalk and cheese.’

  ‘It’s inevitable that Faith will have a few of Mamie’s genes.’ Robert turned for his book. ‘And look how kind Mamie has been to you since we lost your mum. Hmm? Faith will be fine.’

  Angela watched Robert as he opened his book and began to read, instantly engrossed. How lucky men are, she thought. They can so easily put stuff out of their minds. Faith was everything to her. Her very reason for living. After trying for three years, and having two miscarriages and two failed IVF attempts, Faith had arrived safe and sound. Angela thanked God that her mum had got to see her grow before she died. She closed her eyes, not expecting to sleep, but she did.

  10

  The power of the Jensen’s engine pushed Queenie into the back of her seat.

  ‘A little bit of G-force,’ Mamie explained. ‘Wait till I really open her up.’

  ‘Oh
my good Gawd, you’re like flaming Stirling Moss.’

  ‘Graham Hill was rather more my type. So charming. He told me I reminded him of Honor Blackman. Would you rather I slowed down?’

  ‘Would I ’eck. Get yer foot down, gel.’

  The two women were on their way to a secret rendezvous. Mamie had phoned an old friend who had arranged for a friend of a friend to supply her with a little present.

  ‘I was thinking we might stop for a pub lunch after we’ve made the pick-up.’

  ‘I don’t want no gastric pub. I want proper stuff. Scampi in a basket and a shandy. Not goat’s cheese and flaming avocado.’

  Mamie smiled. ‘Your wish is my command.’

  Queenie read out the directions. Mamie had taken them down in her loopy handwriting, and they were now on tiny lanes crossing Bodmin Moor. ‘It says take a right at the old garage and it should be four houses along by the telegraph pole.’

  ‘There’s the old garage.’ Mamie indicated right and drove another hundred yards before the first of the four houses came into view. ‘One, two, three and there’s the telegraph pole.’ She stopped the car and pulled on the handbrake. ‘You sit tight. I won’t be a minute.’

  ‘I’ll keep a look out for the rozzers,’ Queenie said with all seriousness.

  Mamie roared with laughter. ‘Queenie, you are an absolute hoot!’

  ‘I’m serious. If anyone comes along in one of them panda cars I’ll blow the horn.’

  Mamie got out of the car and disappeared through a respectable-looking wrought-iron gate and up to the door of the respectable house. It opened without her knocking. A middle-aged man in glasses smiled and handed over a small package. Queenie watched as Mamie took an envelope from her handbag and passed it over to him. Queenie took a good look at him from her vantage point. An ordinary man. In his fifties. Good head of hair and glasses. You never can tell, Queenie thought to herself.

  Mamie made her way back to the car and got in. ‘I can’t believe how naughty we are,’ she said, settling into the driving seat. ‘Any rozzers? Drug squad hiding in the bushes?’

  ‘No. Can I see the stuff?’

  ‘When we get home. But first, it’s our scampi lunch.’

  The Jensen grumbled into life and Mamie pointed its nose in a direction she hoped would take them to a pub.