Page 28 of And Then There Was You

Twenty-Two Zach

Luke Pengelly is persistent – I’ll give him that.

I’m not due to start work at Pengelly’s until Saturday afternoon, but a phone call from Luke after my bakery round has me heading back out into the busy streets to the harbour-front restaurant.

More has been done since my training session, the only thing missing from the restaurant and bar are customers to fill it.

It’s impressive, I’ll admit, the kind of place you gaze in the windows of as you pass, promising yourself a visit.

I can see it now, as I sit at a table beside the large windows: the turned heads of passing visitors that quickly become small groups peering at the gold-framed menu display by the front door.

Grinning like a cat that stole all the cream, Luke raises his hand at the gathered admirers, chuckling when they return bemused smiles in his direction.

‘We’ve got pull,’ he says, as if he’s always known Pengelly’s would.

I guess that kind of confidence is essential when you’ve invested as much in a new business venture as Luke has. But it doesn’t impress everyone, it seems. I mentioned my soon-to-be second job to Matt this morning, just before I left Downalong Bakery, and his reaction was not what I expected . . .

‘Pengelly, huh? Can’t say I’m surprised he slithered back.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

My morning employer shook his head. ‘He has form, is all.’

Of course that was an invitation to gossip I wasn’t going to refuse, even in my sleep-poor state.

‘Okay, I need more than that. Spill the tea.’

Matt didn’t need any more encouragement, launching into a fulsome critique of the newest member of the St Ives hospitality community.

‘Opened the biggest place in town, just shy of four years ago. Bragged to all and sundry that it would put St Ives on the culinary map , threw money around like seawater to get people coming in. Then, after six months, he just shut the whole thing down. Overnight job. Staff only found out when they saw the closure notice on the front door.’

‘That’s awful,’ I replied, my seemingly sure foundations in my second job suddenly rocky.

‘Not the best, no.’ Matt’s smile faded a little.

‘It was his missus I felt sorry for. He shut up shop, left her with a ton of angry staff, suppliers and customers to contend with, then skipped off to shack up with some other woman. So all I’m saying is be careful.

He’ll give it the Big I Am and throw his cash around, but he can change course like the wind. ’

Listening to Luke now, bragging about the three solid weeks of bookings Pengelly’s already has, I wonder how much of it is for show.

I like the guy – I think he has drive and vision, which I don’t always get to see close at hand.

But what Matt told me earlier has set a question mark hanging over everything Luke says.

There’s another thing: I’m the only one he’s called in today. I arrived expecting the other team members to be here as they were last time. But it’s just me.

I wait for a lull in his self-aggrandising flow to ask why.

‘Is nobody else in today?’

He pauses for a moment before his perma-smile returns. ‘Scotty’s off with some investors so he won’t be in. Oh, sorry, you mean the others?’

‘I thought they’d be here, too.’

‘Nah. I’m just taking the opportunity to get to know you all. Individually, that is.’

I’m not completely convinced by his bright reply. ‘What do you want to know?’

‘I just wanted to know more about your former career. Pro surfer in our midst is a pretty big deal. So, did you win much?’

It isn’t what I was expecting to have to talk about, but fine. I don’t mind the question, especially not from my new employer, who seems so interested. And my achievements are still impressive, even if the end of my career wasn’t.

‘Yeah, I did. I was a pro champion, five years running.’

‘Impressive. Just this country or . . . ?’

‘Mostly the UK, some Europe. Did a few competitions in the US towards the end.’

Luke sits back in his seat, observing me with a mixture of respect and amusement. Is he seeing me now, and the slight limp I walk with, wondering how this body won so many competitions? ‘So we’ll have a celebrity under our roof.’

‘I don’t know about that.’

‘No – hang on – this could play to our advantage. If I were to, say, contact my friend at the Cornwall Daily News for a feature, would you be up for appearing in it?’

My stomach lurches. I’m resigned to people in St Ives knowing what I’m doing, but a feature in a paper my former surf competitors will read?

‘I – I’m not sure . . .’

He waves away my reply. ‘Nothing national. Zanna Venn is local. She handles business and good news stories. She wouldn’t know a hatchet job if she found a shelf-full of them in B her welcome the gift I didn’t know I needed.

It’s her. Everything I want to express to her that I’ll never find words for.

I glance over my shoulder in case anyone is watching.

I haven’t been tempted to wax lyrical over someone for a long time and I’m not sure I want anybody seeing this.

I take it to the till with the card and select an I’D RATHER BE IN ST IVES pen from the display box on the counter.

The friendly lady behind the counter doesn’t bat an eyelid at my strange collection of purchases.

Even still, heat prickles my neck as I hurriedly thank her and leave the shop.

Back at the studio, I stare at the blank inside of the card, willing the right words to appear.

I need to write them, put the bracelet inside the card and deliver it to Sweet Reverie.

I know they close at five p.m. today, so an hour beyond should make it clear of anyone else.

My weariness might just afford me enough time to see out my plan, I reckon.

I’m dangerously tired now and need sleep. But this has to happen first.

I force my straying mind back to last night, to the relief of playing and the ground shock of discovering Merryn there. How do I express what I felt – what I still feel – so she’ll understand what she did for me?

My mind settles on the image of us in the courtyard, our hands joined together, the feeling of finding a kindred spirit when I’d convinced myself I was alone.

That’s when the words arrive.

My pen captures them before they’re gone.

Then, I slip the bracelet inside the card, seal the envelope, and write Merryn’s name on the front. I push myself to my feet and head back out into St Ives.

I hope she understands. I hope it’s enough.