Page 10 of New Beginnings At Pencarrow Bay

Ted had promised to come home straight after closing Henri for the day.

Peggy was delighted. He so often went off with someone to sail or paddleboard or run, last minute, now the evenings were longer and the weather more clement.

So she decided to concentrate on having a lovely evening with her partner– or ‘lover’, if Quentin had his way.

She hurried down to the deli in the arcade and collared Jake Pascoe, who owned the shop and ran it like a Swiss train.

‘I’m crap with wine, Jake,’ she said. ‘I want something good for tonight.’

Jake was pretty. No other word. Golden blond curls tumbling around large luminous cornflower-blue eyes, a refined nose with a delicate upward tilt, a rosebud mouth that wouldn’t have been out of place on Scarlett Johansson.

He was also very charming and expert at his trade: a perfect ten, his only flaw being that he clearly knew it.

‘Something special? Buzzy little Camel Valley Brut, perhaps?’ Jake asked, in his slightly mangled public-school tones.

These had been modified by a West Country twang, gleaned from long years slumming it in the grungy mobile homes of surfers camped out near Fistral Beach on the north shore…

Until his mother, Bunny Pascoe, had summoned him home.

Bunny was now in her eighties and quite reclusive, except when out with her four dogs or taking her dawn sea swim– whatever the weather or temperature.

Jake lived with her in the large white tumbledown house on the hill just up from the harbour, which no one could properly see because it was surrounded by a thick phalanx of trees.

The Pascoes had been in the bay– in Pencarrow House, indeed– since there was a village or anyone in it, according to local history.

Village gossip had invented a rivalry between Bunny and Lindy– two powerful women in possession of the two most notable houses – Old genes versus new money , as some wag had quipped– but Peggy thought this was nonsense.

Lindy’s house had been in Gordon’s family for decades.

‘No, no, just a light red perhaps,’ Peggy replied, her eyelids fluttering in horror at the prices scribbled on the sparkling wine tags.

‘What’s the occasion? Seduction night, is it?’ Jake enquired cheekily.

Peggy bent to grab a packet of ludicrously expensive jamón ibérico crisps from a large basket at her feet– to give herself a moment in case she blushed– then decided to brazen it out. ‘Oh, absolutely,’ she said, as she straightened up, smiling in what she hoped was a nonchalant manner.

Pulling a bottle from one of the shelves in the glass cabinet just outside the shop, Jake ran his hand lovingly across the label.

‘This one should do the trick, then,’ he said.

‘I know Ted likes it. Took a couple of bottles out last time we went for a sail.’ Jake had a beautiful yacht in the bay– he was an accomplished sailor, according to Ted.

‘Oh, okay. Thanks. I’ll take one of those, then.

And some cheese, please… Maybe the Helford Blue,’ Peggy said.

She was cooking one of Ted’s favourites: chicken schnitzel with a Parmesan and crunchy breadcrumb coating, served with caper and lemon butter, and fresh butterhead lettuce salad– Arthur next door left the lettuces on an upturned wooden crate outside his gate when there was a glut.

This would be followed by the rich, creamy, tangy blue cheese, and some early local strawberries slathered with clotted cream.

Ted loved clotted cream, but Peggy adored it, finding endless vehicles for the stuff to prevent herself eating it neat from the pot.

She’d decided on the walk down that she was not going to nag Ted tonight, ask if anything was wrong, as Annie had suggested. Because hopefully nothing was wrong– except in her crazy head. She was just going to give him a wonderful evening and love him . Which wasn’t exactly hard.

As Jake was busy preparing her purchases, Gen came into the shop.

She and Jake were an item, Peggy knew. But seemingly a rather on-off one, according to the odd remark Gen had made when they were poring over potential paint colours for the house.

‘He’s… How can I put it? Dragging his heels?

’ Gen had told Peggy one day, laughing and rolling her eyes as she spoke.

But Peggy could see she was serious. And upset, too– although Gen’s and her friendship was still young and they hadn’t shared many confidences.

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 stunning grey 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, tall and 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’ve seemed 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 resolved without 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.