Page 40 of New Beginnings At Pencarrow Bay

The following evening, Peggy, Ted and Liam were having supper together on the terrace.

She’d made fresh mackerel fishcakes– courtesy of the tiny striped-awning fish stall set up on the quay two days a week, or when the catch permitted.

She’d made them with loads of pepper, lemon, parsley and potato, coated them in crunchy panko breadcrumbs– and was serving them with a freshly cooked beetroot and apple salad dressed in sweet, tangy balsamic vinegar, rye bread on the side, spread with the richly yellow, salty Cornish butter that she got from Jake’s– any other butter now paled into insignificance, in Peggy’s eyes.

Everyone was enjoying the food and on best behaviour at the table, talking politely about general topics in the news: gun laws in America, the price of oil, electric cars…

Nothing personal. Peggy was beginning to relax a little after the fracas the day before– she and Ted had trodden carefully around each other since then.

Unable to persuade Lindy to get the help she clearly needed– whatever form that took– it seemed they had little choice but to wait and see what transpired. Which felt wrong on all counts.

But that evening the light was so beautiful and Peggy had a lovely glass of cold Chablis to hand.

There was also a tub of the Bay Creamery’s homemade vanilla ice cream waiting in the freezer for pudding.

And while the email problem still nagged at her– Liam had got no further with the Albanian connection although he was sporadically digging– she refused to let it intrude on tonight’s supper.

Life isn’t all bad. Nobody seems to be avoiding me yet , she told herself, looking around the table at the stunning setting and her two gorgeous men– both of whom she loved so much.

But just as Peggy was considering getting out the ice cream to soften, she saw Ted turn to Liam with a purposeful look in his eye. She groaned silently. Don’t ruin it.

It seemed Ted was on a mission, though. ‘You know your friend Felix attacked Lindy the other night?’ he said.

His voice was measured, clearly being held carefully in check.

‘Grabbed her by the wrist and brutally twisted her arm behind her back.’ He stopped, eyeing Liam to see if his words had sunk in. ‘We both saw the bruise.’

Liam looked horrified. ‘She’s saying Felix did that? Absolutely no way.’

‘He did do it, Liam.’ Ted’s voice rose in frustration. Turning to Peggy, he added, ‘You saw her wrist too, Pegs. Tell him.’

‘It did look really nasty.’ Although to Peggy it seemed a more serious injury than would result from the action Lindy described Felix making.

‘I’m not saying it wasn’t nasty,’ Liam insisted stubbornly. ‘I’m just saying that Felix would not have done it.’ He left gaps between his last words, as if to make absolutely sure they heard.

Ted got up suddenly. ‘Why are you so determined to protect your friend… even in the face of such damning proof?’

‘ Proof? ’ Liam queried, angry now. ‘Look, I agree there’s proof that Lindy is hurt, that she’s got a nasty bruise. But you haven’t a single shred of evidence that it was Felix who caused it.’ He paused. ‘Or have you?’

Ted looked taken aback. ‘No, except Lindy told me it was him.’ He stood there, glaring down at Liam, then added, equally stubbornly, ‘And I believe her. I trust her.’

Liam harrumphed. ‘And I trust Felix.’

There was a heavy silence. Peggy felt her heart thumping too fast. She didn’t know whom to support, or with whom to agree. All she knew was that, once again, Ted and Liam were tearing holes in each other.

‘Listen, we can’t know the whole story, obviously…’ she said, her tone conciliatory.

Ted rounded on her. ‘Are you siding with Liam?’ he demanded. ‘We do know the whole story. Why would she lie about her own son-in-law , besmirch his name– and her whole family, for that matter– so shockingly, if it wasn’t true?’

Liam’s reply was unequivocal. ‘Because she’s a nut job, Ted.

That’s why. Can’t you see? Felix thinks it’s why she’s behaving so weirdly with him now.

He’s been worried about her, but says he can’t get through to her because she appears to hate him– even though they once got on really well.

He says it’s been a nightmare. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to have done. Or what to do about it.’

‘Oh, for Christ’s sake!’ Ted exploded, then shook himself– it was more like a shudder, as if they both disgusted him. ‘I can’t listen to this crap any more.’

Peggy watched as he headed back into the house, then heard the slam of the front door a moment later. But she was too weary to follow and remonstrate.

Liam widened his eyes as he looked at her askance.

But whatever her feelings right now, she didn’t want Ted’s behaviour to add to her son’s already obvious antipathy. ‘He’s just trying to do the right thing by her.’

Liam thought about this. ‘Sure. But he’s oddly obsessed. It’s giving him tunnel vision, Mum.’

Peggy didn’t respond: she didn’t like the insinuation.

‘Look, I know I’m the guest here,’ Liam continued, ‘but that doesn’t mean I have to agree with Ted about everything, does it? I was only stating my opinion about someone I know a lot better than he does. My friend.’

Peggy knew what he said was reasonable. But she resented her position as pig-in-the-middle between the two men. ‘Probably best if you both keep off the subject in future.’

‘To be fair, Mum, it was Ted who brought up Lindy just now.’ He let out a frustrated breath and got to his feet. ‘Think I’ll get out of your way, grab a drink in the village.’

‘Liam, please,’ Peggy protested wearily. ‘Don’t walk out on me too.’

Her son, turning to her, shrugged comprehensively, his big shoulders seeming to carry all the weight of his frustration.

‘I just… I just don’t know what else to say.

It bugs me that Ted takes this stance when he doesn’t know any more than you or I how Lindy got that fucking bruise.

’ He gathered up his mobile, which was on the garden table.

‘Reckon it’s better I’m not here when he gets back, that’s all. ’

Peggy couldn’t help but agree with him– on both counts, she realized. ‘If you’re going to be late, will you text me?’

‘Sure.’ Liam came over and put his arms round her, giving her a kiss on the side of her head. ‘Thanks for the supper, Mum. I’m sorry your lovely evening went pear-shaped. Love you.’

Liam was not late– she heard him come in around eleven– but Ted was.

Once again, he stank of booze. Whisky , Peggy decided with distaste, as she rolled away from the fumes.

She hadn’t slept, waiting for him. Ted was not normally a heavy drinker and this reminded her unpleasantly of Max– whisky was his favourite pass-out tipple.

What’s happening to us? she wondered, as she lay staring out into the semi-darkness, the outline of the window and the full moon shining through the blinds.

After a sleepless night, Peggy got up early the next morning, around six, and decided to go for a swim.

Ted was still deep in a hangover sleep. He wasn’t opening up this morning, because the council was painting new markings on the bays in the castle car park– word was so they could start laying exorbitant charges on the poor tourists– and they wouldn’t have finished till lunchtime.

So Peggy had no compunction in leaving him to sleep.

It was a stunning morning. The early sun was silver-bright, the sky the palest of blue and cloudless, the breeze delicate and fresh. Peggy filled her lungs with salty sea air as she walked down the hill, reminded how physically exhilarating it was to live there.

She felt a tingle of excitement as she arrived at Mermaid Beach. She’d checked her tide app earlier, and decided, as it was high, she would swim from this spot today– just for a change– instead of from the sandier beach where she and Quentin usually met.

There was only one other swimmer out this early– the posse of women in floral swimming caps normally arrived closer to eight. Whoever it was, they were powering steadily and slowly back and forth some way out. Peggy could tell it was a woman, but not who.

Shivering slightly as she stripped off, she didn’t dilly-dally at the water’s edge, just strode in as if to the manner born and dived into the waves.

The cold seized at her chest, but after a few breaths her body acclimatized as she swam as fast as her erratic stroke technique allowed towards the large yellow buoy positioned some distance out near the boats.

It was invigorating once she got used to the temperature and she even enjoyed a few minutes’ floating, looking up to the morning sky, before making her way back to the shore.

The other swimmer was sitting on the wall at the top of the beach by the time Peggy pulled herself out of the water, an old white towel wrapped about her torso, shoulders bare, grey hair hanging in a damp ponytail at the nape of her neck.

But even in this bedraggled state, she demonstrated a certain patrician authority.

Bunny Pascoe , Peggy thought. She knew the woman only by sight, but had heard all the rumours about how difficult she made life for her son’s girlfriend, Gen.

‘Hello,’ Peggy gasped, as she wrapped her own towel around herself, wiping the sea water off her face and pushing back her hair, which had sprung loose from the elastic band in which it had been originally trapped.

Bunny watched her curiously for a moment. Then her old weather-beaten face– which was still beautiful in her eighties– broke into a smile. ‘Good morning,’ she said, her voice husky, the accent privileged. ‘Do I know you?’

Peggy grinned nervously. ‘I doubt it. You probably know my partner, Ted, who runs the coffee van up by the castle.’

‘Ah, the famous Henri. And Bolt. My dogs adore Bolt.’ She waved a hand at Peggy, as if batting away a question she hadn’t asked. ‘I don’t bring them swimming with me, they just get in the way– such attention-seekers.’

Peggy smiled and sat on the wall, a little distance from the other woman.

‘Bunny Pascoe.’ She held out a cold hand.

‘Peggy Gilbert,’ Peggy said, shaking it. ‘You swim every day?’

‘Heavens, no. I’m aware people in the village like to say I do. It makes for a heroic myth: dotty old bat out in the freezing waves in darkest winter. But I’m not daft. I stick to the summer months like the rest of you.’

Peggy laughed. She liked her, despite what she’d heard.

Then Bunny said, ‘But I take it you’re not unfamiliar with the rumour mill yourself.’

Peggy froze. She looked sideways at Bunny, who was staring intently back.

‘You mean the emails,’ Peggy replied miserably. How the hell did she find out? she wondered.

Bunny clearly read her mind. ‘I heard it from Barry last night. We go way back.’

Peggy shivered. ‘Who told him?’

‘Didn’t say. Just asked if I knew anything about you. Said you’d turned him down, but he’d been keen to persuade you otherwise– he likes to get his own way, does Barry. Then he heard the rumours.’

The thought that immediately struck Peggy on hearing this was such an unpleasant one, it sent shivers up the back of her neck.

She quickly dismissed it as ridiculous. Surely Lindy was so wrapped up in her problems with Felix, she was hardly in the frame of mind to call her old friend just to draw Barry’s attention to an email she had categorically dismissed.

‘I’m being stitched up,’ Peggy said quietly. ‘And I can’t find out who’s doing it.’

Bunny was silent for a moment. ‘I’m sorry for you.

The village has attributed bad behaviour to me for decades.

For instance, I’ve supposedly had a ding-dong with half of Cornwall– male, female, other.

And I’ve apparently sold Pencarrow House to various unsavoury developers– including the lot at the haunted house, by the way– a million times over.

’ She gave an elegant shrug. ‘But I can live with that.’

‘This is my reputation, my character ,’ Peggy said. ‘I can’t live with that.’

‘Hmm…’ Bunny thought, then went on: ‘What do you have that someone else wants? That’s where you’ll find your aggressor. Mark my words, this is pure and simple jealousy you’re dealing with.’

Peggy gave a harsh laugh. ‘Jealous? Of me? I don’t think so.’

Bunny gazed off towards the sea, said nothing. Getting off the wall she began to gather her things. ‘I can tell Barry it’s a load of old rot, if you like.’

Why does she believe me? Peggy asked herself, touched and a little taken aback.

Like Lindy and Sienna, she had immediately seemed to refute the allegations– although none of the three women knew her that well…

or at all, in Bunny’s case. ‘Thank you. That’s very kind.

Your offer means a lot,’ she told Bunny stiffly.

‘If you speak to Barry that would be great.’

‘Done,’ Bunny said. Then she delivered another winning smile.

‘It’s been good to meet you, anyway, Peggy Gilbert.

I wish you well.’ And with that, she shoved her feet into some very old canvas gym shoes– perhaps originally white– and scuffed off along the road towards the village, towel wrapped around her waist.