Page 5 of No Kind Words (Calston Cove #3)
As I turn into a vaguely familiar road, Maeve counts the numbers on the doors until we reach the one she booked. A truck is parked at the kerb, with two men leaning against it. One of them is holding a baby. As I pull up behind the truck, the man gives the child to the other and kisses them both. When he turns to us, recognition flashes through me. Although Ivan is, I think, a year or two older than me, in a town with limited numbers of kids, we all hung out together.
With lightly shaking fingers, I switch off the engine but don’t open the door. Maeve places her hand on my arm, obviously sensing something is wrong. “You can wait here. I’ve booked in my name, so you don’t have to meet them.”
Do I really want to do that? It’s stupid if I’m considering moving back here again. Having friends is a must. I just hadn’t expected to meet one in the first five minutes of arriving here. “No, I’m good. It will be good to see old friends.”
And it will be. Why haven’t I thought of this angle of being back here? I used to know these people. Although I don’t recognise the man with Ivan. Nor do I miss the tender kiss he plants on both of them. That is interesting. Memories come back of Ivan having both girlfriends and boyfriends, but he seems settled with the latter now. Not sure where a child comes in, though.
I get out of the car and look down at my torn black jeans, matched with an old grey Stone Roses T-shirt that has seen better days but is still one of my favourites. My black leather jacket covers the full sleeves of tattoos on each arm, but the earrings and leather studded bracelets tend to give off a bit of a bad boy vibe, which couldn’t be further from the truth.
Maeve has already introduced herself and is bouncing her slim 5’3”
body in excitement. Ivan takes me in from the tips of my tattered black high-tops to the top of my scruffily styled hair. He narrows his eyes, obviously trying to work out who I am. I need to put him out of his misery and introduce myself.
“Hello again, Ivan. Jet Palmer.”
I hold out my hand.
It still takes a moment of scrutiny. Then his smile broadens from polite to recognition. “Fucking hell, Jethro. You’re a blast from the past. Where the hell have you been?”
“Edinburgh.”
I shake his hand. “University, then stayed on.”
“Wow.”
He frowns a little and looks over his shoulder. “Hey, Brodie, come here.”
The other man walks up to us, the baby asleep in his arms. Ivan wraps his arm around Brodie’s waist. “Babe, this is Jethro Palmer. He grew up in your farmhouse. Brodie bought it and renovated it. You should see it now. It’s unrecognisable.”
I smile but don’t comment. I have no intention of setting foot on that piece of land ever again. “I’m glad you like it there.”
Maeve can sense my anxiety and turns the conversation back to the here and now. “Is there anything we should know about the house?”
“Shit, yes, of course. Come in. I’ll show you around.”
Five minutes later, we’re left alone, with our luggage by our feet. “Do you want me to take your luggage up to your room?”
I ask her.
“Please. I’ll have a look in the kitchen.”
After I put our bags in our rooms, I return to her.
“Your friend has thought of everything, but maybe we should get some breakfast stuff. There’s some coffee for the morning, but not enough to get you on your feet.”
Maeve closes the fridge. “What time is the viewing?”
“I’m not sure we’re friends just yet. We may never see him again if the practice isn’t what I’m looking for.”
“True, but I get a good feeling about this place. I think you’re going to find everything you need.”
“Is that your spidey senses talking again?”
I laugh, but my friend does have a canny knack for getting her predictions right.
In the end, we decide to stay in. With all the groceries Ivan provided, we don’t need to go for breakfast produce. I’ve had enough excitement for the day, and Maeve is happy to watch some TV with some wine and the cheeses we bought en route.
The morning is cold but dry. I’m grateful for the scarf and beanie I packed at the last minute when I remembered how cold the wind can be coming off the sea. Maeve looks as if she’s prepared for an Arctic expedition. I laugh at her. “It’s not that bad, I promise. Anyway, you grew up in Scotland. You’re used to the cold.”
We can walk to the vet’s, which is in a prime location with parking. I had to come here with one of the dogs, but I doubt it’s the same vet. It was over twenty years ago. The high street is busy, and as we walk past one of the cafés, my mouth waters at the tantalising scent of good coffee and sweet cinnamon.
“God, that smells amazing.”
Maeve breathes in deeply and gives me puppy dog eyes. “Can we come back here later?”
I look up at the name. That Seagull. Strange name, but does it matter? It can be called every strange name in the book with smells like that. I peer through the window. All the tables are full, and people are waiting at the counter to be served. Worth a closer look, for sure.
We carry on along the smart shops and restaurants. The town is quite different from when I left. It’s all gone upscale, which shouldn’t surprise me. The towns and villages in Devon have become very popular with city dwellers, who have houses here many as second homes.
“This way.”
I lead Maeve to the left and down another busy street. This one has an exclusive-looking art gallery halfway down, the window display showcasing some incredible paintings. Another place I’d like to explore.
I’m only here for the weekend, for now anyway, but my interest is piqued. Calston Cove looks a lot better than the town I left.
When we get to the property, a sporty, bright red Mini is in the car park. The estate agent, I presume. The door opens, and a familiar person steps out: Stacey. Her surname escapes me, but she’s my age, and we were in a lot of classes together.
“Oh my god! Jethro Palmer. Where the hell have you been?”
She leans in and kisses my cheek. She was always pretty, but now she’s a beautiful woman. She looks me up and down. “Wow, you look great.”
“You look great too, and it’s Jet now,”
I say, then turn to Maeve. “Stacey, this is my friend and right-hand person, Maeve.”
After they say their hellos, Stacey takes a ring of keys out of her bag and motions for us to go forward. “It’s such a shame about Mr Gurney. He was a lovely man. It was all very sudden too. One minute he seemed right as rain, then gone the next. A heart attack. There’s no one to keep running the place. He worked by himself and has no family able to take over. So it’s being sold as seen. All the equipment is included. We can negotiate the price as the family are open to offers.”
She unlocks the doors, goes in first, and turns on the lights. “I can’t believe it’s you. You left so suddenly, and no one saw or heard from you. We were worried. Your dad was a difficult man. Everyone knew that.”
“He was a mean and violent drunk, Stacey, not difficult. He was a bastard.”
I can’t keep the hardness out of my voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to come out that way.”
“That’s okay. I’m sorry I brought it up. I’m going to let you look around. You know way more about this sort of stuff than me. One thing, Jethro, it would be good to have you back here again. We missed you.”
I don’t know what to say. It’s sweet of her, and the kindness has chipped off a little of my armour.
Of course the place is perfect. Everything I want for my practice is here. I’m sure I’ll be able to get the loan from the bank, and combined with my savings, I can buy it. I’ll need to see the accounts and get a survey on the building.
After saying goodbye to Stacey and telling her I’ll be in touch, we walk back towards the house. Maeve is buzzing with excitement and plans.
She can so see it as my place. We reach the café with the amazing aromas, and Maeve walks to the door. “Come on. My treat.”
It’s quieter now. There are still plenty of customers, but the rush seems to be over. I let Maeve lead me to the counter to look at all the pastries as well as the board on the wall behind the server.
Just as I’m about to order, I overhear the server say Benny to the other young worker. It’s only a casual comment, but it feels like the whole world is closing around me. Does he work here too?
Where is he? Could he come out of the kitchen right now? I listen a little closer. The young worker says he’s gone home. So he does work here.
It could be a coincidence—Benny is not that rare a name—but when I left fifteen years ago, he was the only one with that name. Although I was the only person to call him Ben. Just for the two of us.