Page 11 of The Little Cottage by the Cornish Sea

Two days later, I received a letter from Mrs Nankivell:

Dear Sophie,

So I went, after stopping by The Rolling Scones to stock up on treats for her, although I tried to get the healthiest ones available. I also stopped by the village flower shop and got her some daisies.

When I knocked on Mrs Nankivell’s yellow front door, a middle-aged woman opened the door and let me in, taking the flowers from me with a smile. She introduced herself as Agnes, the carer.

‘She’ll be happy to see you, Sophie,’ she said as if I was a regular visitor. ‘Come in, come in, she’s in the sitting room.’

‘Thank you.’

Mrs Nankivell’s cottage was just like her: small, quirky and colourful, with flowered curtains and textiles, but not the old kind you see in shabby homes (or Tulip Cottage, as it were).

Before leaving after her morning shift, Mrs Nankivell’s carer Agnes put the daisies in a pretty vase and set them on the side table under the window, and the cakes onto the coffee table as Mrs Nankivell gasped in delight.

‘Two of my favourite things. Thank you, my dear!’ Then she turned to Agnes. ‘You can go now, Aggie. Say hello to that lovely husband of yours.’ Then she turned to me. ‘Everyone should have a lovely husband. I did. But then he died.’

‘Oh, I’m so sorry…’ I said.

‘Oh, well, it was a long time ago. Life goes on.’

And she proceeded to tell me about her garden, and if I liked, she would let me have a few pots for my own (my own garden, I still couldn’t believe it!) and some cuttings for the autumn.

‘Oh, thank you, Mrs Nankivell, you’ve already been so generous with all your welcome gifts. You are truly so kind!’

She blinked. ‘All my welcome gifts?’

‘The kettle and the toaster and the food…’

‘I’m afraid I only sent you the biscuits, my dear. Everything else was Robert’s doing.’

Dr A? I’d have to thank him. He needn’t have done all that. ‘Oh. Well, then I’ll be sure to thank him directly again.’

At that, she patted my hand. ‘You do that, dear, you do that,’ she said. ‘And now, can I stupefy you with my musical talent?’ she asked, gesturing towards the piano in the corner of the room. I’d noticed it the moment I’d stepped inside the cottage.

‘Oh, please,’ I said, clapping my hands in excitement.

She grinned. ‘Don’t clap yet, dear. I could be a total disaster. Sometimes, I am, you know? Sometimes I even forget what I am playing. Call it a senile moment.’

‘Nonsense, I’m sure you’re great,’ I said.

And she was.

With the ease of a virtuoso, she threw herself into Chopin’s ‘Fantaisie in F minor’, one of his most difficult pieces to play.

And she was brilliant. I was a quarter of her age, more or less, with ten years of music conservatory under my belt and yet she played much better than I ever had.

She played as if the Fantaisie was a dear old friend coming over for her daily visit.

She played as if she played it every day, every hour.

She played it as easily as breathing, a warm, relaxed smile on her gentle face. Mrs Nankivell was a revelation.

And then she stopped as her right hand went to her head. Had she forgotten what was next? I glanced at her, rising from the settee in alarm. That was not the face of someone trying to remember.

‘Mrs Nankivell? Are you okay?’

But she didn’t answer me.

‘Mrs Nankivell? Can you hear me?’

But her head fell onto her chest, her body beginning to sag, and I caught her before she fell onto the floor. With one hand, I fished my mobile out of my pocket and dialled Dr A’s number. Thank God he answered immediately.

‘Sophie?’

‘It’s your nan,’ I said. ‘Come to her house now, please!’

‘What happened?’

‘She lost consciousness all of a sudden!’

‘Okay, Sophie, listen to me carefully. If you can, put her feet higher that her head. Can you do that?’

I put him on speaker phone and pulled the cushions from the settee down onto the floor, gently pulling her down and lifting her legs so they were resting on the settee.

‘Done,’ I said. ‘Now what?’

‘Feel her heartbeat. I’m driving as fast as I can.’

I knew he wouldn’t be long. ‘Her heartbeat is feeble, but regular, from what I can tell.’ I was no doctor.

‘I’m on my way,’ he said and hung up.

‘Please hurry,’ I whispered. If anything happened to this kind, old lady, I would never forgive myself. I checked her pulse, which was getting weaker. Should I call him back? That would only slow him down.

I looked around and grabbed the throw from the settee to keep her warm.

‘Mrs Nankivell? It’s Sophie. Robert’s on his way. You’re going to be okay. Can you hear me?’

Nothing.

Five eternal minutes later, the slam of a car door was followed by the front door opening.

‘Here!’ I called and almost sagged with relief when he appeared in the doorway and fell to his knees.

‘Nan?’ he called as he attached her to a blood pressure machine. ‘Nan, it’s me, you’re all right… Did she say she wasn’t feeling well?’ he asked me.

I shook my head, rubbing her soft, papery hands. ‘No, she was playing the piano. I don’t understand…’

‘Nan? Can you hear me?’ he called again, but there was no answer.

Please do something, I wanted to cry out, but I had to keep calm. She was in good hands.

We waited for the ambulance while Dr A. kept a constant check on her pulse and heartbeat, lightly tapping her on the cheek every once in a while, but to no avail.

Surely, she should have been waking up by now if it wasn’t serious?

But Dr A kept his cool, revealing no emotion whatsoever, whereas I fought not to burst into tears as if she was my own grandmother.

If I thought I could live and not become attached to my new fellow villagers, I was wrong.

When the ambulance arrived I got up to follow, but Dr A. turned and took my wrists. ‘Thanks for everything you’ve done, Sophie. Now go home and rest.’

‘But I want to know…’

He squeezed my hands gently. ‘I’ll call you to fill you in the minute we know something. You need to take care of your baby and not exert yourself. Go home. I’ll call you later. Okay?’

I sighed. ‘Okay. I’ll wait for your call, then.’

He smiled tightly. He was worried, I could see it in his eyes, even if he pretended everything was okay. ‘Get some rest.’

But I couldn’t, so when I got home, I jumped into my car and headed for the hospital.

An hour later, I was with Dr A by Mrs Nankivell’s bed. She was sitting up, scowling. I’d never seen her scowl before but somehow, there was a comical side to it.

‘Come on, Nan, just a few more hours as we check you out completely,’ Dr A said.

‘I can check myself out, thank you, and I’m going to. Get me those papers and I’ll sign them d’rectly!’

It was the first time I’d heard her speak in a Cornish accent and I loved it.

‘Just give the doctors a little longer and I’ll drive you home myself,’ he promised.

She scowled at him, then turned to me. ‘How do I put up with him?’ she asked.

I suppressed a laugh. She was going to be okay. ‘You just do, Mrs Nankivell,’ I said, taking her hand. ‘He’s only looking out for you.’

‘Just call me Nan, dear,’ she said. ‘After all, you apparently did save my life. Not that these doctors know what they’re talking about!’

Robert’s eyes swung to mine and he sighed.

‘Okay, Nan,’ I agreed cheerfully. ‘Hey, how about when you’re up for it, you come and play the piano at The Rolling Scones? God knows that place needs some of your musical talent!’

‘I’ll say,’ she readily agreed. ‘I’ve been working on a new arrangement of ‘Those Were The Days’ and it sounds so much better my way.

You’ll see!’ Then, with regret, she looked at Robert.

‘This one: he’s the only one with no musical talent.

God knows we’ve all tried to teach him at one time or another, but he’s as useless as a pair of ice skates on a goat! ’

I looked at him and chuckled as he lifted his eyes to the ceiling and sighed, but I could see the glint of humour in his eyes.

‘You get some sleep, you old battle axe, and I’ll see you in the morning,’ he said, placing a tender kiss on her cheek and getting to his feet.

I kissed her other cheek. ‘See you tomorrow, Nan.’ I liked calling her that.

‘Will you come back round for that cup of tea, then?’ she asked me.

‘Of course!’

‘Good,’ she said, satisfied, and nestled up for a nap.

Outside, Robert took my elbow. ‘Thank you, Sophie. You may well have saved her life.’

‘Is she going to be okay? I mean, like before?’

‘Yes, absolutely. It was just a minor spell, and with the right treatment, she’s going to be okay.’

‘Good. I’m glad.’

He blew out a sigh of pent-up stress and smiled at me to reassure me. ‘I don’t know what I would have done had you not gone to see her,’ he whispered, his eyes watering. ‘That woman is my entire family.’

‘You two seem close.’

‘She is my mother and my father,’ he said. ‘Both my parents died in a boating accident when I was little, along with my aunt and uncle.’

‘Oh, God, Robert, I’m so sorry…’

He shrugged. ‘Some people in the village seems to think that I’m all cold and insensitive. Well, I’m not…’

I put my arm around him, something I would have never done in a previous life, but the situation called for empathy. ‘I know. You’ve been very kind to me.’

‘Even Sheila, my ex-wife, thought I was. I guess I never really showed her how I felt about her… what an arse I am.’

‘You can still tell her,’ I suggested and he snorted.

‘Well, that ship sailed a long time ago. She left me and moved to Truro.’

‘Oh. I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be. She’s happier, being married to a bank manager. Apparently there’s less work, more money and more glory.’

‘Robert, your job is paramount,’ I said. I really believed it.

He smiled. ‘Thanks, Sophie. Go home now. I’ll call you tomorrow.’

‘Okay. Take care, Robert.’

‘Will do.’

When I got home, I found Noah in the garden, working away at the system that fed water to the house. He turned at the crunch of my feet on the gravel.

‘Hey,’ he said. ‘What happened to you?’