Fern Britton 3-Book Collection: The Holiday Home, A Seaside Affair, A Good Catch. Fern Britton
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men, and it’s our duty to help them.’ He gave Francis another wink. ‘What the eye doesn’t see the heart doesn’t grieve over, eh?’
Francis bristled. ‘What kind of man do you think I am? I love Pru and I take my marriage vows seriously. I would never ever be unfaithful to her.’
Greg sighed and crossed his legs, weighing something up.
‘Look, Francis, I can help you. We can help each other. A problem halved and all that. You see, the thing is … I’m in a bit of a pickle myself.’
‘Pickle?’
‘Yes … With Janie, my secretary.’
‘Oh yes. Has she had any more dates with the soldier?’
‘She has. Apparently things have been going very well. Too well.’ He looked meaningfully at Francis, nodding his head.
‘Great! So your friend can end the affair?’
‘Ah, no. He’s really rather, ha ha … put out. Jealous, maybe.’
‘Well, he has no right to be!’ exclaimed Francis, ‘I think it’s best all round if Janie finds a man her own age.’
Greg looked momentarily wounded. ‘There’s not much of an age difference, actually.’ He lowered his voice: ‘Look, I won’t say a word to Pru about you and Belinda, if you don’t mention a word about Janie to Connie.’ He gave Francis a sly grin. ‘There’s honour among brothers-in-law, eh?’
Francis was horrified. ‘Hang on a minute, what are you saying? I have nothing to hide, and neither should you. It’s not your fault your secretary is seeing someone in your office. If you want my advice, don’t get involved with their problem.’
‘Ah, well, there’s the rub: I already am involved. You see, the reason why Connie mustn’t know is because, well, it’s me Janie’s having the fling with.’
Francis looked aghast. ‘You mean you’re having an affair with your secretary?’
Greg glanced over his shoulder and then back. ‘Shh. Do you want everyone to know? We’re in the same boat, you and I – we both have our little secrets.’
Francis spluttered indignantly, ‘I don’t have any secrets.’
‘Ah yes, but …’ Greg watched Francis slyly, ‘… you wouldn’t want me telling Pru that I saw you and Belinda canoodling in the marital bed, would you?’
Francis shook his head, feeling like a man facing a firing squad. ‘That wasn’t canoodling. That was her seeing if I had a temperature … or something. Belinda and I are just friends.’
‘Stop kidding yourself! Anyone with half a brain can see what’s going on. I’ll keep schtum, and in return you can help me with the Janie situation. If I ever need a little alibi, you’ll be there, won’t you, old bro-in-law?’
Francis’s heart sank – he was snookered.
*
Pru was taking a walk on the cliffs. It wasn’t like Francis to be ill. It had shaken her. To be truthful, seeing Merlin on the beach had shaken her more, and she needed to get out of the house and do some thinking. She walked across the lush lawn surrounded by lavender, box and poppies, then out of the gate and on to the cliff path. She wondered whether to walk straight on and down to the beach or turn left towards the headland. She chose the headland. The beautiful old path lined by perfumed gorse was so familiar to her. To her left were lush fields full of grain crops. Further on, a field of tall grasses was being cut for hay. Skylarks were nesting somewhere. She could hear one singing very close by, but she couldn’t spot the shy little bird.
A breeze blew in from the ocean on her right, ruffling her hair. After yesterday’s rain, when it had been rough and coloured with sand and seaweed, the sea now twinkled deepest blue and reflected the small clouds in its ripples. She reached a wide gateway and carefully opened and closed the heavy latch. She felt the silky wood of the gate, made oily with the years of hands rubbing over it. She smiled at the touch. This gate, leading down to Figgoty’s Beach had been her meeting place with Merlin a lifetime ago.
Merlin had been her first true love. The love you get over but never forget. Above her a seagull laughed. She thought back to that long-ago summer.
She had not long turned nineteen. Connie was sixteen and very popular. She had always been the girlier of the two sisters. Her blonde hair, full bosom and friendly nature captured the affection of both sexes. Her girl-friends adored her and all the boys enjoyed flirting with her. Pru, on the other hand, was more serious. She was at university and enjoying the academic life. She had a couple of admirers. Both a bit worthy and dull, but good for the odd night out. Where Connie was pneumatic, Pru was a washboard. No bust, no hips, but with a stunning six-pack.
Connie’s friends happily absorbed Pru into their group, enjoying having someone a bit older around them. Mainly because she could drive.
‘Pru … Pru?’ wheedled Connie one afternoon.
‘What do you want?’
‘Would you like to come to a party tomorrow night?’
‘Where?’
‘Newquay.’
‘And you want me to drive you?’
‘Me and Trace and Maz.’
‘Only if you pay me for the petrol.’
‘But it’s Mum’s car.’
‘Yes, and she’ll ask me to replace the petrol.’
‘Oh, all right, we’ll split it.’
The party was on the beach. A hot August night. A huge moon hung fully in the heavens surrounded by a carpet of bright stars.
As soon as Pru got to the beach road, her three passengers leapt out and disappeared while she was left to park.
When she got down on to the sand, there was no sign of her sister or her mates. She collected a tin of cider from a trestle table and mooched around the outer circle of the party. Pru knew a few people, who nodded to her, but no one came forward to chat. She found a cool piece of clean sand and lay down to watch the stars. Back then she used to love searching for satellites as they tracked their way across the heavens.
A soft Cornish voice broke into her solitude.
‘Can I join you?’
She turned her head, feeling the sand shift beneath her. He was wearing sawn-off jeans and a Debbie Harry T-shirt. His face was in shadow, but she could see the outline of curly hair.
She sat up. ‘Be my guest.’
‘I’ve been watching you.’
She felt a little scared and turned towards the party to see if she could glimpse Connie.
‘It’s all right. I’m not a nutter. Mind you, if I was that’s exactly what I’d say, isn’t it?’
Pru laughed nervously.
‘I thought you looked like someone I’d enjoy talking to, that’s all.’ He smiled and in the moonlight she made out kind sea-green eyes, nice lips and slightly wonky but very white teeth.
‘Oh.’
He sat down next to her and rolled a cigarette. ‘Want one?’
‘No, thank you.’
‘Good girl.’
There was silence for a while as he sat gazing at the moonlit waves gently breaking on the sand. Pru thought she had never seen anyone so gorgeous.
After blowing a series of smoke rings, he turned to her, holding out his hand: ‘Merlin Pengelly.’
She held it. Rough and coarse but clean and strong. ‘Prudence Carew. How do you do.’
He