The Path to the Sea. Liz Fenwick
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guernsey. She is sensibly dressed for a day on the water. Her cotton trousers are rolled up to her knees. She is the image of a Cornish maid with her dark hair and brown eyes. Whereas the woman climbing off the boat with her high cheekbones and full mouth, is as underdressed as her husband. I pull my shoulders back and push my hair off my face. I am clothed like my daughter, but this woman is attired for the Côte d’Azur, in snug white shorts and a sleeveless shirt tied at her tanned midriff.
Together with Allan they pull the boat onto the sand. With my public smile in place, I try to make eye contact with my husband, but he is watching the strangers, his expression animated.
‘Darling.’ He turns to me. ‘I’d like you to meet Ralf and Beth Venn. The people I mentioned from America.’ He grins at them both, boyish and engaging, looking far younger than his thirty-six years. ‘They have rented Penweathers.’
‘Hello.’ I hold out my hand and Beth Venn extends her toned arm. Her hand limply grabs mine while she towers over me. I am not short, but I have to look up to meet her glance which falls away immediately.
‘Welcome to Cornwall,’ I say, then turn to Ralf Venn and offer him my hand. His grip is firm, but he quickly releases my hand too.
‘Thank you. It’s wonderful but the sailing is a bit different here.’ He grins and doesn’t quite look me in the eye. I don’t like him, despite his physical beauty, and I can’t explain this reaction to myself because it feels like jealousy.
I raise an eyebrow. ‘Really? No sails then?’
He laughs, still avoiding eye contact unlike most Americans in my acquaintance. ‘Good one. We’re from Chicago and have sailed lakes only.’
‘I see.’ But I don’t. His accent doesn’t sound Midwestern either, or was it the syntax?
‘I was just inviting them up to the house for a drink tonight, but they have other plans this evening.’ Allan’s glance meets mine and I stare back intently. ‘However they can make it for dinner tomorrow night.’
I swallow down my immediate reply. Tomorrow night is important, and I don’t need unknowns in the equation. I glare at Allan but open my eyes wide as I turn to his new friends and say, ‘How lovely.’
‘They’ve taken Penweathers for a year, so I thought it would be good for them to meet some people.’
‘How kind.’ I press my lips together slowly lifting the corners of my mouth into something resembling a smile. Two more people will bring the total to twenty for dinner. ‘Wonderful. We’ll see you tomorrow evening at six thirty for drinks followed by dinner.’ I push a loose tendril of hair off my face, feeling flustered for no reason. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I must dash back to the house as guests are due any minute.’ I lie. Picking up my basket I listen to Allan making plans with the Venns for tomorrow during the day when he and many of our guests would be enjoying the promised good weather. A piece of cobalt sea glass sparkles in a ray of sun light and I grab it, sighing long and low as I climb the steps on the path to the garden. Something isn’t right about the Venns, I’m not sure what it is, but nor do I have time to dwell on it.
3 August 2018, 3.10 p.m.
The traffic in front of her on the A390 came to a halt. Lottie’s knuckles went white. Would she make it in time? Why hadn’t she charged her phone last night? When she finally woke on the last morning in her flat and plugged in her phone, there were three messages from Gramps asking her to call. The final one said, ‘My darling girl, she’s leaving us. I don’t think it will be long.’ His voice had cracked, and Lottie had swallowed a sob. Her car had already been packed. She’d thrown the last of her stuff into the boot and waited for the estate agent to take the final set of keys for her flat.
It was fewer than three miles to Boskenna from here. She just wanted to drive up and over all these people. Didn’t they know she had to get home? She exhaled, and her glance darted to the fuel level. In normal circumstances she would have enough fuel, but with this traffic it would be touch and go.
She turned on the radio for distraction. There was nothing she could do and that was proving to be the story of her life. Her fingers stilled on the scan button as Ray Charles began singing ‘I Can’t Stop Loving You’. This was the lead song in the soundtrack to her life. Just a few notes and she had time-travelled back to the summer of 2008.
That summer had proved that life could alter in a moment and now it was about to change again. Gran. She shifted from neutral to first and back again. The changeover traffic on a Friday in August had never been good but this was brutal. Cornwall was full of people and now that included her, except this was not a holiday. She would give anything to have this just be a visit, but she had heard the fear in Gramps’ voice.
Traffic stopped again, and the only movement was on the other side of the road. There must be an accident ahead. Today was purportedly the hottest day of the summer and she was now watching the fuel gauge on her old Fiesta bounce in and out of the red. It was like her bank account. That too was empty. The trip meter said she’d done 286 miles since she’d last filled it up. She’d lived twenty-eight years never having let her finances or her fuel tank run dry. On the passenger seat her handbag contained only five pounds, her phone and not much else. She ground her teeth trying to think of positive things, which at the moment was very difficult.
She glanced in the rear-view mirror as traffic began moving again. The car was stuffed with her worldly possessions. That was something she didn’t want to think about. She just wanted to make it to see Gran. She had to. Her last visit had been anything but good, and recent phone calls had been stilted. Lottie couldn’t have that be the last conversation. She just couldn’t.
As the car crept along at ten miles an hour, she spotted the problem: a broken-down camper-van. She tensed, waiting for the ancient engine powering her car to cough and die but it didn’t. Finally turning left, she travelled past the new housing estate, and before long she went left again to Porthpean. That first glimpse of St Austell Bay caught her unprepared even though she’d made this journey thousands of times. Stretched out below, it looked as if she could touch it, but she always forgot the sheer jaw-dropping beauty and today was no different. The bright blue sea gleamed, and Gribben Head jutted out into the bay under a clear sky. The road narrowed, descending towards the cove, and her heart lifted then it crashed. Gran.
Even before the sharp turn through the gates, she pictured Boskenna and the view. White, green and blue. House, lawn and sea. Perfect harmony. Peace. The car spluttered its way past the green wooden gate on fumes. The gate was in need of painting and she might be wrong, but it looked like it was off its hinges and wouldn’t close even if she wanted it to. This wasn’t normal, but the sun was beating down on Boskenna and the view of the bay beckoned. It never disappointed even on a grey day. Here was home in a way she never felt anywhere else ever. It was in her bones. Every school holiday until university, this was where she lived.
Lottie parked and climbed out, taking a deep breath. The breeze was fragrant with sea air and freshly cut grass. She could do this. She stood tall. Gramps needed her. Dashing towards the front door, she caught a glimpse of broad shoulders walking through the courtyard. She stared for a second. Her brain said Alex but it couldn’t be. It was just wishful thinking brought about because of an old song. She hadn’t spoken to him in ten years and her last words to him had been unjust. But that wasn’t really important right now. Gran was. She ran, seeing a blur of large agapanthus heads against the white wall of the house. The colour popped with the intensity of their blue petals. They glowed like Tanzanite. Boskenna was different from every angle, but this view by the front door was her favourite. It had welcomed her every time as it did now.
The front door swung wide and Gramps hobbled out, leaning heavily on a cane. This was new. In February he hadn’t needed one. She swallowed then threw her arms around him. ‘Gramps, I’m so sorry I missed