Т.А. Уильямс – What Happens In Cornwall... (страница 12)
‘Yes.’
‘Fine.’ He hesitated and then, as the old lady was still sitting there, he added. ‘You could ask her if there is somewhere round here where we can rent a boat.’
‘A boat?’ Giancarlo followed Beppe’s eyes to the photographs. ‘Of course, the island.’ He translated the question.
Mrs Pendennis knew the answer immediately. He relayed it back to Beppe. ‘She says there’s a place down by the harbour. They’ve got everything from canoes and jet skis to deep sea fishing boats.’
‘Excellent.’ Beppe glanced at his watch. ‘Nine o’clock Italian time. That means it’s eight o’clock here. Either way, it’s time for dinner. Let’s head for the restaurant.’ A sudden thought struck him. ‘How do we get back in without being eaten by that bloody dog?’
Mrs Pendennis had already anticipated the question. ‘Here you are.’ She laid two sets of keys on the table. ‘One for each room and a key to the back doors.’ She pointed to the French windows. ‘You can come and go quite independently through here. That way you won’t bother poor old Doris. She doesn’t like being disturbed when she’s sleeping.’
Giancarlo translated her instructions. Beppe heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Thanks be to God for that. I hate big dogs. The idea of letting myself in the front door and being confronted by that evil old beast would have put me off my food.’
‘Nothing puts you off your food, Beppe.’ Giancarlo knew him so well already.
‘You’re not looking your normal sunny self this morning, Virginia.’ Samantha dropped her bag on her desk and came across to her head of department. She wasn’t feeling very sunny either, after a weekend of rows and raised voices with Neil. As usual, the archaeology lab smelt of decay. Virginia also looked pretty rotten this morning. ‘Something wrong?’
Virginia Greenway handed her a sheet of paper. At first, Sam couldn’t make head or tail of it. The letterhead belonged to a firm of solicitors in Zurich, Switzerland. As she started to read down through, Virginia supplied a précis.
‘No way we’re going to be allowed onto Rock Island.’
Samantha scanned the letter, noting the reference to
‘Bugger.’
‘Bugger, indeed.’ Virginia was glowering. She reached out and took the letter back from Sam and threw it onto her desk. ‘Bloody Swiss. Who do they think they are?’
Samantha decided to leave her alone to vent her spleen and returned to her own desk. As she did so, the door opened and Becky came in. Seeing the look on Virginia’s face, she flicked a glance across to Sam. ‘Trubble at t’mill?’
Sam gave a brief explanation. Becky looked disappointed. ‘What a shame! I was checking it out the other day. It really does look like the most amazing place. It must be heaving with millionaires. And, coincidentally, here’s me on the lookout for a millionaire.’
‘Still no sign of Chris Martin or any other rock star?’
Becky shook her head despondently. ‘Not many of those around the university. And what about you? Any improvement on the home front?’
Samantha shook her head sadly. ‘The opposite, I’m afraid.’ Rather than get drawn into a post mortem of her awful weekend, she decided that mugs of tea were in order, so she headed for the electric kettle. She caught Virginia’s eye and raised a mug in the air, receiving a distracted nod in response. She made the tea and distributed the mugs, returning to sit down beside Becky again. She glanced across at her. ‘So, if there aren’t any rock stars, any other men on the horizon?’
At that moment, the door opened and Ryan came in.
‘Hi, Ryan, how was your holiday?’ Once again, Samantha reflected that he would make an ideal boyfriend for Becky, but for some reason, she never seemed to respond to his advances. He was a tall boy, a few years younger than Sam, closer to Becky’s age. He had red hair and the sort of pale skin with freckles that seems to cry out for factor fifty sun block. Still, he was quite good-looking and he was clearly infatuated with Becky. He waved to Virginia and came over to take a seat next to Becky. As the water in the kettle was still hot, Sam got up to make him a cup of tea. When she got back, he was still recounting his adventures in Turkey. She glanced out of the window. The sun was still shining brightly over the city, so she settled down to listen to his tale without wanting to throttle him out of sheer jealousy.
‘Anyway, I’ve got a load of photos. Why don’t we meet up in the pub this evening and I’ll show them to you?’ Sam caught Becky’s eye. She read complete disinterest. Before Becky could say anything unfortunate, Sam leapt in.
‘Can’t manage tonight, Ryan. Becky’s coming running with me.’
‘I am? I mean, oh yes.’ Becky hastily corrected herself. ‘Of course I am. I’m on a fitness campaign, Ryan. Maybe some other time.’
Sam noted the look of disappointment on his face and sighed for him.
‘Sam! It’s so good to see you again.’
Karen jumped to her feet as Sam pushed through the door to the Wobbly Wheel pub and held out her arms for a hug.
Sam was in contact with very few of her old school friends nowadays. Karen was a rare exception; very rare. Before getting the call from Karen the other night, it had to be two years, even three, since she had last heard from her. They had been best friends during most of the tough teenage years and they knew each other really well. They had both been picked on for being more interested in sport than classroom gossip and this had brought them closer together. Both shared a taste for tall, strong men – although now, Sam reflected, her own particular tall, strong man had most definitely lost his appeal. Karen, like Sam, had left school without going to university, but in Karen’s case it was so that she could take up a job as cub reporter on the local newspaper in Salisbury where they had grown up. Now, since Sam’s mum had moved away to Bristol, she rarely went back.
It was barely six o’clock and they were just about the only people in the pub. Sam’s feet echoed on the stripped wooden floor. The two girls embraced and then Karen stepped back and subjected Sam to careful scrutiny before giving her verdict.
‘You’re looking great.’
Samantha gave her a sceptical look. These days, with all the problems at home, she felt anything but great. Karen, on the other hand, was looking really good. She had never been overweight, but now she was as slim as Sam and, with her short blonde hair, she looked athletic as well as pretty. Sam remembered that for several years until she had moved into serious training with the national coaching squad, they had been running partners. By the looks of her, Karen was keeping up her fitness. She managed to summon a smile in return. ‘Hi Karen, it’s good to see you, too, but, to be honest, I’m not feeling particularly great.’
Karen shook her head. ‘Well you’re looking good all the same. Does the not-feeling-great thing have anything to do with your man?’ A shadow crossed Sam’s face.
‘Afraid so, Karen.’
‘Relationship not going swimmingly?’
‘About to sink without a trace, to be honest.’ With an effort, she succeeded in putting aside her irritation at the mention of Neil and managed another smile. It really was good to see Karen again after so long. ‘The less said about my man the better. Anyway, you’re not looking so bad yourself. In fact, you’re looking slim and lovely. Does this mean you’re on the streets again?’
Karen’s eyebrows raised and she grinned. Realising what she had said, Sam hastened to clarify. ‘I mean are you out running round the streets again? You look as if you are.’ She nodded appreciatively. ‘You’re looking very fit.’
‘I do a bit of running, now and then. But mostly it’s just the stress.’ Before Sam could ask what she meant, Karen jumped to her feet. ‘Now, how about a G & T?’
Karen left the table and went up to the bar to order two gin and tonics. In fact, Sam had hardly touched gin for quite a few years, but this had been their chosen drink in their final year at school when they were doing their best to appear grown up and sophisticated. When Karen returned, Sam was flipping through the book on the table. She looked up with a smile.
‘You going for promotion?’ Sam pointed at the cover. ‘
An expression of embarrassment crossed Karen’s face. ‘It’s all about Lord Beaverbrook. He was the big man in my business between the wars. I thought I might learn a thing or two.’ Gold earrings and a gold watch on her wrist combined to reflect the light into Sam’s eyes. Karen had always had a thing about gold. She sat down and raised her glass in Sam’s direction. ‘Cheers, Sam, it’s great to see you again. So just what exactly is the problem between you and, what was his name again? Nick? Noel?’
‘Neil.’ There was a pause before Sam decided to confide in her. ‘I think familiarity has bred contempt.’ One look at Karen’s face told her this would not be enough to satisfy her pathological nosiness. The fact that she had gone into journalism reflected her constant thirst for information. Sam took a deep breath. ‘We’ve been growing apart for ages. We hardly talk these days and when we do, it just spirals into an argument.’