The Holiday Home

27


After the big announcement, Abi, Jem and Emily walked across the garden and down to the beach to greet the first arrivals.

Francis took Greg into the kitchen on the pretext of needing him to help with the food.

‘Here, have one of these.’ Francis handed his brother-in-law a large glass of punch. Greg downed it in three gulps and held the empty tumbler out for another. As Francis ladled the punch into the glass he looked at Greg closely. His skin was pale and his hands were shaking slightly. His breathing was more like panting. ‘Are you OK?’

‘Of course I’m not bloody OK. I feel as if I’m about to have a heart attack. My life has turned into a living nightmare.’

‘You’re doing fine. Just keep smiling and stay by Connie’s side. Don’t give Janie a chance to get you on your own.’

He looked gratefully at Francis. ‘Thank you for punching me on the nose. You brought me to my senses.’

‘Any time. It doesn’t look bruised.’

‘It was a bit red, but I told Connie I had a cold coming on and she covered it with some makeup. How’s your hand?’

‘Sore. I’ve never hit anyone before.’

They looked at each other and chuckled. ‘This is the closest we’ve ever been, Francis,’ said Greg. ‘I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’

They fell into an awkward embrace, Greg’s plastered arm grazing the painful knuckles of Francis’s hand.

*

Pru and Connie were in the drawing room with their parents. Henry and Dorothy were on one of the sofas and the girls were sitting on the floor by their feet.

‘When you launched into your speech, I thought you were going to tell us that one of you was about to die,’ said Pru, shaking her father’s knee in mock anger.

‘Me too,’ said Connie. ‘It made the rest sound so trivial in comparison! Why on earth did you leave it so long to tell us the truth? Why didn’t you just get married? Why keep it a secret? We wouldn’t have minded.’

Dorothy shrugged her shoulders. ‘We told everyone we’d eloped, and that was that really …’ she finished lamely.

‘I don’t understand,’ persisted Connie. ‘Why did you pretend you’d eloped? Why didn’t you just elope?’

Dorothy looked at Henry for help. He had already warned her not to tell the girls about Susan.

‘Silliness on my part. It seemed an innocent white lie at the time. A bit of fun. But once everyone considered us married, it became impossible to tell the truth.’

Pru frowned. ‘I still don’t get it. That was so stupid of you.’

Henry looked at his elder daughter and admired her reasoning. He felt very uncomfortable in persisting with the fictitious story. But what choice did he have? Luckily, Connie unwittingly came to the rescue.

She got to her feet. ‘So when are you going to get married? You’ve had a long enough engagement.’

Again, Dorothy looked to Henry for a lead.

‘We’ll sort something out in good time. Let’s get Abi’s party on the road first, shall we?’

‘We’re not allowed to stay too long because we’re considered old and uncool,’ said Connie.

‘Speak for yourself,’ said Pru, standing up and shrugging on a new black leather jacket over her skinny jeans. ‘Francis and I are going to dance the night away.’

*

Belinda had slipped back to Dairy Cottage to repair her tear-stained makeup. When she was done, she formed her lips into one of her well-practised over-bright smiles and went in search of Francis. When she found him, serving punch to an ill-looking Greg, she asked for a glass herself.

‘It’s nice. But not enough oomph,’ she proclaimed.

‘There’s almost half a bottle of vodka in there,’ said Francis. ‘That’s plenty. I don’t want the kids getting drunk.’

‘Fat chance of that. It’s as weak as tea!’ said Belinda. ‘Greg, can you manage to take down a couple of bowls of salad with your broken arm?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Good. Francis, you take the big tub of chilli, and I’ll be down with the punch in a minute.’

She watched as the two men did as they were asked. When they were out of sight, she found the rest of the bottle of vodka, a bottle of Cointreau and some tequila, and poured them all into the big punch bowl.

*

Down on the cooling sand, the sun was slipping towards the horizon and the sea was at its lowest ebb. Music from Merlin’s Mobile Disco was setting the party mood and the first of the guests were chatting and laughing with Abi. Belinda had designed a large party zone, marked out as a square by bamboo canes pushed upright into the sand. She had tied washing line all around the tops and on to that had looped balloons and fairy lights. Along one side of the square was Merlin’s disco. He had a laptop, decks, huge speakers, lights and a bubble machine going. Opposite him on the other side of the square was Pearl’s ice-cream caravan and the long buffet table, now holding the chilli and salads.

Belinda found Greg and Francis and ordered them back to the house to get the rest of the food. She went over to Merlin. ‘Have you got a microphone in case of speeches?’

Merlin picked a hand mic up and twirled it like a gunslinger. ‘Sure do, beautiful Belinda with the big bosoms.’

She really wasn’t in the mood. ‘Merlin, you are a moron.’

Abi came running up to her. ‘Where are the pink skirts? All the girls want to wear one.’

‘In those black plastic bags under the food table. There’s a bag of blue Neptune crowns for the boys too.’

Abi kissed her. ‘You’re a star!’ And dashed off.

Half an hour later most of the guests had arrived and Merlin’s music was hitting the spot. A mixture of seventies classics and the latest dance music got all the partygoers moving.

Merlin watched Pru as she sat at the edge of the throng, nursing a glass of wine. It brought back memories of the party on the beach in Newquay all those years ago, when he’d spotted her sitting apart from the crowd, aloof, contained.

He rolled a cigarette and cued up a couple of very long tracks to play on his laptop, then he went and sat next to her.

She looked at him and shuffled to the other end of the rock she was sitting on.

‘Like old times, eh?’ he said, lighting his cigarette. The loose strands of tobacco lit up like dry tinder.

She glanced at him again and then turned back to watch the dancers.

‘It was at a party like this that we first got together, remember?’

‘Hmm.’ She still wouldn’t look at him.

He blew some smoke rings into the air and asked, ‘How about a dance?’

Now she did look at him. ‘With you?’

‘Yep. I don’t see anyone else asking.’ He looked around him and side to side. ‘Do you?’

Pru couldn’t help but laugh. ‘No thanks.’ She got up, leaving Merlin looking pleased with himself, and wandered down to the sea, slipping her sandals off and enjoying the cold water on them in the warmth of the evening.

The painful memories came flooding back.

*

After their first night together, he disappeared for ten days. She hung about near Atlantic House and the beach, refusing to join the family on trips into Trevay or Plymouth.

Her mother soon grew annoyed with this state of affairs. ‘I would like to spend some time with you, Prudence. If you won’t join us on our trips out, you will at least help me run some errands.’ Dorothy passed her daughter a lengthy shopping list just as Connie walked by. ‘Constance?’

‘Yes, Mum.’

‘Why is your sister mooning about, refusing to leave the house?’

‘She’s fallen in luurve.’

Dorothy sniffed. ‘Oh, is that all. A holiday romance. Who is the boy?’

Pru looked daggers at her sister, who blithely continued: ‘She met him at that beach party in Newquay. He’s called Merlin and he’s an odd-job man in the winter and a lifeguard in the summer.’

Pru shouted at Connie, ‘He’s not an odd-job man! He’s a labouring builder. There’s a difference, you know.’

‘No there isn’t.’ Connie stuck her tongue out.

‘You’re just jealous because you fancy him yourself!’ snapped Pru.

Connie blushed furiously.

Dorothy stepped in. ‘Whatever he is, don’t tell your father.’ She gathered up her handbag and car keys. ‘Come along, Pru. Stop brooding about young Lochinvar and come push a trolley round the supermarket with me.’

Sullenly and speaking in words never more than one syllable in length, she did the shopping, packed it into her mother’s car, unpacked it into the larder and fridge, then, as soon as was humanly possible, she escaped out of the house and back down to the beach.

It was late in the day by this time and the young families were packing up to leave. A few hardy stalwarts were starting to light small portable barbecues. Pru walked miserably down to the waves, her head hanging low, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her shorts. Feeling the prickle of tears, she angrily wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her sweatshirt. On the wind came a man’s voice calling her name:

‘Pru! Pru!’

Looking up, she saw him about fifty metres away, running towards her, his blond curls streaming behind him: Merlin. She stopped walking, not knowing whether she should run to meet him. Instead, she opened her arms. When he got to her, he lifted her off her feet and spun her around. Finally he put her down and looked into her soul.

‘Hello, Prudence Carew.’

‘Hello, Merlin Pengelly.’

‘Have you missed me?’

‘No.’

‘Yes you have. A little bird tells me you’ve been moping about down here since I last saw you.’

‘Who told you that?’

‘Him.’ Merlin pointed up the beach to the lifeguards’ hut. A young man in lifeguard red shorts and windcheater put his binoculars down and gave a thumbs-up.

Pru blushed. Had she been so obviously pining for the last ten days? Merlin took her hand and kissed it. ‘I’ve got news for you. I’ve swapped from Newquay to work this beach for the rest of the summer. I am now your personal lifeguard.’

*

‘Come on, Pru, you know we were good.’

Merlin had sidled up to Pru and snaked a hand around her waist.

‘What about a kiss, for old times’ sake?’

‘No. You were a bastard to me. You broke my heart.’

‘And you broke mine when you refused to speak to me.’

‘Merlin, I want to thank you. Because of you, I am the woman I am today: strong, successful, some would say a ball-breaker – and it’s all down to you. I vowed that never again would I let my guard down to another human being. Not even my husband – until this holiday. It’s only now that I realise how much I love Francis. So, no, I don’t want to dance with you or kiss you, Merlin.’

Merlin threw his cigarette butt on the sand and stamped it out with his flip-flop. ‘Plenty more fish in the sea, Pru. Plenty more fish in the sea.’ And he returned to his job as DJ.

There’s nothing sadder than an old hippy on the pull, thought Pru as she watched him go.

*

Janie was dancing very sexily in a silk mini dress with no bra to keep her firm breasts in place and a tiny thong which was noticeable every time she wiggled her hips. She’d made certain she was dressed as provocatively as possible in order to show Greg what he was missing. As she snapped her head to one side, making her long hair flow Beyoncé style, she caught Merlin’s eye and gave him her most sultry smile. He cued up a few more tracks, back to back, and stepped out from behind his decks to join her on the dance floor.

Giving it all he had he threw what he imagined were some impressive shapes and shouted above the noise: ‘Hi! I love your picture.’

She pulled a face that made her cheeks dimple. ‘Huh?’

‘I said, I love your picture.’

‘What picture?’

‘The one I’m going to take of you lying in my bed.’

She stopped dead and thought about slapping his face. But then she saw Greg watching her, so she pulled Merlin close and kissed him as passionately as she could. Thrilled that his new chat-up line was having such a positive effect, Merlin enthusiastically kissed her back.

Greg was behind the buffet table serving dollops of chilli to Abi’s friends. He had seen the whole thing.

‘Janie seems to be getting on well with that idiot plumber.’

The sound of Henry’s voice in his ear made Greg jump, causing him to spill an ugly splat of mince on top of the vegetarian sausages.

Henry patted his shoulder. ‘I’m watching you – don’t forget.’

Belinda appeared with another bowl of punch. ‘Oh, what’s this on the vegan bangers? The veggies won’t eat them now.’

‘They’re not exactly flying into people’s mouths,’ Greg responded drily.

Belinda ignored him. Setting the punch bowl down, she turned to Henry. ‘Great party! And a double celebration! Fancy you and Dorothy not being married!’ She elbowed him in the ribs. ‘Saucy!’

Henry looked down at the sand, embarrassed. ‘Ah well … you know how it goes. These things happen.’

‘Yes. We all have our skeletons.’ She picked up a sausage and munched on it. ‘So why didn’t you get married in the first place?’

Henry was forced to repeat the lie about eloping.

‘Sounds daft to me. I mean, there was nothing to stop you nipping off and getting married at any time, was there?’

The sound of Stevie Wonder blasted from Merlin’s disco.

‘Ooh. I love this one. Would you have a dance with me?’ she asked Henry.

Relieved that she’d changed the subject, Henry agreed and led her on to the dance floor. Taking her in an elegant hold, he asked: ‘Can you cha-cha?’

‘Yes! My mother loved dancing. She taught me all the ballroom stuff.’

‘Here we go then. Cha-cha one, two …’

And they were off. Soon, the crowd stood back and allowed the couple the entire dance space. When they finally came to a flamboyant end, they were rewarded with tremendous applause. Henry held Belinda’s hand while she curtsied and blew kisses, then escorted her off the floor.

‘Your mother taught you well,’ he said, puffing a little from the exertion.

‘Thank you.’ Belinda ran a hand through her damp hair. ‘She was a good teacher.’

‘Was she a dance teacher?’

‘Nothing so provincial!’ Belinda laughed. ‘No, she danced in the theatre. She was a part-time model too. But when she met my father, she was a Bunny Girl.’

Henry stood still for a moment before recovering himself. ‘Really? What was her name?’

‘Susie Taylor.’ Belinda stopped smiling and looked him dead in the eye. ‘Hello, Daddy.’