After Katie had presented her with a full cooked breakfast, Rose decided to explore the part of the village on the opposite side of the water to the boatyard. She could have wandered up the creek to the little footbridge along the valley but the passenger ferry saved a mile-long walk and anyway, looked much more fun.
Even on the short journey across the water, it was cool and she had to wrap her scarf around her neck. She’d put her hair up in a twist to stop it blowing wildly. When your hair had fallen out and you didn’t know if it would ever grow back again, you tended not to take it for granted.
Since her transplant, she’d barely visited a hairdresser apart from for a treatment and the very tiniest trim. Her hair had also grown back a couple of shades lighter than before. It had been mousy but had come back to a blonde that her mother had said it had been like when she was three. Rose hadn’t been sure whether this was a good thing or not. She didn’t want to come across as Goldilocks. She might have cut it into something ‘manageable’ or ‘practical’ before her illness, but not now. She gloried in it, leaving it loose and flowing whenever she could. Like letting her hair grow wild, she was ready for an adventure – to take a risk.
The other two people on the boat were clearly hikers, middle-aged and clad in sturdy boots. Rose sat facing forward, and as she climbed out of the ferry, the boatman gave her his hand to make sure she didn’t slip.
The houses on the other side might only be a hundred yards across the water, but they had a different character and looked much older. The boatyard bank had mostly Victorian houses such as the guest house and the yacht club, which had been rebuilt and added to over the past century.
In contrast, the granite and whitewashed cottages of the older part of the village must date back many centuries, Rose thought. She wondered if any fishermen or boatmen could still afford to live here but thought it was unlikely, given the number of discreet holiday-let plaques displayed outside front doors bedecked with roses and flower tubs.
A man with pink shorts and dreadlocks was unbolting the door of the Ferryman Inn and said a good morning as she walked up the steps by the pub. Briefly, Rose thought of asking him about finding a place to stay. Maybe he even had a room to rent, but then she noticed the sign for ‘luxury waterside accommodation’ and thought the rooms would be way out of her budget for the summer.
Her salary as a junior academic was OK-ish and she didn’t have a mortgage on the cottage Granny Marge had left her. Plus her mum had helped her out with inheritance tax and so Rose knew she was very fortunate. She’d managed to find two junior doctors to stay at the cottage at a token rent, and in return for keeping the garden neat and tidy. However, any waterfront property in Falford was likely to go for hundreds a night in the summer.
Of course, it would have helped if she’d known she was coming to Cornwall months before but that wasn’t how life worked and she’d only learned that her grant application had finally been successful two weeks previously. Since then, she’d been caught up in the whirl of term end, looking after her students as their exams approached and marking.
Funny that she’d only finished her own PhD a few years before, even though she was a decade older than some of the PhD students. They must think she was an old fogey at thirty-two.
She smiled then stopped in the lane above the pub, suddenly unsure of what to do and where to go next – struck again by the realisation that she had no unequivocal idea of what she was actually doing in Falford.
A few yards down the lane, she came across a row of whitewashed cottages with knobbly walls and thatched roofs. In addition to the Creek Stores, which sold groceries and supplies, there was an expensive-looking gallery, and – rather randomly – a shop with a driftwood sign above the bow window that declared:
Cornish Magick
Its bow-fronted window was crammed with crystals, healing stones and a mishmash of folklore bits ’n’ bobs that Maddie would have called ‘tat’. Imagining her friend turning up her nose, Rose decided to reserve her opinion until she’d had a better look. She was strictly scientific herself, but her illness had also made her far more tolerant and understanding of other people’s ways of getting through tough situations and life in general.
She couldn’t resist walking under the thatched porch where a display of dreamcatchers brushed her face as they wafted in the breeze off the estuary. A bell dinged as she entered, but there was no one behind the small cash desk, which had a bead curtain separating it from who knew where. Rose was in no hurry and tried to luxuriate in the fact she had some time, now that the whirlwind of term was over. She allowed herself to browse the jewellery with its semi-precious stones, inhale the scent of joss sticks and candles and look at the rocks and minerals, all neatly arranged in glass cases or on shelves.
‘Mornin’. Can I help you?’
A shop assistant appeared at her side. She had close-cropped hair, glossy and jet black, and several piercings in her lips and nose. Rose had three studs in her ears but was seriously impressed at the display of metalwork.
‘No, um, I’m just mooching about,’ Rose said with a friendly smile. ‘If that’s OK?’
The assistant shrugged. ‘Mooch away. If you want to know anything just ask.’
Rose picked up a piece of grey stone with sparkling purple crystals inside it, as the assistant went to tidy a display of joss sticks. The stone was beautiful and made her smile at a memory of a time long gone. She’d dated a geology student for a while before she’d become too ill to carry on with her course. She’d tripped over a piece of rock in his room and then found a piece of coprolite – dinosaur poo – in the bottom of his bed when she’d woken up in the morning.
‘That one’s my favourite,’ the assistant said, coming over to Rose’s side again. ‘It’s an amethyst crystal geode.’
‘It’s very beautiful.’ Cradling it in her hands, Rose examined the stone more closely. Its grey ‘shell’ had been sliced in half to reveal a miniature ‘cave’ of crystals that twinkled with purple fire. There was a little card next to it saying things like ‘rebalance your chakras’, ‘millions have benefited from the soothing and calming effects of crystals’ and ‘discover the secret powers of crystals that the ancients have known for millennia’.
When the card started extolling the ‘stone’s healing powers’, Rose thought they were pushing it, yet she was still transfixed by its beauty. She voiced her thoughts out loud. ‘Do you think these actually do anything? I mean like curing ailments?’
The assistant shrugged. ‘’Bout as much use as a chocolate teapot in my opinion but they look pretty and some people get comfort out of them, like most of the stuff in here, so who am I to judge?’
‘You run a folklore shop and you don’t believe in the supernatural?’ Rose said it with a smile in her voice.
‘Nope. Don’t think there’s anything in any of it but I don’t judge others. If you want a pisky charm or a magic stone, be my guest.’
Rose laughed and carried on browsing before returning to the geode. It was thirteen pounds, but she was sorely tempted. It would brighten up her temporary ‘home’ – when she managed to find it. A little knot of panic in her stomach reminded her she had to find somewhere soon because she couldn’t afford to stay at the Haven guest house much longer, no matter how comfortable it was. The Haven was lovely and her mum had treated her to a week there, but Rose was well aware she couldn’t stay there all summer.
Deciding that she couldn’t resist the geode, she took it to the till where the assistant’s eyes widened in surprise.
‘You’re havin’ it, then? Good choice. It’s a real beauty.’
‘Do you sell lots of crystals?’ Rose asked, tapping the machine with her card.
‘In the summer the shop used to do a roaring trade, especially around the solstice when the hippies came to dance around the stones,’ she said, her tone upbeat.
‘You mean the Nineteen Maidens?’ Rose said, intrigued.
‘Yeah and there’s also the Merry Maidens, Carn Euny, Men-an-Tol.’ The assistant gave Rose a penetrating look. ‘Why? Are you into all that too?’
‘As a matter of fact, I am.’
‘That’s fine. Like I say, I never judge. Always happy for a chat about it and always ready to be converted. I sell a lot of stuff to people trying to convert me.’ She grinned. ‘Or I used to do.’ Her grin faded. ‘We’re not as busy as we’d like to be. We don’t get the coach parties so much lately and this place isn’t as well-known as it was.’ Rose felt a little sorry for the woman if her business was in the doldrums. ‘Well, I’m definitely into ancient lumps of rock. I’m an archaeologist.’
‘Oh. Right.’ The assistant looked as if she’d seen it all before. ‘Are you here doing some research, then?’
‘You could say that,’ Rose replied, with a clear conscience. ‘I got a grant to study some of the sites in the far west over the summer. I’ll be working on the dig by Arthur’s Pool.’
‘I heard about that.’ Her eyes sparked with interest. ‘What are you hoping to find? Treasure? King Arthur’s bones?’ the woman said, referring to the legend that the pool was the final resting place of King Arthur and his sword, Excalibur.
Rose laughed. ‘I wish. Sadly, I doubt we’ll find any bones, but the students have already uncovered some Iron Age artefacts. Some pottery, a small brooch and some grindstones. There was a settlement on that site that’s not been excavated before.’
‘Oh.’ The assistant was clearly expecting skeletons and hoards of gold coins. ‘Nice work if you can get it. I’m Oriel Stannard by the way. Oriel with an “O” not an “A”. I’m not the Little bloody Mermaid.’
Rose burst out laughing and shook Oriel’s hand. ‘Rose Vernon.’
Oriel frowned hard at her. ‘Are you a professor or something?’
Rose snorted. ‘In my dreams. Only a doctor, but not a “doctor” doctor. If you chop your finger off, I’d be no help and I only use the doctor bit for academic purposes. I’m staying at the Haven B&B.’
Oriel did an ‘oh’. ‘Very nice. Very pricey too.’
‘Yes …’ Rose wondered if Oriel thought she was minted. It was almost a hundred quid a night, and she’d be the size of an elephant on all the cooked breakfasts that it seemed rude to refuse. ‘Actually, I’m looking for some accommodation for the summer. A holiday caravan on a farm, or a little flat would be fine. You don’t know of anything here in the village or close by, do you?’
Oriel snorted. ‘Good luck with getting a caravan or anything in this village for the whole summer. Most of the places are either second homes or they’ll have been fully booked months ago and you’ll need a mortgage to rent them.’
Rose sighed. ‘I’d a nasty feeling that might be the case. I should have planned better in advance, but I didn’t know I was getting the grant until just over two weeks ago.’
Oriel cocked her head on one side, sizing Rose up. ‘You know … what you need is a short-term let,’ she said. ‘Something that can’t be let out to emmets.’
‘I am an emmet,’ Rose said, loving the idea of the Old English word for an ant, which she’d heard used before. It summed up the scurrying of millions of people – of which she was one – to the south-west every summer.
‘Not really, if you’re planning on livin’ and workin’ here.’ Oriel smirked. ‘Not that I judge.’
‘For a few months I do.’
‘In that case … and you’re not looking for something posh, I might be able to help.’
A few minutes later, Oriel drew back a bead curtain and gestured for Rose to follow her up a dark, twisty staircase. At the top was a tiny landing with only one door off it.
‘In here.’ Oriel paused outside the door, which was scuffed and in dire need of a lick of paint. ‘I know it needs a bit of a clear-out and a good spring-clean, but I can do that.’
Wondering what she’d let herself in for, Rose braced herself for ravens flying out of the room or a skeleton falling on top of her, Indiana Jones style.
‘You go first,’ Oriel said.
Rose turned the handle on the door and pushed it open. She had to adjust to the gloom. The room was in deep shadow, mainly because the flowery brown curtains at the window were drawn – almost, because they didn’t meet in the middle, allowing a shaft of light to penetrate the dimness. The floorboards creaked under her feet and dust motes whirled in the shaft of light. The room smelled musty with a sweet and sickly undertone.
Words – nice ones – were impossible to come by. It was hard to imagine spending the summer here, living and working in this dingy room.
Oriel’s face fell. ‘Totally mingin’, isn’t it? I knew it.’
‘I wouldn’t say that.’ Rose tried to be upbeat. ‘Although it is a bit of a time capsule.’
‘Hold on.’ Rose blinked as Oriel ripped open the curtains, shedding light on the room, which might not have been the best idea.
The décor hadn’t been upgraded since the Eighties. The Seventies curtains with their orange swirling flowers contrasted with wallpaper with faded red and grey slashes that must have been the height of fashion in 1982. Cardboard boxes, plastic crates and bulging bags for life were stacked in front of two doors and on the dining table and sofa. Safeway? Since when had that been a supermarket? And Woolworths? Rose mainly remembered that shop for the pick ’n’ mix counters that her granny had loved.
On the other hand, she was intrigued by the doors leading off one wall and an interesting little cupboard in the corner.
‘It’s been vacant for ages. No one wants to live here these days. Not in a hole like this.’
Rose presumed Oriel meant the flat not Falford Creek, which was idyllic … or at least idyllic to an emmet. ‘Don’t you live in the village?’ she said to be sure.
‘No way! I live with my girlfriend in a new-build apartment in Trecarne. It’s only a mile away but it’s civilisation compared to here. No disrespect, but I’d hate to live above the shop and there’s not room for two in here.’
Rose glanced around her. The room wasn’t huge but it would surely seem a lot more spacious with some of the boxes, buckets and paraphernalia cleared out. She was warming to it a tiny bit.
‘There’s a single bedroom behind that old vacuum cleaner and a poky shower room – the door’s behind that old display rack.’
Oriel weaved between some boxes and shifted the stand away from one of the doors. ‘Bedroom’s in here but I’ll have to clean it out first. Don’t think anyone’s been inside for years. Could be a bit of wildlife in there for all I know.’
Rose was beginning to slightly regret her enthusiasm to view the flat. Helping to declutter the room was one thing, but the idea of spiders and mice nesting in her bedroom – and untold horrors in the shower room – was another matter entirely.
‘I’m surprised you haven’t done it up and let it out before,’ she said. ‘To someone else,’ she added.
‘Yeah, well. Maybe we should. This place is meant for someone working in the area but we’ve had no one interested for years so it’s been used as a storeroom. Auntie Lynne has kind of stepped back from the business since she met Nige – her boyfriend – and leaves it all to me. She can’t sell it or holiday let it, otherwise she might be keener.’
‘Auntie Lynne? I thought you owned the shop?’
‘No way, although I may as well. My auntie used to enjoy working in here with me but like I say, she’s been distracted lately … She seems to have lost interest since her boyfriend came on the scene last spring.’ She almost spat out the word ‘boyfriend’, by which Rose guessed she didn’t approve of him.
‘I just run it and work in it, apart from having some help on my day off in the summer season.’ She sighed. ‘To be honest, though, up here is probably in a worse state than I’d realised. I’ll understand if you’re not interested.’
Rose hesitated, wondering how long it would take Oriel to make the place habitable and knowing she’d probably have to muck in herself as her stand-in landlady would be busy in the shop.
‘If I moved in, where would you store the stock?’
‘In the storeroom downstairs.’ Oriel’s tone was more upbeat at the sniff of a possible tenant. ‘All the stuff up here is years old and it’s needed clearing out for ages. Most of it was accumulated by my auntie – she used to buy so much rubbish – but I can help you get rid of it, so don’t worry about that. If you take it, that is. I’d enjoy some company in the shop and I can let you have it really cheap,’ she said, hopefully. ‘The letting income would be very welcome.’
Even at the price Oriel named, which was very tempting, Rose still wasn’t sure. She thought she could hear squeaking from behind the bedroom door.
‘I’m likely to be out most of the day,’ Rose said warily, worried she could be sucked into being Oriel’s assistant when she was supposed to be getting on with her work. ‘I’ve promised my boss I’ll do a lecture series for my students and write a paper about my research.’
‘I know you’ll be busy,’ Oriel said, looking downcast. ‘I know it’s probably not what you’re used to but the view’s great.’ She climbed over a box to the window and tugged the curtains so hard the ring fell off one end of the pole. The room was filled with sunlight, illuminating the shabby furnishings and clashing covers and endless stuff.
Oriel rubbed a patch on the window with the sleeve of her kaftan. ‘Worth a hundred grand, that view, my auntie says, if she could ever sell the place to someone from upcountry.’
Rose wanted to help Oriel out but she was finding it hard to see past all the rubbish in the flat. It was very small and God knows what lay behind the doors. Feeling guilty that she might have to turn the flat down, Rose picked her way over to the window. Oriel squashed into a corner so that Rose could stand next to her.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Through the panes, with their years of grime and seagull crap, the estuary stretched out before her, glittering in the sunlight. She could see over the thatched roofs of the cottages and the roof of the Ferryman, to the yachts in the marina, and the ferry itself, currently making its way from the yacht club jetty to the quay at the end of the village.
And there, almost directly opposite the window, was the boatyard, where a sailing dinghy was hauled up the slipway by a tractor. She was so close, she could even make out the words ‘Morvah Marine’ on the back of Finn’s polo shirt and see the sun glinting on Joey’s Aviators.
Her heart was beating faster than it really ought to be, but she couldn’t suppress a thrill at living so close to the Morvahs.
‘Do you want it, then?’ Oriel asked, sounding less than hopeful.
‘Oh, yes,’ Rose said, almost breathless with suppressed excitement. ‘Yes, please. It’s absolutely perfect.’