Exercise is a fact of life on Bryher, and tonight it feels good to let off steam after my tense conversation with Goldman. The island boasts a few jeeps and tractors, golf buggies and bikes, but most people walk to their chosen destination. There’s only one tarmacked road, which runs from Hell Bay Hotel on the west coast up to Kitchen Porth in the east, where my godmother, Maggie Nancarrow, has run the island’s only pub for forty years. Nina and I make the short journey to the Rock on foot, following a path I know so well I could sprint along it with eyes closed.
We’re in no hurry tonight, which suits me fine. The pace of life is one of the things that drew me home from London years ago, and Nina has adjusted to it well. She doesn’t bother making conversation as we walk, too busy admiring the poppies and agapanthus blooming between cracks in the dry-stone walls around the fields. She enjoys silence, but I’d like to know more about how she’s feeling. She seems to be taking pregnancy in her stride, but she’s a stoic, rarely complaining about anything, and I might not guess if she was hating every minute. The nurse has warned her to rest. It concerns me that she ignores the advice, even though I’d probably do the same. She hates following orders, which is a trait we share.
‘Have you thought any more about baby names?’ she asks.
‘Not again, please.’ It’s the one issue we can’t resolve; I can’t face revisiting it tonight. ‘Let’s decide when he’s here.’
‘We need to be ready.’
‘Engelbert, maybe?’
‘God, you’re annoying. What if it’s a girl?’
‘Veronica? Or Delilah?’
‘We’ll come back to the name issue, Ben. It’s not going away.’
‘I can handle a daughter so long as she’s not the needlework type.’
Nina releases a slow laugh. ‘And if she is? I enjoy a bit of craft now and again.’
‘I’ll cope, but I’d prefer a kid who likes outdoor stuff.’
‘We’ll get what we’re given, Ben. Right now, they know we’re talking about them. Our kid wants your undivided attention.’
She takes my hand and places it on her bump. I can feel the steady kick of our child’s feet pulsing through her linen top, dancing to a rhythm we can’t hear.
‘He’s doing a workout.’
‘I love feeling it,’ she says. ‘But I want my body back, soon. I could murder a vodka and lime.’
I recognise almost everyone in the Rock when we join the crowd. Maggie’s inn has overlooked New Grimsby Sound for two centuries; it was a drinking den for smugglers back then, with low ceilings and a huge inglenook fireplace. Some old fishermen are passing the time of day in the corner. Maggie is behind the bar, chatting on the phone, her expression animated. She’s a powerhouse, even though she’s only five feet tall and well into her sixties. Her appearance hasn’t changed much since I was a kid. Her petite build is still trim, grey hair worn in a mass of ringlets, her eyes shielded by round-framed glasses.
Billy Reese serves us, without raising a smile. Maggie’s partner should be collecting his pension too, but he’s dressed like a biker, with grey hair and a long beard, Guns N’ Roses emblazoned across his T-shirt. It doesn’t take him long to broach the island’s hottest topic as he pours our drinks.
‘Where do you two stand on this building nonsense?’ he asks. ‘Surely we get enough visitors without a bloody outdoor activities centre?’
‘Locals will use it too,’ Nina says.
‘Can’t people birdwatch without an expert holding their hand? It’s Louis Hayle I pity; it’ll be right under his nose.’
‘At least the Trenwiths are funding it,’ I reply. ‘Our economy could do with a boost.’
Billy’s weather-beaten face forms a scowl. ‘They’ve brainwashed you, mate. Have you visited Louis’ place lately?’
‘Not for twenty years, but we had a chat earlier. He thinks I’ve sided with the enemy.’
‘I play chess with him sometimes, and it’s getting him down. How would you feel if someone parked a monstrosity in your front garden when you retired?’
‘Talk to Maeve, Billy. She’ll be here soon with Danny.’
‘Those two don’t care. They’ll bugger off once the place is up.’
‘Ignore him,’ Maggie says, once her call ends. ‘His kitchen hand resigned today; he’s been a nightmare ever since.’
Billy gives a sigh. ‘The lad’s found some flash job on the mainland without giving me notice. I can’t find a replacement, and that building project’s a thorn in my side.’
‘Get over it,’ Maggie tells him. ‘Let’s move with the times.’
‘It’ll be a bloody eyesore.’
‘Stay in your kitchen till you cheer up.’ She gives us a long-suffering smile. ‘Find a table, you two, I’ll get you some grub.’
‘We’ll wait for Danny and Maeve, if that’s okay?’
‘No problem. I’ll bring it over when they get here.’
‘Perfect.’
She gives a cheery wave before serving her next punter. My godmother loves plying us with food and drink; she rarely gives us a choice, but I’m not complaining. Her default reaction in good times and bad is to feed the whole community, keeping the pub open in winter, when the population dwindles. I suspect that her relationship with Billy only lasts because of the kindness that runs through her like the letters in a stick of rock.
Nina and I find a table in the corner, beside some computer-generated images of the building plans displayed on the wall. It’s a shrewd move on Maeve’s part. Everyone on the island has seen the drawings, because the pub serves as a village hall, with music nights every week, as well as yoga classes and birthday parties. They show a structure that looks too fragile to survive a gale. It’s a miracle of glass and steel that appears to be held together by confidence alone, which is a hallmark of Maeve’s work. I’ve seen photos of her most famous apartment block online. It looks as fragile as tissue paper, with panels reflecting the intense sun of Dubai.
I scan the crowded room as we sit down, looking for Zoe, but there’s no sign of her and Dev yet. My friend has kept a low profile since flying back from India. She hasn’t answered my texts either, which is unusual. My gaze falls on a woman sitting alone in a corner; she’s around sixty, attractive, with high cheekbones and carefully styled dark hair. Sandra Trescothick spends her weekdays at the town hall on St Mary’s. It’s her job to register births, marriages and deaths, so she knows every detail about local families. Her body language interests me. She’s watching the world go by as she sips her wine. It’s unusual to see anyone quite so relaxed in a public place, without feeling the need to read a book or check their phone.
The pub falls quiet when the Trenwiths arrive, as if everyone has been gossiping behind their backs, but the volume soon returns to normal once they join our table. They still strike me as an unlikely couple. Maeve looks like a rock chick in her leather jacket and jeans, black hair tumbling over her shoulders in loose waves. Danny’s appearance is more low-key. He’s in his forties, wearing a shabby corduroy jacket, and baggy jeans. He peers at us through glasses so thick his eyes look like wet chips of slate.
‘Sorry we’re late,’ he says. ‘DCI Madron called about indemnity insurance. He wants me to sail over to St Mary’s tomorrow with our forms.’
‘My boss loves paperwork. You’ve been warned.’
‘Thank God he’s not my problem,’ says Maeve. ‘People like that drive me nuts.’
Their roles appear clearly defined. Maeve enjoys the spotlight, while Danny is happy to project manage and stay out of the public eye, orchestrating every practical detail. I barely remember him from school, but he attended one of Louis Hayle’s summer camps with me and my brother when I was around twelve. He seemed to love sailing on Hayle’s boat, and building kites on the beach. He appears much less upbeat now, as if hard work has drained his joie de vivre.
I listen while Maeve quizzes Nina about what drew her to Bryher; I can see she’s intrigued by the twisting path that brought her here. My girlfriend had to choose between training as a doctor or going to music school to study violin. She opted for medical training, but withdrew after her first husband died. Then she trained as a chiropractor, finally pursuing counselling as her career. She’s secured a part-time job at St Mary’s Hospital, to begin once her maternity leave ends. Nina falls silent once all the questions are answered, happier to listen than talk, like Danny. He sits back while Maeve shares anecdotes, her smile burning at full strength.
The evening passes easily, with a few beers and some excellent seafood risotto, which is one of the Rock’s specialities. My gaze lands on Maeve’s hands as we eat. Heavy silver rings adorn each of her fingers; some are set with stones, the others bearing symbols or letters.
‘That’s unusual jewellery,’ I comment.
‘Ugly, you mean?’ Maeve says, smiling. ‘I made the rings myself; each one has its own meaning. Silversmithing keeps my creativity flowing between building projects.’
‘Ben’s terrified our baby might be artistic,’ Nina says, laughing.
‘He’s keeping his own skills quiet,’ Maeve replies. ‘Ben was top of the class in English. If he wasn’t playing rugby, or boxing at the gym, he was reading some big American novel.’
The conversation keeps returning to the couple’s architectural work. It sounds like they’ve been on a roller-coaster ride, with mishaps as well as victories. Our talk only returns to the activities centre as we finish our coffee.
‘Why did you come back?’ Nina asks. ‘You could be building palaces for the super-rich in some exotic city.’
‘We couldn’t let a hideous four-storey hotel get built on Bryher,’ says Maeve. ‘It’s personal too. We had to leave the islands because there was no decent work. The activities centre means we can help some of the local kids stay here into the future.’
‘The building’s legacy doesn’t bother me as much,’ Danny says, his face tense. ‘I just want it up and running. Our next project is a huge conference centre in Madrid, but Maeve won’t rest till her precious activities centre is finished.’ He ends his speech with a frown. It’s the first time the couple have seemed out of step.
Maeve prods his arm. ‘It was your idea, remember? We’ve been lucky, so why not pay it forwards? Leaving Scilly broke my heart. I dreamed about the islands for years; the big skies and cairns shaped my imagination.’
‘It’s odd that Louis Hayle objects so strongly. I know it will affect his view, but his reaction’s pretty extreme. Your building’s way better than a hotel complex,’ I say. ‘He told me about mentoring you years ago, Danny.’
‘He helped Maeve too, but Louis was a hero of mine as a kid,’ he replies. ‘I keep trying to win him over, but he’s having none of it, which is a pity. He seemed like James Bond back in the day, with his helicopter and that ocean-going yacht. You were here, Ben, you must remember his glamour.’
‘My brother and I only joined one summer camp. It was fun for a few days, but his rules were too strict for us. I preferred running wild with Zoe. You two spent weeks up there, didn’t you?’
‘He taught us to sail. It’s sad when old role models let you down,’ Danny replies, his voice solemn. ‘Louis can’t see that we’re doing something positive. Everyone on Bryher will benefit, but his bloody view is his only concern.’
‘Maybe’s he’s used to getting his way,’ Nina says. ‘We all lose power as we age, and he must still be grieving for his wife.’
‘We’d never do anything to spoil this place. I want to live here again one day,’ Maeve says. ‘We’re keeping my parents’ old cottage as our holiday home.’
‘It’s good to have a base here.’ Danny lifts his gaze to mine. ‘How come Zoe never showed up tonight?’
‘I don’t know, but you’ll see her before she flies back to India, I’m sure. They’re here for ten days.’
‘She’s another one that had to leave Bryher to achieve her potential,’ says Maeve.
The couple look thoughtful as we say goodnight, as if discussing the past hit a raw nerve. We’re heading for the door when my godmother scurries over, clutching a carrier bag. She rises onto her toes to kiss Nina’s cheek then mine, telling us to open the present when we get home. Maggie rushes away before either of us can thank her, leaving a trail of energy fizzing in her wake. When I glance at Sandra Trescothick’s table, my uncle is keeping her company, which surprises me. Ray is famously solitary, a boatbuilder who avoids small talk like the plague, yet he appears relaxed tonight. Sandra’s smiling like he’s told a first-class joke. Ray’s oilskin is draped across a chair, proving that he intends to stay for a while. I’ve never seen him drinking with a woman before. I file the idea away to tease him about later.
It’s eleven o’clock when we finally get outside. My eyes struggle to adjust from the pub’s brightness to complete dark; there’s hardly any light pollution in Scilly, with nothing to detract from the night sky. I’m not prepared when a wave of panic suddenly hits me. The darkness is so complete, anyone could be watching us from the shadows, and Goldman’s warning rings in my ears. A memory arrives before I can stop it, of driving Craig Travis to a meeting in some abandoned flats at night, before I understood the scale of his violence. I could only see shapes in the dark, but the sound will stay with me for ever. Once you’ve heard a man screaming for his life, it’s hard to forget. The cries lasted a long time. Two of Travis’s thugs were wielding machetes; it looked like they were slicing him apart.
‘Are you okay, Ben? You seem preoccupied.’ Nina’s question jerks me back into the present.
‘It’s just an old memory.’
‘You’re anxious about the baby coming, aren’t you? I feel the same. It’ll change everything. Some days it scares the shit out of me.’
‘I’m looking forward to it.’
She looks amused. ‘The same old Ben, showing no sign of human weakness.’
‘I’ve got plenty, but I want a family with you more than anything. I’m prepared to make sacrifices.’
‘That’s a good answer. Maybe it’s just my hormones running riot.’
We come to a halt when we reach the first stile, tipping our heads back to watch the constellations, her hand in mine. My eyes fix on the North Star. It’s easily the brightest thing in the sky, neon white against a glittering backdrop. The immensity of the view is humbling, yet my head’s full of tension. There’s still no breeze rising from the sea. I’m happier with Nina than I’ve ever been, but scared to exhale, in case the fragile bridge we’ve built between us collapses without warning.