Summer on the Little Cornish Isles: The Starfish Studio

Jake shrugged and she realised the damage had been done already. ‘It’s OK, and anyway, as I said, I’ll be out of your hair soon, but Fen and the agent will be on hand to answer any questions. She’s Grandpa’s friend.’

‘I think I might have met her too, on the day we visited the studio. Crinkly hair and colourful clothes? In her mid-seventies?’

‘That would have been her, though she’s almost eighty now.’

They heard a clang behind them. The boatman had hoisted a beer keg off the boat and into the quay. There was a toot and a couple of passengers climbed on board.

Poppy glanced round and her hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh God. I’ve only just realised. Has my stuff arrived? It was loaded onto the Islander in a packing crate.’

Jake frowned. ‘Not as far as I know. Did the Islander crew say they’d send it on here? They should have done and they’re normally very efficient, although nothing has been delivered to the studio yet.’

‘They told me everything would be brought over when I boarded and I asked again before I got off the boat and they seemed to think I was worrying over nothing. They said the St Piran’s freight boat would bring it, but I don’t think the ferry has any space for cargo?’

‘Not much, though they will take things to and from St Mary’s if they have space. Like the beer kegs to and from the pub … We have to get our priorities right, don’t we, Winston?’ Jake called to the boatman.

With a grin, Winston walked over. He was about fifty with a pot belly, thinning salt-and-pepper hair and a gold earring.

‘Can’t have the pub running dry, can we?’ Jake said. ‘You’ve already met Poppy McGregor, haven’t you? She’s going to be running the studio.’

‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Winston, shaking Poppy’s hand. ‘Again.’

‘You too.’ Poppy smiled.

‘Poppy was asking after her stuff. Do you know when the Herald will be here with the freight? I’m out of the loop where timing’s concerned?’ said Jake.

‘I was told it would be here by now …’ said Poppy, crossing her fingers and wondering how she was going to get to grips with the names, functions and schedules – or lack of them – of all the different inter-island boats and ferries. There appeared to be dozens of them, all with their own mysterious routes and purposes.

Winston gave a sharp intake of breath. ‘I hate to bring bad news, but I’ve just heard on the radio that the Herald has engine trouble. She’s under repair in St Mary’s and nothing major is getting across to St Piran’s from the harbour today.’

‘Oh. Oh f—’ Poppy resisted the urge to swear and say that if there had been room for half a dozen beer kegs, why couldn’t her crate have been squeezed onto the passenger ferry.

‘When do you think the Herald will be operating again?’ Jake asked.

Winston shrugged. ‘Her skipper was trying to make arrangements for another boat to bring the freight over. It might be this evening or it could be tomorrow.’

Poppy groaned. ‘All my bedding, clothes and bits and pieces were in the shipping crate. I haven’t even got a spare pair of knickers with me!’

Jake and Winston exchanged glances.

Poppy squeezed her eyes shut in horror. Why, oh, why had she said that?

‘I’m afraid that’s island life for you,’ said Jake, clearly struggling to hold in his laughter.

Winston grinned. ‘Not to worry. Your stuff should be here by the weekend.’

She gasped. ‘The weekend? Shit. Sorry – but what am I supposed to do without clean clothes until then?’

‘I expect Fen can lend you a pair of her drawers,’ said Jake, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

Poppy squeaked. ‘It’s not funny!’

‘I’m sure it isn’t. It sounds very serious, but take no notice of Winston. He’s having you on. The skippers will sort it out between them and I bet the whole lot will get here first thing in the morning.’ Jake smiled and, despite her indignation, Poppy glimpsed the sunlight behind his eyes for a moment. ‘Joking apart, don’t worry. Fen and I will try to loan you anything you need tonight – um … most things anyway.’

‘I’ll ask around at the quay in St Mary’s and give you a bell,’ said Winston, still smirking.

‘Thanks.’ Poppy forced herself to sound cheerful. ‘I told myself to be prepared for glitches like this, but I can see it’s going to take a lot of getting used to.’

‘This is only the start of it,’ said Jake and Poppy was sure he wasn’t joking.

‘Oh. I see what you mean.’

If Poppy hadn’t been carrying her shopping, she’d have dug her nails into her palm to try and avoid blubbing when she followed Jake inside the Starfish Studio. Jake had warned her not to expect too much, but he’d been right when he said things had changed. In fact, she was finding it impossible to equate the damp, cold space around her with the vibrant gallery she remembered. The photos on the agent’s website must have been years old.

She put her bags down. Jake went in ahead of her, so she couldn’t see his face and maybe that was what he wanted. ‘I’m sure it can be sorted out and if you really feel that the place isn’t as advertised then I know my grandfather wouldn’t want you to feel forced to stay.’

‘I’m staying,’ she declared and her words echoed off the walls. Oh, the walls … they weren’t the cool white backdrop she remembered; they were discoloured, chipped and peeling. That was only the half of it. Most of the display plinths were empty and the stock that was left was hardly appealing. Oh God, was that a collection of crocheted toilet roll dollies by the cash desk?

Jake followed her to the loo roll dollies. He winced. ‘Sorry. I should have cleared those away. They must have been made by one of Fen’s friends and Grandpa obviously didn’t have the heart to chuck them out. Or maybe Fen sneaked them in when he wasn’t looking as a favour to her mate. They’re not really in keeping with the gallery, are they?’

‘I don’t want to be a snob,’ said Poppy. ‘Or offend anyone but …’

‘It’s your gallery and you have to have your own vision for it. You can’t stock every piece that someone offers you and if that means ruffling a few feathers, then so be it.’

He switched on the lights. Despite it being only five p.m., the place seemed dull and the overhead strip light only served to highlight the shabby walls and fittings.

‘I can see I’m going to have to redecorate.’ She was thinking aloud.

Jake moved by her side. ‘That sounds like a plan.’

‘And I think we’re going to need new stock.’

‘Definitely,’ said Jake. ‘I can help you sort through some of Grandpa’s paintings,’ he added more brightly. ‘There were several boxes of them in the work area and I wasn’t sure which he wanted to put up for sale. Shall I phone and ask him for you?’

She swung round. ‘Yes. Thanks. I very much still want to sell your grandfather’s pictures. It’s wonderful and, after all, the studio’s reputation was built on Archie Pendower’s work.’

‘I think that’s what he was hoping,’ said Jake and gave her one of his searching looks. ‘Have you had much experience of running a gallery before?’

‘Does it look like it?’ said Poppy, then softened as she realised Jake wasn’t being sarcastic. ‘Some. I worked in a small studio at a craft centre during one of my uni vacations, but that was a long time ago, as you’ve probably guessed. I dabble in jewellery making as a hobby, but I’m not a professional. My last job was managing the PR for a building products company, so promoting gloss paint is as close as I’ve come to selling art recently.’

Jake’s eyes crinkled. ‘At least you’re honest. Some people might have turned up, thinking they know everything about the business. I doubt the gallery trade has changed that much and if you’ve a realistic idea about the business and you’re ready to learn, that’s most of the job done.’

She was sure he was being kind but also hoped he was right. ‘I’ve being doing lots of research over the past few months since we decided to move here. I talked to a lot of gallery owners and artists. I’ve already emailed half a dozen of the people who supply the studio and told them about my “exciting new plans”.’ She placed air quotes around the last few words with her fingers.

He paused by the desk where Fen used to ring up the purchases. The same vintage calculator sat on the table, although the digital screen was dead. ‘Um, what did they say?’ he asked.

‘Only two of them bothered to reply and said they’d have to think about it. That was months ago and I was going to phone them all back and find out why they seemed reluctant, but things happened at home and, since then, I’ve spent all my time trying to sort the fallout from me and Dan splitting up.’

‘That’s understandable and I’m not surprised the artists didn’t respond if they’d seen the way this place was going.’ He picked up her shopping from the floor by the doorway. ‘It can wait until tomorrow after the journey you must have had. I heard the Islander was almost cancelled. Why don’t you come up and see the flat? It’s basic but I’ve – er – had a bit of a tidy-up this morning, so there shouldn’t be too many shocks.’

Dreading what awaited her, Poppy followed him to the spiral staircase that she’d seen on her first visit. The rope barrier hung from the hook on the wall, the ‘Private’ sign resting on the lowest step. Passing the sign reminded her this was her space now and only she had the right to pass the barrier and enter the flat above. It also reminded her that she should have been exploring the studio and flat with Dan at her side. They ought to have been sharing the disappointment of finding the gallery in disarray and reassuring each other – together. She wondered what his reaction might have been. He would probably have been angry and grumpy and possibly have demanded that Jake cancel the lease and they head straight home. Or maybe he would have jollied her along and been positive. She had no way of knowing and now never would. Everything she’d thought she’d been certain of where Dan was concerned had been blown to smithereens.

‘The flat’s small but it is cosy, or it will be,’ Jake said.

It didn’t take long to take in everything, from the dated but clean kitchenette to the ageing sofa where the plumped-up cushions were lined up neatly. The curtains were tied back from the windows, flooding the attic flat with light. The sun lit up every fading furnishing, chipped cupboard and peeling wall. The sight of her humble new home combined with the efforts a stranger had gone to, to make it welcoming, was almost too much. What finally tipped her over the edge was the double bed, stripped bare apart from the sagging mattress.

She bit her lip, but it was too late to stop tears forming in her eyes. She not only felt miserable, she also felt mortified in case she blubbed in front of Jake.

‘It’ll be f-fine,’ she said, unable to hide the crack in her voice. She dug a tissue from her coat pocket and blew her nose noisily. ‘It’s been a very long day. A long few months in fact.’

‘Why don’t you sit down and I’ll put the kettle on? My throat’s dry anyway, after clearing all that dust from downstairs.’

‘Thanks,’ said Poppy and sat down on the bed next to her. The springs made an alarming noise as if one was going to pop through the mattress like in a cartoon. Seconds later, the bed lurched sideways and she felt herself tipping over.

‘Oh my God …’

She tried to get up but it was too late. The bed collapsed onto the floor with a loud crunch as the leg gave way. Poppy found herself lurching sideways down the mattress, fully aware it was happening but unable to stop herself. A second later, she’d dropped the few inches from the mattress onto the floor and was face to face with the tufts of the rug.

She’d been slightly winded by the shock of rolling off the bed but nothing hurt so she knew she was completely uninjured. Her descent had happened in such comedic slow motion that it was almost funny. In fact, it was funny and the tears that had bubbled out only moments earlier now turned into laughter. She rolled onto her back, her body shaking.

Jake loomed over her, his brow creased in horror. ‘Christ. Are you OK? I’m so sorry.’

She opened her mouth to answer but had a fit of the giggles as his face, almost six feet above her, bore an expression of complete disbelief.

‘Oh God.’ He looked so horrified Poppy laughed even more.

‘I’m f-f-fine. It’s just … well it’s s-so f-funny. The bed c-collaps-sing …’ Her sides hurt from laughing.

‘No. It’s not funny. It’s terrible.’ Jake dragged his hands over his face and groaned. ‘I’m so sorry. This bloody place. It’s not only a dump, it’s downright dangerous as well.’

She managed to stop giggling for a few seconds and pushed herself up to sitting. Tears wet her cheeks.

Jake held out his hand.

‘No. I’m fine. Please don’t worry,’ she said, but he clasped her hand anyway and she half clambered and was half pulled to her feet.

He let go of her hand. ‘I knew the place was a mess, but I hadn’t realised it was this bad. Look at that bed!’ he cried.

She glanced at the mattress. One leg had snapped clean off, hence her undignified fall to earth. ‘It could have happened any time. Good job it wasn’t in the middle of the night,’ she said, with a giggle.

Jake wasn’t amused and his embarrassment only made her smile more. He’d obviously been terrified of showing her the place, which somehow made her feel better about how shitty it was.

‘It’s not good enough,’ he declared. ‘None of it is. I wouldn’t blame you if you decided not to stay,’ he said.

‘Oh no. Absolutely not.’ She fired back the words so hard and fast that he looked taken aback. ‘I’m staying. Even if it kills me,’ she declared.

‘I hope it won’t do that. The sofa is safe enough. I’ve tested it,’ he muttered. ‘I’ll get the coffee.’

She took his advice on the sofa. A few minutes later, Jake handed over a mug and sat next to her.

‘I’m sorry the place doesn’t meet with your expectations … I’m sure Grandpa and Fen hadn’t noticed or fully realised how much it had gone downhill … My parents are working full-time and now caring for him. I probably should have come over sooner and made more of an effort, but I’ve been away in New Zealand.’

‘Stop feeling guilty,’ she said, feeling sorry for him and wondering what he did for a living. She glanced around her again. ‘The flat’s fine and I can see you’ve tried to make it look welcoming. I mean you have made it welcoming. I’m digging a deeper hole, aren’t I?’

He shook his head and a crooked little smile touched his mouth. ‘I’d had no actual idea it was this bad, but I might have guessed. I had promised to come and visit Grandpa at Christmas and I could have checked it out then, but … well, I let other priorities come first.’

She wondered what those priorities were, but certainly wasn’t going to ask. ‘A lot of things haven’t lived up to my expectations lately, so in the grand scheme of things, this isn’t massive.’

Her words surprised even herself. She probably sounded far more confident than she felt, but Jake’s offer to let her off the tenancy only made her more determined to stay. Then again, how the gallery would ever be ready for a grand launch in less than a month’s time, she had no idea. She planned on opening over the late spring bank holiday weekend at the end of May when there would be plenty of holidaymakers around and her family and Zoey could get away from work for a longer visit.

She savoured her coffee and checked out the furniture again. It might be old but it was perfectly useable and, anyway, beggars couldn’t be choosers.

‘I’m glad that the studio comes with accommodation though it might have been a bit too cosy if Dan had come with me. Especially knowing what I know about him now. We might have done away with each other.’

Jake smiled. ‘You’d definitely have been getting under each other’s feet. It’s going to seem a lot better when you’ve got all your own stuff around you.’ He hesitated. ‘Take a look at the view out to the west.’

They took their mugs to the window.

Wow. The sun had come out while Jake had been showing her round and the space was now flooded with light. The flat had windows on all four sides: one at either end of the gable and two large Velux lights in the roof that gave views of the sky. The glass was sparkling and she guessed Jake had cleaned the windows earlier that day. His efforts had paid off because what greeted her made her breath catch in her throat. She wasn’t that high up but the elevation was enough to reveal a sensational vista over the beach towards the open sea on one side and the harbour on the other.

‘You can watch all the comings and goings at the harbour and jetty from here,’ he said. ‘And that way, to the west—’ he pointed with his free hand ‘—there’s nothing until America. Unless you count the lighthouse and a few Stone Age ruins.’

Poppy gazed beyond the headland that marked the western extremity of St Piran’s, to the other low islets floating in the sea. In the far distance was little more than a large rock with a white lighthouse on it. She could feel the warmth from the late afternoon sun through the glass against her skin.

‘That’s the Bishop Rock.’ Jake pointed to the west. ‘In Grandpa’s younger days, he said it was manned and people used to hitch rides with the supply boat to shout hello to the keepers. He painted a picture of it in a storm – it’s in the gallery downstairs.’

‘I can’t wait to see that. I’m not surprised he was inspired by it. Imagine living out there with only the seals and gulls for company. Are the seas round here dangerous?’

He hesitated before replying. ‘If you don’t respect them, they’re lethal. There are literally hundreds of shipwrecks. Some of the Spanish Armada foundered round here way back.’

‘Really?’

‘So they say. You should visit the figurehead museum on Tresco if you like that sort of thing. They all come from wrecks.’

He said it almost sarcastically, so she guessed he considered the museum a touristy thing to do. She hadn’t actually been to the museum on her previous trip, however, and resolved to go there soon but not to let him know.

The floorboards creaked as he moved away from the window but she stayed where she was. She craned her neck and looked the other direction to the harbour where a few yachts and workboats were moored. The sea looked calm within the harbour but she had an inkling of how wild it could be from her journey here.

‘If you want to have a little time to yourself, I’ll make myself scarce. I have some calls to make, so when you’re ready, come over to the cottage. You can’t miss it. It’s right there.’ He pointed to a stone house about fifty yards up the beach facing the harbour. ‘I’ll sort out some bedding and a few other things you might need and I’ll arrange for the bed to be repaired as soon as possible.’

‘Thanks. I’ll manage for now on this floor mattress.’

She glanced at the bare mattress again and thought of the shoddy state of the gallery beneath her feet. Great light and amazing view or not, she still had a huge amount of work to do to get her home and business up and running. Jake must have noticed the anxiety on her face because he spoke gently to her.

‘Look, you’ve taken a huge step and had a rough time. It will get easier, I promise you.’

‘I’m sure I’ll settle in when I get to know people,’ she said, embarrassed by his sympathy.

‘I meant that being on your own would get easier. At least, you’ll come to terms with it.’ He sounded bitter and as if he really did understand her. Whatever had happened with his fiancée must have caused him terrible pain.

Chapter 6

Jake cursed silently as he jogged down the stairs and out of the studio. That was all he needed: the new tenant turning up on her own and almost bursting into tears of horror when she saw the studio. And – deep joy – a bloody collapsing bed.

He didn’t blame Poppy for being upset at what had greeted her. In fact, he’d have probably felt exactly the same. Even if she hadn’t been on her own, she had every right to be annoyed and dismayed about the condition of the gallery and flat. The fact that she’d just made a life-changing step only made things ten times worse.

He’d recognised her within a few moments of her stepping off the St Piran’s jetty. He’d had no reason to connect her with the new tenants, of course, as he’d never known her name. His reaction, after the initial surprise, had been a mixture of memories – good and bad. The bad ones had nothing to do with her, and yet he couldn’t entirely separate them.

He walked the short distance to Archie’s cottage, turning over the contrast between that summer’s day and now. Poppy was imprinted on his mind as a bubbly, thoughtful woman whose enthusiasm for life he’d once shared. She still came across as warm, if understandably a little defensive at times, and she was every bit as attractive, with her soft brown curls and those blue eyes, but her face was pale, probably as a result of a rough crossing on the Islander and sleepless nights before that.

He’d no idea what had happened between her and Dan, although from his five minutes’ acquaintance with the man, he’d have bet his new Canon on Dan having been the guilty party. Poppy seemed like a decent person to him. She also had a sense of humour, from the way she was giggling when she fell on the floor. She’d definitely need that over the coming months.

He’d half wanted to take out his camera and photograph her, which had been a bizarre thing to think. The comment about her knickers had made him smile to himself. He also remembered her reaction when he’d run after her with Grandpa’s painting on that hot August day that seemed like yesterday but also a century ago. Even then he’d felt a connection with her and had warmed to her instantly.

Grandpa Archie had noticed her looking at the painting and drawn his own conclusions about her. Jake couldn’t help being reminded of that day. He’d only popped in on his way to meet Harriet at the St Piran’s boatyard, where she’d gone on ahead while he told Archie where they were taking the yacht. The Hotspur had been bigger than the dinghy that Archie now owned; obviously, he’d sold it after Harriet’s death.

Once again, the events of that day slammed into him.

‘I’m in a hurry, Grandpa. Harriet’s waiting for me. She’s getting the Hotspur ready to sail and I don’t want to let her do it all herself.’

‘If you’re heading that way, run after that couple who were in here. Pretty young woman with brown hair and a pink T-shirt. She’s with that chap in the orange shirt. You can’t miss them. Give this picture to the girl. Not to him, mind, he’s a bit of a know-all, but I can see she fell in love with it.’

Jake took the hastily wrapped picture. ‘You’re a big softy, Grandpa.’

Archie’s eyes twinkled. ‘I know, but that’s why you love me.’

Jake had grabbed the picture and fled out of the studio past Fen, who told him to be careful on his sailing trip. He’d caught up with the ‘girl’ he now knew to be Poppy and the ‘know-all’, Dan, and handed over the painting.

He’d never forget the delight in her eyes or Dan’s assumption that he wanted payment for the picture. Jake had teased him a bit, the prat. Poppy had wished him a happy sail and congratulated him on his engagement. Her words were etched on his mind forever, along with the events that had followed.

Poppy had assumed, as any polite and generous person might, that he and Harriet were living in a state of pre-marital bliss.

It couldn’t have been further from the truth.

Everyone on St Piran’s had thought the same as Poppy, and why wouldn’t they? He and Harriet had put on a great show of hiding the darker undercurrents of their relationship. Even his grandpa and Fen hadn’t guessed the real truth.

The short break on St Piran’s was meant to be a last-ditch chance to try and save their relationship. They’d both said and done some deeply hurtful things in the weeks leading up to that last trip, but they’d both agreed to try one last time to work things out.