A Perfect Cornish Escape

As for their personalities, it would be too simplistic to say that Tiff was the savvy, hard-as-nails cousin and that Marina was soft and homely. It was true that Marina was innately kind, always putting other people first – to the detriment of her own wellbeing, in Tiff’s opinion – but Marina was no doormat and was straight talking and firm when she had to be. She’d been the first to offer Tiff a home for the summer while Tiff licked her wounds, and had put her in touch with the editor of the local lifestyle magazine.

Marina was a lovely character but she did care so very much about people. She tended to give them the benefit of the doubt, while Tiff’s first instinct was to naturally suspect and question others’ motives.

Tiff had always thought that Nate had taken advantage of Marina’s good nature, but Marina had been besotted with her handsome husband and wouldn’t hear a word against him. When Tiff visited, try as she might, she hadn’t warmed to him. He’d sneered at Marina’s enthusiasm for her students and community life and made snide remarks about her appearance, which he’d passed off as ‘banter’.

Privately, Tiff had longed to tell him what she really thought of him, though she’d tried to be civil for her cousin’s sake. From the looks Nate had given her when he didn’t think she or Marina were looking, she knew their distrust was mutual. He knew that she’d seen through his larky ‘wit’ and that under the tan, the earring and the whole piratical charm crap was a lying git. He was no Jack Sparrow, that was for sure, and one evening, Tiff had seen him round the back of the pub, kissing another woman.

On the train back to London, she’d agonised over whether to tell Marina. She’d still been wondering whether to reveal it when the news came through that Nate’s kayak had been found washed up on some rocks at the foot of Silver Cove.

Tiff had dropped everything to come down to try and comfort Marina, and had even told her boss to feck off when they’d wanted her to do a story on the tragedy – which had probably done her no favours, though she didn’t care. She’d stayed for a week, helping to support Marina and the family while shielding her from the press as best she could. How ironic …

She couldn’t stay forever though, although she kept in touch, and Nate’s body had never been found. Tiff had moved on, and so had Marina. It was hard to believe that the seven-year anniversary of his death was coming up in the summer, and with it, the time when he could officially be declared dead. At least, that would bring financial and legal closure for her cousin, and perhaps be the final piece of the jigsaw in her emotional recovery.

Marina returned from the kitchen, the aroma of herbs and garlic wafting in from the open door.

Even though Tiff and Marina hadn’t spent much time together since leaving school, they soon settled into the easy familiarity they’d enjoyed as children and teenagers. Tiff found herself unwinding while she asked how her aunt and uncle – Marina’s parents – were getting on. They now lived and worked in north-east Cornwall so Marina didn’t see them as often as she liked.

It was therapeutic to focus on other people’s relatively normal lives and Tiff enjoyed hearing about Marina’s college job, the Wave Watchers and local characters. She was intrigued to find out more about the forthcoming joint search and rescue fundraiser with the local lifeboat station, though she didn’t discover much more about Dirk. She didn’t want to appear too interested in him and risk being teased by Marina. They soon moved on to Tiff’s new job.

‘It’ll be a change working for the local mags,’ Marina said, sounding positive as ever.

‘They pay peanuts but I’m grateful for it, and with the rent coming in from my flat, it’ll cover the bills. I obviously intend to contribute my fair share here.’

Tiff smiled, feeling a little guilty keeping a couple of titbits from Marina. One of them was that she guessed Marina would find the additional income of a ‘lodger’ useful, even if it was only short-term.

Her other secret was less altruistic. One of the editors at the Herald’s rival paper had agreed to help her out on the quiet. Tiff planned to string stories for them while she was in Cornwall. Her name might be mud but she could still pass on tip-offs if she found anything of interest in the area. And that, along with writing and editing the local lifestyle mag, would be better than nothing and keep her from going insane.

‘What exactly happened, Tiff?’ Marina said gently. ‘It must have been pretty dramatic for you to have been sacked. I know you didn’t want to go into the details until we were face to face, but maybe it would help if you got it off your chest. After all, you know all my darkest secrets.’

Tiff was touched. She didn’t have a best friend in London with whom to share her ‘darkest secrets’. She had colleagues and contacts, and rivals – and a lover. Now an ex-lover, who she’d naively thought had become so much more.

‘We were going to move in together …’ The words slipped out as an extension of her train of thought.

‘You and this politician?’

‘He wasn’t a politician himself, just an “adviser” to a Cabinet minister. He even joked about being a lackey. That’s what I liked about Warner: his refreshing lack of ego, his self-deprecation, unusual from someone in his position, I can tell you. Now I know that it was all an act. He’s a massive dick like all the rest of them in that place: women and men.’

Marina frowned. ‘I’m sorry you’ve had a rough time. What happened, lovely?’

‘Marius Woodford-Warner happened. Though he’s known as “Warner” by his friends – or fellow snakes, to be more accurate.’ A memory of some of the snakes sprang to mind. She pictured Warner playing for the House of Commons staff cricket team with a bunch of the other lackeys, most of whom she couldn’t stand. She now regretted every wasted Sunday admiring him in his whites while trying not to nod off and eating curling cucumber sarnies in the pavilion. Most of all, she regretted falling for him so hard that she’d been blind to the real truth; that he’d only been using her.

‘Are they all snakes?’ Marina asked. ‘Aren’t some of them trying to do the right thing?’

Tiff admired Marina’s ability to think well of others. She’d been like that once: believing too much in people. These days she didn’t trust anyone within a five-mile radius of Westminster. ‘A lot of them start out trying to do the right thing. Plenty end up actually doing it, until they decide to climb the slippery pole to high office. It’s fine and dandy to have principles until you have to actually make a choice between country or party or career and then integrity almost always goes out of the window.’

‘You don’t usually write about politics, Tiff – I thought you were interested in human-interest stories and women’s page stuff. How did you get involved in this?’

‘I was tempted by a story. I thought I’d got a big scoop about Warner’s boss. We had a codename for him. Mr Blobby – I think you can tell who I mean …’

Marina wrinkled her nose. ‘I do and you’re right. I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him either.’

‘Neither did Warner. He said he secretly loathed him too, but it was all a ruse to get back at our newspaper for trying to expose his boss’s dark dealings with a big rail developer.

‘Warner handed me a scoop and I walked right into the trap. He claimed that Mr Blobby was taking backhanders from the rail company in return for big government contracts and said we could expose him together. What he – and Mr Blobby – actually wanted to do was discredit my newspaper in the most public way possible.’

Marina gasped. ‘Are you saying he got close to you with this in mind, all along? I assumed it was all going well between you right up until your break-up.’

‘I – I’d like to think there was something real between us at the start, though perhaps I’m deluding myself. I’d known him a few years and we started seeing each other – casually at first – the year before last. Then he got a promotion and was busier and busier. I just thought he was working longer hours but, with hindsight, he did seem to grow more distant. The more I look back, the more I know I was taken in by him but didn’t want to recognise the truth: that he’d begun to see me as someone he could use, like everyone else around him.’

Tiff paused, refusing to give in to self-pity, or worse, tears. She would not shed tears. Not in front of Marina, who had far worse things to deal with. ‘Silly old cow,’ she added lightly, wincing at her own naivety.

That was the worst of it. Tiff, the savvy and unshakable smartest cookie in town had been conned. She was ashamed to have been duped, and deeply hurt. Worse, the experience had left her insecure and betrayed.

‘I’m gutted for you, hun. Anyway, you’re not old,’ Marina said, jumping to her defence. Tiff could see her cousin was genuinely worried about her.

‘Well, I bloody feel it!’ Tiff laughed. She was only a few years older than her cousin but, despite Marina’s recent troubles, she still had a young, almost cherubic face at thirty-six. Her blonde curls were tied back in a messy ponytail, and she wore hardly any make-up, not that she needed it with the almost year-round golden tan from a life spent outdoors. Tiff had an armoury of expensive cosmetics, many of them free samples, and she’d needed them lately just to look human.

She thought again how lucky Nate had been to have a loving partner like Marina. Despite her own problems, Marina was still happy to provide a haven for Tiff and a sympathetic ear.

‘So, what did Warner do that landed you in so much trouble?’ Marina asked.

Tiff sighed. ‘He showed me a “smoking gun” of emails between Mr Blobby and the rail company, “proving” they were offering him bribes. I was convinced they were genuine, so we published the story.’ Her voice tailed off and she cringed at the mistakes she’d made in trusting her ex.

‘It turned out they were fake and Mr Blobby threatened to sue the newspaper. We had to grovel and print a retraction and they agreed not to go to court if we made a large donation to his charity of choice – and if I was sacked. In the end, the editor let me resign. He said it would make it difficult to run stories about Blobby from then on unless we were absolutely watertight. No one at the major London newspapers will touch me for now, possibly forever.’

Marina’s eyes widened in shock. ‘Surely not forever? You must have friends you can trust who would bail you out.’

She shook her head. ‘I have colleagues, contacts, acquaintances – but no one I absolutely trust, or who can be seen helping a pariah. No one will employ me for a long while, that’s for sure. I don’t know … No one feels sorry for journalists. It goes with the job.’ She’d been so busy working and networking that making and keeping real friends had somehow been lost along the way.

‘I feel deeply sorry for the way you’ve been treated by this vile bunch of people. And I’m angry too, my lovely.’

Marina’s sympathy touched a raw nerve, and Tiff smiled gratefully. ‘I should have known better, and it could be even worse. At least I do have a job – of sorts – now.’

‘Working for Cream of Cornish won’t be that bad,’ Marina said.

‘You’re right. I’m lucky they let me freelance for them at all. Thanks for asking your friend to take a chance on me.’

‘She was pretty gobsmacked when I told her you were coming down here for the summer and looking for work. She didn’t think she could afford you.’

Tiff laughed. ‘I’m happy to take the going freelance rate.’

‘I think she’s a little bit scared of you.’

‘Moi? Why on earth? I’m harmless!’ Tiff sniffed the air. ‘Wow, that smells amazing.’

‘Oh, yes. It’ll be done!’ Marina leapt up.

Tiff got up too. ‘I’m coming to help you serve it up and I’m doing the washing up.’

They sat around the small table in the dining area at the end of the sitting room. It overlooked a small patch of garden from where there was an uninterrupted view of the sea. However, on this cool late April evening, which would probably be warm enough for drinks at a pavement café in central London, the wind was cold and biting. Marina said she’d light a fire after dinner, but for the time being, they sat at the table, enjoying the pancetta-wrapped hake, which was topped with a spicy tomato sauce and served with new potatoes and samphire.

Tiff helped herself to a spoonful of samphire dressed with lemony butter.

‘Wow. Samphire. Is it from a local fishmonger?’

‘Actually, I got it from the bar on the other side of the town.’

‘The bar?’

Marina smiled. ‘Loe Bar. It grows at the back of the beach. And the potatoes and fish are local too.’

Tiff sighed in pleasure as the hake melted in her mouth. ‘I can see it’s not as uncivilised here as I thought …’ she said during bites.

Marina laughed.

‘On that note, I met some of the local characters on my way here.’

‘Already?’

‘Yes, Troy and Evie, who I vaguely remember from some of my holiday visits. She was a local teacher, wasn’t she?’

‘Mm. Mrs Carman. Been retired for years though.’

‘Nice lady. Funny too. Her husband asked me to deliver some leaflets for a friend. They hardly know me but they took it on trust that if I was a relative of you then I must be OK.’

‘You can relax here, Tiff. You can rely on people.’

She smiled. ‘We had some good times here, didn’t we? It’ll be fun to revisit them,’ Tiff said.

‘What, ogling surfers? Perhaps I should be more discreet these days.’

The Muscadet seeped further into Tiff’s veins. She waggled her glass. ‘Remember the time I got you drunk on cider at that beach party and had to half carry you home. Your mum and dad were furious.’

‘I was only sixteen!’ Marina laughed.

‘I’ve always been notorious. I bet people are gossiping about me already. I’m probably already known as the snooty Londoner who wore stupid shoes and fell over on the harbour.’

Marina nodded and grinned. ‘Some people might remember you but I doubt very much they will have any inkling about why you lost your job. Soon, you’ll melt into the background and be no more interesting than fishing quotas. Although, saying that, they’re quite a big issue here … hmm … you know what I mean.’ Marina topped up her glass with the dregs of the bottle. ‘Unless, of course, you’re going to give them something juicy to talk about?’

‘No way.’ Tiff wagged her finger. ‘I’ll keep my head down and live a blameless life henceforth. Write about the opening of the new dental surgery, extol the virtues of seaweed body wraps and eulogise about the local eateries, even if the food is crap.’

‘Actually, Gabe Mathias’s new place is pretty amazing.’

‘Is it now?’ She raised her eyebrows in interest. ‘I had heard he left London to run a little place down here … Hmm. I must try it out sometime.’

‘He lives just up the road in Clifftop House,’ Marina said. ‘But don’t get any ideas. He’s engaged to a mate of mine, Sam Lovell, and while there was a story in that once, it’s all in the past now. They’ve gone through enough without someone raking up muck about their private lives.’ Wow, the warning in Marina’s voice was real.

‘I wouldn’t dream of muckraking.’

‘Good. Stick to the dentists and body wraps.’

‘I won’t be digging up dirt on your friends and neighbours, I swear! I want to be useful, you know, integrate closely with the local community.’ Tiff tried to cross her heart. ‘Anyway, I already have made myself useful. Those leaflets for Troy and Evie Carman that I mentioned, I gave them to one of your neighbours on my way here.’

‘Really?’

‘Some lifeboat person called Dirk ’n’ Stormy.’

‘Dirk?’ Marina sounded surprised.

‘Mmm. Quite a character …’

The image of Dirk leaning in his doorway with his bare torso on show threw her off kilter and wine sloshed onto her linen top, wetting her bra. ‘Damn.’

Marina threw her a tea towel and Tiff dabbed at her top.

Marina smirked. ‘You know, if you really want to integrate and help the community, I have the perfect solution.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. You could help out at the fundraising day on the harbour. All the money will be split jointly between the lifeboats and the Wave Watchers. There should be quite a few visitors because it’s May bank holiday weekend.’

‘OK,’ Tiff said, slightly regretting her offer. ‘What kind of help?’

‘Running the tombola, selling raffle tickets, fetching and carrying, publicity … a woman with your skills could be very useful and we need all the money we can get to keep the station going.’

Tiff envisioned herself standing behind a table full of cheap plonk and out-of-date chocs but hid her dismay with a wobbly salute. ‘Aye aye, Cap’n.’

‘And,’ said Marina, picking up Tiff’s empty plate, ‘Dirk will be at the fundraising day, if you need an added incentive.’

‘Really? I’m not interested, obviously.’ She pretended to inspect her nails before giving Marina a wry smile. ‘Once upon a time I would have been but not at the moment. I feel … a tad battered and bruised, if you know what I mean.’

‘I do. Even though it’s been years, there’s been no one since Nate. It’s been hard to let go.’

‘I’m sorry, my love.’ Tiff squeezed Marina’s shoulder. It was so much easier to turn the attention away from herself and pretend Marina needed the comfort way more than she did. ‘But what about the lovely Dirk? How can you resist him?’

Marina laughed. ‘Very easily. We’ve been friends for a very long time and he’s showed no interest in anything more in all the time I’ve known him.’

‘Hmm. That’s not a definite “no” then.’ Tiff searched Marina’s face for a hint that she was hiding a secret crush on her hunky neighbour.

‘It’s a definite “not likely”.’

After ushering Marina out of her own kitchen, Tiff loaded the dishwasher and cleared away the other pots and pans. Dirk was etched on her mind and, pre-Warner, she might not have been backward in coming forward – but she really meant what she said about being battered. Dirk was hardly the man to soothe her. She had a feeling he would be … challenging.

She would try to ‘integrate’ with the community, but as for integrating closely with Dirk ’n’ Stormy? Judging by the terse reception she’d received, it was more likely that Elvis would turn up in Porthmellow singing with the town band on a Sunday night.

Chapter Four

‘So, this is the marine radar and the automatic ship identification system. We have radios to communicate with vessels and call the coastguard. And, of course, we have these.’

Marina had been surprised and delighted when Tiff had accepted her offer for a tour of the lookout station. She showed Tiff the high-powered fixed binoculars that they used in addition to their portable sets and how to fill in the shipping and incident log, along with the procedure for reporting possible emergencies.

Tiff had listened intently, asking pertinent questions. ‘Can I try those huge binoculars?’

‘Of course.’ Marina helped her adjust the focus. ‘Can you see anything yet?’

‘Can I see anything? Bloody hell. These are amazing. You could see a pimple on someone’s arse with them. They’re better than a long-range lens.’

Marina rolled her eyes. ‘Hey, don’t get any ideas.’

Tiff pulled her head away from the twin eyepieces. ‘I won’t.’ She added, sombrely, ‘Wow. The responsibility. Not sure I can handle it. Get something wrong and you could kill someone.’

‘Not kill. Not unless you ignored a Mayday from a vessel that couldn’t get hold of the coastguard or some obvious sign, like a lilo drifting out to sea or a windsurfer in trouble.’

‘That still sounds like a big responsibility.’

‘It is, but you learn not to miss anything. It’s amazing what you can train yourself to notice, if you’re looking hard enough in the right places. Remember, there was no one here for years before we re-opened the station so anything is an improvement.’

Tiff slid her a sympathetic glance. ‘It’s wonderful that you got the place back open. I’m sorry I haven’t been here before. Now I’m here in the flesh, I can understand exactly why you wanted to do this in Nate’s memory.’

‘It wasn’t only for him. If I – we – can save even one person by being here, then it’ll be worth every minute I’ve spent begging for money to keep it open or sitting in here in hail, rain or shine.’ She broke off, almost breathless at the intensity of her statement.

Tiff smiled ruefully. ‘I knew it meant a lot to you but I’ve only realised how much now I’m actually here, seeing you in this place, hearing how you feel. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you as passionate about anything. You’re different, you know,’ Tiff went on.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I probably shouldn’t say this but …’

Marina laughed. ‘You never normally hesitate to say what you think.’

‘I know you adored Nate and were devastated when he disappeared, but I see a new Marina here before me. It’s as if, and forgive me for saying this, my lovely, you have emerged from his shadow and into the sun yourself.’

Marina hid her intake of breath.

‘You’re not offended, are you?’ Tiff said.

‘N-no … not offended. You think so, really?’

‘Yes, I do. I’m not saying that losing Nate wasn’t a terrible thing, the worst thing anyone could have to face, but now you’ve blossomed despite that awful event. You have bloomed from the ashes, my lovely, into this strong woman who knows what she wants and gets things done. Yet you’re still the kind, compassionate cousin I always knew.’

‘Stop it, Tiff. I’m not some kind of Mother Teresa.’ Marina felt tears sting her eyes.

‘Don’t worry, I know you’re no saint.’ She laughed. ‘But I do think it’s time that this new Marina should – and you can tell me to mind my own business …’ There was a guarded humour in Tiff’s tone.

‘Not that it would make a scrap of difference.’ Marina laughed.

‘Yeah. What I’m trying to say is … well, isn’t it time that you thought about you?’

‘You mean I should start dating again?’

‘Not necessarily a relationship. Just someone to have fun with – and maybe hot sex.’

Marina gasped. ‘Like who? I know almost every guy in Porthmellow and I’m not interested in any of them.’

‘Is there no one who’s even tickled your fancy in the past few years? What about some of the Wave Watchers?’

Marina snorted. ‘The men are either pensioners, students or gay. Ew, I love most of them to bits as fellow volunteers but I can’t imagine dating any of them.’

‘Have you ever tried to get back out there again beyond Porthmellow? What about the Internet or Tinder?’

‘I’ve been fixed up with guys by well-meaning friends at dinner parties a few times. I tried a dating site once but after one meet-up where the guy turned out to be a trawlerman with halitosis and a secret life as a druid, I gave up.’

‘A druid with halitosis? Oh my God!’ Tiff dissolved into laughter, then became more serious. ‘If it’s loyalty to Nate holding you back, you’ve more than honoured his memory. You deserve to be happy,’ she said. ‘Again, I mean,’ she added hastily, as if Marina might assume she meant she wasn’t with Nate.

Marina remembered the vow she’d made after Nate had first vanished.

I’ll never stop loving you …

She’d held fast to that, but it didn’t stop her craving love again, did it?

‘I’ll admit, it’s been hard not to feel disloyal to Nate … but if I met someone special, I’d give them a chance.’

‘Really?’

‘I mean it, but I haven’t met someone yet,’ she said, although Tiff had made her look at her life in a new way. By sheer force of will, she’d ignored the pain, conquered her grief and raised the money to re-open the station. Tiff might be right, although Marina hadn’t thought about her life after Nate in this way before.