The Little B & B at Cove End

‘Bailey Lucas is saying that Mae’s dad had a huge gambling habit and owed money and that half the goods from this house are in pawn shops all over Devon or sold to whoever would buy them. Pub landlords mostly.’

Cara put her hands to her mouth. What could she say? She’d kept Mark’s gambling from Mae until now. But even she hadn’t known about the selling of her household goods in pubs until Rosie had told her. But pawn shops? Cara didn’t even know where there was one – or what you had to do to use one. But she didn’t doubt what Josh was saying was true – Mark’s addiction had been so great she’d often wondered if he’d sell his own body to fund it. Why, she wondered, was all this coming out now, two years after Mark’s death? Respect, perhaps, for when she was newly widowed had stopped people saying anything before, but now time had passed, tongues were loosening up again?

‘Do you have proof Bailey Lucas is saying these things?’

‘Well, um …’

‘You haven’t, have you?’

‘Must be him. We met him in Meg Smythson’s earlier and he was, like, confrontational. His sister, Xia, works behind the bar …’

‘That’s not proof, Josh,’ Cara said. ‘And I think it would be a good idea not to spread that particular rumour yourself. But it is true my husband gambled.’

‘But Mae doesn’t know?’

‘No. Not yet.’

‘I won’t say a word,’ Josh said. ‘But she needs to know. Soon.’

‘Of course. But I have to find the right moment. Come with me.’ Josh followed as she led the way into the kitchen. ‘You probably noticed the patches on the walls that hadn’t faded like the rest of it … where paintings had been. It’s the same in here. Mark took the paintings, little by little, to sell them to fund his gambling. He left me – us, Mae and me – choosing gambling over his family. And it seems the Hines have taken what Mark left behind: my mother’s silver, which was valuable.’

Cara knew she might be taking a risk telling Josh, but he seemed more man than boy. And he was the son of a vicar. He had to be used to his father being told things that would go no further.

‘Lowlifes,’ Josh said.

‘More than,’ Cara agreed. ‘But I can’t risk telling Mae any of that, Josh …’

But then Mae came back into the kitchen in the towelling robe that had been her dad’s – her comfort robe she’d called it, wrapping it around her the night Cara had told her that her dad had been killed, and using it at every opportunity since; it drowned her, making her look so vulnerable, so small somehow, although she was already five feet six inches tall, almost as tall as Cara. Mae fiddled with the towel wound around her wet hair, loosening it then winding it tight again.

‘Can’t tell me what?’ Mae said.

‘That you’re very beautiful when you’re angry,’ Josh said, grinning at them both. ‘The biggest cliché of them all but hey, it’s true at the moment. Forgive?’ he finished, making a prayer gesture with his hands to Mae, and Cara remembered how Meg Smythson had said Josh could charm the birds from the trees. Was that a flutter of Mae’s eyelashes?

‘I might consider it,’ Mae said.

‘Another chance?’ Josh asked.

‘Try me?’ Mae said, which served for Cara’s heart to plummet to somewhere down around her feet that she hadn’t given Mark another chance – all this wouldn’t be happening if she had. ‘As long as alcohol isn’t involved.’

‘Not a drop will pass my lips,’ Josh said. ‘That was one wake-up call tonight.’

‘Yeah, but just remember,’ Mae said, ‘that actions speak louder than words. Right?’

Josh’s eyes widened in surprise at Mae’s words, which made Cara want to laugh. But how proud she was in that moment of her feisty daughter, coming back from her shock and commanding the situation.

‘Indeed,’ Josh said, pulling himself up tall, and looking directly at Mae. ‘I was wondering if you fancy going sailing next weekend?’

Mae shrugged. I dunno, the shrug said, but Cara could tell by the light in Mae’s eyes and knowing how she loved sailing with Mark that she was considering it.

It seemed Josh had come to that conclusion too because he said, ‘If, you know, you haven’t got any gear any more you can borrow a lifejacket from my sister. And even her Helly Hansen. She won’t mind. That okay with you, Mrs Howard?’

‘As long as Mae’s comfortable with it,’ Cara said. Rosie’s voice came into her head asking her what the hell she was thinking agreeing to let her daughter go off with someone who was obviously a professional charmer, because hadn’t he turned the situation around, barging in scared out of his wits about what Mae might have told the police about him, and when he found she’d said nothing at all and that Cove End had been robbed by the Hines, he’d come over all concerned for her and Mae to suit his own ends? ‘Mae?’

‘Yeah. Fine,’ Mae said. ‘Maybe I need the diversion? Text me, eh? Saturday or Sunday. Whichever’s best for tides and weather.’

Cara let out an audible sigh of relief that Mae had water safety uppermost in her mind.

‘Yeah, will do,’ Josh said. ‘Better let you get your beauty sleep, then. Not that you need it, Mae.’

‘Oh give over, Maynard,’ Mae laughed. ‘I’m getting the drift. You’re sorry. You’re making amends, and I think you might be making my mother sick with all your smarmy charm, but it doesn’t fool me. Any more and I’ll change my mind about the weekend.’

Mae yawned theatrically and it was all Cara could do not to burst out laughing. Mae might not have a father around to look out for her any more, but she was learning how to stick up for herself and Cara had to be thankful for that.

‘You’re too kind,’ Josh said, laughing. ‘I’ll see myself out.’

And then he was gone.

‘You can change your mind if you want to, darling,’ Cara said. ‘You know, when you’ve had more time to think things through. If you think Josh might just be saying things he wants us to hear?’

Mae sighed heavily.

‘Is this a lecture?’ she asked.

‘No, but a lot’s happened here tonight, and I wouldn’t want you to make a rash decision because of it.’

‘I haven’t. Okay?’ Mae’s eyebrows were practically meeting in the middle in indignation. And then she smiled at Cara, a broad beaming smile that lit up her face. ‘Why would I not want to see him again? You saw him. He’s like, lush!’

Cara couldn’t think of a thing to say about that. Yes, Josh Maynard was a looker. And the word lush could mean more than drop-dead desirable – not that Cara was going to mention that right now.

‘Okay,’ Cara said. ‘You’ve got school in the morning. Up the wooden hill?’

‘When I’ve dried my hair.’ Mae roughly rubbed the towel over her hair. ‘And, Mum … can I, like, sleep in your room tonight?’

‘Of course,’ Cara said, relieved that she wouldn’t now need to ask that same question of Mae and get, perhaps, a flat refusal for the asking. Tonight had brought mother and daughter a little closer together. An ill wind and all that …

‘Just tonight, you understand?’

‘Of course,’ Cara said again. Even the fact that the Hines had violated her space by searching through drawers and wardrobes, and even under the bed, couldn’t take away her joy that she would have Mae lying close to her and could reach and give her reassurance in the night if she needed it.

Chapter Six

In the cool light of day, with Mae now gone to school, and time to reflect on what had happened the night before, Cara set about getting the house back to how it had been before Hines had turned up. It was almost therapeutic finding a tin of paint and glossing over where skirting boards had been scuffed. She was glad she’d chosen matt white paint for all the walls in the house and it was just a matter of taking some cleansing cream to grubby bits and giving tired-looking patches a quick touch-up. The vacuum was put into overdrive – not that Cara ever let the house look too run-down. She got the polisher from the garage and mercifully there was a can of unopened polish so she waxed the parquet in the hall.

It felt good to be doing something physical and by lunchtime Cara was pleasantly tired but ridiculously pleased with her efforts.

She began to sing.

‘I’m going to wash those Hines right out of my hair …’ She giggled as she paraphrased the famous line from South Pacific.

A quick tomato sandwich with lashings of black pepper for lunch and Cara was ready to tackle the soft furnishings. Cushion covers were whipped off and put through the washing machine, and were soon dry on the line and back on again. She even vacuumed the curtains in the sitting room, before spray-polishing every surface to within an inch of its life.

Then she went outside, rang her own doorbell as though she were a guest, and came back in again.

She tried to see Cove End as a stranger might see it and decided it was more than okay – it was a very lovely home. A much-loved home. Lived in. And it would more than do for her next guests. The flowers in the garden – so many varieties – were coming into their own now and Cara made a mental note to put small posies in the bedrooms and a big display of whatever flowers and greenery she could find in the hall. It was the little touches, she told herself, that mattered. Chocolate. Yes, chocolates. She had a whole pile of glass dishes she’d saved from when she, Mark and Mae had had chocolate mousse or panna cotta or some other treat from the supermarket for pudding and she would use those to put a few chocolates on the bedside tables. A welcome.

Cara ran up the stairs, surprised but pleased beyond belief that a drama of sorts had made her more positive than ever to make a go of her B&B. She showered off the effort of her mad activity, changed into a pair of cropped leggings and a navy linen shirt and came back downstairs to ring Rosie.

‘Rosie, have you got a moment?’ Cara asked. She’d texted Rosie after breakfast but her text hadn’t been answered, not that that was unusual if Rosie had a salon full of clients booked in. She was using the landline now.

‘Half an hour before the next client. What’s wrong? I can tell something is. You sound a bit breathy.’

‘I’ve been all domestic goddess this morning.’

‘Spare me!’ Rosie laughed. ‘But that’s not all, is it?’

Cara sighed. She could never get anything past Rosie really – her friend knew her too well. It would take half an hour to tell Rosie everything – about the theft of her property, how Mae practically freaked out coming home to find Cara missing and her room trashed, and how things were now with her and Mae, and about Josh, and the police going all over the house and the fingerprinting and everything.

‘Well, the précis is that I was an idiot last night and I left two strangers who knocked on the door asking for a bed for the night alone while I ran to the corner shop to get the wherewithal for breakfast … and …’ Just talking about it all was making her hyperventilate.

‘Shit, Cara, you didn’t? No, don’t answer that, ‘cos you obviously did. What’s missing?’

‘Silver, a bit of cash I had in the back of a kitchen drawer for emergencies, Mae’s laptop … amongst other things. But the thing is, I can’t be certain whether these lowlifes – they told me they were called Hine, but that’s no doubt stretching the truth – took my jewellery, or if Mark did. Sold it down the pub or something. Mae’s boyfriend told me that there’s a rumour going around that Mark had sold stuff in the pub and other places so …’

‘Okay, okay. I’m getting the drift. Why didn’t you ring me last night? I could have come over. No, scratch that, I would have come over. Look, Cara, I’m cross for you and could strangle these people with a length of barbed wire, but I’ve got a client coming soon, so shall I come over when I’ve dealt with that?’

‘No, it’s okay. But I was wondering if you know if there are any pawn shops in the area?’

‘You want to know what?’ Rosie yelled into the phone. She sounded shocked.

‘Pawn shops,’ Cara said. ‘Do you know if there are any pawn shops in the area?’

‘Cara, sweetheart, are you okay?’ Rosie spoke slowly, her voice guarded. ‘I don’t know how that’s going to help. I know this is an area we’ve not talked about now Mark’s no longer with you – you know, sex and the lack of it – but, well, looking at porn won’t help, I don’t think. Not really. It would be a bit like someone holding an open bottle of Bollinger in front of you and then ramming the cork back in without giving you any. It’s the emotional side of things you need. And yes, I know this is a woman talking who puts physical before emotional every time, but I’m not you, or you me. Lecture over.’

‘Oh my God,’ Cara said. ‘I need to sort my diction. I meant p-a-w-n, not p-o-r-n.’ Trust Rosie to get the wrong end of the stick. Cara knew that Rosie would often say something ridiculous just to make Cara laugh, lift her spirits, but she wasn’t laughing now because the thought of both sex and Bollinger weren’t thrilling her as once they had. Would she ever get back to them?

‘That’s all right, then,’ Rosie said. ‘But you do know pawn shops are a bit Victorian, don’t you? You know, the downtrodden wife with six kids and a husband who spent his wages in the pub before coming on home on payday, so she had to take her wedding present linen down the pawn shop, yet again, so she could put a bowl of broth on the table for her family.’

‘Thanks for the history lesson,’ Cara laughed, and glad of it. ‘Haven’t you got a client to see to soon?’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Rosie said. ‘But I want to help …’

‘Well, you can. If you know about pawn shops. I know my engagement ring is missing, but I also know I put it in the back of my knicker drawer long before Mark left so he wouldn’t take it to sell, so I don’t know if he found it and put it in hock or something, or if the Hines took it or what. I thought with you running a business you might know about things like pawn shops.’

Rosie sighed heavily on the other end of the line.

‘Sorry, I’m rabbiting and you’ve probably got things to prepare. Sorry …’

‘It’s not that,’ Rosie interrupted, her voice kind. ‘But I could kill Mark for what he’s put you through. Sorry, I didn’t mean kill as in snuff the light out of him … oh God, I’m digging myself in deeper again, aren’t I?’

‘Yes,’ Cara laughed. ‘But don’t worry. We all do it. Yesterday I said to Mae, “Your dad would have died rather than have guests in the house.” Since the Hine fiasco, I’ve wised up a bit, but I’m sailing by the seat of my pants because the hygiene people haven’t been yet. I’ll ring them when I’ve finished speaking to you. Mark would turn in his grave if he knew….Oh no, I’ve said it now!’

Rosie laughed nervously. ‘I know, it’s not funny, but death is a bit like meeting the vicar and then finding yourself swearing and blaspheming when you don’t do either normally – you just can’t help yourself, can you? Anyway, I’m rabbiting now and I really will have to go in about fifteen – seconds, that is. Yellow Pages or the internet should tell you all you need to know about where to find pawn shops. Torquay used to have one. Probably still has. I could get Ellie to do my clients on Thursday if you like and we could go on a pawn trail. That’s p a w n, not p o r n. Okay?’

Cara laughed, the laugh making her cough. When she recovered, she said, ‘I’m so glad you’re my friend, Rosie.’

‘Phew! Thought you’d snuffed it then. Oh, whoops … there I go again. See you Thursday, ten o’ clock? Can you get the bus into Torquay and I’ll drive over from Cockington and meet you there? It’ll save me coming all the way over to fetch you. I’ll drive you back.’

‘Yeah. Sure. No problem. Looking forward to it,’ Cara said, even though the thought that she might find her engagement ring in a pawn shop was making her feel sick.

She flicked through the local telephone directory and found the number she needed and dialled. Cara had to sit through a few minutes of canned music and ‘your call is important to us’ but she found she wasn’t nearly as irritated by this as she usually was. It was a little lull in the mad activity that had been her day already.

‘Health and Hygiene, how can I help?’ someone said.

Cara explained why she was calling, gave all the details asked of her, and was told to hold the line for a few moments.

But the person on the other end was soon back to her.

‘This could be your lucky day,’ the woman at the other end said. ‘We’ve just had a cancellation. One of our officers will be in your area on Thursday and can fit you in.’

Lucky day? Cara was tempted to ask the woman to define lucky because it had hardly come in spades so far … ‘Fortunate’ might have been a better word. And she’d just said she’d see Rosie on Thursday.

‘Er, what sort of time?’

She knew she could re-schedule with Rosie although she’d prefer not to have to.

‘Say, nine o’ clock?’

‘Great,’ Cara said.

Perhaps luck was on her side after all?

After school – and what a shock that had been coming home to a house that smelled like a hotel or something, a bit bleachy and polishy, with echoes of fresh paint, like her mum had gone mad with the cleaning products – Mae sat on her bed, leaning against the wall, her knees bent. She knew every single thing in her room had been washed and dried with scented sachets, but still she felt as though there were fingers creeping over her, touching where they shouldn’t. Her mum must have used a whole bottle of Cif cleaning every surface and had even shampooed the carpet – it wasn’t as though she hadn’t tried to make things right.

She took her mobile from the pocket of her jeans and scrolled down to Josh’s number.

‘Hello, beautiful,’ Josh said before she’d even spoken.

‘I bet you say that to all the girls,’ Mae said, attempting a joke, even though she didn’t feel in the least like joking.

‘Nope. What’s up?’

‘What do you mean – what’s up?’

‘I can tell by your voice that something is.’

‘Oh, that’s a nice thing to say,’ Mae said. ‘Like you care.’ And in that moment it felt like there was some sort of invisible cashmere blanket wrapping her up safely, keeping her snug. She was glad now she was giving Josh a second chance after the wine incident down in the cove.

‘Well, I do care. I was a total tit yesterday and want to make amends. So give. What’s up?’

‘Mum’s got three guests booked in. She says she’s putting the whole Hine incident behind her. How do I know it won’t happen again?’

‘Well, my guess is your mum won’t leave the guests alone in the house. I’d also chance my arm and say she’ll probably check on names and addresses before she lets them over the doorstep. And deposits for their stay and stuff like that. And you could ask for a lock and key for your room so you can lock it when you go out.’

‘That’s a good idea.’

‘I’m full of them,’ Josh laughed. ‘Oops, sorry.’

‘For what?’ Mae said.

‘Not you,’ Josh said, his voice suddenly much quieter than it had been. ‘I’m trimming hedges for old Bert Godfrey and it seems I’ve just snipped off the best of his roses while I was doing it.’

‘You’re working?’

‘Yes.’

‘But it’s way past working time.’

‘Not for self-employed gardeners, it isn’t. Not at this time of year when everything grows like crazy. Look, Mae, I’d better go. Bert Godfrey’s standing at his back door watching me now.’

‘Okay. And, Josh …?’

‘What?’

‘Thanks for the chat. And caring.’

‘No probs. Try not to worry, Mae. Your mum’s only trying to make a better life for you, more financially secure you know, since your dad, you know, messed up and didn’t. Anyway, got to go.’ Josh made kissy noises down the phone. ‘Bye.’

Didn’t? Messed up? What did Josh mean by that? Did he know more than she did? What hadn’t her mum told her?

‘Bye,’ Mae said, comforted in one way by the chat with Josh and yet discomfited by what it was he hadn’t said. He had a job that brought in a bit of cash if not a lot. Mae knew Josh’s dad gave him money as well. Mae knew her mum’s balance in her bank account was going down and down because she’d taken a sneak look at the latest bank statement on the kitchen table when her mum had turned her back for a second. Less than three hundred pounds at the last sneak look. Not having money of her own made Mae reliant on Josh when they went anywhere, beholden to him, which was a vicar-ish sort of word to use, but appropriate with Josh’s dad being a vicar; like she was a charity case or something. Well, she could change that, couldn’t she? She could get a job. She’d ask Meg Smythson in the corner shop if she needed any help in the evenings or for a few hours on Sunday morning or something. Or there was the ice-cream kiosk down by the harbour that was opening up more and more now the weather was turning warmer and more summery. She could try the information office, too, to see if they knew of anyone needing help. And then a well of emotion threatened to overwhelm her. She could do all that on the internet if her dad hadn’t taken the computer and if it hadn’t been wrecked beyond repair in the accident and if her phone was so ancient she couldn’t access the internet on it. And if her stupid mother hadn’t left the stupid Hines people alone so they’d had the opportunity to take her laptop. Mae grabbed a tissue and wiped her eyes to stop stupid, stupid tears from falling. Crying wasn’t going to help, was it? And life existed before computers and laptops and mobile phones.

And then there was her frock that had got ripped when she’d struggled to get away from Josh. It had always been her favourite, that frock, though it was getting a bit tight for her now. When her dad had bought it for her, it had been a bit big and he’d said, ‘You’ll grow into it, honeybun.’ But her dad hadn’t lived long enough to see her grow into it and now she was growing out of it, especially the bust bit seeing as her boobs were now two sizes larger than they’d been back then. ‘Hand-reared,’ Josh had joked when she’d mentioned it. She loved Josh fondling her boobs, kissing them, nibbling them, sucking on them – it made her feel more grown up and it made her body want to go the whole way but she was holding out for the moment – just! Her mum would probably go ape if she knew. That thought made the corners of Mae’s mouth turn up, almost involuntarily, into the beginnings of a smile and it felt good. Not because she had a secret from her mum, but that she did have a life still, even if her dad wasn’t in it. He’d have probably killed Josh for touching her boobs. Mae reached for her now sad-looking frock and held it to her for a second. Then she leapt off the bed and decided to start putting her getting-a-job idea into reality.

Her mum was sitting on the bottom stair, her mobile clamped to her ear, as Mae ran down the stairs.

‘Hang on,’ her mum said to whoever it was she was talking to. She leapt up off the stair and reached out an arm to Mae. ‘Is something the matter, Mae …?’

‘Just going for a walk for a bit,’ Mae said. ‘It’s like asphyxiating me up there, all the cleaning products.’ She did a mock-faint to show her mum it was a joke really. ‘Who’re you talking to anyway?’

‘Rosie. Just checking a few details about something.’

‘Right.’ Mae didn’t think there was any point in asking what and her mum would probably fob her off with something anyway, like she was a kid in primary school.

Mae glanced at the hall clock, a huge thing that looked as though it should have been on a railway station platform or something. Twenty- five to four. She’d have to get a shift on.

‘I’ll let you get back to Rosie,’ Mae said. Sometimes she was jealous of Rosie and how close she and her mum were, like they were sisters or something. ‘Okay?’

‘Supper in an hour, Mae.’

‘Okay,’ Mae said again but without the hint of question in the word this time. Then she was out the door and running down the hill.

‘Well, well, well,’ Meg Smythson said when Mae burst through the door just before the shop was about to shut up for a couple of hours so Meg Smythson could eat her tea and watch Corrie before opening again for the evening trade for those people who forgot milk on their online Tesco shop or whatever. ‘Without the boyfriend tonight, Mae?’