The other messages made her feel better – gentle reassurance and gratitude from her dad, and light-hearted banter from William.
Hey sis, hope you’re doing OK, I’ll be down in a couple of days to help out. Don’t want you burning the house down while Dotty’s away! X
She smiled at the in-joke. He had never let her forget the time when she was nine and they were toasting marshmallows on the fire in the sitting room. She had held hers too close to the flames and panicked when it caught alight, dropping it on the hearth rug. Grandpa had been quick off the mark and his well-aimed pint of beer had prevented the rug going up in smoke. Annabel had been so anxious about spoiling the rug and upsetting her granny, but had got away with a small black singe mark being the only telltale sign. And with Dotty busy doing the dishes in the kitchen at the time, Grandpa had given her a reassuring wink; the secret was safe with him.
Annabel replied to the messages, telling Luke that she’d ring him in the evening, then made a call to the hospital. The ward manager reassured her that Dotty had had a good night and was ‘on fine form’ this morning. Visiting hours would start at 11 a.m. and Dotty was looking forward to seeing her. Relief flooded through Annabel. She got out of bed and opened the curtains onto a perfect, blue-sky morning. Her favourite thing about her bedroom here was the view, which today looked across lush, green fields and out to the shimmering sea beyond.
She had just showered and was getting dressed when there was a loud knocking at the front door. She zipped up her jeans, pulled on a crisp white T-shirt and headed downstairs.
As she opened the door, she was greeted by the wet nose and wagging tail of an excited black ball of fur. ‘Monty!’ She exclaimed, grinning as she rubbed her granny’s faithful companion behind the ears.
‘Morning, lovey!’ Pam beamed up from unclipping Monty’s lead. ‘He was homesick and wanted to come and see you!’ She chuckled. ‘But I can keep him longer, if you need me to?’
Annabel crouched down to make a fuss of the old Labrador, who had rolled over onto his back on the doormat, inviting her to rub his tummy.
‘Oh no, it’s nice to have him back; it felt strange, him not being here.’ She got to her feet again and Monty continued to fuss around her, eager for her attention. ‘Thanks so much for having him yesterday, Pam, that was a big help.’
‘No problem at all!’ She smiled.‘Now then, this is for you.’ Pam changed tack, handing over the wicker basket she’d been holding. ‘I wasn’t sure what Dotty had in the cupboards, so I’ve brought a few bits to keep you going.’ The basket was full of provisions from the village shop and Annabel felt quite touched.
‘Oh Pam, that’s so kind of you! Thanks very much.’
The older lady brushed off the compliment and declined the invitation to come in, saying, ‘Never mind all that, I mustn’t hold you up. But most importantly, how’s Dotty getting on? Any news?’
‘Yes, she’s alright.’ Annabel gave a reassuring smile. ‘I spoke to the hospital and they said that she’s on pain relief for the broken rib, but is comfortable and doing as well as can be expected.’
‘Oh, well that’s something. I am glad.’ Pam sighed in relief. ‘Do send her my love, won’t you? I can’t get down there today, it’s our Wendy’s birthday so there’s a bit of a family do. But I’m heading down Bodmin way tomorrow so could visit in the afternoon, if that’s allowed?’
‘Absolutely!’ Annabel smiled. ‘I know she’d love to see you.’
Pam gave Annabel a big, comforting hug and reassured her that everything would be alright. Then she patted Monty’s head before she left, chuckling as she told Annabel, ‘You’ve got a new best friend there!’
The house phone started ringing after Pam drove off; the news of Dotty’s accident had spread around the village and her friends wanted to know how she was. The vicar, Reverend Pascoe, was the first to call, followed by Isabel Polkerris, the farmer’s wife, and then Catherine, Dotty’s friend from her bowling club days. Annabel was touched by their concern and offers of help, and was reminded of what a well-loved member of the community her granny was.
After coffee on the patio, accompanied by home-made jam on a still-warm baguette, Annabel put on her fleece and trainers. She looked down at Monty, who had not left her side since he’d come home – even insisting on following her to the bathroom – and grinned at him as she whispered his favourite word: ‘Walkies!’ She was always amazed how the old dog, greying around the muzzle and in his senior years, suddenly transformed into a puppy again with the utterance of a single word. She laughed as he bounced around the patio, full of energy and desperate to head off adventuring.
There was plenty of time before Annabel had to leave for the hospital and she wanted to stretch her legs and make the most of the glorious sunshine. She locked the back door andthey set off across the field, Monty on his lead just in case he got over-excited by the lambs. The little white fluff balls stood stock still as he approached, staring at the oncoming big black monster, and a couple of ewes objected noisily to his presence. Safely through the field, Annabel closed the gate behind them and let Monty off the lead as they came to the clifftop path.
They turned right and made their way along the dirt track. On either side, the hedges were a profusion of sweet-scented gorse, golden and glowing in the morning sun. Annabel breathed in deeply – she had always loved its coconutty aroma. Monty weaved his way in and out of the bushes, scaring himself when he eventually chased out a couple of chiffchaffs. It was a steep drop down to the left, where the cliffs cut away to the beach below, so Annabel kept him close. But after his initial burst of energy, the old dog was happy to trot along beside her.
Apart from the sound of Monty’s panting and the waves crashing below, the morning air was silent. There was no one else around and Annabel was enjoying the solitude. Her mind wandered back to previous visits to the beach, always such fun times with the whole family coming down for a swim, a picnic or a game of beach cricket. There was something magical about having the beach right on their doorstep and it had been the setting of so many family gatherings and happy memories. She thought of coming here as a young child with William and their grandparents, with Grandpa teaching them to swim. Then later with William’s own children. A memory resurfaced of a private skinny-dipping session here with Luke a few years ago. She smiled at the thought then felt a slight tug in her stomach.
After about a hundred yards, the track split, with the left-hand fork leading to steps down to the beach. It was so familiar that even Monty knew where they were going and instinctivelyturned left. Annabel paused at the top of the steps and smiled as she took in the view. The tide was coming in, but there remained a wide expanse of pure, unadulterated sand; not a footprint in sight. The water was a luxurious turquoise, the sort of colour one expected in the Maldives or the Caribbean. Shimmering in the warm morning light, it looked spectacular.
The beach was called Smugglers Cove, doubtless due to the nefarious actions that had taken place here in years gone by. It was a perfect spot for smugglers, Annabel mused, safely tucked away off the main coastline with a series of caves and a network of tunnels. It was also a good spot for swimming, and Dotty had been coming down here to bathe until she was well into her eighties. Shaped like a horseshoe, the water here was usually calm, with the rocky outcrops at either end protecting it from the lively currents of the Atlantic Ocean further out.
They made their way down the steps and when they reached the sand Annabel took off her shoes and socks. Monty trotted off ahead, barking noisily at the seagulls that hovered above. She rolled up her jeans and followed him towards the water. How good it felt to have the warm sand between her toes and the sea breeze on her face.
She felt a million miles away from the lecture hall, where most of the students spent most of the time gazing at their mobile phones, or the daily grind of rush hour in Bath, where she usually ended up stuck in a traffic jam. Yes, she had been ready for a break and the peace and solitude of Penrose Farm was just what she needed.
Annabel reached the edge of the sand and gasped as the cool water licked at her toes. It was mid-spring and it would be another couple of months before the sea reached a comfortable temperature for swimming. She thought of the magazine articleshe had read recently on the benefits of wild swimming, which had become quite the thing lately. A couple of her friends went every weekend and swore by it. ‘So invigorating!’ they always said. She’d thought she was too much of a softie, but maybe she would try it while she was here. Perhaps it was time to try something new, shake things up a little? She stepped further in, until she was ankle deep. There was something strangely satisfying about adjusting to the cool temperature and a sense of achievement came from overcoming the initial fear. With her face tilted up towards the sun, she closed her eyes and took in a few deep breaths. The refreshing tang of salt water and seaweed met her nostrils and she breathed it in keenly, enjoying its restorative effects as a sense of calm washed over her.
She thought back to the photographs from last night and the black-and-white image of Noel and his parents in this same spot, almost seventy years ago. His parents, yes. Without doubt they were his parents. But were they biologically related? The doctor had planted a seed of doubt that had taken root and sprouted overnight, especially after Annabel had failed to locate any baby photos of her dad. Dotty’s photo albums were fastidiously organised, with everything clearly labelled and dated; they were a pictorial archive of the Penrose family history. It seemed incredible to Annabel that Dotty hadn’t catalogued a single baby photo of her beloved son.
Could there be any truth in what the doctor had suggested? That Noel had been adopted? Stranger things had happened. One of Annabel’s boarding school friends hadn’t found out until she was in her twenties that she was adopted, but had never suspected a thing as there had never been any reason to. Would it change anything if it turned out that Noel wasnotDotty’s biological son? Of course not, Annabel thought. Motherand son were so close and so devoted to one another that the simple fact that they did not share DNA would not break their bond, she felt sure of it. The secrecy of it might be hard to deal with at first, but her grandparents had given Noel such a loving family and happy upbringing that, if theyhadadopted him, he couldn’t be anything but grateful.She pictured her dark-haired father with his year-round tan. Was there any family resemblance to her grandparents? It was hard to tell. From the photos she had seen, Dotty and her grandfather had both been fairer in their younger years. And Noel wasn’t as tall or as lean as her grandfather, but no two generations were ever exactly the same, were they? Annabel paddled along the waterline to the far end of the bay, mulling it all over and wondering what to do. How could she find out for sure? She didn’t want to bother her dad with her suspicions, there would be no point telling him unless something was confirmed. Could she ask Dotty? She wondered. Her eye was caught by some pretty shells in the sand. As a little girl, she had always brought the best ones home for her granny, who had dutifully displayed them in a glass bowl in the porch. The old memory made her smile and she pocketed a couple of perfectly formed rose-pink scallop shells. Monty had given up chasing seagulls and was showing his age as he trudged along beside her. They made their way back across the beach, stopping for Annabel to collect her shoes and socks, then climbed the steps towards home.
As soon as she was near the farmhouse and within range of the phone signal, her mobile started ringing. It was the hospital. Annabel’s stomach lurched.
‘Oh Annabel, thank goodness!’ came a worried voice. ‘I’m glad I’ve finally got you. It’s Sue here, Nurse Sue from the hospital. I’m sorry to say that your grandmother has taken aturn for the worse. She’s slipping in and out of consciousness. Can you come straight down? The doctor doesn’t think she’s got very long, my love. I’m so sorry.’
