‘Stop it, Andrew.’
‘You know what she’s like. She’ll be prowling around like a lion after fresh meat if Richard don’t get e’self back here soon. And with a male teacher in school… well, that is just easy pickings!’
‘Oi! Maybe he wouldn’t be interested in Marion,’ Pippa sprang to Kam’s defence, after she had taken a huge glug of the gin Roger had wordlessly put in front of her.
‘No one is interested in Marion. She just pulls you in like a hurricane and there ain’t no choice about any of it! You know that!’
‘I can’t argue with—’ Pippa’s sentence was cut in half as the door was pushed open and everyone on a barstool whooshed around to take a look.
That tumbleweed silence would have filled the whole room with its echoey lack of welcome if Pippa hadn’t jumped straight up and ushered Kam forward, the grin on her face as he entered so wide that it actually hurt her ears.
‘Kam, come meet the reprobates of The Smuggler’s Curse. Everyone’ – the word had pure steel undertones – ‘say hello to Kam.’
Chapter Eleven
Kam had walked along the beach, the sun setting in such glorious orange and cerise technicolour that he could barely take his eyes away from it. The seagulls were silent, long gone to bed at the end of the bay, tucked up and away from human eyes. The crunch of dried seaweed under his Reefs mingled with the crash of the waves, the smell of salt burying itself deep into his lungs as the waves reflected the summer colours of the sky.
This was living life, this simple act of appreciating the beauty around him and being grateful for what he had. Not difficult in Cornwall, beauty was everywhere in this part of the world.
Lit by the street lights and the last few minutes of the sun, Penmenna was one of these things of beauty. The warm lights of windows dappled down the hillside, a higgledy-piggledy dotting of comfort, of hearth and home.
He reached The Smuggler’s Curse, light also streaming out of these windows but not quite in such a life-affirming manner as the rest of the village. Instead, light seeped out of dirty window panes, promising that it may be warmer inside but probably not as fresh. He startled as he thought he heard a moo come from the pub garden, before deciding he must be mistaken. He could see the outline of some hanging baskets suspended by the front door, but they appeared to have not much more than three bits of twig and a beetle inside, rather than the riot of colour that could be expected at this time of year.
There was laughter coming from inside. Looking at the door he wasn’t sure whether, if he pushed it open, it would crumble under his fingers. He decided he didn’t care. Pippa had been such a joy from the moment he had met her, constantly perky, frequently sarcastic but always funny, a proper sunshine girl. She was well worth a splinter or two. The thought of getting to spend part of the evening with her, as well as all of the day, brought the biggest beam he had felt since the age of eight and his parents had bought him a brand-new bike. Pippa was the freshness of spring and the joy of new bikes all rolled into one. He pushed the pub door firmly.
And there she was.
As he stood still in the doorway, he remembered the words of his father as he described the way he had looked at Kam’s mother when they were initially introduced, and had known. He hadknown.
Kam had always thought it was romantic nonsense his dad spouted to keep his mother happy, despite the fact that his father was not usually forthcoming when it came to expressing his emotions. Still, Kam’s scientific nature didn’t believe in the whole thunderclap, coup-de-foudre, love at first sight nonsense. Love was a slow burn, a spark of lust followed by getting to know someone until you found a mutual respect and understanding in tandem with the continued lust thing. That was what Kam believed turned into love.
But now, risking more and more splinters per second, he wondered if he had been wrong.
For there, in front of him, Pippa stood laughing, her whole spirit lifting the dark of the bar. The laughter he heard emanating from those surrounding her showed that all were lit by her light. And without being able to name it precisely, he knew he had just felt something huge course through him.
‘Kam, come meet the reprobates of The Smuggler’s Curse.’ She smiled as she walked to meet him by the doorway. ‘Everyone, say hello to Kam.’
The evening passed in a whizz and a flash. Kam had imagined he would be spending it tucked up in the snug talking to Pippa, getting to know her, sharing their stories about the events that had shaped them, the things that had brought them to where they were. To see what made this sunshine girl sparkle.
What actually happened was that once she had greeted him, she pulled up a stool at the bar and ushered him to sit down. The two men she was with nodded at him and responded to her command by muttering his name, but not in a madly welcoming way. He felt a little bit like he had stumbled into the OK Corral and was about to become part of a gun fight he knew nothing about.
Pippa, however, was oblivious. Or appeared to be. She looked adorable tonight, as if she had dressed up for a dance in a village hall at some point sixty years ago, her lips matching the cherry-red of her shoes. He felt he should have bought a posy and be wearing a waistcoat, rather than chilling in a hoody and jeans.
‘What can I get you?’ she asked, gesturing towards the bar.
‘Oh no, I’ll get them. What does everyone recommend? What is the drink to welcome me to Penmenna?’
‘Korev.’ The shorter squatter man sat furthest from Pippa said, as the barman failed to respond to Kam’s presence.
‘It depends quite how brave you are, but if Roger takes a liking to you, he has a special barrel of hooch that ’e keeps for us regulars. That’ll welcome you to the village. It’s this ’un that we’re welcoming, right?’ added a man who seemed to have been involved in some extreme dental incident.
Kam grinned; an apparent attempt to poison him the minute he sat down was actually remarkably tame compared to what he’d expected when he’d first pushed open the big wooden door.
‘I’ll have the Korev for now then, and I’ll take you up on the hooch when I return one Friday night. If you haven’t run me out of town by then, obviously.’
‘Exactly, after tonight you may never return. So, you won’t need to know that I’m Mike and this ’ere is Andrew.’ The toothless one winked as he introduced himself and his friend to Kam. ‘Here, Roger, I’ll buy the new teacher his first Penmenna pint. And we’ll check out the cut of his jib.’
‘Did you know that was a saying from back in the day, when you were checking out which country a boat was from, so it’s quite pertinent here. Seeing who is friend or foe in a nautical way.’ The voice was female and came from the corner, a table near the fire where sat a woman who the word dainty was invented for. Seventy if she was a day, the lace of her blouse furling up around her neck, a glass of sherry in front of her. Next to her sat a man in a dog collar, so good-looking that Kam did a double-take. The two of them were playing cards with a stack of pennies next to them, the woman looking as if she had considerably more. ‘Talking of which I’d better let some sea air in; it’s time for Flynn to come in for his pint.’
