18
Silver Meadows, Unicorn Creek, St Aidan, Cornwall
Waving grasses and economical truths
Tuesday
So much for my best intentions. Every day I’ve built myself up to tell Lando about Nemmie and gone to knock on his door, but the blinds have always been fully closed, so we get all the way to the tipi shoot, and it’s still hanging over me.
Lando’s glamping site and nature reserve are a mile or so around the bay beyond Cockle Shell Castle, at the magically named Unicorn Creek. However reluctant I am to go briding about with Lando, I’ve actually been dying to see how his Silver Meadows resort can possibly deliver the ultimate luxury in the wild that they claim, and be sustainable, but bad weather means I have to wait. There’s been plenty to get on with in the meantime, helping Tia in the shop and painting chairs, which is good because in the end it’s another nine days later before the clouds clear and the sun comes out again.
My rising dread of the tipi shoot is suddenly eclipsed the day before by Jess, who airily announces that the council are coming next week for an inspection of the beach hut. They’ve given no more information than the date and time, but there is an unspoken understanding that as inspections are rare this might be an indication that the outcome could be in doubt. If I had more detail, I’d be going through the application in my head non-stop, but as I don’t, I’m simply living with a sense of impending disappointment.
The long build-up makes me even more anxious not to stuff up again on an excursion, so on Monday I give Angel a bath so he’s extra smart for his pictures.
The first thing that goes wrong on Tuesday is when I come home via the beach after dropping the kids at school, and Angel chases a poodle straight into the sea. There’s no way I can dry him in time for the shoot so I take him home and carry on alone. Then, just as I’m leaving home for the shop, Tia phones to say she’s ripped her tyre on a pothole and is heading to Truro to have a new one fitted. Plan B is for me pick up the dress from the shop, and she’ll meet me at the tipis.
It’s only ten minutes along the coast, but without Angel or Tia for backup, when I see the sign for Silver Meadows I’d honestly rather be anywhere else in the world. I put my nerves to one side, follow a meandering lane and pull into a neat but almost empty parking area. After hyperventilating for a few minutes, I climb out of my car onto perfectly raked gravel, and take in raised beds of lavender bushes and clumps of grasses waving in the wind. Then I grab my bags from the backseat and hurry across to the smoke-green timber buildings.
I push my way through the door to find the pale wood walls and ceiling ahead of me washed with sunlight. The smooth plank floor and the satin-finish desk make it the kind of spendy yet understated area where, if you weren’t super stressed like me, it would be very calming to arrive at.
When I hear the scuffle of footsteps beyond the dark green accent wall, I’m bracing myself to see Lando, but the figure who appears in the doorway is even more of a shock.
‘Salvador!’ He’s the last person I was expecting to meet on reception. ‘And you’ve got a dog!’
Like a lot of brothers and sisters, Sav and I have a strong emotional tie, which we mostly express as rivalry rather than affection. As kids we fought incessantly, and as an adult he still drives me around the bend. We’re less overt with our scrapping now, but as we have very different ethics and priorities, I’m prickly within seconds of setting eyes on him. It’s not that I’m jealous– it’s more that I don’t approve of his methods, his goals or his attitude. When he thinks I’m a failure and I think he’s a knob, there’s not always a lot of common ground.
He rakes his fingers through his own sandy hair and rubs his beard. ‘I’ve got more time to look after one now, so I didn’t hold back.’ The dog is huge and has long black fur with splashes of tan and a white blaze on its face and chest. ‘I’ve always wanted a Bernese Mountain dog.’
My sisterly bullshit detector jumps straight into overdrive. ‘Since when?’
‘Since forever if you’d cared to listen.’ We both know it’s rubbish, but he carries on anyway. ‘Maeve, meet Martha, forty-eight kilos of pure exuberance and still growing. We’re trying to teach her not to jump up.’
The second he lets go of her collar she bounds forwards and I stagger backwards as a huge paw lands on each of my shoulders. She gives my face a thorough lick and only gets down when I slip her a bone biscuit from my pocket.
I ignore the urge to ask the obvious question about how the hell he can afford her at a time like this, and go for something more minor. ‘Isn’t she too big for your downsized car?’
Salvador looks at the ceiling. ‘That’s only temporary. Now I’m helping Lando out, I’ll soon be upgrading.’
There’s nothing new here; his whole life Sav has returned from adversity like a playful puppy expecting a ball to be thrown again. His latest stuff-up was epic, but he’s still optimistic the world will set him back on his feet.
I’m all about the practicalities. ‘If you’re back in rentals, they may not appreciate a giant dog.’
‘Why are you always so sensible?’ He shakes his head. ‘We’re staying with Erica’s parents in their garden flat so dogs are welcome. Her sister, Berry, is opening a coffee shop in the Sardine Club, so there’ll be work for Erica there.’
‘It’s great you’re bouncing back.’ I’m quietly shocked at how fast he’s pulling his life back together. It can’t have been easy going from his four storeys overlooking the harbour beach in on-trend St Ives to his fiancée’s mum and dad’s Airbnb, but it doesn’t seem to have phased him.
He pulls a face. ‘There’s no point hiding away. I crashed and burned, but I did my best to limit the damage. The creditors will all get a share of anything that’s left; there’s not a lot else I can do.’ He shuffles his feet. ‘We’ll have to let our wedding plans slide, but Erica’s good with that.’
His upbeat tone makes my heart sink. ‘And Mum?’
He tilts his head on one side. ‘You all have my word: it might take time, but I vow to pay back every cent I owe her. In full.’
I blow out a breath. ‘I’m pleased to hear that.’
He rubs his hands together. ‘Great. Now we’ve got that out of the way, my next job is to direct you to your tipi for whatever it is you and Lando are getting up to.’ His eyes narrow. ‘You are okay hanging out with Lando?’
I sniff. ‘Honestly, I’d rather not, but we’re all having to do things we’d never have considered to cover the cash crisis.’ Just saying. In case he’s oblivious to how much I’m hating this and how everyone else is suffering too.
