On Friday morning Cat drove to Carrenporth for her pre-arranged catch up over coffee with Jodie. On the way she dropped her car off at Arcadia Motors for its annual service. Gareth Hunter, the owner, was a boyhood friend of her father’s. A stocky, round-faced, sandy-haired man, now running to fat (too many corporate lunches, Nathan had joked), he owned a string of successful car dealerships and auto spares outlets throughout Devon and Cornwall, collectively known as the Capricorn Group.
While away, Cat had kept in touch regularly by mobile and Skype with Jodie. This morning she couldn’t wait to have a proper face-to-face chat, delayed because her best friend had been at the NEC exhibiting her merchandise at a national knitwear show. Cat found herself slightly in awe of Jodie’s entrepreneurial skills, running a successful business that had started life as a small shop at the end of Carrenporth High Street. Jodie had now moved into online sales as well as being a regular provider to local high-end boutiques. She had taken the idea she’d talked about all through their teens and gone out and realised her dream. Only daughter of the local harbourmaster, she had no wealthy father to finance her. Instead, she made an appointment with a bank in Truro, submitted her business plan and got herself a loan to get her project off the ground. Jodie’s mum and grandmother were prolific knitters and when she started her business she’d managed to harness their skills, alongside those of a few more local ladies of the needle. She’d always had this flair for making the ordinary look special, Cat remembered. While a large number of rebellious teenagers preferred black, Jodie opted for chaotic colour. She transferred her flamboyant use of unusual mixes of tones and textures in herclothes to her knitwear and Strawberry Starfish was born. Two years on, the business had prospered and now she had plans to extend her range, moving into fabrics and jewellery.
Over coffee, they caught up with each other’s news and Cat updated her on the situation with Great-Aunt Em.
‘She’s certainly shot herself in the foot this time, hasn’t she?’ Jodie said as she sipped her latte, her glossy black hair with its vivid cobalt streaks bobbing around her face, matching blue-tipped fingers wrapped around her mug. ‘She’s always been her own worst enemy, but do you know something? Deep down I think she’s one sad, lonely old lady.’
‘I think we’ve all come to realise that,’ Cat agreed. ‘You know, Dad has tried so hard. He recognised the gaping hole my grandparents’ departure left. They’d been close for over thirty years. My grandfather included her in everything and then, when they decided to relocate to France, well, I honestly believe Em thought she was going with them.’
‘And how is France … and the hotel? The photos you sent were amazing.’
‘I know, they’ve turned the old farmhouse into something special. It’s fully booked for the whole of the summer season.’
‘So they’ve worked their magic yet again.’ Jodie smiled.
‘Yes, they have,’ Cat agreed. ‘I only wish we could work some magic with Em. You know, when I got home and Dad told me what had happened, I went to see her. I thought I might be able to reason with her. But no, she all but told me to mind my own business. Said she liked Rosalind and her little band of troublemakers. Apparently they make her happy. It got a bit heated and she told me to go. But as I left she wouldn’t look me in the eye – a sure sign somewhere in our conversation I’d hit a nerve.’
‘Poor you, what a homecoming,’ Jodie declared as she set her empty mug down on the table, a slight frost of pale frothcolouring her lips. ‘Still, give her time,’ she said gently, reaching into her pocket for a tissue. ‘I’m sure she’ll come to her senses soon.’
‘I hope so,’ Cat said with a sigh, sounding more optimistic than she felt. The sound of her mobile halted their conversation for a moment and she reached into her bag to retrieve her phone. ‘My car’s been in for a service at Arcadia this morning. This is probably … ah yes, looks as if it’s ready.’
‘Talking of the Hunter clan, I forgot to mention, while you were away Jordan dumped Chrissie Cartwright,’ Jodie said as Cat slipped her phone back into her bag.
‘Ah well, she lasted a month. Must be a record for him.’ Cat wasn’t surprised to hear this about Gareth’s only son, someone who had a reputation for changing his women as frequently as he did his underwear.
To some girls, twenty-two-year-old Jordan Hunter, with his blond hair and toned physique, was the hottest thing on the north Cornish coast. Adored by his mother, Evie, his father had set him up with a sales job at Arcadia Motors. Not that he spent much time there. Always pulling sickies or simply not turning up, summer in Carrenporth usually found him cruising around the area in his convertible Merc with best friends Daniel, Spencer and Ed – three equally work-shy rich boys. They usually hit the beach on surfing days accompanied by a cluster of adoring female followers. Always pretty, always blonde, all with a short sell-by date.
‘I cannot understand why they throw themselves at him. I mean, he might have the looks and the money but the guy’s a complete arse, isn’t he?’
‘That’s his mother’s fault,’ Cat was quick to remind her. ‘Gareth’s never had much of a say in things where Jordan’s concerned. She’s called the shots right from the start, which means he’s grown up thinking he can do pretty much as he likes.’
‘They’re a totally dysfunctional family,’ Jodie said with a slow shake of her head. ‘It seems to me Luke’s the only normal one.’
‘Who’s Luke?’ Cat asked, her curiosity spiked, wondering whether Gareth had a love child tucked away somewhere.
‘Luke Carrack, Jordan’s cousin. Don’t you remember? His stepfather drowned. Ross Carrack?’ Jodie prompted. ‘Skipper of theMorningtown? It went down off the Isles of Scilly during a bad storm. Sank without trace; no survivors.’
Cat nodded, vaguely recalling the tragic accident. She’d been around ten or eleven at the time, probably why she couldn’t remember any real detail.
‘Selina, his mother, committed suicide about a year after,’ Jodie continued. ‘Mum says she didn’t cope very well after Ross’s death and the Hunter family weren’t exactly supportive, poor woman. She slipped into bad ways – men and drink, and then when it got too much she ended it all. Rumour has it Luke found her when he arrived home from school one afternoon.’
‘How awful.’ Cat was horrified. ‘How old would he have been?’
‘Not sure,’ Jodie said, giving the question some thought. ‘Thirteen or fourteen, I think. Gareth closed up the cottage where they lived for a few years then had it completely refurbished and set up as a holiday let. Luke went to live with him. He finished school and worked in Arcadia for a while, then went off to uni. After that he left to go travelling; Far East, I think. Now he’s back and there are rumours Gareth plans to give him a management job in one of his dealerships.’
‘I might run into him later then,’ Cat said breezily, signalling for the bill.
‘Not sure if he’s around at the moment. Lucky you if you do though.’
‘Why, what’s he like?’
‘Gorgeous.’
Pulling her purse from her tote, Cat listened as Jodie continued to heap praise on this newest member of the Hunter clan. She ended her thoughts with a breathless sigh. ‘He’s perfect really.’
‘Perfect?’
‘Ah, let me guess, you’re discussing Luke?’ Red-headed Nessa Sharpe, owner of The Copper Kettle, intruded into their conversation as she arrived with their bill.
