The Cornish Retribution : a gripping psychological drama Page 3

  As I follow the signs for the loos, I realise where I’m heading. Fuck! Why did they have to designate this bloody toilet as the Ladies? I push the door and hear that it still has the annoying squeak it had a lifetime ago and, inside, the old familiar smell of disinfectant mingles with tobacco. All but one cubicle is full, and women are shouting to each other – shrieking with laughter as they pass cigarettes under the door as they did in their youth. I slip into the end cubicle and slide the catch home.

  My heart’s thumping too fast and I can feel the cool tiles on my bare back as I lean against the wall. The cigarette smoke churns my stomach and I close my eyes. I can see a scrawled note: Meet me at 9.15 during tutor period – usual place. Then I’m right back there on the day after I caught Penny and Dan. The door squeaks open and Penny whispers my name outside the door. I don’t answer. She pushes the door, walks in, and then…

  ‘Oi, anyone in there?’ There’s a bang on the cubicle door and the catch rattles.

  I’m shocked back to the present and the memory disappears. ‘Yeah, I’m done now,’ I say, undo the catch, and walk out.

  A tall dark-haired woman hops from one leg to the other – looks a bit awkward. ‘Sorry, love. It’s just that the engaged sign was only half on – wasn’t sure if it was occupied and I’m dying for a pee!’

  ‘No worries.’

  Shoving the past away into a locked box, I go back to the hall, order a gin and tonic and make my way to a quiet table in the corner. I take a big gulp. The wine wasn’t hitting the spot and I need fortification.

  ‘Sam Hennessy! I thought it was you at the bar but wasn’t sure. Now you’re in the light I can see it is.’

  I look up into the beaming round face of Jason Kerr, the most boring boy in the world, as Penny and I used to say behind the poor lad’s back. ‘Oh hi, Jason, how are you?’ I stand and shake hands to ward off Jason’s clumsy attempt at a hug.

  ‘I’m good thanks. I’m an area manager and have my own house, car and have two foreign holidays a year.’

  ‘Blimey, how wonderful!’ I swallow a giggle, make my face straight and sit back down. He sounds just the same as he did when he was fifteen, always trying too hard to impress when he had nothing of interest to share really.

  ‘I have a wife too. No children, yet, but… we haven’t given up hope.’ Jason rummages in his inside pocket and pulls out a wallet. ‘Here she is.’

  I look at the photo of a sour-faced woman in a party hat. ‘Oh lovely.’

  ‘Yes, her name’s Angie and that was Christmas last year. Are you married and what do you do?’ Jason’s mouth has caught my rictus grin from earlier and he puts his wallet away.

  His blunt approach has thrown me. Do I say I’m a widow and that I’m a writer, or do I ignore the first part of his question, as my answer would provoke an awkward response? ‘I was married but…’ Now what?

  ‘It didn’t work out? Yes, so many friends of mine are on their first, second or even third marriages!’ Jason tips a high-pitched giggle into my ear and pats my arm.

  I fight an urge to slap him and take a drink. Why not let him think I’m divorced? It will be much simpler. Pride nudges a response. ‘And I am a writer. I have a couple of novels published.’

  Jason’s mouth drops open and he pulls a chair up to my table. Marvellous. ‘Hey, well done. I have always fancied self-publishing my memoir. But I just never seem to have the time to write it.’

  The idea that anyone would stay awake long enough to read his memoir past the first page was laughable, but of course that can’t be said. And why do people always say they want to write a book but don’t have time? If you’re serious, you make time, just like I did when I worked at the library eight hours a day. I look across the room and sigh. ‘I didn’t self-publish actually, I have a publisher.’ The showy-off tone in my voice draws a tide of red up my neck and I feel a bit stupid. Why do I care if Jason is impressed or not?

  ‘You do? Bloody hell are you famous? You know like…’

  Don’t say it, please…

  ‘What’s her name, J–’

  ‘J K Rowling, no, no I’m not. But then very few writers are. Most of us just scrape

  by, don’t earn enough to make a living at it, but it’s my passion… so…’ Bloody hell, why do I feel as if I have to justify myself, make it sound like an apology?

  ‘But that doesn’t matter. It’s a great achievement, I reckon.’

  I look at him, but there’s no trace of mockery in his honest brown eyes.

  ‘Yes, it is. Thanks, Jason.’

  Jason leans forward, rests his elbows on the table. ‘So is there anyone else you’re seeing now. You know, after your divorce. And how long have you been divorced?’

  Oh no. There’s a lascivious light in his eyes and he’s looking unsubtly at my cleavage. Just when I was beginning to warm to him. I take a drink and scan the room for any familiar face that could be waved at and can’t see one. I think I half remember quite a few but can’t be sure as they are chatting and most have their backs to me. I wave at a woman anyway and say, ‘I think that’s what’s her name… um… Debbie from our old tutor group. I think I’ll pop over and say hello.’

  Jason screws his eyes up. ‘No, that’s Sally. She wasn’t in our group. Anyway, how long have you been divorced?’ I feel his podgy paw on my forearm, note the lust in his eyes and a trickle of irritation turns into a wave of anger. ‘I never said I was divorced, Jason. You did.’ I brush his hand away. ‘I’m a widow, and if you don’t piss off, your wife will be too. Very soon.’

  Jason scoots back in his chair, his face puce, eyes bulging. ‘What the hell? I… I…’

  ‘Not sure Sam’s happy with your company, Jason, mate. Perhaps it might be best if you pissed off, like she asked.’

  His voice is just the same, maybe a bit deeper with age, but I’d recognise it anywhere. I look up from the table and smile at the man behind me. ‘Dan. How lovely to see you.’

  Jason stands up. ‘Hey! All right, Dan, my man?’ He raises his hand to slap Dan on the back, but then obviously thinks better of it. ‘God knows what’s up with her.’ He tips his head at me and sneers. ‘I was only being–’

  ‘I heard what you were being. Just do one before I forget my manners.’

  Jason shakes his head and leaves. I stand up and go to shake Dan’s hand, but he draws me into a bear hug. With my face against his chest, I can smell a mix of lemony cologne and clean skin. I swallow, draw away, look just past his right shoulder and intend to say, how are you, but it comes out as, ‘Sow’s you?’

  ‘Me’s good, and you?’

  I laugh to cover my embarrassment and look at his face. The face that has aged so well, even better than his Facebook picture… and his smile. A smile that had almost got me into bed that time when he’d smuggled his dad’s homemade wine into the school youth club. We’d taken it to the hay field and he’d kissed me as I looked up at the star peppered sky, warm from the wine and his touch. I’d said it wasn’t the right place to make love, though, and agreed to go to his brother’s house, as he was on holiday. But on the way there, I’d sobered up and changed my mind. If I’d slept with him, would we be together now?

  ‘Better now creepy Jason has gone.’ Dan’s smug expression prompts, ‘I could have dealt with him on my own though, but thanks.’

  ‘Yeah, I know.’ Dan nods and indicates we sit down. ‘But while I was creeping up behind the pair of you to surprise you, I did hear the conversation. I’m so sorry, love. Thought you might be a bit raw and need a hand.’

  Looking at my feet, I’m half-pleased I don’t have to explain all over again that Adam had died, but I don’t like the pity in Dan’s voice. What do I expect though? How is he supposed to react? I hadn’t thought this bit through when I’d decided to come here as the writer, the confident woman. How could I have not considered how to respond when people asked about Adam? Perhaps I had, but just skimmed it over. An airbrushed bright and breez, I’m afraid my husband died nearly seven
months ago, devastating, but I’m getting there… moving forward at last.

  ‘Sam, you okay?’

  ‘Yeah, sorry… I did need a hand, thanks, you’re right. But let’s talk about something else, like how you and Penny are, what your lives have been like.’ I look around the room, ‘…and where is she come to that?’

  ‘She was going to the loo but was collared by Kerry Wolstenholme. She may be gone some time!’

  Thank God I just missed Penny in there. It was bad enough with just her memory for company. Despite this unsettling thought, I muster a laugh at what Dan said. Kerry never stopped talking and took no prisoners. ‘Perhaps I should go and save her?’

  Dan shakes his head. ‘I’m sure she’ll be fine. Would you like another drink?’

  While Dan is at the bar again, sometime later, I wonder what I’ll say when he comes back. Why can’t Penny be with him? Just the two of us chatting feels a bit intimate, cosy. I should be annoyed, given what he did all those years back, but as I keep reminding myself that was a very long time ago. I’ve told him the bare bones of my life history but not about the writing. Once was enough with Jason. Dan’s told me that he’s a property developer and they have no children – a joint decision – and that Penny was a hairdresser but now spends her time being a “lady wot lunches” and at the gym as his business is doing well. They have plans to get a holiday cottage in my neck of the woods, once the sale of Penny’s parents’ house goes through – they sadly both passed within weeks of each other – and Dan and Penny are generally happy with their life and marriage. Still… if I’m not mistaken, there is a spark of attraction for me in his eyes. He could ‘do one’ as he’d told Jason. He’d had his chance.

  Wait, is that Penny coming through the door? Yes… I think it is. I watch as she crosses over to Dan at the bar. He says something to her and her smile freezes. Penny’s head snaps round in my direction and as she raises her hand, the fake smile follows a little too late afterwards. I wave back and try not to notice that Penny must have spent more time lunching than at the gym, and that even from this distance, a road map of lines directs her features. Her hair is a cloud of fire and before she turns back to her husband, sparks of anger ignite her glare.

  Hmm, a bit insecure then, eh, Pen? I watch the two have a few sharp words and then Penny shrugs and follows Dan toward my table, a drink in her hand and a rictus grin on her face. They must be complimentary, like the peanuts.

  ‘Sam, my goodness, you are looking gorgeous!’ Penny says as she kisses me on both cheeks. Her words sound genuine, but a little flash of jealousy passes swiftly across her eyes. ‘I didn’t think you’d really come, given the journey up from the back of beyond.’

  I move my bag from a chair to allow Penny to sit. ‘The “back of beyond” is the most beautiful county in the UK, in my humble opinion,’ I say, hoping that I’ve kept the rankle out of my tone. ‘And I said I was coming, I rarely go back on my decisions.’

  Penny’s smile falters. The rankle was obviously unmistakable, as was the look of apprehension. ‘Oh, I didn’t mean Cornwall wasn’t lovely. It is a long way to get to anywhere from there, though, isn’t it?’ Penny takes a long pull of wine and eyes me over the rim of her glass.

  I stare back, unsmiling. ‘Yes, but I went back to my roots. My mum was Cornish don’t forget, and her mother before her.’

  Penny snorts. ‘But you weren’t born there, never lived there, did you, until you were an adult.’

  I want to shout at her, wipe the supercilious smile from her podgy face. But I don’t. I say in a low voice that leaves no doubt as to how I’m feeling, ‘I’m Cornish. End of.’

  Dan shifts in his seat and flashes a big smile. ‘Okay, well, enough of that, how long has it been since we last saw each other?’ He leans back and strokes his chin while looking at us both. As if he didn’t know. What’s wrong with him?

  Penny looks uncomfortable. ‘A long time… and at school here, I expect.’

  Really? I can’t be bothered with all the shilly-shallying and I’m furious with her anyway. The gin fortifies my resolve and I decide to clear the guff of politeness and pretence from the air. ‘It was when I walked in on you both coming out of Dan’s room half undressed. I was sixteen, so were you, Penny, and Dan, you were just seventeen. So, twenty-nine years ago. Thought you’d have remembered.’

  Dan turns the colour of his wife’s hair and takes a pull on his pint. Penny tries to hide a smile and runs an electric-blue nail down the stem of her glass. She tips her head, looks at me. ‘That was a long time ago, so why bring it up?’ She held my gaze, an obvious challenge.

  ‘Hey, Dan asked,’ I say, giving Dan side eyes.

  ‘Yeah, I’m an idiot. I was just thinking of our school days… in fact, I didn’t really think, did I…?’

  ‘No. But at least it’s out of the way,’ I answer. ‘Actually, I did see you again, didn’t I, Pen, remember? It was the morning after – on school leavers’ day. I asked you to pop down and meet me in the loos, like always. Said I wanted to talk about what happened.’

  Penny’s not smiling now. Her face is the colour of snow and she looks at her hands folded like two dead doves in her lap. ‘Hmm.’

  Shit. Why can’t I leave it alone? A picked scab never heals. I glance at Dan, note the panic in his eyes, and change the subject. ‘Anyway, as I was saying, it’s cleared the air, got it out of the way. While at the time it hurt, the understatement of the century, it was for all the best. I met my wonderful husband and moved to the back of beyond, had a couple of children and was the happiest woman in the universe, until not that long ago.’

  Penny glances up from her doves, and frowns. ‘Oh, what happen–?’

  Dan nudges her and flashes his eyes.

  I shake my head. ‘It’s okay, Dan.’ To Penny I say, ‘I’m afraid my husband died nearly seven months ago, devastating, but I’m getting there… moving forward at last.’ There. I’d airbrushed, and it sounded normal-ish.

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, love.’ Penny leans forward and hugs me, and all of a sudden I’m back in the playground at primary school. I’ve been pushed over by a bigger girl and Penny’s comforting me and dabbing at my grazed knee with a tissue. We had been good mates for years, the best, until Dan… To my horror, I feel a lump forming in my throat. I pat Penny’s back and pull away, take a drink. ‘Thanks, don’t let’s talk about it, or you’ll set me off.’

  ‘No… okay. So, you have kids?’ Penny sits back down, and I see that her eyes are moist. Perhaps she’s so sympathetic about Adam because she stole her best friend’s boyfriend and the guilt is getting to her.

  ‘Yes, a boy and a girl. Well, they’re grown now. Jack’s at uni and Helena has a baby of her own. Little Adam, after his granddad.’

  Penny’s eyes grow wide. ‘You’re a granny?’

  ‘Yeah! Nuts isn’t it?’ I note the derision in ‘granny’ but choose not to bite.

  ‘Granny? Bloody hell. She hardly looks like one, though, does she?’ Dan says to his wife, admiration in his voice as his gaze sweeps my face.

  Penny fluffs her hair and clears her throat. ‘Course not,’ she says quietly.

  I warm to her obvious discomfort. ‘I do try to take care of myself. I don’t go to the gym, but I do walk on the beach most days and the cliff paths. Watch what I eat too. I’m the same dress size as I was when we were sixteen.’ I let my eyes sweep Penny’s ample midriff and then smile at Dan. Bitchy, but I need to make a stand.

  Penny narrows her eyes and says nothing.

  Dan asks, ‘What’s your son studying?’

  ‘Veterinary Medicine. He’s always wanted to be a vet since he was a little lad.’ This impresses them both – there’s a number of oohs and ahhs… then an awkward silence which I fill with, ‘Dan tells me you decided not to have children. I bet you’ve had lots of time to travel and… do stuff.’ Which sounds a bit lame, but I can’t think of anything else.

  Penny snorts. ‘Hardly my choice. Dan never wanted them, so…’
>
  The ‘so’ hangs in the air, heavy with recrimination and misery. Dan looks sheepish and says, ‘You kind of agreed–’

  ‘I had no choice in the end, did I?’ Penny snaps. Then her face relaxes. ‘I’m sure Sam doesn’t want to hear our old woes. Or mine to be exact… Last I heard, you went to uni to do a teaching degree.’

  I nod. ‘I did, but I fell pregnant in my last year, so it never happened. Then I raised the kids and then worked as a librarian until quite recently. Now I’m a writer.’ I say this last bit into my glass as I drain it.

  ‘A writer?’ They say at the same time.

  ‘Yup.’ I can’t help an ear-to-ear grin stretching my face as I answer their questions and realise that I’ve achieved what I came here for. Recognition, admiration – respect.

  Other old friends I meet during the course of the evening are equally impressed, and I chalk this performance up as a success.

  In the hotel room, I tip out the contents of my bag onto the bed and sort through quite a collection of email addresses and contact numbers from classmates who made me promise to send details of my books, and to keep in touch. Dan’s is among them and I trace his name on the embossed card with the tip of my finger.

  In the bathroom, I draw a cotton pad across my eyes and give my reflection a wry smile as I remember that Penny had given me a genuine hug when we’d parted. So had Dan, though he’d held me a bit too long, and Penny had pretended to stumble, so slipped her arm through his, which broke the embrace. She apologised, said she was squiffy. Penny then enthused about us emailing and calling, but I could tell she wouldn’t. It was all talk. Dan was obviously attracted to me, and his wife knew it.

  Because of our history this initially made me happy, but retribution was a negative emotion. No. I could do without any dramas. If Dan and Penny wanted to keep in touch, then it would be up to them. I had put the past to bed. I’d done this on my own terms at last, not theirs, and it was time to let sleeping dogs lie.