Hidden Treasures. Fern Britton

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СКАЧАТЬ Ms Leighton, we like it. Do you have any luggage in the car that needs bringing in? If you give me the keys, I’ll get Darren to collect it and bring it to your room.’

      Kayla gave Penny a key attached to a starfish key ring encrusted with Swarovski crystals. ‘You’re in room 207 on the second floor. The lift is on the left. Anything you need, just give us a call.’

      Penny took the lift – fashioned like an old bathing hut; kitsch but cute – to the second floor and found her room. The old adage that less is more applied here. Everything was of the best quality, but not overdone. And the view of the harbour with its fishing boats, from what she could make out through the heavy rain that was now hammering down, would be lovely when the sun came out.

      She picked up the phone and called Helen.

      ‘Darling, I’m here! In Trevay! The hotel is fabulous. Shall I book a table for two tonight at seven-thirty? Is that OK for you?’

      ‘Yes, please. I’ve starved myself all week.’

      They chatted a bit more and then Penny ran herself a deep, hot bubbly bath, warming her feet on the heated tiles as she did so. She lay happily in the suds eating her buttered crumpets, drinking her tea and listening to the rain on the windows.

      *

      At dinner that night, Penny filled Helen in on all the London news. Most of it was about work and a little about friends, but nothing about a social life.

      ‘What about your romantic life? Anyone special yet?’ asked Helen.

      ‘No. No one. I’m too old, too set in my ways, too independent, too much of a ball-breaker – or that’s what the last complete prat told me. Who understands men? They say they want a woman who has a mind of her own and financial independence. But when it comes down to it, all they really want is someone they can dominate. And I’m not good at being dominated. I wish I was … but …’ She waved a hand. ‘MEN! They can go and boil their fat, stupid, chauvinistic heads.’

      Helen threw her head back and roared with laughter. ‘I’ll drink to that! Fancy a margarita before the food arrives?’

      One margarita naturally turned into several. Tequila loosened them both up and suddenly everything was funny. When Helen described Simon, Penny did an appalling impression of an ancient, randy old vicar. Helen wheezed with laughter, holding one hand to her ribs and the other to her mouth. Penny, in full swing now, leant back in her chair, tucked her fingers under her imaginary braces and in her vicar voice said, ‘I’d be very obliged if I might take a dip in your font, madam.’ And with that, she overbalanced her chair and fell straight over backwards.’

      ‘Hello, Mrs Merrifield. You certainly know how to enjoy yourself.’

      Piran Ambrose, with a small, large-bosomed, kittenish woman in her thirties on his arm, stopped at the table. Helen jumped up in shock and knocked her glass over. Penny, with the help of a waiter, picked herself up and offered her hand in greeting.

      ‘Good evening. I’m Penny, a friend of Helen’s.’

      Piran glanced at her and then back to Helen. ‘I remember the first time I had a drink too. Enjoy your evening.’

      The kitten woman pulled him away with a parting, malicious smile aimed at Helen.

      *

      The next morning both women had rather woolly heads. Helen woke up first and turned over to look at Penny. ‘I thought we were too old for sleepovers. Thank God you didn’t let me drive home.’

      Penny opened her still mascara’d eyes. ‘Mmm, I took your keys while you and the waiter were dancing on the table. So embarrassing.’

      ‘Oh God. I didn’t, did I?’

      ‘No, but you asked him to, which was bad enough.’

      Helen shoved her friend in the ribs.

      ‘I did not! … He was lovely though, wasn’t he?’

      ‘Too young for either of us, but nice to look at.’

      ‘Not like that git Piran Ambrose. That’s at least three times he’s caught me doing something embarrassing.’

      ‘Yes, you’ve told me that several times, and however handsome he was, you wouldn’t look twice at him now, blah blah blah. You weren’t happy he was having dinner with someone else though, were you?’

      ‘Was he? I didn’t notice.’

      ‘Oh that’s right, you didn’t notice, So much so, that you couldn’t stop turning around and looking at him and asking me who she was. As if I would know!’

      Helen opened one eye and looked at her friend, ‘No I didn’t. I was surprised to see him, that’s all.’

      ‘Hmmm. We’ll talk about Piran when you’re sober.’ Penny hitched herself up on one elbow. ‘Full English with room service?’

      Helen managed a nod and then closed her eyes for a little more sleep.

      *

      By lunchtime they felt almost human and took a bracing walk around the town. Penny phoned her PA and told her not to expect her back for the week as she had a lot more research to do than she’d thought.

      ‘Liar, liar, pants on fire!’ teased Helen.

      ‘Well, I’m the boss and I don’t often spoil myself. And you are my best friend who I haven’t seen for ages – so, why not! Ready for a hair of the dog, yet?’

      ‘Penny, you’re incorrigible!’

      12

      Back at Gull’s Cry, Helen dragged the large tin box out from under her bed and took it downstairs to Penny, who was peeling spuds for their supper.

      ‘This is it. Have a look and see what you make of it.’ She put it down on the kitchen table next to Penny.

      Penny rinsed her fingers under the tap and after drying her hands on a tea towel, opened the lid. She took out the shawl first.

      ‘Lovely shawl, I could use this for a period drama. And the brooch. Nice bit of jet … touch of rust on the pin though. A photo. What a good-looking couple. They look so old, don’t they, but I expect they were only in their twenties, judging by how young the children are. The baby is wrapped in a shawl like the one in the box … Have you got a magnifying glass?’

      ‘I think so. Perhaps in my desk drawer.’ Helen rooted through the mess and found a small plastic magnifier from a cracker.

      ‘That’ll do.’ Penny took it from her and, after a few moments screwing her eyes up, said, ‘I can’t tell. It might be … let me look at the brooch the mum has on her blouse collar.’ Another breath-holding wait, the boiler made a whoomf noise as the central heating came on, and then, ‘Blimey, girl. It looks like she’s wearing the brooch we’ve got here. Look.’

      ‘My God, it is. So could the baby be Violet Wingham, СКАЧАТЬ