The Path to the Sea. Liz Fenwick

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      He turned the tap off and put the hose down. ‘Your grandfather mentioned he’d called you.’ He walked towards her but stopped just short. This was awkward. How did she greet him after all these years . . . a handshake?

      ‘Yes, this morning.’ She looked down.

      ‘She’s been ill for a while.’ He turned from her, giving her his back.

      That said it all. She’d been too self-absorbed. ‘How long?’

      ‘There’s been a sharp decline these past few weeks, but it’s been months.’

      She should have known. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, trying to think clearly.

      He picked up the watering can. ‘Where have you been? They needed you.’

      ‘I didn’t know.’ She clenched her fist.

      He looked up with a dismissive glance. ‘You haven’t changed then?’

      That wasn’t fair. Alex gave her one last look then walked away. She found her voice. ‘What are you doing here?’

      He looked over his shoulder. ‘I would have thought that was obvious.’

      ‘Yes, that might be, but why isn’t?’

      ‘I moved back and one of the first things I did was visit them.’ He pulled out a weed. ‘It was clear they needed help, so I moved into the caretaker’s cottage to be close at hand.’

      Ouch. There was no reply to that, so she took a step back. She should have known this, but she hadn’t. She held her breath for a moment then fled before he could say anymore. Yet again she was at fault, but then she was always misjudging things.

8

       Diana

       3 August 1962, 5.15 p.m.

      The sun had disappeared, and her stomach growled loudly. Diana hoped Daddy heard it. He’d said he’d help Mr and Mrs Venn set off then he would come up to the house with her. But they’d been here ages and Daddy was just holding the Venn’s boat and talking and talking. She was tired of the Venns and she wanted time with Daddy on her own. She’d had to share him with them every day for over a week and now they were taking him all to themselves again. It wasn’t fair.

      She picked up a mussel shell and moved it so the colours inside changed. Every so often she heard a word. Meeting. Deliver. Urgent. They were almost whispering but the breeze brought their secrets to her. She loved secrets. Mummy and Diana played the secret game all the time. Mummy said living in Moscow made secrets important. Things had to be kept tucked away, just like the little Russian dolls hidden inside the biggest one. She’d brought her dolls with her to Cornwall and had set them on her windowsill so they could see the sea. They had never seen it before, only the Moskva. Diana liked saying Moskva. It rolled off her tongue like when she said her piano teacher’s name, Madame Roscova. She could roll her Rs but Daddy couldn’t. Mummy was very good at hers. Diana had heard her reading aloud from a Russian book. It was called War and Peace.

      ‘Rrrrrrrrrrrr.’ She dropped the shell and picked up a piece of sea glass. It was strange to find one so high up the beach. Normally she found them in the wet sand. She looked out to the point and there was a cormorant drying its wings. ‘Rrrrrrrr.’ She loved the way her tongue vibrated and tingled a bit when she did it.

      ‘Diana, what on earth are you doing?’ Daddy looked over his shoulder. Mr Venn put his hand on Daddy’s as a wave rocked the boat. She frowned. The wind was turning, which was good. They wouldn’t have to row out into the bay – they could sail. They weren’t very good at sailing, but they were worse at rowing. She just wanted them to leave. She and Daddy couldn’t be pirates when they were here. Daddy became all serious with them around.

      ‘Rrrrrrrrr.’ She spun around looking up at the grey clouds. The gull’s wings seemed to become part of the sky at the tips. But mizzle was beginning to fall. She liked the word mizzle but didn’t like the actual thing.

      ‘Diana.’ Daddy spoke crossly.

      She didn’t know what she’d done wrong, but she heard Mr Venn say, ‘See you tomorrow,’ and to ‘get’ something. She fell to the sand and watched the Venns’ sail flap until it caught some wind. It did and they frowned. They did that a lot when they didn’t think they were being watched but Diana watched everything. Even when he was frowning, Mr Venn looked like a movie star, but Mrs Venn didn’t. Diana didn’t like her. She kept sending Diana on silly errands to get things the adults didn’t need.

      Daddy took her hand and pulled her to her feet. ‘Let’s see if Mrs Hoskine has anything you can nibble, as that tummy of yours is noisy enough.’

      She smiled up at him and moved closer as they climbed up to the house. He kept looking over his shoulder. She wasn’t surprised that he kept checking on the Venns. They were terrible on the water, but they didn’t know that. Diana had noticed Daddy retying all their knots yesterday when they had been on the big sailing boat. They said they were from the Midwest in America and Diana knew from her geography lessons that there wasn’t a sea there so that must be why they were so bad. She liked geography and maps. Uncle Tom had given her an atlas for Christmas last year. He had spent hours with her telling her about places and the people he’d met in them. She loved Uncle Tom. Mummy and Daddy did too.

      ‘Daddy, why do you like the Venns so much?’

      He stopped walking and looked at her. ‘Why do you ask?’

      Diana wrinkled her nose. ‘’Cause we’ve spent so much time with them.’

      A smile spread across his face and his eyes smiled too. ‘Well, they are new to Cornwall and I want them to feel welcome.’

      She frowned. ‘Why hasn’t Mummy come along to make them welcome? She’s good at that.’

      ‘She is, but she’s been busy with Boskenna.’

      Diana looked to the big house. This was the place she loved most in the world, with its round ends and secret floor. It wasn’t secret really, but it was easy to miss because everyone looked at the ends and the big windows. The second floor wasn’t often used but Mummy had Mrs Hoskine airing out a room above hers for some American arriving tomorrow. The window was still open so the room must be very short of breath.

      ‘Does Boskenna need Mummy?’ They walked along the gravel path framing the lawn. They had played croquet yesterday before the rain, but Mr Hoskine had put the croquet set away.

      ‘Yes, because the old dame has damp and the roof needs attention.’

      ‘Is dame another word for house? What sort of attention does the roof need and is Mummy wiping the damp up?’

      ‘Something like that.’ Daddy laughed, and she joined him. She liked it when Daddy laughed, and he hadn’t been doing it enough lately. Even Mummy said that. Diana had overheard them talking when they’d arrived. She had hidden СКАЧАТЬ