What Happens In Cornwall.... T Williams A

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       Chapter 2

      The village of Tregossick was tucked onto the south coast of Cornwall, not far west of Plymouth. A jumble of slate-roofed houses, most of them with stone walls, squeezed onto the steep sides of the valley that descended into the sea alongside the tiny fishing port. The coastline consisted of tree-covered hillsides that sloped precipitously down, ending in vertical cliffs that dropped away to rocks, sand and shingle as far as the eye could see in both directions. Right in front of them, as the bus cautiously navigated the steep, winding and frighteningly narrow road into the village, was the beach, dotted with figures enjoying the evening sun. In spite of the weather forecast, the sky was clear and the sea calm, although a bank of clouds on the far horizon didn’t bode well for the next day.

      The tide was out and a host of rock pools were dotted with hopeful children, equipped with nets and buckets, doing their best to catch little fish, crabs and some of the host of crustaceans that the sea had deposited there. Beyond them, a magnificent island stood out against the evening sky, the grey stone walls of a forbidding old building occupying the whole landward side of it. The huge construction stretched upwards from the sea in tiers, like a massive wedding cake. Its sheer stone walls culminated in a tower, making it look like a fortress, grafted onto the vertical cliffs. The closer they came, the more formidable it looked.

      ‘I wouldn’t want to have to scale that cliff face.’ Samantha caught Becky’s eye. ‘That’s quite a place, far more impressive than I imagined. And the village is sweet. Although I’ve been in the South West for years, I’ve never been down here before.’

      Becky shook her head. ‘Me neither. Mind you, I’m from Nottingham and I know bugger all about Cornwall to be honest. Did you know they call it Kernow in the old Cornish language? Until I saw the Welcome sign, I had no idea. I hadn’t even heard of Tregossick until Clare called the other day. The island out there’s called Rock Island. You can see why. Woah…’

      The bus driver jammed on his brakes and squeezed the vehicle terrifyingly close to the low wall that was all that separated them from a hundred foot drop to the beach. A large 4x4 pulling a caravan inched its way up the road and past them. The driver even had to open his window and fold in the wing mirror to avoid them touching. Low muttering came from two old men in the seat in front of the two girls. Sam and Becky listened carefully. The meaning was clear, even if some of the words being used were not. ‘Bloody emmets’ and ‘Stupid damn grockles’ were just a few of the more repeatable comments. Sam and Becky exchanged glances. Sam lowered her voice to a whisper.

      ‘The natives are unimpressed.’

      Becky was unsympathetic. ‘Fancy bringing a caravan down a little lane like this. They’re bonkers.’

      The caravan finally disappeared past them and the bus was able to continue down the hill. Sam transferred her attention back to Rock Island and the massive stone building.

      ‘The building’s an old abbey. They say it’s one of the best-preserved Cistercian abbeys in the country. But I only found that out by looking on the internet. You’d have thought it would be part of the Medieval Studies course, seeing as it’s just down the road from the university.’ She paused, admiring the sheer scale of the place. ‘But it’s privately owned. Maybe they don’t like visitors.’

      Becky lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘Like some of our travelling companions!’

      ‘We’ll have to see if we can get closer to it tomorrow.’ The bus emerged onto a relatively straight promenade alongside the beach that terminated in a dead end with a mini roundabout. The bus swung all the way round and drove back up to the final stop, right outside a pub called the Smugglers Arms. The door hissed open and the driver turned off the engine. Becky pointed at the pub. ‘Well, that answers the question of where we eat tonight. Come on, Sam, the house should be just along the road from here.’

      The next day dawned unexpectedly bright and sunny, although cloud cover was building from the west. The others in their party were all mad keen surfers and they had spent most of the previous night moaning about the lack of waves. Samantha didn’t mind. She had awoken early, after an unusually good night’s sleep, for once not disturbed by worry about Neil or her mum. She decided to go for a run along the promenade and up onto the cliff top. She was still very fit, and ten years earlier, she had even dreamt of being an Olympic athlete. She had given up everything for it; boyfriends, social life, a place at university – training almost every day of the year, running miles and miles every week. Then the accident had come along. A banal trip going down the stairs had broken her leg in two places and destroyed her hopes of glory in the 5000 metres. Her leg had long since stopped hurting and she was still running, but her Olympic dream was long gone.

      The view was spectacular and, from the highest point, she found herself looking down onto the island in the bay. The water as far as the eye could see was an intense blue, worthy of a South Sea island, and gentle waves lapped against the rocky shoreline. While she watched, a helicopter approached, hovered and then descended out of sight behind the roof of the abbey. Less than a couple of minutes later, the roar of the engine told her the helicopter had left again. Presumably the owner of the island was wealthy enough not to need to take the bus.

      After a late breakfast, Sam and Becky spent the rest of the Saturday morning walking round the village, taking in the scenery. While Becky paddled in a rock pool, Sam sat down on a rocky outcrop overlooking the beach and phoned her mother. She told her all about Tregossick and even detected a few sounds of interest on the other end of the line. As always, her mother asked how things were going with Neil and, as always, Sam told her everything was fine. She felt sure that the news that the relationship was struggling would be a massive blow to her mother, who constantly told Sam how well suited she thought they were. As she hung up, she reflected, not for the first time, that her fear of the effect this could have on her mum was just about all that was stopping her from dumping Neil and moving on.

      Apart from the double yellow lines everywhere, telling drivers it was forbidden to park, the predominant colours were grey, white and blue. Most of the houses were white, the sea and the sky were shades of blue, and the roofs, the rocks and the sand were grey. There was only one shop in the village – a combined post office, grocery store and gift shop. It appeared to stock everything from Cornish ice cream to condoms, which was just as well as the nearest supermarket was at least twenty minutes СКАЧАТЬ