A Good Catch: The perfect Cornish escape full of secrets

Jesse was first to spot the girls walking up towards the sheds. Loveday’s marmalade hair with its wash-and-wear perm gleamed in the sunshine; her beautiful body was gently undulating towards him in skin-tight green leggings, her large breasts swinging to the rhythm of the fringes on her jacket. He thought often about those breasts. Sometimes, when she wore her white T-shirt, he could see the outline of her nipples. He turned his back on the girls, feigning disinterest, and called over to Mickey, who was checking his quiff in the wing mirror of the Honda moped. ‘The girls are coming.’

Mickey smiled in the mirror at his own cheeky face. ‘I’m going to give Loveday a night to remember.’

‘Oh, yeah? When’s that then?’

‘Tonight.’

‘Never. She won’t touch you with a barge pole.’

‘She won’t need to. I’ve got me own barge pole to touch her with.’ Mickey ducked swiftly out of reach of Jesse’s punch and together they locked the precious motorbike in its shed.

‘All right?’ Mickey raced to get ahead of Jesse and be first to walk by Loveday’s side.

‘Yeah.’ She smiled at him and, for him, the sun seemed suddenly to be shining extra bright. Then he frowned.

‘You’ve got something on your lip.’ He lifted a finger to wipe at the mark on her face. She grabbed his wrist before it got to her.

‘It’s me beauty spot. Like Madonna’s. It’s unique.’

‘Oh. Looks like you’ve drawn on yourself.’

Loveday stopped and waited for Greer, who was a couple of steps behind with Jesse.

‘How does my beauty spot look?’

Greer and Jesse both looked at the green blob on Loveday’s sweating lip.

‘Well, it’s smeared a bit,’ said Greer.

‘Oh shit. Badly?’

‘A bit.’

Jesse looked through his pockets and found an old, dried-up tissue. ‘Shall I wipe it off for you?’ he offered.

‘Yes, please. Get it all off.’

He lifted the tissue to Loveday’s mouth. ‘Spit.’

She did so and, tenderly, he wiped all trace of the green pencil away. Standing so close to her, Jesse could sense the rise and fall of her chest, and smell the heady scent that emanated from her. Her dewy golden skin glistened in the sunlight and her emerald eyes were like those of an exotic cat. The combination was suddenly overwhelming.

‘There. All done.’

‘Thanks.’ Loveday gave her rescuer a hug, leaving him breathless on many counts.

She turned to Greer. ‘Has it all gone?’

‘Yes.’

‘Maybe I’ll try an indelible ink next time.’

‘Best not,’ murmured Greer.

Mickey muscled in and grabbed Loveday’s arm. ‘Have you eaten your tea?’

‘Only a bit. Mum did shepherd’s pie earlier. But I could do with some chips.’

‘Come on then.’ And, taking her hand he ran down the hill, forcing Jesse and then Greer to run after them.

*

Edward Behenna had been in the Golden Hind since he and Spencer had finished on the boat. Edward was full of beer and the memory of the row with Jan was disappearing as fast as a sea mist on a warm morning. The beer had warmed his heart and his humour. ‘Spence, you’ll ’ave another before ’e go.’

Spencer removed a battered tin of tobacco from the front of his canvas smock and nodded. ‘Aye.’

‘Good man, Spence. Good man.’ Edward lumbered heavily to his feet and clapped his friend on the back, dislodging the scanty twigs of tobacco from the near transparent cigarette paper that Spencer was balancing between thumb and grimy index finger. He hailed the landlord. ‘Same again, Pete.’

Pete, a very tall man with a stomach straining against the buttons and belt of his shirt and trousers, bent down so that he could see through the forest of pint tankards hanging from hooks on a shelf above the bar. ‘Skinner’s?’ he asked, reaching for the empties Edward had placed on the damp counter.

‘Aye.’

Without anyone taking much notice, the door of the pub opened and a slim man in his early forties entered. His quick, bright blue eyes skimmed the familiar faces and he nodded at those who acknowledged his arrival. His prey was at the bar, delving into a handful of change to pay for the two waiting pints. He walked lightly and quickly towards him. ‘I’ll get those, Pete, and a Scotch for me, please.’

Edward turned to see who was buying his pint. ‘Bryn Clovelly, you’re a gentleman.’ He turned his eyes to where Spencer was sitting. ‘Spence, Mr Clovelly bought you a pint.’

Spencer had rolled his cigarette; its smoking fragrance drifted towards the bar. ‘Thank ’ee, Mr Clovelly.’

Bryn ignored him and spoke to Edward. ‘So, Edward, when are we going to do business?’

Edward looked down at his feet, uncomfortably aware that Clovelly was completely sober.

‘Bryn, I’ve ’ad a drink. Me ’ead’s not straight for talking business.’

Bryn pulled up an empty bar stool and indicated for Edward to do the same. ‘It’s not business as such, is it?’ He unhooked the casual blue jumper he had knotted round his shoulders and draped it on the back of the stool. ‘We’ve known each other a long time, haven’t we, Edward?’

Edward rubbed a hand over his mouth and chin. ‘You’ve gone up in the world since we were nippers though, ain’t you, Bryn?’ Edward looked at Bryn’s clean hands. ‘Look at you. Smart clothes, smart way of talkin’, smart car outside. You’re different now, Bryn.’

Bryn placed his right hand on his chest. ‘Not ’ere. Not in my ’eart. I can still talk as Cornish as you, boy, and don’t ’e forget it. There’s nothin’ wrong in doing well and earning a little cash, is there?’

‘No,’ Edward agreed reluctantly. He had given more thought to Bryn’s continued insistence that their businesses were stronger together than he wanted to let on, but it didn’t do to show your hand too early where Bryn was concerned. Besides, what Jan and Jesse had said also nagged at his thoughts. Now that Bryn was sitting here in front of him, in his flash clothes and with a conceited look on his face, Edward’s doubts had once more risen to the surface.

‘I don’t know whether I want more. I’m happy with the boats and passing them on to Jesse.’

‘Not Grant then?’

‘No. ’E’s happy in the Marines. Best place for him.’

‘Is he settling well?’