A Good Catch: The perfect Cornish escape full of secrets

‘Think so. Better to get all that anger out of ’im in hard training than ’ere in Trevay.’

Bryn placed his hand on Edward’s shoulder. He knew that Grant was a worry. A drinker with a short fuse and handy fists. ‘Maybe the discipline is just what he needs,’ he said.

‘Aye.’

Bryn remained silent, watching as Edward took a long mouthful of beer. Then he asked, ‘What does Jan think?’

‘With women you’ve got to pick your moment.’

‘So you haven’t told her about the offer that I’ve put on the table?’ Bryn leant closer to Edward. ‘’Tis a good offer, Edward. You know that these EU quotas could be the death of the Cornish fishing industry. We need to diversify and open up our markets if we’re to survive. We’re better together – you’ll never get an offer like this one again. The future of Behenna and Clovelly will be settled.’

‘But you getting fifty-one per cent: you’d have the controlling interest then. You might leave me high and dry.’

‘Look, Edward,’ Bryn leant in closer. Edward could smell the scent of cigars on his beautifully laundered Pierre Cardin shirt. ‘I’m prepared to sell you a share in the fish market, if that would sweeten the deal. We’d both sit on the board of Behenna and Clovelly and each have a fair shout on how the business is managed.’

Edward frowned and rubbed his chin. Bryn looked appraisingly at him.

‘When did you and Jan last have a holiday?’

‘What do we need an ’oliday for?’

‘You’ll need a holiday from all the hard work we’ll be putting in running the new business together. Imagine. You could go up country and see the sights of London. Catch a plane to Italy or Greece. Or maybe have a week in New York.’

‘Who’ll look after the boats while I’m away?’

‘Me. And you’ll look after the fish market and the refrigeration factory for me when I’m away with my missus.’

Edward shook his head. He’d been thinking about Bryn’s ‘business’ plan since the idea had first been floated. It was all very well for Bryn to talk about them joining forces but, as the months had gone by and Bryn had kept on about Jesse and Greer getting married, it felt more and more like Bryn was leading them all down a road that led in one direction, where there was no turning back. As a reality, he knew where his moral compass was pointing.

‘No, no. The boy has his own life to lead, and that’s with me at Behenna’s Boats. The fishing fleet was built up by my dad and I’m building it now for Jesse. ’Tis enough.’

‘And I’m building the fish market business for Greer. But when she’s married she won’t want to work. She needs a man to run it all …’

Edward looked at Bryn sharply. ‘I’ve told you before. Jesse has to make his own decisions. I could no more make Jesse marry Greer than I could get Spencer over there to stick on a tutu and pirouette off Trevay harbour wall.’

Bryn laughed and picked up his Scotch to take a sip. ‘I was going to say partner, not husband. Someone bright. Someone we can trust and – yes – Jesse would be ideal.’ He took another deeper draught of his whisky. ‘It ain’t a case of forcing anyone. My Greer’s going to grow up to be a fine wife and mother. She’s refined; a good catch. Anyone can see that – your Jesse just needs a bit of encouragement.’

Bryn Clovelly reached into his pocket and took out a brown envelope and placed it on the table between them.

‘You’ve been blessed with two strapping boys, Edward. Greer is a daughter to make any man proud but … she’s not a man, with a man’s head for business. Imagine, Clovelly Fisheries and Behenna’s Boats becoming one big company. Your boats supply my market. We squeeze the opposition and supply the hotels and London restaurants at the best possible prices. Finally, when our rivals are no more, we call the shots and demand the best prices we can get whilst giving the best-quality fish and customer service. When you and I are retired, my Greer and your Jesse could run the business themselves. We will have created a really lasting legacy. The icing on the cake would be for them to marry and merge two great family businesses into one. A fairy-tale ending.’ Bryn swallowed the final mouthful of Scotch, pushed the envelope towards Edward and stood up, retrieving his jumper from the back of the stool. ‘Just think about it, Edward. A fairy tale. That’s all.’

Edward eyed the brown envelope warily.

‘Saw your Jan yesterday about Trevay. Looks like she needs that break, Edward.’ With this parting shot, Bryn slung his jumper over his shoulders and headed towards the exit. For a moment, Edward was filled with the urge to run after him and stuff the envelope into Bryn’s self-satisfied, smug face.

But he didn’t. Instead, he picked up the envelope and looked inside. A careful observer would have seen his eyes widen momentarily, then he opened his jacket and put it quickly in the inside pocket.

He nodded to the barman. ‘Another pint for me and Spence, Pete.’

*

The pain in Greer’s heart was real and tangible. She didn’t know how to make Jesse see her. Want her. She was slim, spoke nicely, dressed with style and had impeccable manners. A miniature of her mother who lived in the fantasy film-star world of the 1950s and 1960s. ‘Greer Garson was the most beautiful and gracious actress of her day. That’s why you have her name. If you’d had a sister, I should have called her Audrey after Audrey Hepburn. But your father and I were not to be blessed.’ Greer was happy to be an only child. Spoilt and petted and treated to anything she wanted. The one thing she wanted now, though, was Jesse, and not even her parents could fix that.

Jesse and Mickey were sitting either side of Loveday on the harbour wall. Greer glanced across at Loveday. They were best friends, of course, but Greer felt sorry for her, really. Loveday, with her ample frame, a face full of freckles and her yokelish ways. She was pretending to read Mickey’s palm. ‘Ooh, now, Mickey. You’re going to ’ave three children and a long life.’ With his hand in hers she traced a line across his palm. ‘There may be some unhappiness in your thirties, but you’ll travel to faraway places and live to be an old man.’

‘’Ow old will I be when I die?’

She held his hand up to her face and squinted. ‘At least sixty-five.’

Jesse was getting impatient. ‘Do me now, Loveday. What do you see?’

‘Well now, let’s ’ave a look.’ She held his hand softly in hers and looked into his sea-green eyes. Without looking at his palm she said, ‘I feel you ’ave met the woman you will marry. There’ll be two beautiful boys and you’ll have lots of money.’

Jesse looked down into Loveday’s mischievous green eyes; it took all of his restraint not to reach out to her and kiss her like he longed to.

‘Is that right?’ They held each other’s gaze steadily and, for a moment, Mickey and Greer faded out and it was as if they were alone on the quay.

‘Aye.’ Loveday wanted more than anything for Jesse to kiss her, but not here in front of Mickey. She adored Mickey and he made no bones about his feelings for her. She’d do anything not to break his heart, but Jesse was the boy she loved and he was looking at her now with such a look …

Greer stepped forward from the cold metal railing she’d been leaning against. ‘Let me read yours, Loveday.’

The spell was broken and Jesse pulled away.

Loveday laughed good-naturedly, ‘OK, Greer. What do you see?’ and stretched her hand towards her friend.

Greer had no idea what she ‘saw’ but she said, ‘Hmm. I see you married to a really nice man. I see the initials C and M and …’ She folded Loveday’s hand into a fist and examined the creases that her palm made by her little finger. ‘I see three children.’

Loveday was impressed. ‘Really? I’d love three children. I wish I had brothers and sisters, but when Dad died … Mum would love to have lots of grandchildren.’

Mickey was thinking who they knew whose initials were CM. ‘Who’s this CM bloke?’

‘Dunno,’ said Loveday, thinking that Jesse’s initials were JB.

Greer helped them to figure it out. ‘Well, it might be MC, I suppose.’

Mickey’s face lit up. ‘Those are my initials!’ He looked as pleased as punch and Greer felt, for the second time that evening, a pang of guilt.

‘Read my palm, Greer.’ Jesse opened his hand to her.

She took it happily, touching his warm, dry skin and smoothing her fingertips over the calluses caused from helping his father on the boats.

‘Well, I see a very happy marriage for you and lots of children. Your wife will love you with all her heart.’

‘Can you see any initials?’ Jesse asked. Greer thought for a moment; she knew she couldn’t say her own so she truthfully said, ‘No. I can’t see any letters this time.’

Mickey let out a big laugh and started to play-fight with Jesse. ‘No letters for you! And French letters don’t count.’

Across the harbour car park, the door of the Golden Hind opened and Bryn Clovelly stepped out. He looked across to see where the laughter was coming from.