Cornish Killing, page 1
Cornish Killing
Chrissie Loveday
© Chrissie Loveday 2015
Chrissie Loveday has asserted her rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
This edition published in 2015 by Endeavour Press Ltd.
Table of Contents
Cornish Killing
Chrissie Loveday
Table of Contents
Chapter One
When Emma put the phone down, she shook her head. Typical Charlie.
‘Come with me to Cornwall on Saturday,’ she had burst out. ‘It’ll be fab. Help you forget your troubles.’
‘But I can’t just drop everything and go on holiday.’
‘Course you can. Just tell them you’re going. Or take a sicky.’
‘Grow up Charlie,’ she had snapped.
A remote cottage, left to her by some distant relation sounded amazing. She imagined chintz curtains, roses round the door and wonderful sea views, along with the obligatory cream teas. But then, Charlie always exaggerated these things. On the other hand, she’d been having a really bad time recently and she was certainly due some leave. But this Saturday was impossible. Maybe in a week or so she might manage it. Another phone call the next day and Emma was convinced.
‘I’ll drive down on Saturday and get things sorted. I’m not sure what sort of state it’s in. The old lady was in hospital at the end and it’s some time since she died. It may need a clean up. But I expect most things will be there. I’ll take some supplies in case. The solicitor’s arranging to leave the keys with a neighbour. Exciting isn’t it?’
‘I guess so. Look, I can get some holiday and come down next week. I’ll travel down on Thursday. If I come by train I can get a lift back with you and save myself the long drive.’
‘Brill,’ Charlie almost shouted. ‘Let me know the train time and I’ll pick you up in Penzance.’
‘I looked it up already. I should be in Penzance by six-thirty.’
‘I’ll be there. That gives me plenty of time to get everything in order and suss out the best places to eat. Can’t wait to see you.’
Emma watched the coasts of Devon and then Cornwall pass by the windows as she sat on the train. It had been a long journey. She was looking forward to seeing Charlie again. She took the postcard out of her handbag and looked at the picture of a rocky cove, deserted and picturesque. Exactly what she needed after the turmoil of last few weeks. Travelling by train was supposed to relax her instead of the hassle of driving. The problem with the train was that it had given her more time to reflect on her life and where she was going next. It was not a good prospect. She looked forward to talking things through with her best friend.
She and Charlie, Charlotte to her parents and only them, had been at school together and still saw each other regularly. The postcard had arrived yesterday, showing her what she might expect of the place and the proper address of the cottage.
“Hi M.A. How about this for a place? Gull Cottage, Bodilly Cove. Looks fab doesn’t it? C U soon. Love Charlie”
She smiled. M A indeed. Her friend had always used the abbreviation since they were kids. Said it saved writing time. She pushed the card back into her shoulder bag.
The train pulled into Penzance station and she gathered up her luggage and scanned the waiting crowds, looking for Charlie. People were greeting each other and leaving and very soon the platform was clear. No Charlie. Emma sat on the wall, looking over the harbour. Ropes clattered against metal masts and there was the salty tang in the air that everyone expects of the seaside. Classic Charlie. Forgotten the time and probably even what day it was. She was never the most reliable time keeper. But, it was going to be fun spending time together again. She glanced at her watch and dialled her friend’s number. No reply, and she didn’t even have voice mail on. Maybe the battery was flat or she was in one of the reception black spots in Cornwall she’d heard about.
Emma went to the booking office to ask if any message had been left but there was nothing.
‘Could I leave a message for someone?’ she asked.
‘Can do if you wants to, love. Can’t guarantee nothing though.’
‘My friend is supposed to meet me but she isn’t here yet. I’m starving so I’ll go to the café over there.’
‘What’s your friend look like?’
‘Blond. About my age. Tall and slim. I’ll come back when I’ve grabbed something to eat.’
‘Okay, Miss.’
‘Thanks a lot.’
Emma crossed the road and went into the café, lugging her travel bag behind her. She bought a roll and some coffee and sat by the window, looking out in case Charlie arrived. Half an hour later, she went back to the station.
‘You’m best get a taxi,’ advised the booking clerk. Where’m you going?’
‘Bodilly Cove. I think it’s a bit out of the way.’
‘No kidding. It’s middle of nowhere. Not even a road down there. You’m got some tidy walk when you gets even as close as the track goes. Nobody goes down there. Much too quiet for most people.’
‘Sounds wonderful. Just what I need. Okay then, thanks. My friend must have broken down or something.’
She gave in and got into one of the waiting cars. The taxi driver took her the seven miles or so and left her at the end of a narrow track that led down a path towards the sea.
‘You sure this is where you want to be?’ he asked.
‘I suppose so. There is something at the end of this, is there?’ she asked doubtfully.
‘There’s a cottage or two. You’re quite certain this was the address your friend gave you?’
‘Well yes. She wrote it on this postcard.’
‘Must be right then.’
‘Do you have a phone number I can call if I need a taxi again?’ He gave her a card. At least she wouldn’t be totally cut off if she needed help.
‘Cheers. Hope you meet up with your friend.’
Dusk was already starting to darken the narrow track and she hoped she was going in the right direction. It was narrow with high hedges so she couldn’t see very far ahead of her. At last, she caught a glimpse of the sea crashing over rocks far below her. She paused for a brief rest and hauled up her bag again. Why on earth had she brought so much stuff? Charlie had said she should pack waterproofs and walking boots or shoes, as they planned some hikes along the coastal footpath. Maybe she should stop and change into the boots right now to save carrying them. There was a rustling in the hedgerow beside her and she jumped, her heart beating ridiculously fast. A fox darted across her path and she laughed at her stupid fears. The animal paused, unafraid and with eyes shining almost green in fading light. It ran away. She shook her head. This counted as the countryside after all and foxes were everywhere these days. She felt jumpy and not a little worried. Where on earth was this damned cottage and what would she do if Charlie didn’t come back to let her in? Presumably, her car would have been left in the space at the top of the track, if this really was the only way down? She hadn’t seen the little yellow peril, as it was known.
After what felt like miles of trudging along the rough path, she saw a rooftop through the hedge. With a sigh of weariness she pushed through the broken down gate. It looked pretty dilapidated and with no sign of lights, seemed rather uninviting. She knocked on the door, without hope. She’d have words to say to Charlie when she finally turned up. She tried the handle and the door opened.
‘Hallo? Charlie?’ she called. ‘Anyone?’ It remained silent and quite dark. Had she come to the right place? She looked for the light switch and but couldn’t find it. She had a little torch in her bag and she shone it round. The place looked grubby and un-lived in. She gave a shiver and dumping her bag and pushed open nearest the door. It was a pretty basic kitchen. A cooker attached to a large calor gas bottle, a sink and a large kitchen table. There was a box of candles and some matches sitting on the draining board. That seemed ominous. She lit several candles and felt slightly comforted by having a little light.
‘There doesn’t even seem to be any electricity,’ she muttered. Nor was there any sign of someone living there. She walked round the rooms but it was all impersonal and very empty. No sign that Charlie had even been here. She must have come to the wrong place entirely. She heard a noise outside and went to the door. ‘Hallo?’ she called nervously. ‘Is that you Charlie?’
‘Hallo. Saw the light. What are you doing here?’
‘I’ve was expecting to be staying here.’
‘You’re not the girl who was s’posed to be coming here?’ came a gruff male voice. ‘Specting you last weekend we was. Got the place opened up and all.’
‘I’m one of the girls. My friend Charlie was supposed to be coming here last Saturday. She’s just inherited this place. I was to join her today but she didn’t turn up to meet me. I suppose this is Gull Cottage? Bodilly Cove? The taxi driver left me at the top and said it was down here.’
‘It is, right enough.’
‘Do you know where my friend is?’
‘Haven’t seen nothing of her.’ He looked even more shifty than before and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. ‘She never turned up so I s’posed she’d changed her mind. Her loss. Didn’t know anyone else was s’posed to be coming.’
‘I only decided last week. Couldn’t get away when she came down, so I came today instead. She was supposed to meet me at Penzance. I got a taxi when she didn’t arrive at the station.’
‘Yip. Charlotte so
‘Emma. Emma Peterson. And you?’
‘Rob Grenville. Owner of the place next door. Well, not exactly next door. Bit of a way along. What you planning to do?’
‘I don’t know. Stay here tonight at least, I suppose. I need to find out what’s happened to Charlie. Is that okay?’
‘Suit yourself. Nothing in though and a long way from the shops. Nothing ready here for anyone to stay. Maybe you’d best go back to Penzance and stay in a hotel or summat.’
‘It’s getting late. I sent the taxi away. Anyhow, I think I’d prefer to wait till tomorrow. I had a roll in town and some coffee. I’ll manage for tonight. Isn’t there any electricity?’
‘Not this far out there ain’t. You got gas for the cooker and candles. Not sure if there’s any gas left, mind you. Maybe some oil lamps somewhere but I doubt there’s any oil.’
‘How on earth do you get oil brought here?’
‘You buys it in town and carries here.’
‘All the way down that track?’
‘No other way. Has to carry anything you want. Unless you got a donkey,’ he chortled, revealing a row of yellow teeth. He was really quite a sinister looking chap. ‘All right. I’ll leave you to it, then.’ He strode off into the night and she watched as he went back along the path. He must live somewhere back along the way she had come. She hadn’t noticed any other dwellings anywhere.
So this was it. Nine-thirty. She was in a deserted cottage in the middle of nowhere, with the most basic of facilities. Her only light was provided by a box of candles which weren’t going to last very long unless she rationed herself. She put some of them out. She picked up one of the candles and carried it carefully up the narrow stairs, shading the flame with her hand to prevent it blowing out. There was no carpet and the bare boards echoed as she went up. It was horribly spooky. There seemed to be two bedrooms and nothing else up there. Iron bedsteads held lumpy looking mattresses but there was no bedding. It smelt damp and musty and certainly provided nowhere to sleep that night. Nor was there any sign of sanitation. She hoped there was some sort of toilet somewhere. Probably outside. Her candle would never stay alight in the wind that seemed to be howling outside suddenly. She took her little torch out through the back door and shone it round. There was a shed up the garden path. She looked inside and saw a wooden seat with a hole in it.
‘Primitive or what?’ she grumbled to no-one. But, if it was the best offered, she’d just have to make the best of it. Grimacing slightly, she used it. Spiders scuttled by at the light of her torch and she shivered. She had never minded spiders till now, and the whole situation was making her nervous and jumpy. It was too late to do anything else now. She had to stay the night, and tomorrow she’d begin her search.
What could have happened to Charlie? It seemed clear that she had never been here. So where was she? Emma shivered. This was turning out to be a night she’d rather forget. She took a candle into the living room and though dirty, saw what looked like a reasonable armchair. It would have to do. She took out several sweaters and a fleece from her case and tried to wrap herself in them. She had put out the candles except one and settled down. She could do nothing until daylight, so she might as well try to sleep. This was not exactly the start to the holiday that she’d been expecting. She’d been hoping for a nice meal, a bottle of wine and a long gossip. The two of them sitting cosily in front of a fire, talking late into the night.
She still felt cold. Perhaps it might be possible to light a fire. Or perhaps she could put the cooker on and drag the chair into the kitchen? But then, there might not be much gas in the cylinder and she could see no way of getting more down here. Perhaps Rob Grenville had been exaggerating or maybe he did own a donkey. She tugged her clothes round her more tightly and closed her eyes, trying to make her surroundings go away. Every sound seemed to echo round the building and being an old place, creaks and groans seemed to be everywhere. Several times she got up and checked the doors were locked. Exhausted, she finally dozed off a few times but was quickly awoken by the unfamiliar sounds and cramping in her muscles. The candle burned down and she was left in darkness, trying to plan the best thing to do in the morning.
Dawn finally lit the sky with distant vermillion streaks and she glanced at her watch. It was five-thirty and she peered out of the grimy windows. The dim light revealed a thick mist was rising and she couldn’t see anything beyond the garden. This nightmare was destined to continue for a while yet. She felt desperate for a cup of coffee, but that was a dream she couldn’t fulfil.
‘Damn you, Charlie. Where the hell are you? And why did I ever listen to you?’ The words echoed round the empty building. No curtains or carpets to absorb sound. She ran the tap at the sink and brown water gushed out. She ran it for several minutes until it became less brown and finally splashed the icy water on her face, drying it on one of her tee-shirts. She hadn’t thought to bring even a towel, assuming Charlie would provide everything. Perhaps if she threw herself on Rob’s mercy, he might at least give her a cup of coffee. She could ask him about the donkey too; she managed to giggle silently. If she was to stay on here, she needed to sort some basic provisions. Maybe there was a wheelbarrow somewhere? She could leave it at the top of the track while she went to buy things from somewhere and then wheel it back.
Emma went outside, sniffing the sea air and feeling the clean coldness going into her lungs. It felt good after the damp mustiness of the cottage. The unkempt garden had no wheelbarrow or anything else remotely useful. It seemed everything had been cleared away apart from the most basic of furniture. She wondered who would have left it all so empty and desolate. If whoever had left the place to Charlie had actually been living there, what had happened to everything? She heard a noise and faint sounds of voices. Someone was walking along the coastal path maybe. She went to the gate but the mist was covering everything and she could hear only muffled sounds and the faint noise of the waves breaking on the rocks far below. She went back inside and looked to see if there was any fuel to light a fire. At least it might air the place a little. There was nothing. Every few minutes, her mind went back to Charlie. Had something happened to her? She dialled the number again but still got no reply. She stood outside listening intently, but if there had been anyone near, they were there no longer. She heard the faint hum of an engine and peered towards where she thought the sea must be but the mist was too thick. Perhaps boats could get nearer and that might be the way of collecting supplies.
Thoroughly spooked, she decided to risk going to see Rob Grenville. Six-thirty. Perhaps Rob was an early riser. She left her things inside the cottage and set off to look for his house in the direction she had seen him leave the previous night.
The mist was giving everywhere a dampness that seemed to penetrate through to her very bones. She fantasised about cups of steaming hot coffee, bacon and eggs. She felt starving and hoped the man could offer her something to eat. She would gladly pay him if he would. Maybe he had a nice cheery wife who would produce an amazing breakfast. Off to one side, she saw another small track and she went down it towards a cottage not unlike Charlie’s inheritance. It did have smoke coming from the chimney which she felt was a good sign. At least someone was up. She went up the weed covered path and knocked at the door. She heard a scuffling noise and again, what she believed to be muffled voices. After what seemed like several minutes had passed, the door opened.
‘Thought it might be you,’ Rob said gruffly.
‘I wondered if you’d take pity on me and give me a cup of coffee. Or tea. And better still, could I buy some breakfast from you?’ He stared at Emma, a look of confusion crossing his face.
‘Sorry. Got nothing in.’
‘Just black coffee would do. I just need something hot to warm me.’
‘You can’t come in. Sorry.’ He made to shut the door but she put her hand out.
‘Please, if you can’t give me even a drink, perhaps you can tell me where the nearest shop is?’
‘If you walks back up to the main road, there’s a garage a way along. They has a shop of sorts. Buses go along the road sometimes so you can get into town. You gonna leave then?’
