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Morwenna Mutton and her bicycle sped down the hill as one. Houses rushed past in a blur on either side as she plummeted towards the shining sapphire half-moon of the bay. She spun the pedals; it would be a harder ride uphill on the way home, but that was later, and this was now. The road plateaued out as she pushed her trainer-soled feet harder for extra speed, flashing past the pop-up shop where Susan and Barb Grundy raised their knitting needles in greeting. Morwenna waved back. She could imagine them talking right now, their voices a low cluck:
‘There goes Morwenna on her way to the library. It must be almost nine o’clock.’
‘Look at her, all that hair and stripey leggings, and at her age too.’
‘They are all the same, those Mutton women, not one of them cares what anyone thinks.’
‘I know, Barb – she’s no spring chicken. And there’s no man in the house now to calm her ways. Whatever does she think she’s like?’
Morwenna grinned as she swerved around a car – the driver hadn’t noticed her – and took a left-hand bend into a paved street. Of course, she had no evidence that Susan and her sister Barb were talking about her but, bless them, they talked about everyone all the time, their gossip hiding warm hearts as they sat in their shop knitting to raise funds for the Lifeboats Institution.
She slowed down outside Seal Bay Library, a Victorian red-brick building, the wooden door already gaping wide to greet visitors. She cocked a rainbow-striped leg over the saddle and wheeled the old sit-up-and-beg, complete with basket, into the library. One day she’d get one of those modern electric bikes: it would certainly help with the steep hills that made her lungs heave each evening on the way back to Harbour Cottages. Years ago, she’d whizz everywhere with no effort, but now going uphill was slower and harder. Besides, it was the first day of September; the rains would come soon and it was always less fun checking in borrowed books when you were drenched from head to foot and steaming.
Morwenna shook her hair free from her collar, a fountain of silver. Now she was in her sixties – sixty one – people said she should cut it or wear it in a sensible bun. It would be more appropriate, apparently. Morwenna laughed: the word appropriate wasn’t invented for her. She’d always had long hair. She wasn’t going to change now. She leaned the bike against a wall in the corridor and sauntered into the library, smelling the welcoming dusty aroma of much-loved books. Louise Piper was efficiently arranging novels from the returns trolley onto the shelves. She turned, short flame hair, a flash of red lipstick, and smiled a greeting. ‘Nine o’clock. Bang on time. Kettle’s on. Cup of tea?’
‘I’d love one.’ Morwenna stowed her jacket and bag in her locker and watched Louise's
brisk movements affectionately. Louise was absolutely reliable; she ran the Seal Bay library five days a week with military precision. Ten years younger than Morwenna, she was her complete opposite: sensible, inscrutable, married. They were the perfect partners. Louise handed Morwenna a mug with the scrawled slogan: No one’s perfect but being Cornish is near ’nuff.
Morwenna took a sip. ‘Are we on for a swim on Sunday, bright and early?’
‘Wouldn’t miss it.’ Louise slurped milky brown liquid from her own mug. ‘It’s a shame we can’t get more people to come. If only they knew how good it is for body and soul. Will your mum come along, or will it be just us two and a few random stragglers?’
‘Mum keeps threatening to turn up, but it’s too early for her. She sleeps in until lunchtime and then grumbles that her hips are sore.’
‘She is in her eighties though.
‘That’s no excuse,’ Morwenna protested. ‘She’s always telling me we’re from strong female stock.’
‘What about your daughter?’
Morwenna shook her head, her hair spilling over her face. ‘No way. Tam’s too busy with the tea shop and looking after Elowen, although I’d love to take the little one swimming with us. She’s like a dolphin in the water; she’s desperate to join in. Tam says she can come when she’s ten, but I think now’s as good a time as any. Five isn’t too young. She’d be safe with us in shallow water.’
‘She would,’ Louise agreed. She put down her cup and reached for a pile of books. ‘It’s time to tidy up.’
‘We seem to have a lot of stray books this morning.’ Morwenna gazed at the pile on the counter. ‘Has Lizzie been up to her tricks?’
Louise was serious. ‘She has. She’s been at the biscuits again too. The packet was open when I came in, crumbs all over the floor. And she’s been rearranging the books under the counter. You probably ought to address her properly: Lady Elizabeth Pengellen – we should respect the dead.’
‘You don’t really believe she’s haunting the library, do you?’
‘I do – I find books every day where I know I haven’t left them: by the door, beneath the
shelves. And she loves snacks. She even had a bite of a cheese sandwich I left behind.’ Louise’s eyes were round. ‘We definitely have a restless ghost at large.’
‘It’s probably my fault there are books left out. I didn’t eat the cheese sandwich though.’ Morwenna grinned. ‘Being serious, it is a known fact that Lady Elizabeth died in terrible circumstances at Pengellen Manor and is said to haunt the town library because it was her sanctuary. Apparently, her husband treated her badly and the only way she could escape him was by coming here to read.’
‘I believe it.’ Louise was serious. ‘Then her husband broke her heart, and she took poison. Lady Elizabeth’s only solace was her books – she often hid away amongst the ordinary folk of Seal Bay. Now she’s returns to us each night.’
Morwenna waved a copy of Wind in the Willows she’d just found beneath the counter. ‘Well, I agree with her about being among books – a good read is the best companion.’ She finished the last gulp from her mug and joined Louise, who was arranging novels on shelves. ‘Who needs a man when you can read a good book?’
‘But love is everything…’ Louise touched a copy of Sense and Sensibility. ‘Jane Austen said, “To love is to burn, to be on fire.”’ She sighed. ‘I’m so lucky to have my Steve. We’ve been married thirty years this Christmas, you know.’
‘She also said, “Friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love,”’ Morwenna quipped quickly. ‘I’m done with romance. It’s too much like hard work.’
‘You can’t mean that.’ Louise paused before she asked, ‘Do you think you and Ruan might get back together one day?’
‘After all those years, bringing up Tamsin through thick and thin, for richer and poorer? We became a habit – we were just going through the motions in the end. Ah, we’re still friends, but no, things went wrong for us.’ Morwenna was lost in thought for a moment. ‘I still see him some mornings, heading off at dawn. Being a fisherman keeps him going. I don't
think he’ll ever retire from the boats – it’s his first love, the sea.’ She shrugged. ‘His only love.’
‘Isn’t it difficult, having him living across the road?’
‘It’s great when I run out of teabags,’ Morwenna joked. She indicated two books. ‘Oh look – Emma and Northanger Abbey are in the wrong places – Lizzie was busy last night.’
Louise put a finger to her lips. ‘She’ll hear you.’
‘If she does, I’ll ask her to tidy up once she’s finished reading…’ Morwenna’s eyes twinkled.
There were footsteps in the corridor and Louise jerked around nervously, startled as a rabbit. A young man walked in, slender in a smart jacket and jeans, a sweeping fringe over his eyes. Morwenna rushed across. ‘Hello, Simon. How’s it going?’
The young man leaned on the counter. ‘I need something to read…’
‘Then you’re in the right place.’ Morwenna smiled. ‘What are you looking for? Something on business? Economics? More John Maynard Keynes?’
‘I finished uni a year ago. I’ve just been bumming around since.’ Simon shrugged. ‘My dad says I need a job…’
‘How is Alex?’ Louise asked, strolling across to the counter.
‘I never see him much – or my mum,’ Simon grunted. ‘They do their own thing.’
‘Well, it’s such a big house – I expect it’s easy to lose them.’ Louise leaned on her elbows. ‘And you have such a lovely view of the sea. I always say to Steve, if we had pots of money, that’s the house I’d like to buy. It’s remote, beautiful, on the romantic cliff top, the best spot in Seal Bay.’
‘I want to get a flat in Truro. Or London.’ Simon gazed around the library. ‘I was born in London – but we’ve been here for ten years now. I’d love to go back. Nothing ever happens in Cornwall.’
‘Oh,’ Morwenna said brightly. ‘So you came in for a good book. Shall I recommend something escapist? A fantasy, perhaps?’
Simon shrugged. ‘I don’t know – I thought maybe a book about gambling – one that shows you how to win lots of money…’
‘We have The Logic of Gambling.’ Louise suggested.
‘Yeh, that’ll do for starters.’ Simon fumbled in his pocket for a library card. ‘I’d like to be
rich and independent. It’d be better than working for Dad.’
Louise rushed over to a shelf and found the book almost immediately. Simon turned to Morwenna. ‘I bet it’s quiet in the tearoom now the holidaymakers have gone.’
‘The emmets, as we call them in Cornwall? Yes – one more week and that’ll be the last of them.’ Morwenna said sadly. ‘Trade always drops in September and it doesn’t pick up again until March, although we usually manage. We expect a dip in trade, out of season. But it’s good to have the visitors. I like meeting interesting characters from all over the country.’
‘This time of year has its compensation, though,’ Louise said, placing the book in front of Simon. ‘I always think you and Tamsin make such a good job of keeping the business going off-season.’ She smiled. ‘Do you remember the Proper Ansom Halloween Night? Proper Ansom is such a good name for your family’s tearoom – a proper ansom Cornish welcome’s always guaranteed. We had a great night, dressing up as vampires and ghosts!’
‘And not a sign of Lizzie.’ Morwenna raised an eyebrow.
‘I like the calm atmosphere in the autumn,’ Simon said quietly. ‘I can sit with a coffee and read without anyone disturbing me.’ He avoided Morwenna’s eyes. ‘Tamsin’s really nice. She never hurries me up or asks me to buy more coffee – she just lets me look through the window for hours at the sea rolling in.’
‘Sounds wonderful. Don’t forget your book,’ Louise reminded him.
Simon’s dreamy expression left his face and his eyes narrowed as he gazed at the book. ‘This is what I need; a lucrative hobby.’
‘Don’t we all?’ Morwenna agreed, but Simon turned slowly, engrossed in the blurb on the back cover as he ambled out of the library.
‘Bless him,’ Morwenna said kindly. ‘He’s lonely, I think. He’s never really settled here.’
‘He’s nothing like his dad. Alex is ambitious. And his mum has a high opinion of herself
‘The Truscotts are all right,’ Morwenna replied. ‘It’s hard being accepted in Seal Bay if you’re not a local.’
‘They’ve been here ten years, he said,’ Louise protested.
‘Imelda Parker, Elowen’s teacher, has lived here for twenty years and there are still some people who think she’s an outsider. And she was born in Penzance.’ Morwenna winked.
‘The Truscotts own so much of Seal Bay. I think that’s why people don’t warm to them, because they are entrepreneurs.’ Louise smiled. ‘Simon’s sweet on your Tamsin. It was written all over his face.’
Morwenna laughed. ‘She’d eat him alive. Besides, she’s a good deal older than Simon. And she’s getting engaged. The party is on the ninth. Are you coming?’
‘I wouldn’t miss it.’
‘We’re holding it on the beach. Fancy dress, pirate theme. Bring a bottle – we’re organising food.’
‘I can’t wait,’ Louise replied. ‘I love a good dance and fancy dress. Mind you, there will be some clearing up to do the following morning.’
‘That’s all sorted, the family and neighbours will pitch in. Unless we ask our resident ghost to do it,’ Morwenna said. ‘If you’re listening, Lizzie, there’s some litter- picking on the beach next weekend.’
Morwenna and Louise were quiet for a moment, all ears. Then, in response, a dull creak came from a distant corner of the library. Morwenna lifted an eyebrow meaningfully and whispered, ‘I think she heard us…’
Louise’s face was a picture of horror as she held her breath. Morwenna squeezed her shoulder and grinned. ‘Only joking.’
‘What are you like?’ Louise tutted loudly.
Morwenna lifted her empty mug. ‘Time for another cuppa – and a biscuit, I think, before our resident ghost steals them all!’
At half twelve, Donald Stewart, polite and formal behind a white goatee beard and metal-framed glasses, arrived for the afternoon shift in the library. Morwenna was on her way again. As she lifted a leg over her bicycle and crammed her bag in the front basket, she heard him talking quietly to Louise. ‘I believe I can communicate with the dead. There is a definite presence here, a strange coldness to the air…’
Morwenna smiled at the thought of Louise and Donald trying to contact the ghost. She followed a bus around a road-island into town towards the front where the Proper Ansom Tearoom stood, painted white and blue with a panoramic window overlooking the sea. An old white van was parked outside, blue letters on the side that read Jack the Painter, a cartoon of a young man smiling with a brush in his hand. A ladder was leaning against the wall, under the topmost window of Tamsin’s flat above the shop. Morwenna tugged her bike inside and rushed to the toilets, coming out moments later wearing an apron. She grinned in the direction of the young woman with the light brown ponytail, blue striped t-shirt and dungaree shorts who was collecting cups on a tray.
‘Time for my afternoon shift.’ Morwenna flapped her arms. ‘I’m all sweet-smelling now. Nothing like a good wash and some strong deodorant, as my mum always said…’
‘Tell the whole teashop, why don’t you, Mum?’ Tamsin Pascoe grinned, pulling a face.
Morwenna looked around. A couple in anoraks were inspecting the cutlery; a family of four in the corner nibbled a shared cake. A curly-haired man in paint-spattered overalls was slouched in a chair, eating a scone, pushing half of it into his mouth. Morwenna nodded to him. ‘How are you doing, Jack?’
The young man tried his best to reply with his mouth full. ‘Fine thanks, Morwenna.’
‘Are you on your lunch break?’ She took in his overalls. ‘Or just here for a chat with your fiancée?’
Jack Greenwood looked momentarily awkward until Morwenna gave him a friendly wink. Tamsin took over. ‘I’ve asked Jack to give the outside wall a lick of paint while the weather holds.’
Jack finished the scone. ‘Tam wants the flat upstairs painted too.’
Tamsin grinned. ‘Now we’re both living here, I thought it was time for a smart new look. Jack’s going to give the place a complete facelift and do Elowen’s room. She wants sunshine yellow walls.’
‘She’s our little ray of sunshine.’ Morwenna gazed towards Jack who was washing the scone down with tea.
Tamsin moved towards Morwenna, muttering, ‘Mum, can you take over here? I need to get back behind the counter Table two want cream teas and table five have one piece of cake between them. See if you can get
them to buy some drinks…’
‘Right.’ Morwenna glanced at Jack, who put his feet up on a chair, and she stifled a smile. Nine months ago, he’d arrived from somewhere up country, met Tamsin and began a painting and decorating business from a tiny bedsit. Then a month ago, he moved into the flat. Morwenna thought he seemed like a nice young man, but in her heart, she worried that they’d set up home too quickly. She believed in taking time over decisions, but she knew why they had moved so quickly: they were impetuous, in love. And they wanted to be a family, with Elowen at the heart. Morwenna wondered how her granddaughter would adapt – her family’s happiness was everything.
Her own relationship to Ruan Pascoe, Tamsin’s father, had been happy at first. It had lasted well, then it had become routine, then it was nothing. Finally, it was over, eighteen months ago. She wanted more than that for Tamsin. Besides, Jack would be a stepfather to Elowen, and Morwenna hoped that Tamsin had someone who’d care for her. Jack seemed to love the little five-year-old girl, swinging her high at every opportunity, making her laugh. After all, Elowen would never know her real dad. Morwenna wasn’t even sure that Tamsin did, but that was another story and, as far as Morwenna was concerned, the less said about that the better. Elowen came first.
‘Mum,’ Tamsin hissed. Morwenna had been staring though the window towards the rushing sea, in dreamland.
‘Sorry.’ Morwenna blinked, then she scurried to the family on table five. ‘Can I get you all some drinks?’
‘A pot of tea for two and home-made lemonade for the children,’ the mother replied, all rounded vowels. She smoothed her trousers.
‘And another slice of that lovely lemon drizzle cake.’ The father beamed, showing gleaming teeth. ‘Do you make it on the premises?’
‘My daughter makes it. She does most of the cooking here,’ Morwenna said with a smile. She noticed Jack sit up straight from the corner of her eye, his face shining with pride.
‘Mummy, can we have cake too?’ one of the children asked. He was around Elowen’s age,
his hair parted smartly at the side.
‘You can all share mine,’ the father replied quickly and Morwenna wondered if the family was short of money, despite appearing so neat and tidy. So many people were less well off than you’d think nowadays. She imagined them on holiday on a budget, at a camp site or in a small caravan, trying to have fun without spending much. She resolved to come back with an extra piece of cake; she’d say it was the end slice, she didn’t want it to go to waste – they could have it on the house.
As soon as she’d deposited the fresh tray and two slices of cake in front of the family, she rushed back in to collect the cream teas for the couple in matching anoraks. Then the doorbell chimed and Carole Taylor blustered in, a flustered woman with bright cheeks. Two small girls pushed through the narrow door in front of her. The smallest, dark plaits swinging, hurried to Morwenna and clutched her waist, almost butting the tray. ‘Grandma!’
‘Elowen…’ Morwenna put the tray down and bent over to kiss her warm cheek. ‘How are you, my bewty?’
‘I’m all right. Can me and Britney and Carole have some lemonade?’
‘I’ll bring you some over.’ Morwenna smiled. ‘Take a seat, Carole – you must be worn out, looking after your own little one all morning and Elowen too.’
‘I’m all in – I’ll be glad when they’re back at school next week. They’re both in Miss Parker’s class. I like her, even though she comes from Penzance.’ Carole collapsed at a table and Britney, round-faced and blonde like her mother, copied her actions. ‘The emmets are almost all gone now – it’ll be quiet at the guest house until the spring.’
‘I bet,’ Morwenna called over. ‘It must be nice to have a few months off from running the B&B.’
‘Vic has me helping at the garage through the winter. He says I’m good at selling cars – he says I have a persuasive face.’ She beamed. ‘You should buy a car, Morwenna. We can do you a good deal at Taylor Made Motors.’
‘I’m still doing all right with the bicycle. ...
