A Good Catch Part 8

A timid knock on the cubicle door made her jolt.

'Is anyone in there?' It was Loveday's mother.

Greer got to her feet and flushed the loo again to make it look as if she hadn't been sitting there trying to sober up. She opened the door and Mrs Carter smiled kindly at her.

'You all right?' she asked.

'Fine, Mrs Carter. Thank you.'

'I saw you run in here and wondered if you might like a gla.s.s of water or something, darling?'

Greer wondered how much Mrs Carter had seen and understood.

'No, thank you. I'm fine, really.'

'That's good.' Mrs Carter made no move to go into the cubicle. Instead she put her hand comfortingly on Greer's shoulder and leant in closer. She smelt of alcohol mixed with Dior Poison.

'Seeing your mam and dad dancing like that has taken me back.' She s.h.i.+fted unsteadily and her eyes seemed glazed over.

Greer wanted to sit down or go home or both, but this wretched woman wouldn't leave her alone. She made an attempt at good manners. 'Taken you back to when?'

'When we was all at school together. Your dad was so handsome. All we girls wanted to dance with him. He's still got it, hasn't he? I haven't seen him dance like that since he married your mum.' Mrs Carter had a faraway look in her eye that Greer didn't like.

'He used to dance like that with me, you know.'

Greer was feeling queasy again. 'What do you mean?'

'He and I went out with each other for a little while, but your mum took dancing lessons and before long they were a couple on the dance floor ...' Mrs Carter sighed again. 'And in life.'

Beads of sweat popped out on Greer's top lip and forehead. She didn't want to hear any more. 'Excuse me, Mrs Carter, but I must get some fresh air.' She made a dash for the door and just heard Mrs Carter's imploring, 'Don't tell Loveday, will you? She thinks her dad was my one and only boyfriend.'

G.o.d, what was going on with these adults? What kind of role models were they? She slipped through the pub bar and out to the front where she found an empty bench tucked into the shadows. She breathed the cool night air. It was tinged with the familiar smell of salt, seaweed, diesel and fish and chips. She took stock of her evening. Her parents were some kind of dancing nuts, and her best friend's mother had gone out with her dad. She didn't want to imagine how intimate they might or might not have been. Her world seemed to have turned upside down. Then she thought of Jesse and the way he had held her tonight. She was sure she'd seen a flicker of real emotion in his eye. Until her parents had shown themselves up. What would he think of her now? She buried her face in her hands for the second time that evening.

After a while she sensed that she wasn't alone. Someone sat on the bench next to her and the wooden slats gave way a little, making her bounce slightly.

'All right, are you, Greer?' asked Jesse.

She stayed hunched but took her hands from her face. 'Yes.'

'Loveday's mum's worried about you. She thought you might not be feeling well.'

'I'm fine.'

'Sure?'

'Sure.'

Jesse stretched his long legs out in front of him and stretched his arms over his head. She turned to look at him. He was staring at the stars. She drank in his wonderful profile. His always tousled blond hair was carelessly sticking out in all directions. His eyebrows framed his honest sea-green eyes. His lashes were fair but long and his nose straight and strong. His lips, slightly parted, were on the thin side but they framed his teeth perfectly.

He spoke. 'Satellite. Look.' She tilted her head up and followed his pointing finger. Sure enough, across the heavens a bright light was moving at speed. 'I wanted to be an astronaut when I was young.'

She smiled. 'You are young.'

Now he turned those sea-green eyes to her. 'Greer, I've got six O levels and I'm leaving school to work with my dad. I'm already old.'

'You're only sixteen. You can go to college, get some more qualifications.'

'That's for people like you. You want to go to college, don't you?'

'Art school. But my dad wants me to do a secretarial course.'

'Sensible.'

'I don't want sensible. I want to be an interior designer. To make beautiful houses for beautiful people, and ...' She looked down at her feet in their pretty pink suede court shoes, 'and I want to be married and have children.'

Jesse lifted his arm and put it round her shoulders, aware of what he was doing, thinking again of her smooth skin and her firm thighs. He couldn't seem to stop himself: the mix of alcohol, the heat of the pub and his raging hormones had put his body and his mind at odds with each other. 'Do you now? And who have you got your eye on?'

It was now or never, under the starry night sky, and still slightly drunk she looked him full in the eye and breathed, 'You.'

His father's words you'd do a lot worse than to marry that girl drifted through Jesse's alcoholic haze.

Greer felt his arm lift a little away from her and he was silent for a moment before he started to laugh. Now his arm was back by his side, searching for his other arm to cross defensively over his chest, his heart.

'You're a funny one when you're drunk, aren't you?' He stood up. 'Let's go back. The others will be wondering where we are. We don't want to start any rumours, do we?'

She stayed where she was, horrified and ashamed that she'd played her hand so openly.

'I'll join you in a minute.'

He looked down at her and held out a large hand. 'Come on, you. We all say silly things when we're p.i.s.sed. I promise not to tell. Now take my hand and let's go back.'

The party had degenerated into several couples clinging to each other in a slow dance. Around the edges sat groups of people chatting or snogging. The fire pit for the hog roast had died down to a mellow glow and the hog itself was just a charred carca.s.s. Greer glanced around to find her parents. She saw them through a window sitting inside in the bar.

Her feeling of relief was swiftly abated when a breathless Loveday ran up to them in distress.

'Jesse, your brother's challenged Ricky the DJ to an arm-wrestling match. He's ever so drunk and I'm frightened he's going to hurt him.'

'Oh s.h.i.+t,' said Jesse, and he sprinted off into the pub.

A crowd had gathered around Grant and Ricky. Ricky was a big lad with strong arms and a beer belly, and he was holding his own. Grant's tattooed muscles, though, were as dense and hard as granite. He was staring into the DJ's pudgy face and through bared teeth said, 'Come on, fat boy. You can do better than this, can't you?'

Ricky dug deep and strengthened his grip. 'You don't scare me, soldier boy. I was in the Falklands. I've killed people.'

'Yeah?' grimaced Grant, pus.h.i.+ng his muscles till they quivered. 'Well, you're a tub of lard now, aren't you?'

There was a sudden parting of the crowd as Mickey and Jesse pushed through. Their arrival momentarily broke Grant's concentration and Ricky, seeing his chance, slammed Grant's arm down. The crowd cheered but quickly quietened as they saw Grant smash his fist into Ricky's face. There was the sickening sound of crunching bone and a splatter of blood arced from the DJ's nose across the crowd.

Someone must have dialled 999 because within minutes two police cars and an ambulance had arrived, their sirens and blue lights strobing the peace of the harbour.

A few of the more drunken and troublesome teens lingered on the harbour, looking for trouble, before they were herded away by the police; the party quickly broke up, with only the hardened rubberneckers lingering. Ricky the DJ was put in the ambulance with a police officer and driven off to Truro and Treliske Hospital.

Grant was handcuffed after attempting to resist arrest and was being questioned in the bar. It wasn't long before a Royal Marines Police vehicle arrived and he was locked in the back for the return journey to his Plymouth barracks. Jesse could only watch helplessly as Grant was driven away. Thanks to him, the night had ended on a downer and all the excitement and expectation that had been flowing through the crowd had now drained away, just like the remains of the punch that Pete was pouring down the sink.

Jesse was left with the difficult of job of going home to tell his parents that Grant was, once again, in trouble.

8.

1989.

Greer stepped off the train at Bodmin and walked out to the pavement, where cars were parking ready to collect her fellow travellers. She s.h.i.+elded her eyes against the dazzling June suns.h.i.+ne and stood her suitcase and two canvas 'overspill' bags at her feet, face turned to the sun, inhaling the scent of clean Cornish air.

'Greer darling!' Her mother's voice carried on the breeze. Elizabeth was stepping half in and half out of the pa.s.senger seat of Bryn's latest car. Her left leg was still in the footwell, her right on the tarmac, and both hands holding onto the top of the open car door. She was beaming and waving frantically.

Greer could see her father pus.h.i.+ng his sungla.s.ses to the top of his head and then opening the heavy door of the big BMW. He got out and walked to the boot. He opened it and then strolled towards her, giving Greer a chance to admire how fit and tanned and successful he looked. 'Darling, welcome home.' He kissed her and picked up the suitcase and one of the canvas bags. 'You can manage that one, can't you?' He nodded his head to the remaining bag.

'I've managed all of them from London, Dad.'

'Hope you haven't gone all women's lib on us?' He laughed.

Greer was thinking that her dad was being as embarra.s.sing as usual and was struggling to come up with a suitable retort when her mother bustled up. 'Darling Greer. You look so lovely! So slim in that dress. But what have you done with your hair?'

Greer's free hand flew to the back of her neck where perfect feathers of hair lay short. 'I got bored with the bob.'

'But it was a cla.s.sic cut. You've had it since you were three.'

'Exactly. I'm eighteen years old. I needed a change.'

Her mother sniffed disapprovingly before saying, 'Never mind. It will grow.'

Her father loaded her bags into the boot and Greer stepped into the back seat. As with all her father's cars it was the best he could afford. Top of the range, walnut, soft leather and deep-pile carpet.

'I like your new car, Dad.'

'Only picked it up two days ago. Wanted to collect you in style.' He put the gearstick into drive mode and pulled away from the kerb. Her mother craned round to chat to her daughter.

'Congratulations on your typing speed and shorthand. And how you've mastered the word processor, I've no idea. Your father has two in the office. The girls were showing them to me but it's all so complicated.' Her mother turned back to face the road.

'Not when you know how, Mum.' Greer was looking out of the window, enjoying the sights she hadn't seen for two long years. The valley to her right held woodland and fields. To her left were the steep lanes leading to Lanhydrock House.

'There's a job for a secretary in the office at the moment.' Her father caught her gaze in the rear-view mirror. 'Tessa's going off on maternity leave in a couple of weeks. She says she'll be back, but she won't. Women don't come back once they've started a family. But I have to pay her while she's away. It's a government con.'

Greer tried to let her father's misogynistic stream flow over her. She had got what she'd wanted. She'd done a two-year course in interior design at a smart private college in Surrey, and, to keep her father happy, studied for a secretarial course in London during the holidays. That had left her no time to return to Cornwall while she focused on gaining her qualifications, but it meant she'd achieved them as quickly as possible.

'I got a distinction in my design course.'

There was a tight silence from the front seats.

'Good,' her mother finally said.

Greer persevered. 'Actually, I have a surprise for you.'

Silence.

'I got Student of the Year.'

She saw her father raise his eyebrows in a look that said, 'What's the b.l.o.o.d.y use of that?' before her mother managed: 'That's nice.'

Greer said nothing more. She knew that she'd done extremely well, despite their dismissive att.i.tude. They could ignore it if they liked, but Greer had worked hard for that distinction and it wouldn't go to waste, no matter what her father might think. She continued to look out of the window, content to watch the familiar landmarks slide by. Trelawney Garden Centre, the bridge over the river at Wadebridge, and the Royal Cornwall Showground. They continued along the dramatic and romantically named Atlantic Highway until the first sign to Trevay came into view.

'Nearly home now, Greer.' Her mum turned back to smile at her.

Greer's heart was starting to pound and b.u.t.terflies were battering away inside her stomach. Nearly home. Nearly. She opened her mouth and asked the question she'd been burning to ask since she got off the train. 'How's Jesse?'

Loveday was forking a chip into her mouth and lapping up everything Greer was telling her about her two years up country. The girls had stayed in touch with occasional letters and postcards, but Greer hadn't come home for the entire two years that she'd been away at college. She had been determined to get her head down and finish the course as soon as she possibly could. She'd asked Loveday to come and see her, in the hope that Mickey and Jesse might tag along too, but Loveday never seemed to have enough money or time to make what she appeared to regard as an epic journey.

Greer had vaguely entertained the thought of staying on, but when she'd tried to find a position in one of the interior design companies up there, she never seemed to have the right connections. Despite the Clovelly name meaning something in Trevay, she had quickly become aware it stood for nothing in Guildford or Woking. The Surrey set she'd mixed with had all been very sophisticated and well-to-do; the girls who had found positions all had posh dads with serious connections. Greer realised she missed that feeling of being part of an influential and wealthy family, getting what she wanted when she wanted; being envied by people around her for her style and wealth. In short, she missed being in Trevay.

'I shared a flat with another girl, Laura, who was on the same design course. You should have seen how we did the place up! We painted the kitchen warm terracotta and hung garlands of fresh hops around the top of the wall units. Our landlord had never seen anything like it. He said he'd get twice the rent for it now. Laura taught me how to make curtains and we bought yards and yards of ticking fabric in the market and made the longest drapes you've ever seen. Really theatrical with swags and tie-backs.'

'What's a tie-back?'

Greer got out a little notebook which held her sketches for ideas and showed it to her friend. It was about time Trevay had its own interior designer and Greer knew her mother had lots of wealthy friends who would jump at the chance to have their houses improved by someone with her talents and training.

'Bleddy h.e.l.l. No wonder you got Top Student,' Loveday said with real wonder. 'I bet the boys loved you.'

Greer put the notebook back in her bag. 'It was a virtually all-girl course and the boys we did have were gay.'

Loveday's eyes virtually popped out of her head. 'Gay? You mean like they had boyfriends?'

'Yes. Don't be so parochial.' Greer frowned, taking a sip of her coffee. There had been a few casual boyfriends and nights out, but nothing serious, and there was no one who could give her the same thrill of excitement as she felt when she thought about Jesse. 'Do you want my biscuit?' She pushed her saucer with its small round of shortbread on it towards Loveday.

Loveday had finished her fish and chips and shook her head. 'No, thank you, I'm on a diet.'

'Are you?' Greer said archly. 'I thought Mickey liked you just the way you are.'

'Mickey's just Mickey. There's never going to be anything between him and me.'