Page 121 of A Secret Cornish Wish
‘The Enchantment Under the Sea dance?’ I say. ‘It’s from that movie, isn’t it?’
‘Of course! How could I forget? Ooh, do you think I should give the reunion a theme like that?’
I hold up my hand. ‘Claire, I think you’ve got enough on your plate without overcomplicating things with a theme. You’ll have us all dressing up as mermaids again next. And before you even think about it – no way!’
Claire grins. ‘You know me too well. All right, I’ll keep it simple . . . probably.’
I shake my head as I load my breakfast things into the dishwasher. ‘That will be the day!’
After a busy morning and afternoon in my gallery, where we sell five paintings – a great day for me – I leave Jessica to close up and I head down towards the harbour and the pub at around four o’clock. I know the Merry Mermaid will still be busy, but late afternoon is usually its quietest time.
Having an ex-Hollywood movie star as a landlord has increased the pull of the already popular pub, so along with all the usual holidaymakers keen to drink in the ancient building, there is now a constant stream of Rob’s fans making the pilgrimage down to Cornwall just to have a drink there and the chance of spotting him behind the bar.
It was strange at first to have Rob back here again. It took me long enough to get used to living here again myself, but to have another blast from the past with my teenage boyfriend in the same town was disconcerting at first, but now I was used to it, it was kind of nice as well.
The familiar benches outside the pub are packed on this sunny spring afternoon as I head past them and in through the open door into the bar.
Rob, as he is often found, is leaning over the bar having a selfie with two customers. Their grins and flushed faces as they take their drinks from him and head outside are nothing unusual. I’ve witnessed it hundreds of times since Rob came back to St Felix.
He looks up as I walk towards the bar and smiles.
My stomach, so long at the mercy of a Rob Matthews smile, is these days much more in control of its actions. Rob and I are now simply very good friends, nothing more, nothing less. When I first found out he was coming back here, I was worried. Especially after Eddie’s party. But the Rob who arrived back in St Felix, post-pandemic and post-cancer, was a different Rob; a changed man, many would call him. I just call him my old mate, Rob.
‘Hey,’ he says, smiling, still with a perfect set of white Hollywood veneers. But these days the Botox is long gone from his face, and in its place, the usual lines and wrinkles of a nearly fifty-year-old man. ‘Thanks for coming over.’
‘No problem,’ I say, pulling up a stool at the end of the bar ready to perch on. ‘How was your trip?’
‘So, so,’ Rob says, moving along towards the end of the bar with me. ‘No, don’t sit down here; there’s no way I’ll be able to talk to you if we try in the bar – you know what it’s like.’
I nod. I long ago gave up trying to have a conversation with Rob in public, because we’d always be disturbed by a fan wanting a selfie, or, more rarely these days, an autograph scrawled in black marker over a photo of Rob.
‘Where do you want to go, then?’ I ask. ‘The town is pretty busy this afternoon.’
‘Give me a minute,’ Rob says. ‘I’ll be right with you.’
Rob disappears out back and reappears a few moments later in the disguise of many a celebrity – dark glasses and a baseball hat, which, surprisingly, usually works for him. Particularly in the summer months, when he blends in easily with many other men wearing something similar. In the winter months, Rob would usually pull on either another baseball cap alongside a thick anorak, or a tweed cap with a wax jacket, in an effort to go unnoticed.
‘Ready?’ he asks, pulling the peak of the cap well down.
‘Sure, where shall we go?’
‘I have an idea . . . ’
We walk up away from the busy harbour towards the grassy hill.
‘We’ve no chance of the viewing area being empty today if that’s where you’re thinking of going?’ I tell him. ‘The beautiful weather means everywhere is heaving with people.’
‘We could at least check? I know we won’t be disturbed there.’
‘All right.’ I shrug, wondering what it is Rob wants to talk about that matters so much if we’re disturbed.
We walk up the hill and over the grass, and just as I suspected there is already a young couple sitting up on the little wooden bench that has recently been added to the viewing area.
But as we approach, they see us and stand up. Rob lifts his hand and they wave back.
‘Do you know them?’ I ask. This isn’t the usual sort of reaction Rob’s fans give if they recognise him. Usually it’s disbelief, mixed with excitement or panic on their faces, but this couple is remarkably calm.
‘I may have asked them to reserve the bench for us,’ Rob says with a half-smile.
