Page 130 of A Secret Cornish Wish
‘Oh, Frankie,’ she says, and the look of total devastation on her face tells me before she says any more that something awful has happened. ‘That was Eddie at the door . . . ’ She looks at me and her lips begin to quiver. ‘It’s Rob. He’s . . . he’s dead.’
It’s amazing how your body responds in times of crisis. In all our many years it would nearly always be Claire who would be the sensible one. The one who was calm and in control when people around her were panicking and falling apart. But today it’s me.
It’s not until much later that I remember that odd fact, because at the time I simply went into automatic pilot.
After Claire’s words sink in, I leap out of bed and get dressed as quickly as I can, finding out as I go what little Claire knows.
Rob’s body was found washed up on the beach at Morvoren Cove early this morning by a dog walker, who immediately called the police.
When Eddie and Dexter arrived to open up the café for breakfast, the police and the ambulance were already there, and there was one of those yellow tape cordons around the sand. When Eddie asked what happened, he was simply told there was body on the beach. He only realised it was Rob when he heard some people standing around the police cordon gossiping. Even though the police would not confirm or deny who was found, the rumour that it was Rob Matthews the movie star began to spread around the town.
Eddie then dashed up here to tell Claire and me, so by the time we get down to the cove we can hardly get past all the people to find out what’s going on.
‘Can I see the body?’ I ask the police officer in charge of keeping people away.
‘No, I’m sorry,’ he says firmly. ‘We need to formally identify who it is first.’
‘But I know him. Knew him. He was my boyfriend.’ I’m babbling.
The police officer looks at me with narrowed eyes. ‘Recently?’ he enquires perceptively.
‘No, when we were at school. But we were still friends. Please?’
‘I’m sorry. I can’t let you through, Madam. Please stand aside now.’
I do as he asks, and I’m about to head back over to Claire and Eddie who are talking to some of the St Felix residents who have gathered, when another police officer, a woman this time, beckons me over.
‘Did I hear you say you were next of kin?’ she asks quietly.
‘Er, no, not really. But we were close.’
She nods, looks either side of her in a dramatic way that reminds me of an old-fashioned comedy sketch, then quick as a flash she lifts the tape up for me to duck under. Which I immediately do, then she pulls me to one side so no one else can see us.
‘Hold out your hand,’ she says in a low voice.
‘Why?’
‘Please, I don’t have much time.’
I do as she asks.
‘This was found clasped in his hand when he was washed ashore,’ she continues, still whispering, and she places something cold and hard on my palm.
I look down to see a beautiful shell. But not the sort you’d usually find on a Cornish beach, it’s one much more at home on the Caribbean or Mediterranean sand.
‘No idea how it got there,’ she says. ‘But I think it might mean something to someone. Do you agree?’
I stare at the shell.
‘Yes. Yes, I do.’
‘You keep it,’ she says, looking around again. ‘I had a feeling you might know what it meant.’
‘Thank you . . . ’ I look for her name badge, but I can’t see one.
‘My name is Marina,’ she says. ‘Just so there’s no doubt this time.’
‘Thank you, Marina.’ I look down at the shell again. ‘But how . . . ’ As I look up again, she’s gone. I turn sharply around to try to spot her, but there’s so many people gathering now behind the cordon it’s difficult to pick anyone out.
