Page 85 of A Secret Cornish Wish
‘Claire, I’ll be fine. I have my job. I’ve just been promoted, haven’t I? I won’t be short of money.’
‘But who will look after the baby when you’re at work?’
‘There’s such a thing called day care.’
Claire looks shocked.
‘You’re so old-fashioned, Claire.’ I smile at her. ‘It’s the modern way.’
‘I know, but you might feel differently when the baby is born. You might be surprised at how you feel about leaving it with strangers.’
‘Then I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. Now, this is still a secret,’ I tell her seriously. ‘I don’t want the others knowing just yet.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because everyone will try to offer advice, and I especially don’t want Rob to know.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because . . . he might look down on me from his Hollywood perch.’ I hurriedly say the first thing that comes to mind.
‘Rob wouldn’t do that.’
‘Maybe not, but this is my baby, and I’ll tell everyone when the time is right for me, OK?’
Claire nods. ‘I’ll keep quiet.’ She pretends to zip her mouth shut. ‘Oh, Frankie,’ she suddenly bursts out. ‘This is soexciting.You, my best friend, having a baby.’ She clutches her hands together. ‘I’m so happy for you.’
‘Congratulations!’ An unfamiliar voice calls from down below us, and a willowy figure wearing a long black dress begins to climb the steps from the beach at the side of the veranda. ‘I’m sorry,’ the woman says as she comes level with us and walks towards our table. ‘I was sitting down on the beach before you arrived, just taking in some sea air. It’s been a hell of a day with the funeral and everything,’ she explains, tossing back her long, curly grey hair over her shoulder. ‘And I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation as I sat there on the rocks.’
Claire and I both stare at the woman, both of us wondering just how much she heard. She’s tall and thin, and the plain black dress she’s wearing is more than appropriate for a funeral, but on her feet she wears black flip-flops encrusted with crystals, and around her neck a necklace made up of more crystals interspersed with small seashells.
‘Don’t worry,’ she says, looking at both of us in turn. ‘I’ll keep your secrets.’ She puts her fingers to her lips. ‘But can I just offer you both a tiny bit of advice?’
I half nod, more out of surprise than encouragement. If we thought someone was listening in on our conversation, I’m sure we wouldn’t have been quite so honest about everything.
‘Get help,’ she says. ‘Both of you. Get as much help as you can with your baby,’ she says to me. ‘You really will need it. And you, my darling,’ she says to Claire. ‘You must seek help with your problems too. Here,’ she opens up a small clutch bag and tries to pass Claire a business card. ‘This is a support group that meets every Monday night in Penzance. I know you won’t want to go, but you must. They really will be able to help you. They helped me no end when I had my own relationship problems.’
Claire doesn’t take the card, so the woman lays it down on the table in front of her and very oddly places a small shell on top of the card.
‘Think about it,’ she says, tapping the card. ‘I only want to help you. Now.’ She looks back through the café window. ‘Have either of you seen Eddie?’
‘Er, no . . . ’ I say, still in a state of shock from this odd, very one-sided conversation we seem to be having with this stranger. ‘He’s here somewhere, though.’
‘Then I’ll simply have to go and look for him,’ she says, smiling serenely. ‘I have some news . . . ’
Claire and I sit open-mouthed as we watch the woman sashay away across the wooden boards of the veranda back into the café.
‘Did that actually just happen?’ I ask Claire, turning back towards her. ‘Who was she? Was she even at the funeral earlier?’
‘I vaguely remember seeing someone who looked a bit like her.’ Claire looks puzzled. ‘I think she was on the opposite side of the church to us. But she was wearing her hair pinned up then, and a little pillbox hat with a veil – a little over the top, I thought at the time.’ She looks down at the card but doesn’t pick it up.
‘What does it say?’ I lift it from the table myself. ‘ “Shell Seekers. A Penzance Support Group for Women,” ’ I read. ‘And there’s a telephone number. It also says all calls are treated with the strictest confidence and there’s no pressure within the group to share anything. They welcome observers who just want to sit, listen and take comfort from others who might be in the same situation. It might be worth you investigating it?’ I say hopefully, holding out the card to Claire.
Claire stares hard at the card for a moment, and then to my surprise she takes it from me.
‘I’ll think about it.’ She tosses it into her bag. ‘That’s all I’m saying. In fact,’ she says, smiling as a thought occurs to her. ‘I promise to think about all my problems, as long as you think about all yours. Namely how you’re going to cope with a baby all on your own.’ And in the same way as I passed her the card, she hands me the shell the woman left behind.
I take the shell and hold out my hand. ‘Deal,’ I say, and we shake hands, just before we pull each other inwards for a very welcome hug.
