Page 10 of Christmas at Sturcombe Bay
“It’d be a real shame if a few idiots end up getting wild camping on the moor banned altogether. It’s the best. Remember that time we all went camping up on Shelstone Tor?”
“Oh lord, yes!” Lisa hooted with laughter. “And it poured with rain all night and the tents got flooded. And we had to walk all the way home in the morning, dripping wet, with everything water-logged and weighing a ton.”
“And Alan Cowan offered Liam a fiver to carry his stuff for him, and Liam told him to shove it where the sun don’t shine!”
“Then he just dumped it. He told his dad it had got stolen, but the Rangers found it and he’d dropped his school library card with it.”
“And they got in touch with Dad, and he had them come into school to give a talk about caring for the environment.”
“And Cowan’s dad heard about it and grounded him for a week.”
They all laughed at the memory.
Jess glanced across at Lisa. “Your dad?”
“He’s the headmaster of the Community College. Well, it was St Urith’s back then.”
Jess laughed dryly. “I bet you got some ribbing over that!”
“A bit. But Dad was always dead fair. He never favoured us, and he was never harder on us. Mum was Deputy Head at Fowey Road Primary as well, until she took early retirement a few years ago to look after our nanna.”
“Oh, I remember your grandmother. Sometimes when we came down we’d go and watch the cricket up at that place behindthe church, and she’d be there. Waving her walking stick at the players and telling them what to do.”
“That’ll be Nanna.” Lisa chuckled. “She could be a real old curmudgeon, but we all adored her.”
“Is she still . . . ?”
Lisa shook her head, her eyes darkening. “She died a couple of months ago.”
“Oh . . . I’m sorry.”
“She was ninety-three.”
“That’s a good age. But you must miss her.”
“We do.” Lisa smiled fondly. “Anyway, anyone for another drink?”
“I’ll get these,” Jess offered, rising to her feet. “What are you all having?”
* * *
Paul pushed open the door of the Smugglers. This was another reason why he wouldn’t want to live anywhere but Sturcombe. A friendly pub, unpretentious, where he was just Richard and Helen Channing’s son, Lisa and Cassie’s brother. He greeted a few friends as he moved over to the bar, catching Wes’s eye to order his beer.
He smiled as he spotted who was at the bar ahead of him, being served with a tray of drinks. Long and slender in slim-fitting jeans, curling red hair cascading halfway down her back. Julia Ellis. They were old friends, and soon she’d be his sister-in-law when his sister Cassie married her brother-in-law Liam.
He crept up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. “Hey there, kiddo. What have you . . . Ooof! Ow!”
He gasped, dragging in a painful breath — she had back-elbowed him sharply in the ribs. No defender on the football field could have dealt out a fiercer tackle.
It wasn’t Julia — though she looked remarkably like her. From the back of his brain a memory surfaced. “You’re . . . Oh lord, I’m sorry! I thought you were Julia. You’re her sister.”
Julia herself appeared at his side, shaking with laughter. “That’s right. My twin, Jess. Meet Paul Channing — village idiot.”
Jess didn’t look amused. Though they were very much alike, he could now see the small differences between them. Julia’s face was softer, her eyes a warm grey, where her sister’s eyes were a beguiling amethyst above sharply-defined cheekbones.
Those eyes were glaring at him now, and he turned on his most charming smile. “I really am sorry. I’m not usually so crass. And we have met before — certainly at Julia’s wedding, and I’m sure a couple of times since.”
He held out his hand, but she didn’t take it, her eyes remaining ice cold. “I don’t recall.”
