Page 15 of Summer at Harbour View House
From her much milder accent, Natasha was sure that Demelza was less locally made than either Jago or the cider, and her confidence that Demelza was playing some roleplay put her at ease.
‘We do now,’ she said.
‘It’s called Cow Buster,’ Demelza said, handing the women a glass each of a cloudy, bubbly liquid. ‘So said that it would make a cow explode.’
Sitting in a quaint living room on comfortable armchairs encircling a stone fireplace, and surrounded by shelves and alcoves loaded with knickknacks, framed photos, and coastal memorabilia, Natasha felt like she’d walked into a museum. If it wasn’t for a modern flatscreen TV in one corner and an expensive dehumidifier in another, they could have gone back in time. As it was, Demelza, who had removed the white smock and floral skirt to reveal jeans and a sweater beneath—despite Jago’s desperate, ‘Go on, keep it on, maid.’—turned out to not be from Cornwall at all, but actually a resettled native of Devon.
‘Just a stone’s throw across the Tamar, but I’ll never be local enough for him,’ she told them with a smile. ‘Jago’s so Cornish he thinks he’ll be reincarnated as a tin mine.’ She laughed and rolled her eyes. ‘Go on, don’t be shy. Have a sip. I’ll carry you up to bed if necessary.’
They had agreed to stay, with Jago promising to give them a lift down to Penkoe in the morning. Demelza had told them that in August they sometimes did farming homestay experiences for students from upcountry, and Jago liked them to dress up, give the kids an authentic experience.
‘He walks around all day with a bit of twig sticking out of his mouth,’ she said.
‘Did he really get his leg bitten off by a shark?’ Hannah said.
‘Believe it or not, he did,’ Demelza said. ‘Although it wasn’t round here. It was over Newquay way, twenty-odd years ago now. He was surfing at the time, and I think he must have fallen on the thing.’
‘I told you the sea was dangerous,’ Hannah said. ‘I’ll be watching it from the patio, thank you very much.’
‘There’s no need to worry,’ Demelza said. ‘He’s literally the only surfer in Cornwall who’s ever been bitten by a shark.’
The door opened, and Jago came in. ‘And ‘e don’t need to worry no more about that ‘un. Come on, I’ll show ‘e.’
‘Dinner is in fifteen minutes,’ Demelza said.
Natasha glanced at Hannah, and was surprised to see most of Hannah’s glass was empty. Hannah smiled and gave a little hiccup. ‘It’s good, isn’t it?’
They followed Jago outside and across the farmyard to a shed. From the outside it appeared to be filled with tools and farm equipment. On the inside, however, they found half of the room partitioned off with a dirty lace curtain.
‘Behold, the slain beast,’ Jago said, pulling a cord. The curtain jerked back to reveal a murky glass tank lying on a platform made of wooden pallets. At first it was difficult to see anything inside through the haze of algae, then Hannah let out a little shriek and grabbed Natasha’s arm.
‘Oh! Is that it’s face?’
The tank was about nine feet long, the shape just about visible inside a foot or so shorter. Even with Hannah pointing out parts of the supposed shark, Natasha struggled to see it clearly. The tank really needed a clean.
‘After ‘e took me foot, I went down there every night with me rod until I got the bugger,’ Jago said. ‘Then I took ‘e back ‘ere and pickled ‘e.’ He cackled. ‘First, I had a feel about inside for me foot, but ‘e’d obviously dumped ‘e back into the sea.’
As Natasha stared at the pickled porbeagle shark, she wondered how bad the nightmares would be. Hannah, however, was giggling.
‘Oh my,’ she said. ‘Does he have a name?’
‘King James,’ Jago said. ‘After the fiend who imprisoned our dear bishop.’
‘It’s funny.’
‘Would ‘e like a photo with the king?’
‘Oh, sure!’
Hannah showed Jago how to take a picture on her phone, then squatted down near the glass tank.
‘Come on, Natasha, don’t be shy,’ she said.
Reluctantly, Natasha squatted down on the other side. Up close, she could sense the tank’s coldness, smell the rancid algae gas.
Jago took a step back. ‘That’s about it … just a little more….’
He was feeling around with his foot. Natasha frowned as he hooked his foot over something protruding from the floor.
