Page 19 of Summer at Harbour View House
‘There, look.’ Hannah pointed back down the lane. It just went behind a bush. Look, there it is.’
‘It’s not following us.’
‘It totally is. It’s been right behind us the whole way.’
The chicken, a big white and red bantam, bobbed out from behind a bush, pecked at something on the road, then began to strut in their direction.
‘It’s just … taking a walk,’ Natasha said.
‘Do chickens usually take such long walks?’ Hannah asked.
‘How would I know?’
‘What should we do?’
Natasha shrugged. ‘Well, if it follows us out on to the main road, it’ll probably get run down, and if it does manage to follow us all the way to Penkoe, at least we’ll have something fresh for dinner.’
‘You’re not serious?’
‘Of course I’m not. I’m not going to carry it all the way back to Jago’s farm, though. We’ll just have to try to outrun it.’
After taking a breather for a couple of minutes, during which the chicken wandered a little closer but still gave the impression of not really being aware of their presence, they got back to their journey. It was a little easier to navigate the main road with their cases after the couple of hours of practice they had got on Jago’s farm lane, and soon they were back where the old farmer had picked them up yesterday.
And the chicken, having avoided being run down by a couple of delivery lorries and a motorbike, was still following.
‘Don’t say it,’ Natasha said.
‘I didn’t.’ Hannah scratched her ear and tugged at a lock of her hair, managing to look impossibly, frustratingly cute seemingly at will. ‘But … it is, isn’t it? I was right, wasn’t I?’
‘Let’s play a fun game,’ Natasha said. ‘Just something to kill the time. It’s called, “how many chicken dishes can you name?” I’ll go first. Chicken casserole.’
‘Chicken satay. I like a bit of Chinese—oh! Are you trying to be funny?’
‘No, not at all. My turn. Chili con chicken.’
‘That’s not a dish!’
‘It is now.’
‘I don’t like this game.’
They walked on in silence for a few minutes, the road dipping down into a valley, the hedgerows on either side blocking their view of everything except the bright sky overhead. When they did pass a gateway, the view was of a grassy hill sloping down into a forested valley, with the sea a rippled blue and white-flecked triangle in between. Still no sign of the fabled beach, but they had to be close. At a junction with a narrow road heading down into trees, they saw a sign indicating PENKOE 1/2 mile.
The road wound on and on, and the chicken, trailing no more than twenty paces behind them, kept on following.
Half an hour later, by which time Natasha had managed to fake an ankle injury well enough to get Hannah to take another of the cases, they spotted an overgrown sign poking out of the hedge that said: Welcome to Penkoe: Jewel in Cornwall’s Crown.
‘We’re there!’ Hannah said, dropping the cases and running a few steps up the road. ‘How exciting!’
‘It looks the same as it has for the last hour,’ Natasha said. ‘I’m not convinced this isn’t just a cruel joke.’
They carried on past the sign, but over the rise, the road dropped sharply down into a narrow, forested valley.
‘Look!’ Hannah cried, a few paces ahead. ‘Houses! We’ve made it!’
Natasha came up beside her. The road led straight downhill between two lines of old miners’ cottages to a shingly patch of beach squeezed between two lumpy headlands. A couple of small fishing boats lay tilted over, half in and half out of the water.
Natasha fished into her pocket for the piece of paper on which she had written down the address.
