Page 11 of Summer at Harbour View House
Aside from one tiny old lady sitting in the front seat, they were the only passengers. One by one, Hannah and Natasha hauled their cases up the steps.
‘Moving down?’ the driver said. ‘Me mate George has a transit if you need.’
‘We’re just visiting,’ Natasha said.
‘Tourists,’ Hannah added. ‘Please don’t eat us alive.’
‘No worries, maid,’ the driver said. ‘Had me pasty. From upcountry? ‘Cross Tamar?’
Hannah held on to Natasha’s arm and hissed into her ear: ‘I don’t understand!’
Natasha smiled at the driver, then pushed Hannah into the nearest free seat. ‘He said he’s already eaten and asked us if we’re from the other side of the Tamar River, which is the Cornish border.’
‘Oh!’ Hannah tittered. ‘Yes, from Devon. Civil War!’
‘Just sit down,’ Natasha told her, as the driver and the old lady behind him exchanged a few words and a chuckle in accents so strong even she couldn’t understand.
Natasha loaded their bags into a luggage rack near the front, then the bus pulled away. Hannah clung to the seat in front as if worried the front half of the bus might break off and drive away, while Natasha tried to relax and look out of the window. St. Austell seemed like a pleasant little town, but soon they were driving through idyllic countryside, rolling hills and forested valleys stretching away to the English Channel glittering in the distance.
The bus stopped a couple of times but no one got on or off. Finally, they trundled to a stop beside a bus stop sign at the top of a narrow country lane winding down into a valley. Two large headlands rose on either side, but if there was a town or even a beach down there, it was hidden below the rise of the hills.
‘Pinkle,’ the driver said. ‘Just down road. Five minutes.’
‘Thanks very much,’ Natasha said, as she unhooked Hannah’s fingers from the armrest and waved a hand in front of the younger girl’s face.
‘We’re getting off now,’ she said.
‘I feel sick,’ Hannah said.
‘All the more reason to get off the bus.’
She was able to cajole Hannah to move long enough to get her down the steps and out on to the road. Then, while Hannah retched into an overgrown verge, Natasha retrieved their cases and set them down on the road.
‘Need some help with those?’ the driver asked, as she dragged the last one out.
Natasha gave him a sarcastic smile. ‘I’m fine, but thanks.’
‘Enjoy your trip,’ the driver said, and the bus set off, the old woman’s chuckling the last thing Natasha heard before the door clicked shut.
Hannah was wiping her mouth on a handful of dock leaves, leaving a green smear across her face.
‘Are you alright?’
Hannah gave a tired nod. ‘I haven’t been on a bus since school. Brad always paid for me to take an Uber. He had a mate who ran one. Used to give me a discount if I smiled a lot.’
Natasha rolled her eyes. ‘How nice of him.’
‘Is this it? Pinkle?’
Natasha looked around. A wooden signpost poking out of the weeds nearby indicated Penkoe, apparently two miles away. Back the way they had come, the sign indicated St. Austell, 15 miles. And onwards, Falmouth, 10 miles.
‘Just down there,’ Natasha said.
‘Do you think we could get an Uber?’ Hannah said.
Natasha pulled out her phone. ‘No reception,’ she said. ‘I guess that means we’re walking.’
‘It’s kind of downhill,’ Hannah said. ‘Do you think if we strapped the suitcases together, we could like, ride them?’
