Page 44 of Summer in Sunset Harbour
Wanting to take her mind off things, she let them all have the afternoon off, and they decamped to the pub for a couple of drinks. The sky was clear, the air warm, so they took a table out in the beer garden. Josie offered to go and get the drinks, while Hilda agreed to accompany her.
Inside, The Horse and Buoy was more of a museum than a pub, historical artefacts displayed on shelves alongside dusty black-and-white photographs of the parish in times gone by. Fishing images and relics dominated, but there was also place for several old farming photographs of horse-drawn ploughs, ancient threshing machines. Josie found herself staring at a picture of a stone tower on a clifftop, set dramatically against a backdrop of the English Channel. When she turned to Hilda, her friend was staring at her.
‘You know what that is, don’t you?’
Josie turned back to look at the picture. Had it been a little shorter, it could have been a church, but it was a simple stone design, too tall to be practical as somewhere to live or worship, a functional building perhaps, no windows, no obvious features other than its narrow shape.
‘It’s a pumping tower,’ Hilda said. ‘They used to be everywhere around here, but the few that are left are derelict now.’
‘Pumping tower. You mean for a—’ Josie’s breath caught. ‘That isn’t what I think it is, is it?’
Hilda grimaced. ‘I’m afraid so. I really didn’t want to say anything because … well, I have my reasons. But that hole … the problem we have could be bigger—much bigger than you think. Around here … this is mining country.’
21
Possible Solutions
‘Over there, someplace,’Nat said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the gravel pile in the corner of his driveway. ‘Didn’t need it all, did they? Feel free to scoop up a few buckets. Just heave ’em in. Nothing a bit of gravel won’t fix. Shove a bit of soil over top and you’re back in business.’
‘It could be more serious than that,’ Hilda said. ‘If it really is part of a mine shaft, it’ll need a bit more than a few buckets of gravel.’
Nat just grinned. ‘Take the whole pile if you’s need.’
Hilda looked at Josie and sighed, then looked back at Nat. ‘Are you messing with me, Nathaniel?’ she said in a stern, schoolteacher’s voice which made Josie a little envious. ‘You know this is serious, don’t you?’
Nat grinned. ‘Do I look like I’m joshing with you’s, maid?’
‘Yes.’
‘Nat planted one hand on his scrawny hip and lifted the other like he might ask for a drink. ‘Hil, you know I’d never mess with you’s. Look, if it does fall through—I mean, the site, not you’s, maid—’ Nat broke into a few seconds of spontaneous laughter so infectious that even Josie cracked a smile. ‘—then it’s no great loss, is it? Just cut the grass back a bit. Had a crack, didn’t work out. All good.’
Josie had a sudden outburst of anger. ‘We’ve put weeks of work into that campsite,’ she said.
‘Maid, sometimes you’s have to walk away. I remember exactly when I knew me days as a cult leader was up. Just woke up one morning, and things felt a bit iffy. Had to go for a walk, and never went back.’
Before Josie could answer, Hilda said, ‘Not everyone feels as “free” as you, Nat.’
‘Ah, more’s the pity,’ Nat said. ‘Be way less bees getting in bonnets if ’twas true. Look, just have a go with the gravel. If you don’t have enough, or he keeps pouring down, have another think.’
Nat returned to the sculpture he was halfway through carving, a quite exquisite waterboard of mermaids rising out of a stormy sea. Humming to himself, he began to chip away at the driftwood with a chisel as though they had already gone.
Josie and Hilda looked at the pile of gravel, then dismissed it with a wordless shrug. They climbed into the truck and headed back to the campsite, neither with much to say.
After Hilda droppedher off at the campsite entrance, Josie walked down the lane, finding Lindsay, Geoffrey and Barney hard at work planting Hilda’s flowers, following colour layouts they had all got together to plan a couple of days ago. The radio Nat had given to Josie sat on the grass between them, playing a summery tune. As Josie reached them, the three together lifted their heads and bellowed out the chorus:
‘With you, my dear, hand in hand, walking together ‘cross the summery sand—’
‘That’s nice,’ Josie said. ‘I don’t know that song.’
‘It’s a local station,’ Barney said. ‘Tiffany told us not to play the main ones. Something about a licencing thing on commercial properties.’
‘Is that so?’ Josie said.
‘Do you think Lindsay should go with a traditional white or a spring pale pink?’ Geoffrey said, looking up, his hands and knees covered in sodden mud. ‘We can’t decide.’
‘Um, I don’t … whatever you think will look best,’ Josie said.
‘I don’t think it matters,’ Lindsay said. ‘We have the perfect place, the perfect date. Jeans and a t-shirt would do.’
