What Happens In Cornwall... Page 15

  It was with considerable relief that they finally stepped out of the taxi and made their way round to the back door of the Island View Guest House just before six o’clock. Mrs Pendennis heard them come in and appeared a few minutes later with a pot of tea and some scones.

  ‘Goodness me, you’re much later than usual. I’ve been quite worried, you know.’ She took a good look at Beppe’s face and didn’t like what she saw. She transferred her attention to Giancarlo. ‘Is Mr Sconnamil all right?’

  Giancarlo explained that Beppe had collapsed while trying to take photographs of rare seabirds. He went on to recount the events of the afternoon at Plymouth hospital and the verdict of the doctors, carefully leaving out any mention of their trip to the police station. ‘I’m afraid Beppe has to go home tomorrow.’

  Mrs Pendennis looked concerned; whether this was wholly for Beppe’s wellbeing, or at the possibility of losing two good paying customers was uncertain. She switched her attention back to Giancarlo. ‘So will you be leaving as well?’

  Giancarlo had spent most of the afternoon thinking about this. Bianchi had made it quite clear that he did not want him back until the end of August. Giancarlo had considered phoning his father to see if he could join him on the yacht, but he was sensible enough to realise that it was probably best not to break the news to him of their debacle on the island. On the plus side, if he stayed in Tregossick, there was the proximity of Lorna from the pub to look forward to. In the end he decided to stay put.

  ‘No, Mrs Pendennis, I will stay. I am enjoying myself here.’

  ‘Oh, that’s splendid, Giancarlo. I’m so happy you’re staying.’

  She was clearly delighted; so delighted, in fact, that she went off to the kitchen to fetch them some thick, yellow clotted cream and homemade strawberry jam to accompany their scones. Beppe shouldn’t have had any, but he did.

  Chapter 26

  There was an air of celebration in the Archaeology department. Virginia’s announcement on Friday morning that the dig on Rock Island would begin in just five days’ time was greeted with considerable enthusiasm. All of them were looking forward to the chance to visit and investigate the legendary island.

  ‘So we really start next week?’ Becky was delighted her prediction of being able to spend time on the island had come true. She caught Sam’s eye and gave her a beaming smile and a thumbs up.

  Virginia nodded, then smiled more broadly. ‘The good news doesn’t stop there. As it happens, we haven’t spent all our budget for last academic year, so there should be enough to pay your accommodation costs, so you won’t have to keep travelling up and back every day.

  ‘We’re going to the seaside! We’re going to the seaside, and we’re going to find lots of treasure!’ Becky skipped about excitedly. Samantha noticed the grin on Ryan’s face. She had no doubt this was more at the prospect of ending up in a hotel with Becky for a few weeks than the idea of discovering buried treasure. Unfortunately, from what Becky had told Sam, the chances of finding treasure or, indeed, of hell freezing over, were higher than Ryan’s chances of getting anywhere with her. Sam decided to let him find that out for himself. Anyway, they were in celebratory mood so, as there was no champagne in the Archaeology department, she headed for the kettle.

  Dinner the previous evening with Ann had been a sumptuous seafood feast of oysters, scallops and crab, accompanied by fresh asparagus and washed down with a bottle of Chablis Grand Cru. As ever, Ann was very careful what she ate, but Sam had been glad to see her eat fairly normally. Over the meal, Sam had listened and tried to give support as Ann recounted the events of that day. After that, she moved on to her well-documented but unhappy love life. Sam felt genuinely sorry for her and amazed that such a beautiful woman should be so unfortunate in love. Sam let her talk and talk, until she finally felt she had reached some sort of closure. At the end of the meal, Ann gave Sam a hug and thanked her for her help. ‘You’re a good friend, Sam, a really good friend.’

  Sam smiled as she made the tea. It was good to have a friend. And a friend with her own island was awesome.

  Two hours later she emerged from the building, squinting up at the sky, glad to see the rain had stopped, at least for the time being. She might be able to squeeze in a run after all, although the forecast for the weekend was dire.

  ‘Hello, Samantha. How very nice to see you.’

  She swung round at the sound of his voice. There was no mistaking the rather disdainful upper-class accent. ‘Oh, hello Professor Vernon. How unexpected.’ And how unwelcome.

  ‘Call me Miles. I was just taking a stroll through the university grounds, taking advantage of the brief break in the weather to familiarise myself with the layout, and I spotted the sign to the Archaeology department.’

  Samantha glanced back up to the sky to see if any flying pigs were visible. ‘Well, you found us. Here we are. I’m just off, but Virginia’s still in there. Second floor, you can’t miss it.’ She gave him a bright smile and turned away.

  ‘Wait, please, Samantha.’ Reluctantly, she turned back. ‘Seeing as I’m here and you’re here, why don’t we go and get a coffee or something. I don’t want to trouble you, but I would like to talk to you. I’ve got the Porsche parked just across the way.’

  Samantha resisted the temptation to tell him just where he could stick his Porsche. ‘That’s so very nice of you.’ She put on her most appreciative expression, but then switched it to one of bitter regret. ‘But I’m going on a run in half an hour. I really can’t spare the time.’ She turned away once more.

  ‘Half an hour, you say?’ He glanced at his flashy gold watch. ‘That gives me just enough time to go home, change into some shorts and I’ll come for a run with you. I need the exercise.’ Before she could respond, he turned away, throwing some last words over his shoulder. ‘Don’t worry. I know where you live. See you.’

  She set off for home, reflecting on the fact that she was going to have his company for her run and, more importantly and very spookily, that he knew her address. However drunk Becky may have been, she felt sure she would never have revealed that to a strange man, professor or not.

  Sure enough, as she emerged from her flat at five-thirty, she found Miles Vernon leaning against the wing of a silver sports car. To her horror, he was wearing a pair of very short runner’s shorts with slits up the sides. It was not a pretty sight.

  ‘Which way, Samantha?’ He was sporting a sweatband on his head and he looked keen.

  She took another critical look at him. The incipient spare tyre round his waist made her mind up. They would do the hilly route.

  ‘Follow me.’ She set off down towards the river and he fell in beside her, moving easily. She kept up a steady, but manageable, pace.

  ‘You run very well.’ He sounded impressed, probably surprised, seeing as she was a girl. ‘So why are you trying to keep away from me? I don’t bite, you know.’

  ‘I’m not trying to keep away from you. It’s just like I said, I’m not feeling very sociable these days.’

  ‘All I want to do is talk.’ She moved the pace up a bit until he fell silent. They crossed the footbridge over the river and she led him up to the first hill that rose steeply towards the cathedral, the cobbled street making running even harder. To start with, he kept pace alongside her, but she could hear him panting more and more and he gradually dropped back.

  ‘Could we maybe slow down a bit? I really would like to talk to you.’ His breath was quite erratic now. She shot him a glance and was delighted to see his face was the colour of cherry cola.

  ‘I’m afraid I’m in training.’ She was pleased to hear her voice quite steady. ‘I start slow, but I’ll have to speed up now. Have a good run. See you.’ She gave him a smile and then accelerated easily away from him. By the time she got back to her flat an hour later, she was relieved to see that both he and the Porsche had gone. She was also relieved that she was spending the weekend with her mother in Bristol and then heading for Cornwall shortly afterwards. It wo
uld be very good to put a few miles between her and Professor Vernon.

  Chapter 27

  Giancarlo was having a wonderful time on his own. Beppe had returned to Rome on Friday, still furious at the loss of his photographic equipment. Giancarlo had wisely decided it best not to mention his own part in the disappearance of Beppe’s bag over the edge of the cliff. Fortunately, the fat man’s memory of his time on the cliff top was hazy.

  Seeing as nobody at CiaoCiao magazine could find a use for him for the rest of the month of August, Giancarlo had remained in Tregossick and was delighted at the decision. The fact that the weather was atrocious and all the paths to the beach had turned to fast-flowing torrents was of no interest to him. He fell naturally into a vampire lifestyle; sleeping by day and coming out to play by night.

  The other rooms in Mrs Pendennis’s guest house remained empty, apart from a family of Germans who arrived one night, towing a trailer tent, desperately seeking shelter from the rain. Suitably refreshed, they disappeared again the following morning, although the foul weather showed no sign of improvement. Otherwise Giancarlo had the place to himself. As the days went by, he even managed to make friends with Doris the dog. Soon she adopted the habit of sleeping in the residents’ lounge outside his bedroom door, and greeted him effusively each time he emerged. He also came to an agreement with Mrs Pendennis to have his English breakfast at three o’clock in the afternoon. All in all it was an excellent arrangement.

  As far as his night time activities were concerned, things were going very well on that front, too. Lorna the barmaid realised that she needed a certain amount of sleep each week in order to function properly. As a result, Giancarlo had her to himself alternate nights after work. On the nights when she was resting, he took the car to the nearby town of Polwenton. There he established a most satisfying relationship with an older woman whose husband, a city banker, left her alone on their million pound yacht in the marina during the week.

  Around the middle of the following week there was a change at the Island View Guest House. Mrs Pendennis informed him gleefully that three other rooms would be occupied for the next week, maybe two. The occupants were from the department of Archaeology at the local university. Giancarlo got his first sight of them as he was relaxing over a cup of afternoon tea, or rather, the remains of his breakfast. A furious barrage of barking from Doris the dog announced the arrival of the new intake of guests. He poured himself another cup of tea and sat back to see who would arrive.

  There were five of them in all. Four girls and a red-haired young man, probably about his own age. The four girls were sharing two of the rooms, while the man had a room to himself. Giancarlo watched with considerable interest as the girls came in with their bags. The two who disappeared into Room Three didn’t get his juices running. They were very young, plainly dressed, poorly presented and apparently impervious to the charms of the Latin lover at the dining table. He immediately dismissed them as lesbians. The other two were a very different matter.

  He jumped to his feet and offered to help them with their bags. Both responded well to this sign of chivalry, and he spotted a most satisfying flush of annoyance on the red-haired man’s face. As Giancarlo turned on the charm, the other man disappeared into his room, slamming the door ostentatiously behind him. Giancarlo could recognise the signs. So which one has he got his eye on? He found himself wondering which it might be. Ignoring the man’s barely-disguised animosity, he manhandled the girls’ suitcases into the room for them and introduced himself.

  ‘Good afternoon. My name is Giancarlo. I am from Italy.’ He breathed in deeply to offset the depredations to his waistline inflicted by Mrs Pendennis’s legendary breakfasts.

  ‘Thank you very much for helping.’ The one with the V-neck answered with a bright smile. She dipped her head in his direction and he admired her décolletage. ‘My name is Rebecca. Everybody calls me Becky. And this is Samantha.’

  ‘Hi.’ Samantha looked a bit less interested. Nevertheless, Giancarlo felt a sudden surge of sexual chemistry bubbling up inside him. He loved blondes and a tall one with a lovely body was all a young Italian could wish for.

  He gave them both his most charming smile and left them to it. He returned to his cup of tea and his magazine. Five minutes later the door of Room Four opened and Samantha and Becky came back out again. As they did so, Mrs Pendennis arrived with a tray, bearing biscuits and cups of tea.

  ‘I thought you might like some tea.’ She set the heavily-laden tray down on the table and began to collect the remains of Giancarlo’s breakfast. ‘This is Giancarlo. He’s Italian.’ She placed a maternal hand on his shoulder. ‘He’s staying here all month.’ She went over to the other rooms and tapped on the doors, announcing that tea was served. The other students emerged and Mrs Pendennis withdrew. Soon they were all sat around the table. Giancarlo introduced himself to the newcomers, learned that the boy was called Ryan, and didn’t even bother to register the names of the other two girls. He did notice, however, that the boy took a seat alongside Becky and her V-neck. It seemed pretty clear that she was the one that interested him. Deliberately avoiding Samantha and Becky, Giancarlo addressed himself to Ryan.

  ‘So, are you all here on holiday? With this terrible weather?’

  Ryan explained rather stuffily that they were here for an archaeological dig, but that he was not at liberty to reveal its whereabouts. Giancarlo had never heard the word ‘whereabouts’ before, but he worked it out. So this dig of theirs was a secret. He didn’t mind. In fact, he didn’t care where they would be digging. What he did care about was whether Samantha had noticed him and whether she would respond to a charm offensive. He put his tried and tested plan into operation. This started with his cover story.

  ‘I am a photographer.’ Seeing flickers of interest in a few faces, he began to embroider. ‘I am a fashion photographer. I travel all over the world taking pictures of beautiful women. It is a job I enjoy very much.’

  Samantha did little more than nod politely, but Becky looked impressed. Alongside her, Ryan looked as if he had just stepped in something, but Giancarlo ignored him. Becky took up the conversation.

  ‘So are you working here now? Is there some fashion thing going on near here?’

  Involuntarily, Giancarlo glanced out of the window. The rain was still coming down hard and the sea and sky blended into a uniform battleship grey colour. He shook his head. ‘No, this is my holiday. My hobby is taking photographs of wild birds. Here in England you have many magnificent birds. I am here for them.’

  ‘Oh, how interesting. Are there any rare birds around here?’ Becky was definitely interested, either in birds or in Giancarlo. He had not expected an ornithological question, so he searched desperately for an answer. Luckily, thanks to Lorna’s tattoo, he did now know the name of at least one British seabird. It came back to him.

  ‘There are many. In particular it is a puffin I am hunting at present.’ He saw a few heads nod and he felt sure he’d got away with it, but he did a bit of embroidering to be on the safe side. ‘I particularly want to find an albino puffin. They are very rare indeed. And you, what are you hunting?’

  Becky exchanged glances with Ryan. The man answered for the group. If Giancarlo had been concentrating, he might have spotted Ryan’s hesitation, but he was as interested in their archaeological business as they were in the albino puffin. ‘We are investigating early settlements along the coast here. Are you familiar with the Dumnonii?’

  Giancarlo wasn’t, and he had no intention of being. He just shook his head and grunted. It seemed to work. The red-haired man turned his attention to the plate of biscuits.

  ‘So, is this a good guest house, Giancarlo? After all, Mrs Pendennis said you are staying all month.’ Becky was leaning towards him, elbows on the table, pressing together. Instinctively his eyes once more inspected her cleavage, but then they flicked back to the blonde beside her.

  ‘Very good. Mrs Pendennis is very kind and the breakfast is excellent. I am tw
o kilos heavier now than I was.’ He stood up and pulled at his waistband to demonstrate how tight it had become. This was an old familiar ploy that also served to draw attention to his genital area. Becky’s eyes registered a pleasing degree of interest, although Samantha gave no sign of noticing. Beside them, Ryan looked as if he was about to be sick. Although Giancarlo had just been making conversation, secretly he reckoned he probably had put on quite a bit of extra weight. It was the fried bread in particular that he loved.

  He sat back down again, satisfied with Becky’s reaction, if not Samantha’s. He returned to the subject of the guest house. ‘The old bitch can be a bit difficult.’ Spotting the expression on their faces, he clarified. ‘Is that not the right word? I looked for it in the dictionary. I mean the old dog. You know, the female dog; Doris is her name.’ There was a ripple of laughter round the table. Even Samantha smiled this time. Giancarlo grinned to himself and resumed the attack.

  Chapter 28

  Virginia decided not to stay at Tregossick with them. Her old mother and her cat demanded her presence back home every night, so she opted to drive to and fro every day. When Samantha heard of her decision, she uttered a silent prayer that the patron saint of drivers, if there were such a thing, would look after Virginia and any other traffic she might encounter en route.

  Sam was therefore very relieved on the following morning to find Virginia on Tregossick jetty, safe and sound. Beside her, two men from the university were just finishing unloading a huge pile of equipment from a minivan. Sam greeted Virginia and they stood in the early morning sunshine, waiting for the launch to take them out to the island. They had decided to start early and it was still well before eight. The beach was empty apart from a few joggers and a man fishing, his long rod resting on a tripod, while he poured himself a cup of coffee from a flask. Presumably he must have had some success, as a row of seagulls were standing close behind him in the hope of breakfast. For the first time in almost a week, the sun could be seen peeking out through the clouds.