The Last Letter from Juliet - Melanie Hudson Page 0,62

Juliet Caron, just you listen to me. Marie might be a bit over the top sometimes, but she’s right about one thing. Which one of us knows if there will even be a tomorrow? Do yourself a favour and just go. It’s only to the bloody pub.’

‘Bloody?’ I laughed. ‘Next thing we know, you’ll be calling everyone a sonofabitch and then we won’t know if you’re Canadian, English or American!’

Anna laughed. ‘Canadian, Polish, Czech, English, American … we all feel exactly the same to me.’

I smiled, kissed Anna on the cheek, grabbed an umbrella from the rack and opened the door.

‘I’ll see you later,’ I said. ‘Wait up for me!’

And with my final words hanging in the air, I stepped outside, put up the umbrella. And turned towards the pub.

Chapter 22

Katherine

The unlikely quest

Having wheeled an excited Juliet out of Lanyon (past a scowling Yvonne, who believed our big day out to be utter madness) we soon settled into Fenella’s very old and very tiny car, ready for the big day out. Juliet looked like a model for Paris Vogue, wearing a pretty cashmere jumper – this time pastel pink – and a contrasting Chanel neck scarf. A little make-up highlighted her porcelain skin. I draped a blanket over her legs and my mind flashed to the photograph of her standing in front of the Tiger Moth. Even in flying overalls, with her hair blowing in the wind she had been a striking woman and still was.

I put the car into gear and started down the road. Juliet asked me to head towards Land’s End but still didn’t explain why or what it was she wanted to do. I had been told to bring walking boots and a good coat as we were going on a little adventure down Memory Lane, and Memory Lane could get a bit muddy, apparently.

‘Did you have time to look for the compass again?’ she asked, placing her handbag in the footwell besides her feet.

‘I searched again first thing this morning.’ I took my left hand off the steering wheel to touch her shoulder. ‘I won’t give up. If it’s in the house, I’ll find it. I know I will.’

She turned to stare out of the window, taking in the bare hedgerows and trees. ‘It’s Samuel’s inheritance, you see.’ She said softly.

At Heamoor, we turned onto a country lane that led up to the moors. It was an eight mile stretch of winding road that linked the north coast with the south one, in this very narrow, final stretch of Cornwall. I was to drive through the small village of Madron and she would give me further directions after that. Classic FM played quietly in the background and I allowed Juliet to drift into her own world as I drove through the winter sunshine.

Juliet stirred as the road ventured upwards, high above Penzance, onto open moorland. A derelict tin mine stood silhouetted on the horizon, adding a perfect dash of sinister to the sensational ambience of the place. In the far distance, a crag of towering rocks stood proudly, puncturing the skyline, adding a Neolithic permanence to the landscape. Ahead of us, easily one thousand feet below, beyond a patchwork of stony fields, lay a carpet of deep blue – the Atlantic Ocean. It was all so ancient, so wonderfully atmospheric, like nowhere else on earth (and also just a little bit unnerving, as if early-man wielding a flint axe might pop up at any second).

Juliet’s smile was wide and bright as I pulled off the road and parked in a small lay-by. She wound down the window, took a very deep breath and sighed.

‘Isn’t it wonderful?’ she asked, her watery eyes a picture of happiness.

I continued to take in the landscape while Juliet took an ordinance survey map and reading glasses out of her handbag. It was cut into a small section and folded neatly. She tapped me on the knee.

‘Look at this. It shows you where you need to go.’

Go?

‘It’s not far,’ she added, noticing my surprise, ‘and you don’t really need the map, it’s just for reference while I explain. You brought your walking boots like I said?’

Fenella’s old things …

I smiled, overly brightly. ‘Yes. Show me where to go. Have boots will travel.’

‘I used to come here, quite often, and there’s something I need you to get for me – to look for. There’s a couple of Bronze Age monuments down the lane here,’ she pointed to the map. ‘One is a