His Horizon - Con Riley Page 0,13

no point calling you back. I could have dealt with the insurance paperwork if there’d been storm damage to the pub just as well as you could have. But if there’s an insurance policy to cover losing all of our trade like this, for so long, Mum and Dad never bought one.”

“So what did you do next?” Jude asked, louder, as the wind picked up and blustered.

“What did I do?” Finally, Louise brightened. “I did exactly what Dad always taught us if we got in trouble in deep water.” She grasped Rob’s hand, her own tiny in his. “I called for help, and then tried my best to stay afloat until Rob came to save me.”

5

They took a longer route back to the pub, following the coast path instead of taking the shortcut through the rock pools again. It brought them into the village a few streets up from the harbour. Louise explained more as they walked past vacant cottages and boarded-up gift shops.

“Hardly any businesses stayed open after the storm. There weren’t any of the usual winter tourists. Without them, there wasn’t enough trade to sustain them.” She stopped outside a large granite-faced cottage that had once belonged to a family of artists. “Marc runs his parents’ art gallery now, but his mum and dad moved back to France.” Maybe she noticed how Jude bristled at that name. “I know Marc wasn’t your favourite person at school, although I have no idea why. He came back after the storm to help his parents move out. Then he stayed.” There was a strange edge to her tone that sounded close to worry. “I don’t know if there will be enough to keep him here much longer. T-tourists I mean, to keep the gallery open. He lives in the flat above it now, and his parents’ old place is empty. I think they’ll sell it as a holiday rental. A posh one.” She cupped her hands against a windowpane and peered in.

Jude joined her, hardly able to make out the interior, which had been vibrant like its owners, the whole family expressive and flamboyant in a way that Jude instinctively avoided. “They painted Porthperrin right onto the walls. Massive murals in each room,” he remembered.

“Someone will paint over it all,” Louise said. “Make it neutral,” which reminded Jude of the all-white bedrooms at the Anchor. “That’s the new market for us,” Louise finished. “People who want a luxury getaway rather than a cheap camping vacation next to the beach.”

Jude’s breath fogged the glass pane. “I suppose that does explain the fine-dining menu I found in my bedroom.” He straightened and acknowledged Rob directly, still feeling as if the ground was shifting underfoot, sliding him, like their lost beach, seaward. “And I guess it explains the lobster you bought from Carl this morning, but I still don’t see where you fit in.” The mention of food had his stomach rumbling loud enough for Louise to notice.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s talk over breakfast.” They passed more vacant cottages on the way as well as a couple more shops with no sign of life inside. “After the storm, I thought—we all did—that the tourists would come back anyway. Maybe they’d camp a bit further away, but they’d still come into the village to eat and to spend their vacation money.” She gestured as they walked to the car park behind the pub. Just a few cars were parked there where usually it would have been packed to bursting. “We don’t even get many day-trippers, these days. Turns out that people prefer easy places to get to rather than a long walk along the coast path from the next village, and without the beach, there’s not much here for their kids.”

They rounded the corner, seagulls watching them from the sea wall.

“Of course,” Louise continued. “It’s still gorgeous here, but without the volume of numbers, it stands to reason that the pub needs to make more money from each person who finds us.”

Rob unlocked the pub door. Seeing his mum’s keys in his hand still felt weird. He bit his tongue rather than say so. Jude followed Rob silently to the kitchen, nodding when Louise asked, “You want a bacon butty?” She flicked on the kettle on her way to a new walk-in refrigerator, passing the bacon she found inside over to Rob who set it frying. She then sliced bread that he buttered, both working in easy, practised tandem.

“I’ll make the tea,” Jude said