The Holiday Home Page 0,25
celibacy. He wasn’t the type to have an affair, but he was attractive in his own way. Not compared to Greg, of course. Loads of her friends fancied Greg, but he had never given her cause for concern. Good job too, or she’d roast his nuts for Christmas.
‘Hi, Mum! Hi, Auntie Pru.’ The shadows of Abi and Jem fell across them. ‘Presents for you!’
The youngsters handed over two cones of whippy ice cream with chocolate flakes stuck in the top.
Connie and Pru made space for their offspring on their towels.
‘Hi, kids. What have you been up to?’
Abi started. ‘We cycled to Pendruggan – you know, the village where they’re filming that telly detective thing you like, Mum.’
‘Oh yes. Were they all there?’
‘Yeah. We had to be quiet because they were filming some dead body being found on the village green or something. We watched for about half an hour, but it was so slow and boring we decided to cycle into Trevay and have a coffee on the harbour.’ Abi, finishing her sentence with an upward lilt as if asking a question, took a lick of ice cream.
Jeremy continued, ‘Yeah, and we bumped into Big Ben. He said that a woman who says she knows our family is coming to stay in one of the holiday lets at the back of Atlantic House.’
Big Ben was a tiny man who had bought Dairy Cottage and The Byre, two of the outhouses that had originally belonged to Atlantic House. For the past few years he’d been renting them out as holiday lets.
‘Really?’ asked Connie. ‘I wonder who that is?’
‘He didn’t say. But whoever it is will be arriving on Wednesday.’
‘I hope it’s someone nice and not a terrible bore.’
Abi laughed, ‘Oh, Mum, you’re sounding more like Granny every day!’
Connie gave her daughter a friendly shove.
As Abi regained her balance, she caught sight of a man watching them.
‘Mum, that man’s staring at us.’
Connie looked over the top of her sunglasses. ‘Where?’
‘See the pink beach tent? Just to the right of that. He’s quite hench, for an old bloke. Bare chest and blue shorts. Curly hair – too long for his age. Talking to a couple of the lifeguards?’
Connie followed Abi’s directions and spotted him. She pushed her sunglasses back up her nose and nudged her sister. ‘Pru, look. See him?’
Pru was alert and as still as a pointer dog. Breathing out very slowly she replied, ‘Yes. I see him.’
They spoke together: ‘Merlin Pengelly.’
Abigail giggled. ‘Who is he?’
‘An old friend of mine,’ said Pru.
‘And mine,’ said Connie.
The women eyed each other for a moment. Pru broke the silence first.
‘Come on, Connie.’ She stood up and started to roll her towel. ‘Time we were going back.’
Connie was already up and shooshing Abi off her towel.
The man continued to watch them with a slow smile spreading across his handsome face. He waved at them.
‘Oh my God, he’s waving,’ Connie flustered.
‘He’s coming this way.’
Merlin’s brown athletic legs were carrying him towards them. Fifty metres, thirty and finally with only a couple more steps to go he stopped and raised a sunkissed eyebrow, allowing his sea-green eyes to gleam flirtatiously.
‘Connie? Pru? Is it really you?’ The two women looked uncomfortable. ‘You do remember me, don’t you?’
Pru acknowledged him and answered coolly: ‘How could we forget, Merlin.’
He leaned forward as if to kiss her cheek, but she offered her hand to shake instead. He ignored it. She felt his warm skin brush her face.
He stepped back. ‘I’d know you anywhere, Prudence Carew.’
‘Meake.’
‘Sorry?’
‘I’m Prudence Meake now.’
‘Oh, you’re married. Congratulations.’
Pru introduced Jeremy, ‘And this is my son, Jem.’
Merlin reached out to shake his hand. ‘Good to meet you, Jem.’ He turned to Connie. ‘Don’t tell me you’re married too, Connie?’
‘Of course I am.’
‘Oh yes. I remember reading about it. After our summer you married one of your dad’s employees.’
Connie looked crossly at him. ‘I married a man who loves me. He’s managing director of the company now.’
‘Is that so?’ He nodded his head slowly, his piercing eyes smiling sardonically. ‘Well, you did all right for yourself, didn’t you, eh?’
Abigail couldn’t bear to be left out a moment longer. ‘Hi, I’m Abi. Connie’s daughter.’
He turned his glittering gaze to her. ‘Well, well. You’re a beauty, aren’t you.’
Connie snapped, ‘She’s not seventeen yet, Merlin.’
Merlin laughed. ‘And so were you once, Con. So were you.’
Jem, conscious that there was something rather uncomfortable about this encounter, felt a primeval urge to protect the women, though he wasn’t sure why.
‘My father and Uncle Greg are up