The Holiday Home Page 0,39

familiar to her. To her left were lush fields full of grain crops. Further on, a field of tall grasses was being cut for hay. Skylarks were nesting somewhere. She could hear one singing very close by, but she couldn’t spot the shy little bird.

A breeze blew in from the ocean on her right, ruffling her hair. After yesterday’s rain, when it had been rough and coloured with sand and seaweed, the sea now twinkled deepest blue and reflected the small clouds in its ripples. She reached a wide gateway and carefully opened and closed the heavy latch. She felt the silky wood of the gate, made oily with the years of hands rubbing over it. She smiled at the touch. This gate, leading down to Figgoty’s Beach had been her meeting place with Merlin a lifetime ago.

Merlin had been her first true love. The love you get over but never forget. Above her a seagull laughed. She thought back to that long-ago summer.

She had not long turned nineteen. Connie was sixteen and very popular. She had always been the girlier of the two sisters. Her blonde hair, full bosom and friendly nature captured the affection of both sexes. Her girl-friends adored her and all the boys enjoyed flirting with her. Pru, on the other hand, was more serious. She was at university and enjoying the academic life. She had a couple of admirers. Both a bit worthy and dull, but good for the odd night out. Where Connie was pneumatic, Pru was a washboard. No bust, no hips, but with a stunning six-pack.

Connie’s friends happily absorbed Pru into their group, enjoying having someone a bit older around them. Mainly because she could drive.

‘Pru … Pru?’ wheedled Connie one afternoon.

‘What do you want?’

‘Would you like to come to a party tomorrow night?’

‘Where?’

‘Newquay.’

‘And you want me to drive you?’

‘Me and Trace and Maz.’

‘Only if you pay me for the petrol.’

‘But it’s Mum’s car.’

‘Yes, and she’ll ask me to replace the petrol.’

‘Oh, all right, we’ll split it.’

The party was on the beach. A hot August night. A huge moon hung fully in the heavens surrounded by a carpet of bright stars.

As soon as Pru got to the beach road, her three passengers leapt out and disappeared while she was left to park.

When she got down on to the sand, there was no sign of her sister or her mates. She collected a tin of cider from a trestle table and mooched around the outer circle of the party. Pru knew a few people, who nodded to her, but no one came forward to chat. She found a cool piece of clean sand and lay down to watch the stars. Back then she used to love searching for satellites as they tracked their way across the heavens.

A soft Cornish voice broke into her solitude.

‘Can I join you?’

She turned her head, feeling the sand shift beneath her. He was wearing sawn-off jeans and a Debbie Harry T-shirt. His face was in shadow, but she could see the outline of curly hair.

She sat up. ‘Be my guest.’

‘I’ve been watching you.’

She felt a little scared and turned towards the party to see if she could glimpse Connie.

‘It’s all right. I’m not a nutter. Mind you, if I was that’s exactly what I’d say, isn’t it?’

Pru laughed nervously.

‘I thought you looked like someone I’d enjoy talking to, that’s all.’ He smiled and in the moonlight she made out kind sea-green eyes, nice lips and slightly wonky but very white teeth.

‘Oh.’

He sat down next to her and rolled a cigarette. ‘Want one?’

‘No, thank you.’

‘Good girl.’

There was silence for a while as he sat gazing at the moonlit waves gently breaking on the sand. Pru thought she had never seen anyone so gorgeous.

After blowing a series of smoke rings, he turned to her, holding out his hand: ‘Merlin Pengelly.’

She held it. Rough and coarse but clean and strong. ‘Prudence Carew. How do you do.’

He laughed. ‘Oh, a posh girl! I’ve never met a Prudence before.’

‘Well, my family and friends call me Pru.’

He looked at her steadily and took another draw of his cigarette. ‘Got a boyfriend, Pru?’

She wasn’t sure how to answer this. The true answer was no, but under the circumstances she didn’t want to look an idiot. ‘Oh, you know.’ She shrugged. He shrugged too.

‘And what do you do, Pru Carew?’ He smiled.

‘I’m at university.’

‘Posh and clever.’

‘Don’t make fun of me.’

‘I’d never make fun of a girl like you,’ he said softly. He stood up and held