The Postcard: Escape to Cornwall with the perfect summer holiday read. Fern Britton
of steps and pushed the doorbell on the intercom. A buzzer sounded and the blackly glossy front door opened to reveal a silent marble hall with a grand staircase curling up to the right. On her left was an open doorway and a smart young man behind the desk spoke without looking up. ‘Can I help you?’
‘Thank you, yes. I was wondering if I could have a meeting with someone about my book.’
His eyes scanned her from head to toe and back again. Expressionless, he asked, ‘Do you have an appointment?’
‘No, but perhaps I could—’
‘I’m sorry, but we don’t accept unsolicited manuscripts.’
‘I see. It’s a very short story, it would only take a few min—’
‘You must have an appointment first.’
‘May I make one?’
‘Has anyone asked to see your manuscript?’
‘Well no, but—’
‘Then I can’t make an appointment.’
‘But how do I make an appointment if no one’s read my book? And how do I get someone to read my book if I can’t get an appointment?’
He smiled wanly. ‘It’s a very difficult business.’
The phone on his desk rang and he took the call, making it clear that he’d terminated his dealings with her.
Ella was angry and felt humiliated to boot. She pulled herself up tall and walked back into the hall to let herself out.
Running down the staircase was a young woman with her hair scraped messily back from her face and a smudge of red ink on her cheek. She was heading for the front door as Ella was struggling with the handle.
‘Here, let me help you,’ said the woman.
The door opened with ease under her practised touch. She smiled at Ella. ‘Are you Gilda’s temp?’
Ella wished she were. ‘No, but …’
The woman spotted Ella’s manuscript.
‘Oh, an author?’
‘Well, not exactly, I—’
The woman smiled knowingly. ‘Supercilious Louis wouldn’t let you hand it in? Give it to me and I’ll read it. You’ve got your contact details on it, I assume?’
‘Yes, on the front page.’
‘Great. Sorry, I must rush. Meeting someone for a coffee. I’ll be in touch. You never know, this just might be our lucky day. Bye!’
Ella watched as the woman walked quickly across the square.
‘Granny,’ she murmured, ‘what have you done?’
In the vicarage in Pendruggan the sun was still hiding behind the cliffs – and Penny wished she could hide under her covers. She felt lightheaded. She hadn’t slept well because Jenna had had her up three times in the night. Teething was horrible for both of them. Night feeds were usually rather special. Jenna and she would sit in the silence, staring into each other’s eyes, sharing comfort and love. But last night had been awful. Jenna had wanted to bite down on Penny’s nipples to relieve the pain in her gums but she did it once too often and Penny tapped her leg in anger. In the split second before she opened her lungs and screamed, Penny saw her look of shock and disbelief.
‘Jenna, darling! I’m so sorry. Shh, Daddy’s sleeping. Shh. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.’ Penny was beside herself. How could she have hurt Jenna like that? She wrapped her up in a cot blanket and held her close as she carried her downstairs. She went to her study, the room furthest from their bedroom, so that Simon wouldn’t be disturbed.
‘Darling, shh, shh. I love you. I’m so so sorry.’ She rocked Jenna back and forwards until she calmed a little and reached out to touch Penny’s face. Penny kissed the tiny palm and smiled. ‘Forgiven?’
She fumbled for her handbag, which was on the floor next to her desk, and found the travelling sachets of Calpol. ‘Here, darling, open wide.’ Then she found the teething ring she’d bought the day before and offered that to Jenna too. At last peace reigned again.
Penny got herself and Jenna comfy in her desk chair and she idly turned on her computer to see if there were any messages from Mavis. There were about fifty messages. She scrolled through them. The first dozen were spam or unimportant. Then she saw Jack Bradbury’s name. Three emails, one after the other, all of them with the same subject. URGENT: MRTIBBS
She felt her pulse quickening and her breathing become shallow. Her fingers were shaking. She couldn’t make herself open the emails. She scrolled down to see if Mavis had replied. Nothing. A black dread settled over her. She heard the roar of her own blood in her ears. Shit shit shit. What was she going to do? Where was the old Penny who would have known what to do and would have done it? Overwhelming grief at the loss of herself bore down on her shoulders and she wept silently, her tears falling on the sleeping Jenna. She deleted Jack’s emails and shut her computer down again.
And now it was just after midday and she was exhausted, but this feeling was not simply tiredness. Since she’d heard about the death of her mother an extra layer of darkness, an invisible membrane, was separating her from the world. She had often felt like this as a child, particularly after her father had died. A feeling that she didn’t really exist, that life rushed around her and she simply glided through it like a ghost. Occasionally she’d reach out a hand to touch a wall or her leg, just to make sure she was real, but it still didn’t feel right.
As a child, she had tried explaining it to her mother. ‘You’re liverish,’ Margot had sniffed.
‘What does that mean?’
‘That there’s nothing wrong with you.’
It was one of the many things she looked up in later life. Her computer dictionary gave the meaning as ‘slightly ill as in having a liver disorder’ or ‘unhappy and bad-tempered’.
Well, she’d certainly been unhappy.
And now her mother was dead and the feeling had come back. She wandered through the downstairs rooms and hovered at the closed door to her office. She told herself that she should go in and get on with some work. Work had always been her salvation; a raft to cling to when storms raged.
‘Keep going, Penny, keep going,’ her father had told her when she started to learn to use her Hula Hoop. She had kept going every day of the summer holidays until she became really very good at it. It was the same mantra she had applied to her work and to every contraction that had squeezed Jenna into the world.
Keep going, Penny, keep going.
Now, standing outside her office door she said it to herself again. ‘Keep going, Penny. Just open the door. Keep going.’
‘Hellooo.’ A stranger’s voice came from the back door and startled her.
She jumped in fright.
Her heart was in her mouth. ‘Hello? Who’s there?’
Thank God Simon had taken Jenna out for the day. If she was to be murdered by a stranger at least they were safe.
The voice called out again. ‘Hello? It’s your new neighbour. Kit?’
The bloody man with the uncontrollable dogs! She’d tell him where to go.
Penny stomped to the kitchen where she found Kit standing apologetically at the open back door with a large bunch of flowers. He smiled, not unattractively she was annoyed to notice, and proffered them to her. ‘Good morning. These are from Terry and Celia and me.’
Penny’s pursed lips were not the reaction he