1 December
Once the decision had been made, no time was wasted, and a few days later, the first day of December, Hell Cove Cottages was a hive of activity, or as much of a hive as anywhere on Gull could be at dawn on a grey morning. The first of the working party had arrived at dawn. With the sun setting by late afternoon, they needed to get as much done as possible. Hazel and Ray were visiting friends on St Mary’s, and had offered to get the bar ready for evening opening while Maisie helped at Hell Cove.
Both the Barton sisters were in their overalls ready to muck in. Jess was already there, along with Archie and Fen, Javid and his girlfriend, Katya, plus Pete and Davina Jenkins from the Fudge Pantry. Pete had been a builder before he’d had a change of lifestyle and had planned out a schedule of works, the first of which was to make sure the roofs of Hell Cove House and the cottages were in a good state of repair. This was easier said than done as the materials had to be found locally or shipped from the Main Island or even further afield.
Items had been scrounged or bought for a low price in return for ‘favours’, such as agreements to muck in with work on other island projects. Joly had apparently offered to bake a wedding cake in return for a job lot of paint, while Javid had swapped a couple of weeks in one of his caravans for some plumbing supplies. Maisie also suspected that several people had dug into precious savings to fund the project, which made her feel very guilty. She wondered how long people’s energy, enthusiasm and generosity would last, but she set aside her worries for now and threw herself into the work.
Jess hurried over to Maisie, her cheeks tinged pink by the cool morning air. ‘Bev says she’ll be along later and some of the students from St Piran’s are back home for the holidays so they offered to come too.’ Maisie looked around for Patrick but didn’t see him. He hadn’t been in the Piggery either so she’d no idea where he was.
‘I’m amazed to see so many people here.’
‘Apparently Adam’s going to drop in after his rounds,’ she said, and wrinkled her nose. ‘Probably wants to avoid me but he needn’t worry, I’ll be back on the farm by then.’
‘He hasn’t left yet, then?’
‘Not until after Christmas. Then he’s definitely going to work in the Lake District, according to Will.’
‘The Lakes?’ Maisie blew out a breath. ‘Still, that’s better than New Zealand I suppose.’
‘It might as well be, for all he wants to do with me. It’s over with Adam, not that it ever really started,’ said Jess gloomily. Maisie had never heard her sound so down and in fact she seemed close to tears, which just wasn’t like her bubbly friend.
Maisie vowed to have another heart to heart with Jess as soon as she could get her in private. ‘I am so sorry, my lovely. Have you no idea why?’
Jess heaved a big sigh then forced a smile. ‘Not really. I did try to talk to Adam when he popped in here to help out a few days ago. I asked him if there was anything I could do to help … if there was anything worrying him, but he just muttered about “family business” and said he was truly sorry for hurting me …’
Jess looked close to tears. ‘I asked him to tell me why he’d broken up but he said to forget him.’
‘You must be in bits, my lovely.’ Maisie wanted to cry too.
‘Nothing to be done. Plenty of fish etc. and what with the Flower Farm and helping out here, I’ve more than enough to distract me. Will says he’d be able to spare a couple of hours tomorrow too.’
‘You’re both amazing. What you’ve done for us and for everyone on Gull is fantastic.’
It was inevitable that people would dip in and out of the site as and when they could. Privately Maisie thought they’d be lucky to get Hell Cove House and Cottages into a reasonable condition by spring, let along starting on the Fudge Pantry. It could be years before everyone had been helped, but she couldn’t think of any other way to preserve the way of life of those who wanted to stay.
‘Have you seen Patrick?’ she asked Jess.
‘He’s down at the quay waiting for a delivery of materials.’
‘More?’
‘A boat load, apparently.’
A short time later, Patrick and Javid trundled down the hill with an old pick-up dangerously overloaded with building materials.
They backed up the stony track next to the cottages and everyone rushed over to help unload the bounty. Maisie was hot and sweaty by the time she’d helped remove the slates, timber and several tubs of render from the back of the truck.
She rubbed her sleeve over her brow. ‘Wow. Where did these come from?’ she asked.
Patrick tapped his nose. ‘That’d be telling.’
‘This stuff is worth a lot of money, not to mention the expense of shipping it over.’
‘The slates were recycled from an old hut on St Piran’s. Archie tipped me off and it turned out the hut belonged to the prop forward from the Scilly Corsairs. He said we could have them free if we could get them brought over so I negotiated a good rate with the Gull supply boat and Una and Phyllis agreed.’
‘Well done. That’s brilliant; those would have cost a fortune if they’d had to buy them from new. What about the timbers?’
‘Ah. They were washed up on the skerries on the far side of Petroc. One of the fisherman from the Pirates retrieved them and heard of our need. I scrounged the render from an anonymous benefactor.’
‘You really do have the gift of the gab.’
Patrick gave a little bow. ‘I aim to please.’
He sure did, thought Maisie, wishing they were alone right now. Such thoughts had to go on hold because Phyllis walked out of the back door holding a tray laden with steaming mugs, followed by Una with a cake tin.
‘Here you go. Hot cocoa, Christmas cake and mince pies,’ Una called.
Soon a small crowd had gathered around the rusting garden table and the working party were helping themselves to the drinks, sugar-dusted pies and slices of dark fruit cake topped with marzipan and snowy icing. The sisters watched in satisfaction as their building crew tucked in with sighs of approval.
‘Delicious,’ Jess mumbled through a mouthful of cake.
‘Best I’ve ever had,’ said Patrick, reaching for a second mince pie.
Phyllis glowed with pride and lowered her voice. ‘I made the mince pies. Una’s so heavy handed with pastry, her pies are always dry, but don’t let her know.’
Maisie slid a glance at Una who was chatting to Javid. Cocoa break over, the air was filled with the sound of hammering and banging as everyone set to work again. However, Una waylaid Maisie as she pushed a wheelbarrow of slates over to the cottages.
‘I’m afraid that Hugo knows about our little plan,’ she said.
‘What?’ Maisie blew out a breath. Hugo might have stopped trying to get her alone but he obviously hadn’t given up on his plans, not that she ever expected him to. ‘We weren’t going to keep it a secret for long, I guess,’ she said.
‘I don’t know how he found out, but he said something sarcastic about our “construction plans” to Phyllis in the Co-op on St Mary’s.’
‘Hugo was in the Co-op?’ Maisie asked, knowing Hugo’s team usually took care of his grocery deliveries.
‘Oh yes. Basil was tied up outside. Hugo was buying a packet of fags.’
‘I didn’t know he smoked,’ said Maisie.
Una pursed her lips. ‘Oh, he does. He was almost expelled from that posh boarding school on the mainland for smoking weed too. He doesn’t think anyone knows, but we do. His father told us before poor old Graydon lost it, bless him. If he knew what Hugo is trying to do to Gull, he’d be terribly upset.’
It’s hardly a crime to have a sneaky fag, thought Maisie, thinking of her own former habit, and so what if Hugo had been a bit wayward at his boarding school? She was actually glad he’d got some skeletons in the cupboard, even if they were very minor ones. Maisie wasn’t so sure about Graydon Scorrier either. He’d been a hard-nosed businessman before the poor man succumbed to dementia. Maisie did feel terribly sorry for Hugo and Graydon but her pity for Hugo wouldn’t help the islanders. Though she’d often thought he must have been under a lot of pressure since he took over the business.
‘What did he say to you?’ said Maisie.
Phyllis joined them. ‘Hugo offered to give us a lift back to Gull with our shopping.’
‘That was … kind of him.’
‘We didn’t say no because it looked like the weather was closing in, but we wished he hadn’t offered in one way, don’t we, Una?’
Una snorted. ‘Gobby little git.’
‘Una!’
‘I don’t care. He’s an arrogant bugger even if he has made us a good offer for the cottages. He said he’d found out we were trying to “keep the place afloat, but did we realise it was like trying to hold back the tide”.’
‘And he was concerned for our health, “It can’t be good for you at your age, trying to do all the heavy work,” he said.’ Phyllis narrowed her eyes.
‘He might as well have said, “Resistance is futile”. Well, he can shove his offer and with this help we’ll be able to manage for years. I want to end my days here if I can,’ said Una.
‘Not yet, I hope!’ Maisie was horrified.
‘Nor me. Ignore Una. She loves winding people up as much as Hugo does.’
Any sympathy Maisie had for Hugo evaporated. ‘The cheeky sod.’
‘Exactly,’ said Una. ‘I tell you what. I’d like to see that delicate flower up on a roof mending slates, or building a wall. I bet Hugo couldn’t punch his way out of a wet paper bag.’
Maisie had dissolved into laughter even while she was mad at Hugo for pressurising the Bartons. They looked over to the men and women getting stuck in to the renovations. The plan had started well and while their efforts might not save everyone from Hugo’s takeover plans, at least the Bartons would be able to stay on longer and run their business for a while yet.
‘I wonder who told Hugo,’ Una said, hands on hips, casting an eye over the work party.
‘He probably heard on the grapevine,’ said Maisie.
‘Hmm …’ Una fixed her eyes on the figure of Patrick, pushing a barrow of slates a few yards away. ‘He’s the only outsider.’
Maisie fired up with indignation. ‘No chance. That would make him less likely to tell Hugo, and anyway, Patrick doesn’t like Hugo any more than the rest of us.’
Una turned to her and raised an eyebrow. ‘You seem very confident of that, my dear, on so short an acquaintance. If you don’t mind me saying.’
‘I don’t, and even though I haven’t known him long, he’d never shop us to Hugo. It could have been anyone on the islands, Gull or otherwise; you can’t make a fuss like this without someone – everyone – finding out. It was only a matter of time.’
‘I don’t know. We all have our skeletons. Whether they’re our neighbours or from the other side of the world.’ Una fixed Maisie with a meaningful look. ‘I must get on with the roof. Those slates won’t fasten themselves, now will they?’
Maisie gasped. ‘You are joking?’
Una sighed. ‘Sadly, my knees won’t let me these days but I’d have loved to. I’m off to help Phyllis paint some woodwork inside the house.’
Maisie turned to Patrick who was standing over a wheelbarrow of cement bags, talking on his phone. Who to, she had no idea, but it was none of her business.
At first glance, any ‘foreigner’ would never have known that Patrick was an outsider. Apart from his deeper tan he could pass for one of the islanders; although in her biased eyes, no man that lush had ever sprung from Scilly stock. Jess might have to disagree with her there as regards hunky Adam, and she supposed Will Godrevy and Jake Pendower weren’t too shabby, although she looked on them more as mates or surrogate brothers.
So while he might appear to be part of the landscape in Maisie’s eyes, to anyone who knew Scilly well, Patrick stuck out like a sore thumb.
To Una too, by the sound of things.
But he wouldn’t have betrayed them to Hugo, would he? Maisie gave a little snort of derision. It was the daftest thing she’d heard all day.