Zennor sits at a table on the beachside terrace. Dating back at least three hundred years, the charming inn, situated on the waterfront in North Helford Passage, is surrounded by wooded banks and sloping fields, and the views across to Helford Village are stunning. This is the most commercial part of the river and a number of rowboats weave amongst the many yachts and working boats bobbing on their moorings. With the sun on her face, Zennor shields her eyes and idly watches as the ferry makes its way across the river towards the north shore. This is one of the better parts of her chosen career – she can be out and about and enjoy the county when others are chained to their desks.
‘So, what are your first impressions?’ she asks, diverting her gaze to Oliver.
‘The area can’t be faulted,’ Oliver says, flicking through a property brochure. ‘I liked several aspects. The location is stunning.’ He looks up and smiles across the table at her.
‘What else?’ she asks, sipping the cider he’s bought her.
‘The grounds are well landscaped and I like that they go down to the water’s edge. The mooring with the property is a bonus.’
‘You can’t live on the Helford without getting into sailing,’ Zennor comments.
Oliver imagines the boys learning to sail. It would be such fun for them, particularly Jamie, who so often holds back and gets pushed aside by his more robust, older brothers.
‘The outdoor swimming pool is a good size,’ she adds, ‘and heated.’
‘Yes. That would certainly get a lot of use.’
‘What about the house itself?’ Zennor asks.
‘That’s an interesting one.’ Tearing off a chunk of roll, Oliver dunks it in the cider sauce accompanying his bowl of mussels. ‘The architect has made a good job of designing a house that fits seamlessly into its environment. There are enough bedrooms and all are en-suite, so there’s no excuse for infighting.’ He gives her a lopsided grin.
Zennor laughs.
‘I particularly like the large double-aspect lounge with its cathedral-style ceiling and doors leading out to the terrace. And those river views.’
‘I hear a “but”,’ Zennor says, moving her fork around her crab salad. It’s an interesting take with the addition of asparagus, fennel, burnt orange and hazelnuts.
‘Not really,’ Oliver replies. ‘The property would work very well.’ He looks at her and laughs. ‘OK, here’s the but.’
‘See, I knew there was one coming,’ Zennor says, spearing an asparagus tip with her fork.
‘I know it’s on an exclusive, private road with only five other properties, but…’ Zennor raises her eyebrow at him ‘…the area feels almost suburban. Where I live now is only thirty miles from London, yet it feels more remote.’
‘Most people aspire to the location,’ says Zennor. ‘Not only is Port Navas Yacht Club just across the creek but also the property is within walking distance of a prestigious country club hotel with golfing facilities.’
‘Maybe that’s it.’ Oliver picks up his pint glass and takes a mouthful, savouring the taste of the local Cornish ale, packed full of citrus, pineapple and grapefruit with a fine crisp bitter finish. ‘I’m not looking to appease my aspirations.’
‘Oh, well, one down, two more to go,’ Zennor says. ‘The next one is on the southern side of the Helford. It has a very different feel and looks out over Falmouth Bay.’ She glances at her watch.
‘Are we OK for time?’ Oliver asks.
‘We’re fine. I was just wondering if I would be able to show you another today, but I think we’ve missed the tide.’ She squints at him. ‘Would you consider raising your budget?’
‘I don’t really want to,’ Oliver replies. ‘Depends what it has to offer.’
‘There’s a property that’s confidentially on the market. It’s beautifully situated almost at the end of the river, opposite the creek to Gweek. It’s been home to the family for over half a century. Personally, I’d love to live there.’
‘You’ve piqued my interest,’ Oliver says. ‘What money are we talking?’
‘Double the budget.’
Oliver winces. It’s not that he doesn’t have the money but as this is to be a second home, and what with Deanna’s forthcoming purchase of the Egerton Gardens apartment and the monthly rental on Sammy’s Notting Hill property, it seems extravagant.
‘I tell you what,’ says Zennor. ‘I’ll make a phone call and arrange a boat to take us upriver. Then, we can do a drive-by viewing from the water!’ She laughs. ‘If it’s of interest I can approach the agents and arrange a viewing before you go back to Surrey.’
‘Sounds like a plan.’
*
Four hours later, having viewed the second property of the day, Oliver enters the offices of By the Sea Property Finders. He smiles at the young woman seated at a desk. As her face takes on the usual rabbit-in-headlights expression women tend to display on first seeing him, he follows Zennor into her office.
‘Would you like something to drink?’ Zennor asks. ‘Tea, coffee?’
‘Tea would be great.’
‘Two teas, please, Veryan,’ she calls through the open doorway.
‘You Cornish lasses have such wonderful names,’ Oliver comments.
‘You mean Cornish maids!’ says Zennor, exaggerating her Cornish accent.
Oliver grins and glances around the office. Situated within a Victorian building, the room has a high corniced ceiling and sash windows overlooking the town and is simply furnished with a large desk, a couple of matching chairs and a filing cabinet. Apart from a tall, potted dracaena standing in one corner, the only adornment is a large painting on one wall. Immediately, Oliver’s heart begins to race. There’s no mistaking her style. He’d recognise those brushstrokes anywhere.
‘You have one of Cara’s paintings,’ he hears himself say.
Zennor glances up at the canvas; a sun-kissed, shimmering St Michael’s Mount rising out of the mists. ‘You know her work?’
‘I do. I own two,’ Oliver says.
‘She’s very talented. Always was,’ Zennor says, ‘even at school.’
Oliver’s heart pounds. ‘You knew her at school?’ He assesses Zennor anew, realising she’s approximately Cara’s age.
‘Yes, I went through school with her… and Christo. Did you know him?’
Oliver shakes his head.
‘He was gorgeous! A massive fan of Coldplay and Chris Martin. In fact, Cara’s nickname was Gwyneth, after Gwyneth Paltrow,’ Zennor explains.
Oliver gives a small smile, instantly transported back to Rick’s beach party and the first time he heard Cara referred to by that name.
‘It was such a tragedy,’ continues the property finder. ‘We were devastated when he died. All the girls had a crush on him, but he only ever had eyes for Cara.’
He knows that feeling. A muscle in Oliver’s neck twitches as he studies her painting.
‘Tea!’ announces Veryan from the doorway. ‘I splashed out and got some biscuits for our special guest.’ She places the laden tray on the desk and loiters.
‘Thank you, Veryan,’ says Zennor, dismissing her assistant with a look.
Momentarily forgetting where he is, Oliver mutters, ‘This isn’t her usual style.’
‘She’s a clever girl, is our Cara,’ says Zennor, joining Oliver beneath the painting.
‘It has a mystical feel to it, like an Arthurian legend,’ he says. ‘The magical Isle of Avalon rising from the mists…’
Zennor glances at him. He sounds so romantic, yet his words are also tinged with sadness. Such emotion. What an actor! When she first learnt he was to be a client she treated herself to the latest Oliver Foxley blockbuster from Amazon. Now, she reminds herself to watch it again. He was brilliant in it.
‘Have a seat,’ she says, sitting at her desk and indicating the empty chair opposite. ‘Of the two properties we’ve viewed today do you think your new holiday home is amongst them?’ She picks up a cup of tea and passes it to him.
Oliver sits. Although his eyes are focused on the property finder, he is acutely aware of Cara’s painting on the wall behind her.
‘Both ticked boxes. For instance, the second property has fantastic views from its terrace.’
‘Yes, not only towards the mouth of the Helford, but also spanning from Falmouth Bay across to the Roseland Peninsula and the countryside beyond,’ says Zennor.
Oliver nods. ‘The games room is great for the kids and that unusual nuclear fallout shelter would make a good cinema/media room.’
‘What did you think of the grounds?’
‘Suitable for a second home. With a gardener, I’m sure they would be easily kept under control, and I liked the sub-tropical secret garden.’
Zennor sips her tea. ‘Again, I feel there’s a but coming.’
Oliver smiles apologetically. ‘I’m not sure it’s an executive home I’m looking for.’
‘Then, keep an open mind. We’ll view the other one tomorrow morning and the tide’s right in the afternoon to take a boat upriver to view the mystery house. I will be very interested to gain your thoughts.’
*
Standing in By the Sea’s car park, Oliver zips up his leather jacket and glances up at the first-floor window. Zennor and Veryan look down at him and he smiles and waves. Putting on his helmet and gloves, he straddles the Harley and fires the ignition before riding the motorbike towards the road.
‘Oh, wow, Zennor, he’s so dreamy. Just gorgeous! How come you get two whole days with him?’ asks Veryan enviously.
Zennor watches as Oliver turns right into the early evening traffic. ‘Age, my bird. There’s got to be some benefit to being ten years older. You’re right, he is gorgeous, and charming and warm and funny and thoughtful and…’
‘Loaded?’ Veryan interjects.
Zennor nods. ‘Yes, that too, but also gracious. He refused to let me pay for lunch.’
‘Where did you go?’
‘The Ferry Boat Inn. We sat outside.’
‘Did people notice him?’ Veryan asks.
Zennor snorts. ‘Ye-es! How could they not?’
For a few minutes more, both women remain at the window gazing at the empty courtyard in silence before turning away.
*
Oliver weaves through the early evening commuter traffic and heads towards the main road to Helston. Desiring to be on the same coastline as Cara, he’d decided against a hotel in Falmouth and, instead, booked a sea-view room at a hotel overlooking Mullion Cove. His craving for Cara never fades and she is never far from his thoughts, but seeing her painting in Zennor’s office has brought her into sharp focus. He yearns to see her again. He will view the properties tomorrow and then, on Sunday, visit her. His stomach muscles tighten at the thought and, in vain, he attempts to stem the fizz of excitement. Maybe, just maybe, she will allow him to meet his son for the very first time.