Buried in Cornwall Read Free Page A

in paint splashes. Over them was a fisherman’s jersey with the collar of a pale blue shirt poking over the top. He wore no jacket so probably had a T-shirt underneath as well. Rose blinked in surprise. She had been undressing him mentally.
    Nick took her arm as they mounted the steps to the broad-fronted church, whose interior was more ornate than its outward appearance suggested. It was filled with the rustlings of programme sheets and muted conversation. Discreet coughing continued until the orchestra filed down the far aisle. The musicians took theirplaces in front of the altar and began to tune their instruments.
    Only once did Rose look at Nick. He had his eyes half closed as a Mozart piano concerto washed over them. This was followed by a movement from Beethoven’s Second Symphony and then a soprano whose pure notes filled the church and made Rose shiver. The fourth piece was by a composer of whom Rose had not heard. To her ears the music sounded discordant and she wasn’t sorry when the interval came. They left the church as Nick wanted a cigarette, then, giggling like teenagers, they dived over the road to the Turk’s Head where they just managed to get a drink before it was time to return.
    ‘Enjoy it?’ Nick asked when the concert was over.
    ‘It was lovely. I should make the effort more often. There’re so many things going on if you bother to look. I usually get to see one of the male voice choirs every month or so, though.’
    ‘Ah, you can’t beat hearing Cornishmen sing. Can you sing, Rose?’
    ‘Not a note.’
    They were heading up the hill along with many of the audience who would be making for one of the car-parks. ‘Where’re we going?’
    Rose shrugged. ‘Chinese as we’re up here now?’
    They decided upon the nearer of the two almost adjacent restaurants, both situated on the first floor above other premises. It was surprisingly busy but they were given a window seat. ‘So, let’s hear it. What has upset my painter in oils?’ Nick asked, having recalled his earlier impression of Rose’s strange mood.
    Unsure of the significance of the possessive pronoun – was he making fun of her because she was only just finding her feet whereas he had been established for years, or was it a sign of affection? – she felt awkward and almost kept her counsel. But knowing how the grapevine worked he would hear within a short time anyway. Feeling the heat in her face, Rose said, ‘I did something incredibly stupid. I was so … Ah, well. I must’ve been wrong.’
    Nick was sitting back in his chair with his arms folded. He raised a hand and rested his index finger against his lips. ‘And from that short garbled paragraph, the penultimate sentence, if you don’t mind me pointing out, lacking a complete predicate, I’m supposed to deduce exactly what piece of stupidity you have been engaged in.’
    Rose smiled. He was making fun of her now. ‘All right, I’ll explain. I was out painting. I heard a scream. It came from near an old mine shaft. I went to investigate. I heard a second scream. I ran back to the car and rang the police from my mobile phone. The emergency services turned up in force.’ She shrugged. ‘They didn’t find anyone.’
    ‘Most comprehensible, and not a sub-clause anywhere.’
    ‘Pedant.’ Rose was playing with her chopsticks as the waiter arrived with the wine Nick had ordered. She opened the menu and studied it, choosing her main dish immediately because she knew that if she hesitated she would keep changing her mind.
    ‘Seriously, though, if you did hear a scream you did the right thing. I didn’t know you had a mobile phone,’ He raised an eyebrow but Rose did not take the hint and give him the number. Nick placed a hand over hers but only to stop her fiddling. He removed it as soon as he saw the closed expression on her face.
    ‘No. Well, I mostly forget to take it out with me.’ As with the time-operated light in her hall, it was Jack who had suggested she got