Snapped in Cornwall Read Free

missed her. Even when they argued she was company and now he saw less of her he realised that, paradoxically, he had enjoyed their rows, that life had never been dull. Certainly it was better than Maggie’s farcical compliance. She was a fool if she thought he didn’t see through her.
    The cleaning lady had restocked the freezer but there was nothing which tempted him enough to bother to cook. Dennis poured a stiff drink and added a splash of soda, then sat down, resting his head against the back of the leather settee, welcoming its coolness. He put his involvement with Maggie down to what people chose to call the male menopause and now he was sorry he had let it go on so long. Maggie was sending out messages he did not want to receive and he was not sure how to end the relationship. She was single and independent and, initially, she had been fun to be with, but Dennis felt he was being drawn into a trap. Maggie, he sensed, would very much like to replace Gabrielle.
    The telephone rang and his hand holding the drink jerked. He had been on the point of falling asleep. Another bad sign: too much booze and not enough food.
    ‘Hello, darling. I’m surprised to catch you in.’
    ‘Gabrielle.’
    ‘Are you all right?’
    ‘Fine. You?’
    ‘Yes. Look, I thought I’d better let you know I’ve organised the Christmas cards from this end. Tell Fiona, or she’ll go to the usual people.’
    Christmas cards? Christmas was four months away. But Gabrielle was right, his secretary Fiona took rather too much upon herself, to the extent once of buying a silver and crystal rose bowl she thought suitable for his wife’s birthday present. Dennis would not have chosen it himself but felt obliged to reimburse her. If he was given the push, would Fiona be out of a job as well? Gabrielle was telling him something about some photographer she had commissioned.
    ‘How much is that little lot going to set us back?’
    ‘No more than if you get the usual printers to do them. It’s not like you to question me over money, Dennis. I don’t waste it, you know that.’
    ‘I know. I’m sorry. I’ll ring you tomorrow. Take care.’ Dennis replaced the receiver. Tomorrow was Thursday and he had agreed to take Maggie out. Perhaps he ought to ring her now and cancel. Surely she’d get the message if he did it often enough.
    Then Friday. How he looked forward to it these days. Gordon was wrong, he loved the four and a half hour journey, relaxing on the train with a drink and a sandwich, the evening paper and a book. It was a kind of no-man’s-land, between the city and work and the slow, easygoing atmosphere of Cornwall. He had a regular booking on the Golden Hind from Paddington which reached Redruth just after ten. Gabrielle met him in the car – Dennis had no need of one in London – and dropped him back for the first train on Monday morning.
    He would, he decided, make it up to her this weekend, take her out somewhere special, maybe, instead of playing golf.
    With a wedge of Stilton and a couple of crispbreads serving as his evening meal he poured one more drink and took it with him to bed.

2
    Eileen Penrose and her sister, Maureen, were sorting piles of clothing and bric-à-brac into appropriate groups ready for the church jumble sale on Saturday. It was a task they had once taken on several years previously and it had become expected of them that they would continue with it each year.
    ‘Just look at this,’ Maureen said, holding up a dirty shirt between thumb and forefinger. ‘It’s only fit for the bin. I’d be ashamed to send it.’
    Eileen sniffed disdainfully and pushed her limp dark hair back off her face with a thin hand.
    ‘Still,’ Maureen continued, used to her sister’s uncommunicative ways, ‘Mrs Milton did us proud. I knew we’d get some good stuff from her.’
    ‘Ah, yes. The lady of the manor.’
    ‘Come on, Eileen, it’s all in a good cause. Besides, you don’t object when she asks you to help out, you said