Harriet Evans - Love Always

Cecily sighed, drinking it al in. She was her mother’s daughter, the landscape of the county was thril ing to her, no matter what the time of year.

She settled back and gazed out of the window as Jeremy turned to his sister and said, ‘Between you and me, sis, it’s Miranda I’m sometimes not sure about.’

If Louisa was surprised at this sudden confidence from her brother, she didn’t show it. ‘She is rather a funny old thing, isn’t she,’ she said casual y. ‘What do you mean exactly?’

Jeremy took one hand off the wheel and scratched his head in an unconscious Stan Laurel gesture. ‘I don’t know, real y. Feel she’s out to cause trouble.’

‘That’s Miranda for you,’ Louisa said with some satisfaction. ‘She’s always been the same.’

‘That’s just it, though,’ Jeremy said. ‘She – wel , she’s different this summer.’

‘How?’

Jeremy was lost for words. ‘I don’t know. More – grownup, in some ways. But worse, if anything. She stares at you, as if she’s got a message for you.’

Louisa misunderstood. ‘ She stares at me too? Oh, goodness gracious.’

‘No, not – sorry, sis, wasn’t being clear. She stares at one ,’ Jeremy explained. ‘As if she had a message for one .’

‘Oh,’ Louisa said, running her hand over her hair again. ‘Yes, of course.’

‘No one likes Miranda,’ Cecily said. ‘It’s just awful. No one likes her at school, either. It’s because she’s so moody,’ she added informatively.

‘The girls at school know how to wind her up. She got into real trouble—’ She clamped her mouth shut suddenly.

‘For what?’ Louisa, alive to any possible scandal, turned round, intrigued. ‘What did she do?’

‘I can’t say,’ Cecily said. ‘Oh, I bet it was nothing, and you’re just making it up.’

‘I’m not, it was very serious,’ Cecily said furiously. ‘Very. I promised I wouldn’t say. They nearly chucked her out – gosh, I mustn’t say more.

Mind you,’ she added, as if trying to be fair, ‘she isn’t very nice. I, for example, don’t like her. And I’m her sister.’

There was a silence from the front of the car. ‘Oh, dear,’ said Louisa lightly, curling a blonde lock around one slim finger, secure in her position as family member adored by al . ‘Oh, dear. You shouldn’t hate your sister, you know.’

‘I can’t help it,’ Cecily said. ‘Oh, look, the Merry Maidens, I love them. Do look. I always mean to write a story about them. I might start it later.

After I’ve written in my diary, of course.’

She sighed, and was silent again, as they approached Newlyn. Louisa raised her eyes at her brother, but he did not respond. Already Cecily’s diary was turning out to be a wearisome feature of the holiday, with pointed references to one person’s inclusion or not in its pages, the lists it contained, and its role as a worthy receptacle for Cecily’s world view. Last night, over fish pie, she had treated the table to a lengthy description of some girl at her school and how one day, she would definitely be sorry for being mean to her, Cecily.

‘Why, Cecily?’ Arvind had asked. ‘Why wil this girl be so terribly afraid of your diary?’

The others around the table were surprised. Arvind normal y didn’t speak at meals. Cecily had turned to him, brimming with excitement.

‘Because, Dad, one day I’l be a writer and this diary wil be famous. And she’l be so sorry she was mean to me. And cal ed me names.’

Louisa and Miranda had snorted loudly in unison, and looked up, surprised, at each other.

Now Louisa said to her brother, ‘We should plan some things for the boys. For the chaps. Ask them what they want to do.’

Jeremy nodded. ‘I thought we could go to the Minack Theatre one night.’

‘Yippee, yes, please,’ Cecily shouted from the back. ‘Oh, do we have to?’ Louisa sighed. ‘Theatre’s so incredibly boring.’

‘But the Minack is great,’ Jeremy said, laughing at his sister. ‘They’re putting on Julius Caesar . We can walk to Logan’s Rock, they’l like that.

Go to the pub for lunch, maybe. And I wondered if Aunt Frances would let us have a midnight picnic on the beach, cook some food on a campfire.

It’s the last year we’l al be together for a while, you know. Seems a shame not to make the most of it.’

‘What do you mean? The last year? Summercove’s not going anywhere, is it?’

Jeremy was looking in the mirror. He didn’t reply immediately. After a while he said, ‘Just – I just sometimes think, it might be different next year. We’l al be off doing different things. And Franty won’t want us coming down every year.’ He looked uncomfortable. ‘Just don’t know if we’l go there every year.’

Louisa looked slightly alarmed. ‘I can’t imagine us not coming down here every year,’ she said. ‘I love it.’ Cecily’s face appeared again between the seats.

‘I used to think that, now I don’t,’ Jeremy said. ‘That’s why I want to make the most of this summer.’

Cecily opened her mouth and shut it again. Her eyes were huge. But Louisa was watching her brother, who never expressed an opinion about anything. She patted his arm.

‘I think the Minack’s a great idea,’ she said. They were on the outskirts of Penzance now, every other house a B&B or a café. Holidaymakers were walking along the harbour front, carrying buckets and spades. The outdoor seawater pool behind the harbour was in ful swing, girls in bikinis and perfect hair demurely dangling their feet into the water. A group of boys lounged against a few motorbikes, parked up by the boats. They were smoking, in black leather jackets, their hair slicked back, and they stared at the car as it shuddered past them. Cecily stared out at them, fascinated.

‘Mods are so passé. Honestly, Penzance is so out of date,’ said the worldly Londoner Louisa, glancing scornful y at them as they drove past.

‘Bet they’ve never even heard of Bazaar .’ She smoothed her hair behind her ears, anxiously, as Cecily watched in fascination. ‘Come on, Frank.

Hurry up.’ She corrected herself. ‘Jeremy, sorry.’

Jeremy laughed, and his brow cleared. ‘Don’t worry. Look, here we are now.’

Cecily got out early while Jeremy parked the car. Louisa was by this point actively anxious, looking at her reflection in every window they passed, even the glass of the ticket office at the end of the platform, much to the bemusement of the bulbous-nosed ticket officer who stared at her. It was a hot day, hotter in the station than outside, where there was a cooling breeze from the sea.

‘It’s strange being in a town on a boiling day like this, after a few days at Summercove,’ said Jeremy, running his forefinger around the col ar of his shirt. ‘Actual y does make you realise how lovely it is to be there.’

‘I know,’ said Louisa. ‘It is the most beautiful place. And we are lucky. I shouldn’t be rude about them. I do love Franty. I love being there. Joining in – al of that.’

‘Such a little homemaker,’ Jeremy said, nudging her. ‘Love it when everyone’s al together having a wonderful time, don’t you? Even when they’re not?’

Louisa put her hands on her hips. ‘Be quiet, Jeremy. That’s rubbish. I just like . . . I like the idea that we’re al together. And then we get here and . . . it’s not how I expected.’ She shrugged. ‘But hey-ho – let’s go onto the platform, shal we?’ she said, squinting at the train track.

They waited in the covered station until the train chugged slowly into view, past St Michael’s Mount in the distance, the granite castle out to sea glowing strangely gold in the midday sun.