Page 13 of One Cornish Summer With You
While he waited for it to boil and he spooned coffee into mugs of his own making, Tammy received a message on her phone and started typing her reply.
‘Was that the bailiff?’ he said, pouring water and milk into the mugs.
‘No, it isn’t the bailiff, and he’s a solicitor. It was Lola making sure I got home safely. People keep fussing about me. By the way, you should get a new fridge,’ Tammy said as he slammed the door to make it shut after he’d replaced the milk.
‘I like this one.’
‘Are you scared that if you change it, your creative powers will desert you?’
‘My, you are sharp tonight.’ He handed over the coffee and Tammy was shocked at the bags forming under his eyes. ‘Good evening?’
‘Yeah. As a matter of fact, it was.’ The remembrance ofshared laughter found its way on to her face. ‘What about you?’ she asked over the rim of her coffee mug. ‘You haven’t been waiting up for me, have you?’
He shook his head and scoffed. ‘I’ve a commission for ten vases for a boutique hotel chain. They like my work, apparently, and want them in different glazes. They’re paying me more than I’d charge in the gallery.’
‘That’s good,’ Tammy said, feeling proud that Davey was earning what he was worth for a change.
‘It is, but they want them fast. Is there any chance you can do some extra hours in the gallery now you’ve finished your dad’s tribute?’
‘Sure …’ Tammy hesitated because despite her earlier pessimism, she was still hoping against hope for OceanFest to call, which would have kept her more than busy. ‘I’ve a proposal and a birthday commission, but that’s it unless OceanFest do get back to me, which isn’t likely.’
‘There’s still time,’ Davey said. ‘And while you wait, is there any chance you could man the place tomorrow?’
Tammy tutted. ‘No, but I could woman it.’
He groaned. ‘You know what I mean. Obviously, I’ll pay you.’
‘Obviously,’ Tammy replied, knowing she’d do it for nothing to help him out.
‘That’s settled then.’ Davey leaned back against the counter, weariness and relief etched on his craggy features. He was in his mid-sixties now, though Tammy wasn’t sure of his precise age – not that it mattered. Davey was an old friend of her father’s. They’d played football together whenthey were younger and stayed mates right up until Neil’s death.
He put the mug down. ‘Scuse me. I need a pee.’
Tammy hid a smile. That was Davey. Calling a spade a spade. He went into his flat while Tammy sat back in the chair with a sigh.
Davey cared for her deeply and, in some ways, he’d taken on the role of a father to her, which she was occasionally frustrated by but also grateful for. When Neil had passed away so suddenly, Davey, like Tammy, had been devastated. She felt only he could understand what she was going through, though he’d hidden his grief well while supporting her.
But no matter how much Davey had supported her at the time and since, her father’s death had ripped away the fragile foundations of her world. Even now, hearing the gulls crying on the harbourside, Tammy was reminded of the power of the sea to give and take. It inspired her to create and then destroyed her art. It provided a livelihood for so many people in Porthmellow, yet it could be treacherous too.
The circumstances surrounding her dad’s death had never been resolved. His body had been found washed up on a beach further down the Lizard from Porthmellow after a fishing trip. The wreck of his boat had never been discovered and no one knew how he’d come to be in the water, despite a police investigation. The coroner’s verdict was still ‘open’.
‘Open’ was a word that described the gaping hole that had appeared in Tammy’s life and the raw wound inflictedon her. She had felt abandoned for the second time in her life.
When Tammy was in Year Seven at secondary school, her mum had gone to live in Scotland with a new partner whom she’d met in the supermarket where they’d both worked as managers. They’d been having an affair and he’d got a transfer back to his home town near Glasgow so her mum had decided to go too.
Tammy had been given the choice of moving to a city or staying in Cornwall with her father, her friends – and the Cornish coast. Even though her mother had suggested Tammy could move with her, it had felt like abandonment.
Initially, she’d visited her mother and stepfather, but the journey had been long and costly, and difficult to make alone since her dad was reluctant to join her after the bitter split.
She’d only seen her mum once since her dad’s funeral and they rarely spoke on the phone. Tammy had never fully forgiven her for leaving and making Tammy choose. Perhaps it was immature to still hold that grudge, but it had also contributed to her own trust issues and fears of being abandoned. Tammy’s father had never got over her mum leaving either.
Until then, her life had seemed idyllic, or rather it did in retrospect, given all that had happened since. They’d lived in a lovely cottage, which, though small, felt perfect. They’d been happy, but after her parents split up, their lives had slid slowly but surely downhill.
Her dad had turned to drink and gambling and told Tammy that he blamed himself for their woes, for Tammy’smum leaving, and for losing their cottage. He’d owed a lot of money to loan sharks and had to offload the cottage fast at a knockdown price to a man who was no friend to their family. Although it had cleared his debts, they’d been left with very little, which had made him even more depressed.
Despite all the upheaval, Tammy managed to go to art college and develop her sand art business. Then, when an old acquaintance surfaced in Porthmellow, her father began gambling again and ran up more debts. He hinted that Tammy would be better off without him, but she’d refused to leave, even when she might have been able to afford a flatshare with friends.
A week after Tammy’s twenty-seventh birthday, when her cards were still in the window of their flat, her dad went missing. She left them up for months, unable to replace them with the sympathy cards that had arrived in droves from people in Porthmellow. She hadn’t found them comforting, merely devastating. Each one screamed: he’s dead, he’s gone. She simply didn’t want to see it permanently etched in black and white.
