face lit up with the offer and he picked up his keys from the hall table. ‘Great idea. Where are we going?’
‘Bar up the road – the Dog House.’
Connie stood aghast for a moment then, gathering her senses, she stepped forward. ‘If you go, you’ll be in the bloody dog house, Greg. I’m warning you.’
Merlin laughed. ‘Still the little firecracker, eh! Come on, Greg. See you later, Connie.’
*
It was past eleven and supper had long since been eaten and washed up when Greg finally arrived home. Connie, waiting for him in the kitchen, could smell the beer on his breath as soon as he walked into the room.
‘Nice chap,’ said Greg. ‘Very fond of you, Connie.’
Connie froze. ‘What did he say?’
‘That you and Pru and he had had a terrific summer when you were all young, and that I was a lucky bloke to have you.’ He put his arm round Connie. ‘Mind you, he clearly had a soft spot for Pru too. From what he was saying she was a bit of a goer in her time.’
Connie pushed her chair back noisily and crossed her arms and legs. ‘Really? Well that’s something he’d know all about.’
‘Hey hey, Con. You weren’t jealous of old Pru and Merlin, were you? Did he fancy her more than you?’ Greg walked towards her and knelt in front of her. He steadied himself on her knees. ‘My poor little Connie.’ He put his finger to his lips and blew a beery ‘Sshh’ through his teeth. ‘Better not tell old Francis, eh?’ He tapped the side of his nose and heaved himself back on to his feet. ‘I think it’s time to go up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire. Come on, my poor old girl. At least I fancy you.’
Connie gave Greg a mean look and without saying a word marched upstairs to the blue room. On reaching the sanctuary of her bedroom, she slammed the door and fell on the bed sobbing.
Connie woke the following morning to the sound of Greg’s alcohol-induced snoring and the pounding of footsteps on the landing.
Doing up her dressing gown, she opened her bedroom door to find Francis tearing down the stairs two at a time.
‘What’s happened?’ she asked.
Francis had already arrived in the hall, where he was barged out of the way by a furious Pru, who was marching towards the telephone. Picking up the receiver she tapped in a number from a business card in her hand.
She waited while it was answered. ‘Bloody answer phone,’ she hissed, then screeched into the receiver: ‘Merlin, this is Pru Meake at Atlantic House. The kitchen is under six inches of water. If you don’t get here within the next half-hour I am going to sue the arse off you. DO YOU HEAR!’ And she slammed the phone down.
*
Merlin, blissfully unaware of the chaos he’d left behind the night before, was driving along the lane towards Atlantic House and congratulating himself on getting a job at last. Greg was a good lad. They’d had a laugh together. Might take him out for another pint or two, or maybe fishing. It had been fun winding him up about Connie and Pru. One thing was for sure, that family had money and he could screw a sizeable chunk of it out of them.
He’d only recently returned to Cornwall after a spell in Wormwood Scrubs. Three years for a bit of dealing. He’d been properly stitched up. Nevertheless, while being detained at Her Majesty’s pleasure he’d served an apprenticeship in plumbing. As soon as he was released, he’d gone to North Devon to work with an old mate. Everything had been going well, until he’d got a bit too friendly with the old mate’s missus. So, a couple of weeks ago, he’d made tracks back to his old stomping ground, Treviscum Bay. What a stroke of luck that he’d bumped into the Carew girls. Was it really twenty-one summers ago that he’d managed to seduce her? She had been a lovely little maid. Lovely body, but lacking her sister’s fiery passion. He’d soon warmed her up though, when he got her to the fuggee hole. Nice spot that. Warm, dry, romantic and hidden from prying eyes and ears. He wondered whether he could still find it.
*
As he turned his battered van into the drive of Atlantic House he noticed a woman with rosy cheeks, twinkly eyes and golden curly hair worn in a careless up do hanging her washing out in the garden of Dairy Cottage. The thing that really captured his attention was that she was topless. He gave her a long look and pulled the handbrake on stiffly. At the sound she looked up and with no embarrassment smiled. He killed the engine and nonchalantly stepped out on to the gravel. ‘Mornin’.’ He nodded his head and then ignored her as he opened the creaky back doors of his van. He made sure his bottom looked taut and muscular as he reached inside, and when he came out again, slowly peeled off his tight T-shirt to reveal tanned pecs and abs.
‘It’s going to be a hot one today,’ he said, loud enough for her to hear. ‘Things could get rather steamy.’
He allowed himself a glance in Belinda’s direction. She was holding a towel over her breasts flirtatiously. ‘One can only hope,’ she replied, then raised her eyebrows and grinned before turning her back on him and walking towards Dairy Cottage, wobbling her dimpled, bikini’d bottom to great effect.
Suddenly the front door of Atlantic House was thrown open and the sound of raised voices filled the air. As Merlin turned to the source of the noise, Belinda crept back out into the garden and concealed herself behind the dividing hedge so she could watch and listen.
Greg was marching towards Merlin. ‘Where the hell have you been? I’ve turned the stopcock off, but it’s like the bloody Poseidon Adventure in there.’
Merlin looked bemused. ‘What’s happened, G, mate?’
‘Don’t you “G mate” me. The whole house could have flooded, thanks to your incompetence.’
‘You should have called.’
Pru had rushed out now and was squaring up to Merlin. ‘I did, you moron. Don’t you answer your phone?’
‘Terrible coverage round here. Sometimes I don’t get my messages for a week or more.’ He smiled ruefully and started to roll a cigarette. ‘Why don’t we all calm down and I’ll take a look at the damage.’
Pru looked daggers at him and gave a kind of guttural growling sound before turning tail and storming into the house.
Like the figures in a weather house, as she went in, Connie came out. She launched into a tirade aimed at Greg.
‘Greg, we are not spending a penny on this house. Not a penny, or we’ll be paying for Miss High and Mighty and Little Lord Fauntleroy’s future home and seeing no return on our investment.’
‘All I did was what you bloody asked me to do. “Find a plumber,” you said. So I did.’
‘I didn’t mean Merlin Pengelly,’ Connie hurled at him.
Pru had come out of the house again, brandishing a mop and bucket. She rounded on Connie.
‘How
