– or Porthcaswyth as it used to be called – means cove or landing place of the thicket. I think that’s quite fitting really, don’t you?’ she said, making a sweeping gesture from the sea below, where the fishing boats were pulled up on the beach, to the trees above from where the calls of warblers and chiffchaffs sounded. ‘The view is quite beautiful.’
‘Indeed, it is,’ he murmured, staring at her and not the scenery.
‘And it’s a friendly place. Everyone helping each other, you know? Of course, we all have to work hard,’ she gabbled, feeling more disconcerted by the moment.
‘Quite,’ he nodded, his gaze seeming to devour her. Just when she thought she’d scream with frustration, his attention was caught by a cottage they were passing. ‘Good heavens, whatever is that door doing up in the air?’ he asked, frowning up at the entrance beneath the eaves of the roof. Several feet above the ground, it had no steps leading up to it.
‘That’s what they used in the old days to empty out the gazunders,’ she said, trying not to laugh when he cringed. Of course, it would never do to reveal that it was as an escape route for when press gangs descended upon the village. Luckily, before he could ask any more questions they’d left the village behind and were passing Mammwynn’s resting place. Colenso silently promised to visit her soon and then they turned the corner and Ruan church loomed before them. Jumping down, she pointed to the stonework of the tower.
‘Good serpentine blocks, eh, Mr Fenton?’ He gave a nod and followed her inside.
To Colenso’s relief, even though it was between services, the church bustled with visitors. Fenton clicked his teeth in annoyance and after a cursory glance at the font, he took Colenso’s arm and ushered her back outside.
‘Very good, but I had no idea it would be so busy,’ he frowned, handing her up into the trap.
‘The carved bench ends are quite magnificent too,’ Colenso told him, moving as close to the edge of the seat as she dared as he sat down right beside her. He nodded then instructed his driver to take them straight to Mullinsa.
‘It’s too cold a day to be roaming the countryside,’ he murmured by way of explanation. ‘The establishment I’ve been recommended has a roaring fire and does splendid refreshments,’ he added, turning to face her again. Then the trap lurched and his gaze lowered to her front, eyes widening like saucers as her bosoms were rocked from side to side.
‘I’m sure Mamm would make us some,’ Colenso said quickly, grabbing the side and willing her body to stay still.
‘Very kind, I’m sure, but we don’t want to put her to any trouble, do we?’ he replied, regaining his composure. Then, to her relief, his attention was distracted by the scattered mounds of spoil from the small quarries along the cliffs.
She relaxed back in her seat, her thoughts turning to Kitto. She wondered what he was doing. How she longed to be with him instead of this creepy works manager with his oily smile and fancy way of speaking. Why, he didn’t even notice the Cornish Heath that only grew on the serpentine or the mauve heather, golden gorse, purple betony, or creamy primroses that were blooming in the hedgerows. Kitto would have stopped and picked her a posy to take home. Kitto! If she ate her tea quickly, perhaps she’d be home in time to call and see him.
Even as her spirits rose, she knew it was a futile thought, for dusk fell quickly this time of year. Besides, it was rumoured a smuggling run was due in and no sensible person ventured out after dark then. Although the preventatives were vigilant, the seasoned smugglers who fiercely believed in their right to free trade went to great lengths to ensure nobody came between them and their booty. The village and caves were a veritable warren of secret tunnels and cellars where contraband was hidden until it could be safely moved on.
As they traversed the breadth of the flat peninsula, she remembered the story of old Mrs Arthur who, having a fondness for brandy, refused to move from her chair when the customs officers descended to search her cottage. Apparently, she’d clutched her chest and groaned until – afraid she was having a heart attack – they’d fled. Then, with a grin, she’d got to her feet, removed the rug covering the hatch and calmly climbed down her cellar steps to celebrate with a fresh bottle.
‘Well, here we are, my dear.’ She jumped as she felt a hand on her arm then realized they’d stopped outside an imposing stone building perched high on a cliff. Even on a dull day like this, you could see right across Mounts Bay to Penzance. ‘Our competitors are over there,’ Fenton announced, as if telling her something new. She shook her head, for everyone on The Lizard knew they competed for business with the works at Wherrytown.
‘By the time I’ve finished here, Poltesco will be booming and they will be but a distant memory. Dead as the dust in their works,’ he boasted, turning to her with a satisfied smile. ‘We’ve all the resources and men we need at Poltesco. The materials come in through the back door and are wheeled out of the front, straight onto the boats.’ Colenso bit her tongue, for again he was telling her things she already knew. But the Ferret was in his stride. ‘Railway or not, there’s no way they can compete with that.’ Then his expression changed. ‘Still, enough of business, it’s time for us to get to know each other better, is it not?’ he murmured, moving closer until his thigh was resting against hers.
Seeing that glint spark in his eyes once more, she could stand it no longer and leapt down from the trap.
Colenso heard a muttered oath, followed by a thud and then footsteps hurrying after her. However, when Fenton reached her side, he just smiled knowingly and took her arm.
‘The finest hotel on The Lizard,’ he announced grandly. ‘I take it you’ve not been here before?’
‘I can’t say I remember,’ Colenso replied sweetly, refusing to rise to his gibe. She could never afford to come somewhere like this and he knew it. These fine new places were springing up all over the peninsula to cater for the tourists and artists who, inspired by the beautiful serpentine gifts and unusual flora and fauna, had begun descending in their droves. They had money to spend and the hotels were quick to capitalize on it.
A blast of warmth hit them as they entered the grand foyer with its plush red carpets and huge log fire blazing in the ornate stone fireplace. A man sporting a dark uniform with a red waistcoat hurried to greet them and, much to Colenso’s consternation, insisted he take their outer garments.
‘Won’t feel the benefit when you go outside again, else,’ he whispered, seeing her dismay. ‘Your table is ready for you, Mr Fenton,’ he announced, showing them through to a private lounge overlooking the water where another fire was burning brightly, this time in a magnificent fireplace of green serpentine. Colenso stared around the smallish room with its solitary table set for two. For the second time that afternoon, she vowed to eat as quickly as she could, and when the waiter appeared bearing a tray laden with triangles of sandwiches, scones, cream and jam, she realized it would be no hardship. And the Ferret couldn’t expect her to make conversation because it was rude to talk with your mouth full, wasn’t it?
However, she hadn’t bargained for Mr Fenton’s own table manners. Apart from ensuring her plate was never empty, he tucked into his own food, staring thoughtfully out across the bay. It was only when they were sipping their tea that he spoke.
‘Well, that was delicious, don’t you think?’ he asked, leaning so close she caught the tang of his lemony cologne. However, he was more
