Second Chances at Samphire Bay (Samphire Bay Village #1)

Chapter 16

Living on a peninsula with a cross tidal road meant that Bunty’s guests always had to plan their visits carefully. Jasmine was doing the very same thing. She looked at the tide times which were propped up on the kitchen windowsill. After studying them, she decided the best time to visit would be ten thirty in the morning, at low tide, giving her a few hours to get back home safely.

Jasmine had been genuinely saddened to hear how upset Bunty was when Robin had given her the photographs. It both touched and surprised her how a larger than life, gregarious, tell-it-as-it-is character could react in such a way, given the length of time it had been since those photographs had been taken. It must have been over fifty-odd years ago, judging by the looks of her and the man in the pictures. Jasmine wondered, not for the first time, who the man was; who had made Bunty smile and laugh so carefree and wantonly? And what had happened to him? He certainly wasn’t on the scene any more, mores the pity, she suspected.

Travelling down the tidal road, it amazed her how flat and clear it could be one minute yet was so easily covered by the racing tide as it reached its highest point. It was incredible, really, how quickly the conditions changed. So much so, photographs of stranded cars in the sea were displayed on a notice board at the beginning of the road, to act as a warning for anyone daring or foolish enough to try and beat the rushing water.

Jasmine had allowed herself plenty of time as she breezed down the road with the wind blowing through the car windows. She breathed in deeply, smelling the salt in the sea air. She saw the magnificent art deco house standing high above the estuary, showing off its 1930s architecture. Jasmine admired the curvature of the bow windows and the parapets of its exterior. It was all so tasteful and intriguing; she was curious to see inside it.

After parking her car, she climbed up the stone steps and rang the doorbell. It wasn’t long before Bunty’s outline appeared in the glass door. She opened it with a big beam at seeing who it was.

‘Jasmine! Lovely to see you.’ She held the door open and ushered her inside.

Jasmine instantly took in the high, cherry yellow ceiling with a glamorous chandelier in gold leaf and chrome finishing, the full-length fan wall mirror and the sweeping staircase. The rooms leading off the hall had the typical art deco sunburst mantels above the door frames and the light switches had the original brass cases. It was all so captivating and very fitting of the era it had been built. Jasmine almost expected a pretty young maid to come scurrying in, dressed in a black uniform with a white frilly apron and headdress.

Her fascination continued when Bunty led them into the drawing room with high dusty pink walls, covered with two elaborate mirrors and various watercolour paintings in ornate gold frames. She wafted over to a retro glass drinks cabinet and began making drinks.

‘Gin and tonic, darling?’ she enquired, already pouring into two tumblers.

‘Just the one please,’ answered Jasmine.

She glanced at the sea landscapes and noticed their tiny signature in the corners: Hamish Deville . She assumed this was Bunty’s father, or maybe an uncle.

‘Daddy was a brilliant artist,’ announced Bunty passing her drink. She’d seen Jasmine squinting to read the painting’s signature.

‘Ah, I see. Yes, they’re wonderful. Thanks,’ said Jasmine taking her glass. Then, as they sat down by the table, she noticed the photographs that Robin had found. They were all positioned neatly in a row. Jasmine looked at them, then slowly lifted her head to face Bunty who was staring at her.

‘Have you already seen these?’ asked Bunty, pointing towards the black and white pictures.

There was no point in denying it, so Jasmine came clean.

‘Yes, Bunty, I have. Robin showed them to me,’ she admitted, then took a sip of her drink. Hell, it was strong! She coughed at its sharpness.

Bunty nodded her head.

‘Yes, I thought he might have,’ she said, appreciating the girl’s honesty. They both looked back at the snapshots on the table, stories from long ago. ‘Why are you here, Jasmine?’ Bunty asked a tad abruptly, interrupting any sentimental impression that might have been on the brink of emerging.

Taken aback by Bunty’s briskness, Jasmine blinked and took another sip of her drink before replying, refusing to be intimidated.

‘I was wondering if you would like to come to mine for dinner one evening?’

At this Bunty gave a delighted – if not somewhat surprised – smile.

‘Dinner? At yours?’ she repeated, her face lit up with glee.

Jasmine smiled. ‘Yes, I’d love to have you round and show you what I’ve done with the place.’

‘I’d love to, darling, how kind,’ Bunty cheered, thoroughly pleased with the invite.

‘Great, well I was thinking one night next week perhaps?’

‘Absolutely,’ nodded Bunty.

‘Saturday OK with you?’ Jasmine suggested, preferring the weekend so at least Robin wouldn’t be working the next day, which then reminded her to mention he’d be there too.

‘Saturday it is,’ replied Bunty, then added with a sly grin. ‘I take it I won’t be the only guest?’ Her eyes twinkled with mischief.

‘Er… actually no, I’ve invited Robin along, too,’ said Jasmine, frowning slightly. Why was Bunty looking so playful? And more to the point, how had she guessed about Robin being invited?

‘I thought he might be there.’ Bunty gave a knowing smile and arched an eyebrow.

‘Sorry?’ replied Jasmine rather confused.

‘Getting along nicely, are you?’

‘Well… yes, I thought it would be neighbourly to include him,’ answered Jasmine.

‘Of course, darling, of course,’ chuckled Bunty. Then, changing the subject completely, she reached out to one of the photographs on the table. ‘Perry,’ she blurted out. ‘His name was Perry.’ Her eyes filled with emotion. Jasmine sat in silence, not quite knowing what to say. ‘But he sailed away,’ she murmured to herself. Jasmine coughed and shifted uncomfortably in her chair. ‘Anyway,’ said Bunty, quickly snapping out of her reverie. ‘Saturday sounds lovely. I’ll look forward to it.’

‘Good,’ said Jasmine, relieved that Bunty was back in the room. For a moment she’d thought she had lost the old woman, she seemed so distant and vulnerable, not at all her usual self.

Driving home, Jasmine was pondering the man’s name Bunty had revealed: Perry. Quite an unusual name. Then she reflected on her other words, but he sailed away .

She also remembered the anchor Robin had found in his trunk – he’d obviously been connected to the sea in some way. Jasmine’s eyes narrowed in contemplation. A man named Perry, with sailing connections. Why did that sound so familiar…

Robin and Jack stood at the bar ashen-faced.

‘Right, lads, what can I get you?’ asked Ned the landlord.

‘Two pints of Dizzy Blonde please, Ned,’ replied Jack.

Once served, they went to find a quiet corner, away from the hustle and bustle of the pub. Both sat in silence, drinking their beer, until Robin heaved a sigh.

‘What do you think is going to happen now?’ He looked at Jack for the answer. They’d just been to the police station to report all that Robin had uncovered. The officer in charge had listened intently, interested in everything they had to say. He had paid particular attention to the photos on Robin’s phone and asked for him to send them onto the constabulary email account. He had clearly taken the pair of them extremely seriously, recording Adrian’s workplace address as well as Jasmine’s home address. Finally, once the police officer was happy with their version of events, he took their contact details and they left the station feeling somewhat dazed.

‘I think they’re going to get Adrian in for questioning, can’t see what else could happen,’ Jack said, finishing his pint. He tipped his head towards Robin’s glass. ‘Fancy another?’

‘I’ll get these,’ said Robin, getting up from his chair.

Although knowing he’d absolutely done the right thing, he couldn’t help but worry about how all this was going to affect Jasmine. He, more than most, had seen how she was beginning to blossom, how she had seemed to be settling into Samphire Bay. He pictured her laughing that morning they’d gone swimming in the sea, how joyful and bright she’d been. Then he pictured her sat opposite him talking animatedly when he’d cooked her dinner that evening. How she’d just got on with renovating her cottage, with a cheery, positive disposition. Would this revelation change all that? Would it reopen a deep wound and suffocate all her positivity?

‘What’s up, Robin? You’re looking damned serious mate,’ Ned said from behind the bar.

‘Same again thanks, Ned.’ Robin offered a half smile, but no explanation. He could hardly tell the pub landlord his troubles. But you need to tell Jasmine , said the voice of reason inside his head.

Meanwhile Jasmine was sat at the kitchen table with her laptop open. She had spent the past hour searching the website of Carston Marina, where Moonshine had been moored. She had also searched various canal and narrowboat Facebook pages. She and Tom had been members of the various groups when living on Moonshine and the pages had proved extremely useful, being novices, to have a forum where they could query or discuss aspects of narrowboat living. Some of the members were very experienced and had a lot of good advice to offer. It had also been handy when buying and selling boat equipment.

She and Tom had needed a manual water pump and had looked online to find a good second-hand one. Luckily, one was for sale via the Carston Marina website. Jasmine remembered the owners name, Perry. Could there be a connection?

Not having much to go off, Jasmine had scoured Facebook, page after page, with all things related to canals and narrowboat living, eyes running across each member’s name, but there wasn’t anyone by the name of Perry. Surely he had to be somewhere? If he had used the Carston Marina’s website, then he must have moored there at some point, or at least have some connection to it. She tried going back to the marina’s Facebook group page, this time scrolling way back to when they had bought the water pump, over three years ago. It took a while, backtracking to the period she wanted. Various photographs of fellow narrowboaters flashed before her; stunning sunsets in fire-lit skies, colourful boats chugging serenely along the canal, festive deck parties, barbeques… and there was one, a group of older men huddled together round a wood burner, clasping tankards of ale. They were celebrating someone’s birthday, a Happy 70th! banner was displayed in the background. Under the picture read the caption, ‘Great birthday party last night. Big thanks to Geoff, Brian, Perry and Trevor.’ Perry! At last, she had stumbled across the name.

Jasmine’s mind went into overdrive. This Perry was the right age to be Bunty’s man. She clicked on the photograph and enlarged it as much as possible, studying the four men. She homed in on the third man in the group, assuming this would be Perry, in name order. Did this look like the man in the photographs Robin found? It was hard to tell, obviously fifty-odd years on, but he still had a sense of style about him, with his jaunty neckerchief and granddad shirt. Or was she just clutching at straws? His grey hair was thick and quite long with a slight wave to it. He definitely had an air of charisma about him. Almost a nomadic magnetism, she thought to herself with a giggle.

Then a bright idea struck her. If Perry had a narrowboat, she might be able to trace him. She quickly went onto the website for the register of canal boats, Canal Plan. All she knew was his first name. The search needed a full name, or at least the name of the boat. Refusing to give in, Jasmine used her initiative. Perry was a fairly uncommon name, could he have used it when naming his boat? It was possible, people did incorporate their name. In any case it was worth a try. Jasmine typed in the name ‘Perry’ on the search tab. A list of names came up: Periwinkle, Peregrine’s Place, Peri-Peri and The Merry Perry .

Her eyes scanned each name and she clicked on every one to be thorough. Periwinkle was a brand new boat, so that was ruled out. Peregrine’s Place was owned by a Todd Walker, maybe he’d either inherited the boat, or had bought it without renaming it? Peri-Peri was a Portuguese floating restaurant. Then came The Merry Perry , owned by a Perry Scholar. Yes! What’s more, his address wasn’t a million miles away either, it was Lancaster. Could this be Bunty’s Perry?