Winter Magic in Port Berry (Port Berry #3)

Chapter 1

Will

‘I don’t like pilchards myself,’ Will told the kitten outside his grandmother’s cottage. He used a booted foot to gently nudge away the empty tin the black furball was licking before retrieving and tossing it into the recycling bin.

The smallest of whines scolded him before the skinny thing scarpered into a bush.

Will chuckled to himself but dropped his smile as he faced the light-oak front door. He inhaled deeply as he knocked and rubbed his hands together to help alleviate his nerves, rather than warm them from the October nip in the air. With another steadying breath he ran his hands through his mousey hair.

He’d felt awkward when joining the Royal Navy at eighteen, too. He liked to think he had more social skills now he was forty-two, but what he was presently undertaking rattled more parts of him than any warship ever could.

The forty-year-old woman who answered the door greeted him with a cheery smile and happy green eyes. ‘Hello, Willard Pendleton. Wasn’t sure you’d be back again.’

He gently tipped his head. ‘Said I would, Marie.’

‘Well, you’re in luck today. Come inside. It’s a bit fresh out there. Although I guess you sailors are used to the wind in your face.’

‘I retired from the navy two years ago,’ he said with a smile, following her along the narrow hallway to the kitchen at the end.

‘I’ll pop the kettle on, then take you through. She’s just watching her favourite gardening show.’

‘How’s she been?’

‘Oh, good and bad days. The care home called. She moves in next week.’

Will sat at the small wooden table, resting his arms on top. ‘What can I do to help?’ He glanced around at the chipped cupboards and floral crockery on show. ‘I can pack and transport.’

Marie looked over her shoulder. ‘She can’t take everything with her. Just a few personal bits.’

Will frowned. ‘But what about her stuff?’

‘You can sort that this week. Charity, second-hand shops, dustbin. I know it’s a shame, but it is what it is. The person who bought the cottage is due to move in here a couple of weeks after Babs moves out, so we don’t have much time to shift the lot.’

How sad was that? Will didn’t own a lot himself, but even he felt a slight attachment to what he did have. How would Babs feel leaving so much behind? He was gutted on her behalf.

Marie sat opposite him, showing compassion in her gaze. ‘She’s lucky she has you now.’

Lowering his head, Will sighed. ‘We don’t know each other.’

‘But you’re here now. That’s all that matters, and she’s lucid today, so go say hello, and let’s see if we can get you some answers this time.’

Marie was good at her job. A great care worker. He’d picked up on that on his first visit to this snug cottage in Port Berry.

Will stood, gazing towards the square window, taking in the view of the quiet backstreet not far from the harbour. ‘Feels weird knowing this is where I came from.’

‘Cornwall isn’t too far from Wales. Give us time, we’ll change that accent of yours to Cornish in no time.’

‘Ah, it’s not that strong anyway.’ His smile faded as he entered the small living room. His grandmother sat upright in a beige wingback chair, cuddling a cream blanket.

Soft features diverted from the television and gazed his way. ‘Ooh, hello, young man. And who might you be?’

Marie handed her a teacup half-filled with apple juice, then turned down the volume on the TV. ‘It’s Willard. He’s been to visit you before.’

Babs frowned. Her dark eyes, so like his, homing in on him. ‘I don’t remember.’

Will sat on the sofa to her side and smiled warmly, unsure what to say. He’d only met her four times, and each time felt the same. He was so glad Marie was around to help. At least Babs looked alert and somewhat peaceful today.

Marie passed him a mug of tea as she plonked herself at the other end of the sofa. ‘Willard here used to be in the navy.’

Babs smiled and nodded. ‘Like my father.’

That was the first Will had heard about that. How strange. He wondered if the sea had always been in his blood.

Marie smiled softly. ‘Willard never had a family, so he joined young, making his own.’ She nodded at him. ‘But now he’s older, he’s decided to find out who his parents are. Where he comes from, you know, that sort of thing.’

Babs sat up straighter, looking as though she was studying him. ‘I loved my parents. Good people.’

Will warmed, pleased with the knowledge there were good people in his family. At least his grandmother seemed to have had a happy life.

Marie took a sip of tea, then cleared her throat. ‘Willard did one of those gene test things that tell you who you’re related to. He found some distant relatives.’

Babs perked up. ‘What did you find, love?’

Will smiled softly. ‘I found out I was related to you.’ There was silence for a while, before he continued. ‘Some distant relatives told me you’re my grandmother, then I did some research. Birth certificates and all that, but I don’t know much so far. I was hoping you might be able to fill in some blanks.’ He steadied his breathing and waited.

‘You okay, Babs?’ asked Marie. ‘Do you understand what this man is asking?’

Babs started to twiddle with the gold bracelet on her left wrist. Her thin lips twisted to one side as she assessed him from head to toe. ‘I thought that was you as soon as I saw your face. I knew you would come back one day. I felt it.’ She kept eye contact, not showing much emotion, more intrigue. ‘You were adopted.’

Will shook his head. ‘No, I wasn’t. I was raised in and out of care homes for most of my childhood, then one foster mum took me in when I was twelve.’

Babs looked confused. ‘My grandson was adopted. I was told.’

‘By who?’ he asked gently, not wanting to force anything, for fear of her clamming up.

‘My little girl told me. Your mum. She couldn’t cope, see. I tried, but I’ve always had bad health, and she didn’t want you around so . . .’ Her hand met her lips. ‘Sorry, love. That sounded terrible.’

He didn’t feel too great either, but he kept that info privy.

Marie stepped in. ‘We all handle life our own way.’ Her smile was sympathetic, but it didn’t soften the blow Will had just taken to his solar plexus.

There was no way he was going to get a happy ending, by the sound of things, but he still had questions whirling.

‘Why did she give up her baby?’ he asked, thinking that a simple enough start.

Babs lowered her eyes to her bracelet again. ‘She wasn’t very well. Good girl, until she wasn’t. It was that lad’s fault. He made her ill. Took my baby away, he did.’ Her lips pursed as her eyes narrowed.

‘You don’t have to talk about it, Babs,’ said Marie, and although Will agreed on some level, he wanted to know the truth.

Babs wiped her hands together. ‘Done and dusted,’ she said sadly. ‘Gone now. Nothing I can do.’

Will shuffled forward, placing his tea on the coffee table. ‘I’d like to know about her.’

There was a shift in the old woman’s eyes as she turned his way. ‘You look like my husband. He was a handsome chap as well.’

‘Tell me about my mum, please,’ he said gently, hoping she would take pity on his needs.

‘She met a boy. He was no good. Got her taking all sorts. She was never the same. She had you, and he was angry. Told her to get shot, else she couldn’t live with him. It was only me here, and she wouldn’t listen. What did I know? I was just her daft old mother.’ She breathed out a small laugh as she twiddled with that bracelet.

‘So my mum was on drugs?’ He needed the confirmation, as it seemed like that was what Babs was saying.

Babs glanced up. ‘She had lovely skin. After him, she was such a mess. Broke my heart, Marie.’

Marie moved to her side to hold her hand. ‘She’s at peace now. Let that comfort you.’

It wasn’t comforting Will. ‘She died?’

‘Long time ago,’ said Babs. ‘So young.’

‘You could have told me, Marie.’

Marie shook her head. ‘Not my story to tell, Willard.’

It wasn’t shaping up to be the family reunion he was hoping for. When he’d started his search, he wasn’t entirely sure what he would unearth, but dead druggie mother — harsh but that seemed to be the case — wasn’t on the list. He wasn’t quite sure who to feel sorrier for: Babs, his deceased mum, or himself.

He looked at his gran and realized she probably wouldn’t even remember him tomorrow. He swallowed hard. He had to regain focus. What a bloody mess! Would his dad’s line be able to answer more questions?

As if reading his mind, Marie asked Babs if she knew anything about the father.

‘No. Mindy didn’t know.’

Mindy.

‘That lad was stabbed though,’ added Babs. ‘A few years after my Mindy passed away. Good riddance to bad rubbish.’ Her eyes shot up to Will. ‘He wasn’t your dad. He had her sleeping around with other men for money before you were born. Mindy didn’t know who she was half the time. And I will say, you don’t look anything like the ugly rat.’

Will took a long steadying breath. And another for good measure. There was no way of finding out who his biological dad was. That was it. He’d reached the end of his quest. It had all seemed so light and easy in the beginning. Sure, he figured a sad story would come his way — but this !

And poor Babs. He observed her afresh; she really did look so frail, lost, and alone. How she must have suffered all those years, worrying each and every day about her daughter being used and abused. The thought made his blood boil. He realized he’d have loved the opportunity to get his hands on the scumbag who destroyed his mother.

A swirl of sickness hit his gut as it dawned on him he wasn’t born out of love. And it appeared all this talk of her dead daughter was having a similar effect on Babs. She was having a lucid day from dementia. It needed to be filled with happy vibes, not some strange bloke sitting in her cottage bringing up terrible times.

For years he’d managed to live without knowing about his roots. Part of him wished he hadn’t bothered. Just the thought of his biological father being some loser who paid drugged women for sex made him feel all kinds of weird.

‘What a fabulous man your grandson grew up to be,’ said Marie, beaming his way as though sensing his distress.

Babs smiled at Will. ‘I’m so pleased you look like my husband. He was a good man. Died young. That’s when Mindy met that horrible lad. Life wasn’t the same after that. Been on my own for years, I have.’

‘You’re not on your own now,’ Will found himself saying before he could think.

Babs patted Marie’s hand. ‘Go fetch my photo album, love. The one by my bed. I want to show my grandson my Willard.’

Will smiled. ‘Your husband’s name was Willard?’

‘Yes, love. I named you, and I told him to watch over you. Keep you safe, no matter what. See, he did good by you. Tell me you’ve been happy.’

Lying wasn’t something that was part of his set-up, but she didn’t need to know how his heart ached for a family, how alone he often felt, how much he threw himself into the navy just so he could belong somewhere. How could he tell her how unloved he felt? How wary he was of falling in love in case his already broken heart got broken again. He’d never given relationships much of a chance, rejecting women before they could do the same to him. It was such a dilemma to want such closeness but be too afraid to have it.

Will tilted his head and nodded. ‘I’ve been happy.’

‘Here.’ Babs waved him closer and removed her bracelet. ‘You take this. It was your mum’s.’

‘Oh no, I couldn’t—’

‘Shush now, Willard. It belongs to you.’ She slipped the gold into his palm and curled his fingers around it.

Will didn’t know what to say or how to feel. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted anything of Mindy’s. ‘Thank you,’ was all he could muster.

Her fragile fingertips raised to lightly stroke his cheek. ‘You’re a good boy. Will you visit me again?’

A lump hit his throat. ‘Every day,’ he told her quietly, not wanting her to slip away again.

‘Where are you living, love?’

‘I’m staying at a B&B along Harbour End Road. It has a nice sea view.’

‘I bet you’re a good swimmer.’

He nodded. ‘I am.’

‘Do you have family?’

‘Just you.’

Babs raised his hand and kissed his knuckles. ‘We’ll be all right, won’t we?’

‘Yep.’

‘I’ll look after you. You can move in here with me.’

It was crushing. She had no memory of her upcoming move to a care home, and his heart broke for her once more.

Will simply nodded and sat back on the sofa as Marie entered with the photo album, and Babs smiled widely as though no cares were to be had.

But Will knew the cottage would soon belong to someone else, her things gone, her memories hazy.

He smiled at the pictures of faces he didn’t know while listening to his grandmother merrily natter away about her past. He had a gran, some understanding about his childhood . . . and nowhere else he had to be.