Calypso Dreaming

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“His clothes were falling off his back. And men like that travelling alone, well – you never know, do you?” Here she shot a glance at Tansy in the mirror. “You never know what they’re like.”

Tansy felt obliged to say, “He wasn’t alone though, was he?”

“Pardon, Tansy?”

“He wasn’t alone. He had a girl with him, didn’t he? In the back.”

“I didn’t see anyone,” replied her mother, as though that settled the matter.

“She didn’t get out during the crossing,” said Tansy. “But she was there just now. You must have noticed her.”

It had been obvious enough, after all. The floral cushion cover pinned over the van’s window had been lifted, and a small white face had shown there, peering curiously into a light that seemed too painfully bright for it. A beautiful child, of four or five. There was no doubt. But those eyes, so large and dark, had no lids with which to squint the light away, so that this girl could do nothing but stare and stare. A shocking, as well as a beautiful, face. But for all her staring, Tansy did not think the girl had seen them either.

Within two minutes they had reached Uncle John’s smallholding. At first they missed it entirely, hidden as it was by a high stone wall and a hairpin entrance. But Tansy happened to look back and see what was only now visible, a sign with the words Crusoe’s Castle painted in black calligraphic script.

“Oh, Geoff, it’s beautiful!” said Hilary.

It was two storeys of the local limestone, a solid, yeomanly building declining into a sprawl of brick and mortar, a woodshed and a barn.

“Well, this is more like it,” breathed Hilary. “The photos don’t do it justice.”

“And the inside’s a gem,” said Geoff. “Carved panels, hangings, all the rest of it. If anything, John’s gone a bit overboard. Too fancy for round here. If it was up to me—”

“Yes?” prompted Hilary.

“Well, I’d strip it down a bit. Do something cheap and cheerful.”

“Yes, you would,” said Hilary. “Cheap, especially.”

If this shaft was aimed over Tansy’s head, it missed. Gloria Quilley’s Day-Glo taste in clothes had given Hilary a convenient handle for her scorn. Sighing, Tansy followed her parents up to the front door. With luck, the house would be startling enough to make them forget their tedious, half-unspoken row.

The heavy knocker brought no response. Geoff glanced to right and left, lest John might be crouching in the undergrowth. “Halloa!” he called. He stepped back from the door and began peering through the bullet-glass windows.

“Someone’s got green fingers,” said Hilary, admiring the window box. Looking at Tansy, she added, with a sudden breezy cheeriness, “Come on, Tansy, squeeze a smile out of that long face. This is meant to be a holiday.”

Tansy saw that her mother was taking some pleasure in John’s non-appearance and Geoff’s discomfort. Another bad sign. But she smiled back.

“Mr Robinson, is it?” said a voice behind them.

Geoff turned, looking startled. Recovering himself slightly, he guessed at the name of the tall man before him. “Mr Jones?”

“Call me Davy,” said the man, whose vast, tanned hand had already engulfed Geoff’s slim white one and was shaking it with a heartiness that bordered on ferocity.

“Of course. John mentioned how helpful you’ve been to him.”

Outdoor work had weathered Davy Jones’s skin. His face was obscured by a long Viking beard that tapered to a point. Pale blue eyes smiled at them and lips, surprisingly full and childlike, grinned at Hilary and Tansy in turn as Geoff introduced them. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to meet you – I lost track of the time. John said you’d be here for twelve.”

Davy produced a keyring from his pocket.

“What castle dungeon did you get that from?” Hilary asked with a gasp.

Davy looked apologetic. “John likes the drama of it, I think – the old cellar door, this is, with a lock to match.”

“Isn’t John in?”

“Didn’t he tell you?” asked Davy Jones in surprise. “He left two days ago.”

“He what?”

“They changed the date of his cruise at the last minute. It was panic stations here, I can tell you! Didn’t he get in touch?”

“He did not!” groaned Geoff. “He was meant to be spending this week showing me the ropes. What am I going to do now?”

“I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it,” said Davy. “This was my uncle’s house – I more or less grew up in it, so I know what goes where. Don’t despair! We’ll sort things out between us.”

And very quickly he had found the massy key that opened the house, and he and Geoff were off on a tour of boilers, stopcocks and fuse boxes.

“Runes and druids,” commented Hilary ironically as their heads sank below the trapdoor to the cellar. “Come on, Tansy, we have a house to explore.”

“What about Uncle John? He can’t just have gone off like this, can he?” Tansy had been expecting a full-scale argument over the blunder and this calm of her mother’s was suspect.

“I hardly expected that any plan cooked up by John and your father would go smoothly. Look, here’s the master bedroom.”

Half an hour later Geoff returned, beaming. Tansy heard a door slam and the crunch of Davy Jones’s feet on the gravel.

“See what I mean?” Geoff began. “So much for the islanders being stand-offish. Salt of the earth, that man! He’s given me all kinds of help. Told me about feeding the Jacob’s sheep and the hens, where the account books are, everything.”

“Who is he exactly?” Tansy asked.

“Davy Jones? Calls himself the Nature Warden, but he’s really the island’s general handyman, I gather. None too bright, perhaps, but a heart of oak!”

“Then you’ve fallen on your feet again,” said Hilary.

“We’ve fallen on our feet,” Geoff pointed out.

Hilary shrugged. As Geoff pottered off, Tansy saw the set of her mother’s face, momentarily bleak and distant. She said gently, “Are you sorry you came?”

“Sorry?” said Hilary. “No! Why do you ask?”

“It’s just, you and Dad – you seem a bit … Well, you know how they said we had to break the cycle—”

“Not another word!” said Hilary, playfully putting her finger to Tansy’s lips. “For myself, I intend to have a wonderful time. I advise you to do the same.” And to Tansy’s wonder Hilary flung herself on to the big double bed like a child. It was beyond understanding. But when Hilary laughed Tansy found herself laughing too, and burrowed under the covers to chase her mother’s oh-so-ticklish feet. And they were giggling as they hadn’t done in years, since the time before Gloria.

The sun was shining on the dust motes thrown up by the bed. The motes spiralled up out of the window and outside Tansy could hear the swooping gulls and their chatter, and she thought: I am going to remember this moment always. Because everything is so simple and so perfect.

That was when Tansy truly believed it. She realised that until then she had never thought they would escape from Bristol and from all that Bristol now meant. Even the thought of the place had a sour taste. Her best friend Kate had been compiling a list of secret names, spells to be cast on the unsuspecting. She half-believed she was a witch. But Kate had been making bad friends lately and it came into Tansy’s head that she’d had a lucky escape.

A lucky escape. Yes, the phrase was a tempting one. Dad had escaped from Gloria and she had escaped from Kate. Lucky for them both.

“How do you like being marooned so far?” asked Hilary as she emerged, spluttering, from her cave of eiderdown.

“I love it,” Tansy said.