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Fen thought about this on the drive to Farthing Street, knowing that with any other man this would be a total turn-off. But with Joe it was different. And the reassurance of his headlights in her driving mirror went a long way to restoring the sense of security she’d taken utterly for granted until recently. She’d sailed confidently through life, certain that bad things happened to other people, never to Fenella Dysart. Not that the episode with a couple of naughty kids could be counted as very desperate. But she could have done without it, just the same. In the circumstances.
When Fen arrived she waited for Joe to park his car. ‘Are you coming in?’ she asked, as he strolled towards her.
‘Only to see you through the door. As I said before, you could do with a light out here.’
‘It’s better when the streetlight’s working.’
‘Why isn’t it at the moment?’
‘No idea.’
‘Complain to the council. In the meantime do something about security lights.’
‘I only rent the place,’ she reminded him, as he followed her inside. ‘And for what I pay I doubt the landlord would cough up for such an exotic extra.’
‘Couldn’t you have found somewhere more comfortable?’ Joe frowned as he took inventory of the cheerless little kitchen. By way of fittings it boasted a couple of cupboards, a small electric cooker, a single-drainer sink, an elderly washing machine, and the brand new microwave Fen had obviously bought herself. ‘Not exactly glossy magazine material.’
She shrugged. ‘I needed somewhere in a hurry. This was available because it’s vacation time. Normally it’s a student let.’
‘Was the flatshare in a more salubrious part of town?’
‘No. In London. What time do you want to start in the morning?’
‘I’ll check the forecast and give you a ring.’
‘Fine. Like some coffee?’
‘No, thanks. Now I’ve made sure you’re safe I’ll take off and let you get those feet of yours to bed. See you tomorrow.’ Joe smiled at her, sketched a salute, then went out, leaving Fen staring, crestfallen, at the door he’d closed behind him.
One thing she had to say for Joe Tregenna: he wasn’t asking for a thing in return for his help. As any other male of her acquaintance would have done. Though she would have rather liked a goodnight kiss. She sighed. Maybe he just didn’t fancy her.
Oh, well, she thought philosophically, as she turned the key in the lock, it was probably a good thing he hadn’t stayed. He wouldn’t like the sitting room any better than the kitchen. She didn’t either.
She kept her television and video recorder upstairs on the dressing table in the bedroom. Which was marginally more comfortable than the other rooms due to curtains she’d bought ready-made, with matching covers for the bed, a couple of cushions, and the new mattress which had been vital before she could bring herself to sleep there. The bedroom now felt more like her own personal space, which the sitting room, with its hideous wallpaper and imitation leather furniture, never would.
She smiled wryly as she got ready for bed. She’d never been given to mooching in her bedroom all day as a teenager, but these days, with a whole house at her disposal, she led a typical bedsit type of existence.
The phone rang early next morning, startling Fen awake. She stretched out a hand for the cellphone kept charged by the bed, and blinked owlishly as she said a hoarse hello.
‘I woke you,’ said Joe Tregenna, amused.
‘You certainly did.’ She yawned, and turned to look at her watch. ‘You sadist! It’s only just after six.’
‘I’ll be round in half an hour. The forecast promised sunshine, so let’s make the most of it. See you.’
Fen put the phone back, shaking her head in amused disbelief. The possibility that she might have fancied a lie-in after such a hectic working week had obviously never occurred to him.
After the fastest bath of her life she pulled jeans over a scarlet bikini, added a stretchy striped T-shirt, and managed to gulp down a cup of coffee and twist her hair into a braid before Joe rapped on the kitchen door.
‘Good morning!’ He smiled, looking so fit and fresh in khakis and white sweatshirt it tired her to look at him. ‘How are you this morning?’
‘Not human yet. I’m not really an early-morning person,’ she warned. ‘I’ll probably snore in the car. Where are we going?’
‘Mystery trip. You can guess as we go along. Have you packed swimming gear?’
‘Yessir,’ she said, saluting. ‘Plus sunscreen, hat, sunglasses and cagoule.’
‘Have you no faith, woman? The sun’s shining out there!’
‘For now it is,’ Fen said darkly. ‘Hang on a minute.’ She raced upstairs to collect her cushions, and ran down to find Joe peering into the sitting room.
‘Hell, Fen, it’s worse than the kitchen,’ he said, appalled. ‘You actually spend time in here?’
‘None at all.’ She handed him the cushions and pulled on her denim jacket. ‘Let’s go.’
In the comfortable leather-scented interior of Joe’s car, Fen leaned back with a sigh and relaxed as they threaded through roadworks to make for the motorway.
‘Sorry,’ she said, yawning. ‘I won’t be much company for a while.’
‘Take a nap. Mind if I play some music?’
‘A lullaby would be good.’
While the Jaguar ate up the miles to the strains of Ravel, Fen wriggled comfortably into her nest of cushions and was fast asleep before they’d gone a couple of miles.
‘Are we there?’ she yawned later, when the car slowed down.
‘Not yet—pitstop for coffee,’ Joe informed her.
Fen sat up, pushed back a few escaping strands of hair, and smiled at him as he parked in the motorway service station. ‘As company on a day out I’m a washout so far,’ she said apologetically. ‘I swear I’ll improve as the day goes on.’
‘After double shifts at the Mitre all week no wonder you feel tired. Come on, out you get. We need coffee.’
‘Urgently, if I’m to stay awake all the way.’ She eyed him challengingly as they walked towards the restaurant. ‘Would you have been as keen on the trip if you’d known that I’m such boring company?’
Joe gave the matter due consideration. ‘On reflection I think I prefer peaceful silence to incessant chattering.’
‘You wait until the journey home,’ she said, giggling.
‘Do that again!’
‘What?’
‘The girly little laugh. But first,’ he added hastily, as she glared at him, ‘tell me what you want and I’ll fetch it for you.’
She snatched up a tray. ‘No need. I can get my own.’
There was an argument when Joe insisted on paying for her toast and coffee, but in the end Fen gave in rather than provide more entertainment for the girl at the cash register.
‘I asked you out, so I foot the bill,’ he said flatly, as they sat down by a window.
She buttered her toast, frowning at him. ‘Look, Joe, I’m perfectly able to pay my own way.’
He drank some coffee, his eyes gleaming at her through the steam. ‘OK. You can pay for lunch.’
Great. It would serve her right if he fancied a three-course meal in some expensive hotel. ‘I wasn’t being difficult,’ she said belatedly, remembering she had good cause to be grateful to him. ‘I just like to be independent.’
His smile disarmed her completely. ‘No offence taken. But if you’re paying for lunch I’ll treat you to another coffee.’
‘Where are we going?’ Fen asked, on the way back to the car.
‘If you stay awake for the rest of the journey I’ll tell you when we’re nearly there,’ Joe promised.
She gave him a warning look as she fastened her seatbelt. ‘Tell me now, or I don’t pay for lunch.’
He laughed. ‘I never intended you to.’
She ground her teeth in frustration. ‘Has anyone ever told you that you’re an infuriating man, Joe Tregenna?’
‘Frequently, but they invariably succumb to my charm in the end,’ he said smugly, and drove off to rejoin the motorway.
CHAPTER THREE
THEIR destination, which Fen guessed once they were driving through the county of Dorset, was Lulworth Cove.
‘This is just perfect,’ she said, delighted, when they reached the white cobbled beach, which was an idyll in watercolour in the sunshine, with boats riding at anchor on a calm blue sea.
Joe unfolded the steamer chairs he’d taken from the boot of the car, handed Fen into one, then let himself down in the other with a sigh of pleasure. ‘I borrowed these from my neighbours in the hope that the weather would stay good,’ he said with satisfaction, and glanced at her over his sunglasses. ‘Have you been here before?’
‘Once, when I was very small, but I don’t remember much about it.’
‘Was Cousin Adam along on the outing?’
‘Probably,’ said Fen shortly. She dug in her bag for her sunscreen, smoothed it over the small area of skin exposed, then put on sunglasses and a white cotton sunhat, and leaned back.
There was silence between them for a while, broken only by the calls of seagulls and scraps of conversation drifting on the air as other sunseekers began approaching over the cobbles.
‘I don’t mean to be stroppy, Joe,’ said Fen, after a while. ‘But I just don’t want to talk about Adam.’
‘Then we won’t,’ he said promptly, and sat up to open the cool-bag he’d brought. ‘Fancy a cold drink? Or I can provide apples, peaches and chocolate.’
Fen sat up, impressed. ‘You’re very organised.’
‘Habit. I was brought up in Cornwall. Days on the beach were part of life.’
‘Do your people still live there?’ she asked, then gave him a wry grin. ‘Which is a nerve, I know, when I refuse to discuss my own background.’
‘I’m perfectly happy to discuss mine,’ he said, lying back in his chair. ‘I’ve got two older brothers. They’re London-based. But my parents are still in Cornwall, in the same house on the headland above the village of Polruan, with a path leading down to a small cove.’
‘Sounds wonderful.’
‘Until I left home I never appreciated how idyllic my childhood actually was. Not a lot of money to spare, but we lacked nothing important. My parents are retired now, but they both taught at the village school.’
‘Did you go there, too?’
‘All three of us, until we were eleven.’
Fen’s eyes sparkled. ‘Did it cause trouble with the other kids—because your parents were teachers, I mean?’
Joe grinned. ‘It meant quite a few bloody noses after school. My father was the headmaster, and famous for coming down like a ton of bricks on fighting. But he was forced to turn a blind eye in our case, because my mother was adamant that we sorted things for ourselves.’
‘So you grew up tough, Joe. No wonder you pitched in when you saw me in a spot of bother.’
‘Only because I saw a girl,’ he said frankly, and turned to look at her. ‘Which was an inspired move, because it led to meeting you.’
‘A pretty speech,’ she said lightly.
‘True, though. Want some chocolate?’
‘No, thanks. It might spoil my lunch. Where shall we eat?’
‘Right here. On the way down I noticed a place that does crab sandwiches to take out.’
‘Perfect!’
As the morning wore on the sun grew hotter, and after a while Joe got up and stripped down to shorts.
‘You’d better have some of this,’ said Fen, handing him the sunscreen.
He slapped some on his chest and legs, then returned it. ‘Could you do my back?’
Fen smoothed the cream over his impressive shoulders, then gave them a tap. ‘There. All done.’
‘How about you?’ asked Joe.
‘I’ll just take my jacket off.’
Fen had never suffered from shyness, but with Joe for an audience she couldn’t bring herself to strip down to the bikini.
‘Fen,’ said Joe after a while, staring out to sea. ‘It strikes me that I was a bit insensitive to ramble on to you about my childhood.’
‘Not a bit,’ she said cheerfully. ‘I liked hearing about it. Tell me more.’
‘I probably painted it a bit rosier than it was. The three of us squabbled a lot, and grumbled when required to dig the garden, wash dishes, or walk the dogs. But because my mother worked hard at school as well as at home, my father considered it only fair that the rest of us, including himself, pitched in with the chores. There was no money for hired help, and just coping with the family wash was a major undertaking. The three of us were into rugby, athletics, cricket, and in my case tennis.’
‘Which meant mountains of dirty sports gear,’ said Fen, feeling sympathy for Mrs Tregenna.
Joe glanced at her. ‘In your situation I imagine you had to do your share of chores, too?’
