The Cornish Knot Read online

  I’ve driven around much of the southern part and visited many of the places I’ve read about in books. I enjoyed exploring in and out of little coves and hamlets just because they are there. I could write a book about my travels, but I won’t – not here anyway. Photos will tell their own story when I get back, and if anyone is seriously interested in anything they can look it up.

  I love visiting these quaintly pretty villages steeped in history. I went to Cadgwith – the tiniest of villages with claims to being the second home of some artist and his artist wife. At the opposite end of the scale, I managed to squeak in a trip to the Eden Project. What an amazing place. Nothing historic about their look or approach, this place is all about the future.

  Winter in Cornwall is not as good as I’d hoped. Whether it’s the lowering cloud, sea mist or fog, which cloaks the entire peninsula making visibility almost nil, or the famous gale winds that pound the sea against the cliffs, I find the whole area very desolate.

  I feel lonely and miss Tony so much. I’m trying not to wish he was with me all the time, but travelling on my own is not fun.

  Chapter 12

  Their Hawaiian resort on one of the outer islands – hidden well away from the hustle and bustle of Waikiki – was close to paradise. The three side-by-side bungalows, with a large private swimming pool and garden, led directly onto the almost white sand beach and blue ocean beyond. Megan was impressed when she first arrived, and Sarah and Nick agreed.

  “Mum, what a fabulous place. Much more than I expected. This is pure luxury.”

  Megan was stretched out on the sunlounger under the shade of a large canopy when Sarah joined her later in the day. She threw her towel on the adjacent lounger and looked across at Bella who was playing happily close by – she’d quickly worked out she could wander between Nana’s room and her own without Mummy calling her.

  Megan wondered how to approach things. She was nervous about all the news she had to tell them and wondered how they would react. In her disquiet, she overcompensated by overorganising. “I’ve ordered a barbecue pack delivery around five o’clock. Everything comes prepared, other than cooking the fish and meats, that is. I thought it easier for us to have a dinner ‘at home’, so to speak, on your first night. I checked out one of the restaurants last night too and have some ideas for the next few days and nights, but right now you probably need a restful evening more than anything else. Jetlag will catch up sooner or later.” Megan finished rattling off her speech.

  “Stop fussing, Mum. It sounds ideal. Just like this place ... but, um, you will get around to telling us what all this is about sometime soon, won’t you?” Sarah hid her eyes behind sunglasses, clearly not expecting Megan to answer just yet.

  Her mother didn’t disappoint and changed the topic. “Jason’s plane lands late tomorrow afternoon, so I’ve booked for Christmas Eve dinner. And before you ask, I’ve also booked a babysitter for Bella.”

  “That’s going a bit overboard, isn’t it?”

  “Not really. Then after dinner I’ll come back here and stay with her so you young ones can go party somewhere to your hearts’ content.”

  “Nice idea, Mum, but you’ve forgotten one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Bella knows Christmas means presents, so she’ll be up with the sun – if not before. I can’t afford to party all night.”

  “That’s okay, I’ve thought of that too. She can sleep in my unit, and I’ll see to the early morning and the Christmas stocking. I’ll even take her to see the super large Christmas tree displays around the complex until you are all up, and then we can meet up for breakfast. I’ve taken care of Christmas dinner too.”

  Sarah sat up, whipped off her sunglasses and glared at Megan. “Mum! Stop this. Stop gabbling and stop organising. You don’t have to take care of Bella, or us for that matter,” she snapped, vaguely waving her hand. “Or all this.”

  “I just wanted to spoil you a little.” Surprised by Sarah’s reaction, Megan put her hand on the girl’s arm. “Please. Let me do this. After what I’ve found out in the last couple of months, I’ve realised how important family is. And what not having a family to care about can do to a person.”

  * * * * *

  Megan checked Jason’s flight schedules twice during the afternoon, wishing the hours would pass more quickly. Even though he would think her gestures unnecessary, she booked a car to collect him and ordered a welcome basket, and asked Sarah and Nick to let her see Jason alone. If only she could see his face before the shutters came down again, it might help her read his thoughts and understand what was going on.

  With nothing more to do except wait, she tried reading. Idly flicking through a magazine, she hoped something would distract her, to no avail. Feeling far too unsettled, she threw the magazine on the couch and tried pacing again, constantly looking at her watch as the minutes slowly ticked by. Finally, she grabbed her hat and sunglasses and strode out the door towards the beach. Maybe a walk would fill in enough time and give her something else to focus on.

  She arrived back at the bungalows feeling more relaxed and surprisingly refreshed, despite the heat. Thinking to do a last-minute check on everything in Jason’s suite, she slid open the ranch slider in time to overhear Jason speaking to someone she couldn’t see; his voice seemed to come from the bedroom.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to shut you out. I really don’t. But, please, please, let me see Mum first and try to explain to her.”

  Megan didn’t hear the response but distinctly got the impression this conversation was ongoing and unresolved. Jason appeared just as she was on the point of deciding whether to sneak out, pretending she hadn’t heard anything, or to announce herself. His face fell. Looking uncomfortable and flushed, he dashed forward and wrapped her in a brief hug.

  “Mum! How wonderful to see you. How long have you been standing there? Sorry, I didn’t hear you knock.” His tone indicated rebuke, yet the words were said at such a pace he simply confirmed his agitation. He rushed on, while opening the fridge to investigate its contents before Megan could speak. “I could do with a drink. It’s so hot here. Do you want anything?”

  “Thank you, yes. You can pour me a white wine.”

  By biting her tongue, she stopped herself saying anything further until he’d had a chance to explain. She threw her hat and sunglasses on the nearby chair and crossed the room to sit on the couch. Jason made small talk about the flight, its early arrival and getting through customs, as he opened and shut cupboards looking for glasses and pouring drinks. At last he sat at the other end of the L-shaped couch and almost drained his beer in one go.

  “What’s all this about, Mum? Why the secrecy and your insistence we ‘be here together’? It really has been a hassle.”

  “Hassle? You think spending Christmas with your mother and sister and her family is a hassle?” Her voice rose uncontrollably as she struggled to contain the hurt.

  “Well, no. Not exactly, I didn’t quite mean it that way. I meant the hassle of having to make bookings and change plans, and stuff. And for what reason? Other than Christmas, I fail to understand.”

  Tempted to tell him to go to hell, she swallowed the rising bitterness. “You shouldn’t need to understand, Jason. You’re here because I asked you and, I’d hoped you’d be pleased to see me. However, I won’t detain or bother you more than I have to.”

  A few moments’ silence followed. She tried to get hold of her emotions and not explode with anger or say things she couldn’t take back. “Who have you got hiding in the bedroom?”

  The look on his face confirmed he was indeed hiding something – and someone. Resentment flared between them.

  “Don’t even try lying, Jason. I didn’t mean to invade your privacy. I didn’t know you were here. You arrived early, as you pointed out. I opened the door and heard you speaking and, as there doesn’t appear to be anyone else in the room at the moment ...”

  She looked around the room to make her point. “Were
you talking to yourself? Or is there someone else here?”

  Her polite sarcasm was not lost on him.

  Jason ran his hand through his hair and, turning his face away from his mother, looked out the window to the view beyond. Megan studied her boy carefully. Her heart skipped a beat. He looked so much like a younger version of his father. His hair, dark, thick and wavy like hers, gleamed, and his skin was clear. Although his eyes were turned away, she remembered their deep brown depths and the extra long lashes that used to make his sister so jealous. Long-limbed, slim and graceful – a rather unusual way of describing a man maybe, but the image just popped into her head. He looked a picture of health and, she suddenly realised, happiness. In contrast, his pose was tense and his movements jerky.

  Abruptly, he stood and headed into the bedroom. Minutes passed. Megan sat as quietly as she could and tried to control the fear growing inside. Fear of what, she wasn’t sure, but something odd was going on here. More minutes passed. She sipped her wine slowly.

  Finally she heard the door behind her open.

  “Mum.” He sounded even more strained than earlier. “I’d like you to meet someone.”

  Megan rose and turned towards him.

  “What’s the matter, Jason? You know your friends are always welcome.”

  Jason didn’t answer. He simply stepped aside so Megan could see a petite girl with dark hair cascading over her shoulders. She looked beautiful.

  “This is Caterina. Trina, my wife.”

  Megan gasped and shot him a look of total confusion. “Your wife?”

  She turned to look at the girl again – she was obviously nervous and biting her lip. In a matter of seconds, Megan’s thoughts covered a lot of ground. Formality, she decided, the only way she could stay in control. She would talk to Jason in private later. Now was not the time to subject the girl to a family fight.

  “I’m sorry Jason didn’t see fit to introduce us sooner. I’m very pleased to meet you and look forward to knowing more about you.”

  Megan took a few steps towards the girl and extended her hand, which Trina shook. At least the girl was smiling now, shyly.

  “I’m sure you have your reasons for not telling me, Jason, and I can’t deny I’m hurt by your decision. I would like an explanation but not now. It’s Christmas Eve. Let’s enjoy the evening and get to know one another better over dinner. Your sister will be back shortly. I’ll tell her you’re here. I’m sure she will be thrilled with your news. You won’t recognise Bella. She’s grown so much. Dinner is at seven.”

  Her rapid staccato sentences blocked any response. Collecting her hat and sunglasses, Megan made her escape. If she stayed any longer, she would not be able to contain her anger nor the tears that threatened to overflow.

  * * * * *

  Even before she told Sarah about Jason and Caterina, Megan knew the girl was out of sorts and not her usual cheerful self. Now Sarah exploded. She was furious at what he had done and wanted to rush straight in and confront him, but Megan begged her not to cause a scene.

  “For Trina’s sake.”

  Caterina deserved to feel welcome. It was not her fault. The time to talk to Jason alone would come later.

  “Don’t let him off the hook like that. He’s been abominably selfish!”

  For the first hour, an uncomfortable tension settled around the dinner table. The process of ordering drinks and food gave them time to sort their thoughts into what could and could not be said.

  Trina unwittingly saved the evening and quickly became the focus of their attention. “My family came from Tuscany originally, from a village not far from Florence. The family is large with numerous branches,” she explained. “Sometimes the eldest cousin of one branch is old enough to be the parent of cousins in another branch. It’s all far too complicated to explain unless you’ve grown up with it.”

  Happy to share her story, her new family gratefully plied Trina with questions, which solved two problems. First, it avoided the necessity of having to talk to each other, bypassing topics that could erupt into accusations and arguments, and second, it gave them all a chance to learn a bit about her.

  “Does anyone else in your family work in the creative arts?” asked Sarah, interested to learn Trina had an arts degree.

  “Long time ago my great-grandfather was an artist – although not a very famous one. He earned his money painting frescoes and ceilings in some of the wealthy homes and a few of the smaller churches. Being an artist was different, better than being a peasant. My grandmother talked about him a lot. She was proud of him.”

  “What did your grandmother and mother do?” asked Megan.

  “Nonna was a great cook and ran her own ristorante, becoming famous locally for her pasta sauces, but not my mama. She rebelled, escaping the kitchen as soon as she could. She loved fashion and was drawn to America, to what New York could offer.”

  “Is that why your English is so good?” asked Sarah.

  “No, not exactly. I learnt English at university. She met my father in America, but I grew up in Italy. Unfortunately, her dreams didn’t work out.”

  “What a pity. What happened?” queried Megan.

  “She wanted to be a stilista di moda – a fashion designer, you know. She was full of hopes but she ended up working long hours in one of the rag trade factories as a machinist. My father soon lost interest and one day never came home again.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. A child needs a family. It must have been difficult for you and your mum.”

  “On the contrary. That is not what I meant at all. Mama returned to Italy. I had family; I was raised by everyone – my mother, my grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins. Mine was a good childhood, just no father. My mother’s dreams eventually did come true in a different way.”

  Trina’s story enthralled them, and some of the tension eased. “My uncle was, by then, in the leather trade, so the family established a shop selling shoes and handbags. Mama was in her element and proved a natural retailer. She began telling the designers what women wanted from their handbags and shoes. She was the one who introduced colour and styles no one had considered before.

  “The shop quickly became very popular, growing into the upmarket and exclusive boutique it is today.”

  “Does you mother still run the store?” asked Megan, interested in the story of a like-minded woman.

  “Sadly, no. She died of cancer ... September last year.”

  Megan considered the coincidence with Tony’s date too frightening for words. She smothered the gasp seeking to escape but Sarah saw the fleeting expression on her mother’s face and quickly stepped in.

  “How awful for you. And our condolences, of course, but how odd. Our Dad died last September, too.”

  “Yes, I know. Jason told me. I’m sorry.” Trina’s voice dropped to a whisper.

  Sarah threw an angry look at her brother. “Yes. I suppose he would have. But then, you would know a lot more about us than we know about you. Wouldn’t she, Jason?”

  Sarah paused to check her temper before turning back to Trina. “It seems we share more than we realised. Hard as these things are. But to better news ... Tell me – when did you and Jason meet?”

  Trina looked askance at Jason. He had remained unusually silent during the conversation. Now he shifted uncomfortably in his chair and refilled his wine. Everyone waited.

  Clearing his throat, he muttered, “December. Two years ago.”

  Even Nick was astounded. “And you never told anyone? Why man, for goodness’ sake, why? After all your mother and sister have been through. You should be ashamed of yourself.” He got up and left the table.

  “That was the Christmas you didn’t come home, I remember now.” Sarah’s voice sounded flat and barely above a whisper. “The last one Dad had.”

  Megan sensed Sarah was extremely angry. Nick too, she thought, since his reaction was so out of character. He didn’t often express an opinion on matters between siblings – especially not in public.
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  “How could you?” Sarah hissed between gritted teeth.

  Jason jerked his head towards Sarah, his face reddening with rage. “Now, listen here ...”

  Megan, worried harsh words would be said that could not be retracted, quickly spoke over him. “Stop it, you two. Now is not the time. We are supposed to be celebrating. And welcoming Caterina to the family. Jason, go dance with your wife.”

  Chapter 13

  Oh, Tony, where did I go wrong? A small tear escaped the corner of her eye as Megan lay in bed after a restless night. Her earlier suggestion the young ones go party together certainly didn’t eventuate. Jason, eagerly taking his mother’s advice, disappeared onto the dance floor with Trina and never returned. Sarah went in search of Nick, saying she would have an early night, leaving Megan at the table on her own.

  So here she lay, at dawn on Christmas morning, alone and agitated – although Tony had, again, been annoyingly logical during their midnight discussions. “Trust him, darling. I’m sure he had his reasons,” but she still needed to hear them.

  She had left Jason a note asking him to join her for a walk this morning. With an hour to fill before she expected him, she rose, dressed in off-white linen trousers and tunic, threw back the curtain on a perfect scene and made some tea. About the time she started fretting whether Jason would turn up, he appeared at the door.

  “Good morning. I was hoping you’d join me. Tea? Coffee?”

  He shook his head.

  “Let’s walk then.”

  Linking her arm in his, she guided him down to the beach chatting idly. They were forced to separate as they made their way across the soft sand. Jason took the chance to put distance between them as he splashed through the waves ebbing and flowing on the shore.