27. Homeward Bound

27

Homeward Bound

Hilda was sitting up in bed, a drip in her arm, a magazine open on her lap.

‘You’re looking a little better,’ she said, as Josie pulled a chair close to the bedside.

‘It’s me that should be saying that to you,’ Josie said. ‘How is everything?’

Hilda shrugged. ‘I start treatment tomorrow,’ she said, reaching out to touch Josie’s arm. ‘I’m scared, Josie. I don’t think I’ve ever really been scared before. Like, there was the time I was collecting samples in Africa and got chased down by a leopard, or the time in Antarctica when the sea started to freeze around the boat, but those were more exhilarating than genuine fear. I never thought I was going to die. I didn’t realise how much I liked being alive until now.’

Josie held Hilda’s hand. It lacked the strength it had once had, as though Hilda were slowly slipping away, and there was nothing either of them could do.

‘We’ll do that zipline,’ she said. ‘I promise.’

A tear ran down Hilda’s cheek. ‘Go and be happy, Josie. Don’t let the past define you. It’s time to start building your future.’

Josie tried to reply, but all she could do was put her hand over her mouth in a pathetic attempt not to cry.

‘I wondered when you were coming back,’ Tiffany said as Josie came through the door into the reception cabin. ‘Look at all these.’

Lines of cards, soft toys, flowers and other random gifts filled every available space. ‘Congratulations!’ ‘Good luck!’ ‘Happy Opening Day!’ and more slogans shouted at Josie in gaudy, flamboyant lettering.

‘Someone sent us a bread maker,’ Tiffany said with a grin. ‘I’ve always wanted one of those.’

‘I didn’t think people did things like this,’ Josie said, shaking her head.

‘Welcome to the modern age,’ Tiffany said. ‘You didn’t forget that we open tomorrow, did you? Bookings have doubled since the excavation went public. Our first night, and we’re already full. Biggest campsite in southern Cornwall.’ She grinned. ‘By the way, how does it feel to be immortalised?’

‘Um, what?’

Tiffany’s smile dropped. ‘Didn’t you hear?’

‘Hear what?’

‘Ah, that’s right, you were off-site for a couple of days. There’s been a pretty mental development.’

‘What?’

Tiffany adjusted the straw hat she wore and made a drumming motion in the air. ‘Drumroll, please—’

‘Just tell me!’

Tiffany beamed. ‘Ha, well, that guy in the tomb … it’s not a guy.’

‘Not a … what is it then?’

‘It’s a skeleton of a woman. The scientists think it could be the earliest known example of a warrior queen. And of course, for merchandising and general exploitation purposes, they needed a decent name.’ She grinned. ‘Nat and Robinson both agreed on it. Queen Josephine, Lady of the Cave Lions.’

Josie coughed. ‘Are you having a laugh?’

‘I think it has a lovely ring to it. Named after the first woman to set eyes on her.’

Josie shook her head. ‘Oh my goodness. That’s not something I expected. Is it too late to change it?’

‘Yep. It’s already being reported in the press. By the way, I put in an offer on a vacant commercial property down in the village, you know, getting in ahead of the expected price boom. It’s right on the main street, and has a little flat upstairs, two bedrooms. I thought we—but mostly you, since I’ll be doing my residency—would need something to do in the off-season. Plus, great job that you’ve done notwithstanding, this is still Nat’s campsite.’

Josie smiled. ‘My miracle daughter. How would I survive without you?’

‘You’d manage. You did before. Coffee, trinkets, confectionary. What do you think?’

Josie took a deep breath. ‘Queen Josephine’s Café and Bookshop,’ she said, trying the words out for size. ‘How do you think that would sound?’

‘I think it would sound perfect. Good choice, Mum.’

‘I guess that puts paid to that Nathaniel lookalike doll,’ Josie said.

‘Nat’s bought the entire stock already,’ Josie said. ‘He said they’re collectors’ items. Do you want to see the prototype for Queen Josephine?’

‘Do I want to see it?’

Tiffany smiled and pulled a soft toy doll out from under the counter. It looked vaguely Amazonian in a spongy, gaudy way, with one paw-like hand gripping a plastic spear.

‘It’s a work in progress,’ Tiffany said. ‘There’s a bit of refining to do.’

Josie gave Tiffany a hug, then went down to the excavation site, wanting to see how things were going. It looked more like a construction site now, with plastic sheet fences erected around the site to keep the general public out. The scientists had created their own lane through the trees which emerged behind the reception cabin, but when she knocked on one of the plastic wall panels, someone appeared to let her inside.

There was a general buzz around the people milling about, an infectious excitement that made Josie smile. She watched for a few minutes, then took her leave, heading back up through the campsite to the main road, then along to Nathaniel’s place.

Nat was outside, working on his life-sized carving of an ice-age cave lion. So far, he had only done the head—the body still a gnarled lump of driftwood—but his attention to detail and mastery of proportion were startling.

‘Are you sure you’re really blind?’ she asked after greeting him, getting a chuckle from Nat in response.

‘Just guiding the Lord’s hand,’ Nat said.

‘Is Robinson around?’

‘Inside, scribbling something down.’

She knocked on the shack’s door, calling Robinson’s name. He responded from somewhere inside, and she went in, stepping through the airy, cluttered interior until she saw him, emerging from a bedroom door, his hair neatly combed, a pair of spectacles perched on his head. For the first time that she had seen he wore clean, neat clothing, a pair of grey trousers and a pale blue shirt and tie. He reminded her a little of Harrison Ford in the few Indiana Jones university scenes, a rugged explorer come home to briefly roost.

‘Josie.’ He smiled, warm and welcoming. ‘Sorry not to come to the door. I was just on a video call with Harvard University.’

She coughed. ‘Really?’

‘Yes, but I’m done now. Coffee?’

‘Please.’

She followed him through into Nat’s cluttered and cramped kitchen. In addition to the usual crockery and utensils, piles of pretty stones and shells covered the work surfaces, while bits of old fishing net hung from the walls. Some small fish and clumps of seaweed—which may have been decoration, may have been food—were hung up near a grimy, salt-clad window.

Robinson located the coffee and boiled the kettle. In the little cubicle space they were thrillingly close.

‘I heard Cathy Ubbers is planning to change the launderette’s name,’ Robinson said.

‘Really?’

‘The Lion-drette,’ he said.

‘Are you serious?’

‘She is,’ he said. ‘Queen Josephine is going to change the whole face of this village. You don’t mind, do you? It was the first name that came into my mind when they asked. Dad agreed, and it stuck.’

‘Do I mind you making me immortal? Not at all.’

‘I’m glad.’

‘You said it was … the first name that came into your mind?’

Robinson turned to face her. Behind him, the kettle started to bubble. A seagull squawked from the roof above them, its feet scraping on the corrugated iron roof.

‘I’ve kind of had you on my mind a lot lately,’ Robinson said.

‘I’ve … been thinking about you, too.’

‘Is that right?’

Josie nodded. ‘I wondered if you wanted to … you know, get a drink?’

Robinson held up two mugs. ‘I’m guessing you don’t mean these?’

‘That would do for a start.’

They were face to face. He was a little taller, three or four inches, but it was a good difference, just enough. Josie’s heart was thundering, her stomach filled with butterflies. It felt good, a feeling she hadn’t expected she would ever feel again.

He lifted a hand, but his fingers rested on her elbow. She watched him as he leant forwards, face serious, eyes flickering across her face as though studying her. Only inches separated them—

A crash came from the other room, and they both jerked away. Josie wiped her brow, and Robinson turned back to the boiling kettle.

‘Lad? Lad, you in there?’ came Nat’s voice. ‘Anyone seen me crayons?’

Robinson looked at Josie, then gave a wide smile. ‘Can you make the coffee?’ he asked. ‘I’d better go and give him a hand.’