4. A Journey into the Unknown

4

A Journey into the Unknown

‘How much of the brandy did you drink?’ Hilda asked, unable to hide a chuckle.

‘About half a glass. God, it was horrible. I tried putting some in a cup of tea, but that just ruined the tea. I don’t think I’m designed for drowning my sorrows with alcohol. I did eat a whole packet of chocolate biscuits, though.’

‘Well, that’s something at least. So, your life is a mess. Always best to put a positive spin on these things. Just think about it like a jigsaw puzzle. Now you can start putting the pieces back together.’

‘It’s more like a broken pane of glass.’

‘Well, you’d better go buy a tube of glue then, hadn’t you?’

‘I don’t have any more money.’

‘It’s lucky for you that metaphorical glue is free. Do you have enough for a train ticket?’

‘It depends how many stops I need to go. I have about fifteen pounds to my name.’

‘Well, the good news is that my friend said yes about the job. If you can’t afford a train ticket, you’ll have to hitchhike.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘Sometimes a bit of adversity is good for you. It makes you stronger. Did I ever tell you about the time I was in Greenland and got charged by a polar bear?’

‘No?’

‘That’s because it didn’t happen. But if it had, it would have made a great analogy.’ Hilda chuckled. ‘Just get down to Porth Melynos as soon as you can. Everything’s going to be fine.’

‘How can you be so sure?’

‘Just trust me.’

‘If I had a penny for every time you said that, I’d have been able to pay off my lawyer without selling my car.’

‘And if I had a sapling for every time I needed to say it, I could have planted a whole forest.’

Josie’s cousin had been happy enough to give her a very reasonable rate for the two weeks she was living at the flat in Knowle, even though, as she stood with her suitcase by the bus stop, Josie couldn’t help but feel like the two weeks of cleaning, fixing and tidying that she had done to make the place vaguely liveable deserved some recompense in return. As it was, though, with the majority of her remaining stuff placed into a cheap long-term storage facility, she felt lighter and airier than at any time in her life since leaving home for university more than twenty-five years ago. With just a few changes of clothes, some toiletries and a few personal items, she couldn’t help feeling like she was jetting off into the unknown, even if Porth Melynos, a tiny fishing village on the English Channel, was hardly Timbuktu.

Still, one step at a time.

She caught the train from Bristol Temple Meads to Exeter, where she changed to the Brentwell line. On the little two-carriage train she was almost alone as they bumped gently through the countryside, stopping in pretty villages with quaint names like Willow River, Olive Hill and Birch Grove. Eventually, the rolling fields gave way to views of Dartmoor to the west, the train meandering through a series of narrow valleys and stands of woodland, between which she caught a view of Plymouth to the south and the English Channel beyond as they passed around the northern edge of the city. Then they were out into the countryside again, the train crossing a bridge over the Tamar River back into Cornwall, and eventually coming to a final stop at a small countryside station called Porth Melynos Central.

As Josie climbed down from the train and walked to the end of the platform, she struggled to see what they were central to, with hedgerows all around, and only a single road leading away from a small car park. Only one other person had gotten off, and they were quickly whisked away by waiting family, leaving Josie standing alone with only the train conductor for company.

Sunset wasn’t for a couple of hours until just after eight o’clock, but clouds had rolled in, threatening rain, bringing with them a bitter chill to the air that made Josie wish she’d brought a thicker coat. She pulled out her phone to call Hilda, only to find her battery had run out. Instead, she turned to look for the conductor to ask about buses, only to see the train slowly chugging out of the station, leaving her alone.

With no waiting room, no phone, and only a toilet with an OUT OF ORDER sign on the door, Josie started to panic. Out past an unmanned ticket gate she found a bus timetable, but a connecting shuttle bus to Porth Melynos didn’t start running until May. Reluctant to wait at the station for another week, she pulled her suitcase off the kerb and started walking up the road, wondering how long it would take. She hadn’t seen a single sign or map, and when she climbed up on to a gate to look for the sea, all she could see were more fields.

The air did have a distinct saltiness to it, however, so perhaps if she walked in the direction of the smell? She was standing on tiptoes, sniffing at the air, when the roar of a motorcycle engine made her turn.

A sleek black motorcycle with a sidecar came roaring up the road and into the car park, its diminutive rider hunched over the handlebars, eyes hidden behind aviator goggles. Apart from a flame on the back of the helmet, the rider’s attire—jacket, trousers and gloves, were all black leather.

Josie stared as the bike made a sharp turn and came back around to pull up alongside her. The rider killed the engine, then climbed off. The helmet and goggles came off, and Hilda, barely five-feet tall, hair a mess of grey curls but with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, opened her leather-clad arms to welcome Josie with a powerful hug.

‘Oh, my wonder, you made it,’ she said, kissing Josie on both cheeks, her grip surprisingly strong for someone so small. ‘I was sure you’d bottle it, but here you are.’

‘Give me a little credit. Plus, you really should have seen the flat. I’ve seen the underside of bridges that are more comfortable. Not to mention … well….’

Josie wiped a tear out of her eye. Hilda huffed, then reached up and tapped her in the centre of the forehead with one forefinger.

‘Josie, don’t let it start. Once you start letting those thoughts have their way, you’ll be stuck with them. You’re here now.’ She opened her hands, holding the pose for a few seconds like a mannequin at the entrance to a garden centre. ‘Fresh start and all that?’

‘That’s right. Honestly, it’s better this way.’

Hilda lifted an eyebrow that had been painted on with black eyeliner. ‘Your optimism is definitely a plus. Ho, hum. You’re going to need it.’

‘Are you going to tell me what’s going on? Like, I appreciate that it couldn’t possibly be worse than what I’ve been dealing with, but you know, some secrets are better once revealed.’

‘Ah, yes, all in good time. First let’s get you down to the village before it rains. We’ll grab some fish ‘n’ chips then have a good old chit-chat.’

‘And then you’ll tell me what you’ve invited me down here to do?’

‘Yes, yes. In good time. What is it I always say to you?’

‘Trust me?’

Hilda clicked gnarled old fingers together. ‘Bingo. You win … one point.’