The Secret of Trefusis Cove – Episode 13

The following morning was just as wonderful as the first. The sun shone and the sea looked inviting.

Betty and Val took their morning cuppas outside and sat in deckchairs.

“Shall we do the same as yesterday?”

“We have to get some fresh food, Val. Eggs and things. Salad would be a good idea, too. Let’s go into town and do a bit of shopping. It’ll help us get the feel of the place.”

Val looked disappointed.

“OK. We can get a newspaper, too, and see what’s happening in the world while we’re having such a good time.”

“I feel mean, not shopping at Kit’s place, but it’ll be nice to see St Ives.”

“Maybe the Tate Gallery will be open.”

“Sure to be. Look, there goes Aircut in his boat.”

They watched Aircut’s boat make its way out of the cove.

Once beyond the entrance he shipped the oars and stowed them in the boat, then he started the motor. They could hear the bubbling drone of it as he made his way to the lobster pots.

“Do you think he’d give us a ride in his boat?” Val shaded her eyes to watch the little craft recede into the distance.

“Maybe. Especially if we buy a couple of lobsters.”

“That would be nice with a salad, if we asked him to cook them first. I couldn’t cope with live ones.”

Betty frowned.

“I wonder why he rows out of the cove before he starts the engine.”

“He probably doesn’t want to disturb the peace.”

“There must be more to it than that.” Betty watched Aircut’s boat.

“No more mysteries, please, Betty. The phantom rumbling is quite enough!”

They drove into St Ives in time for a lunch of pasties on the seafront. The seats along the top of the sea wall gave them a good view of the beach.

Children played on the sand and they could see surfers in the distance skilfully riding into the beach on the waves.

“Oh, my,” Val said. “They must be super fit to be able to do that all day long. They look like seals in their black wet suits.”

“There’s one out there not wearing a wet suit.” Betty shaded her eyes.

“I see him. He’s in a red T-shirt and long shorts and his hair is really blond.” Val screwed up her eyes and peered into the distance.

“Their hair gets bleached by the sun,” Betty said. “He must spend most of his time surfing.”

“I bet he spends a fortune on sun cream.”

“Most of them are hard-up students. They sometimes sleep on the beach.”

“That must be uncomfortable.”

“Not really.” Betty brushed off pasty crumbs. “They make a hollow in the sand for their hip.”

“How on earth do you know that?”

“There was a programme on TV about surfers.”

“Look, Betty. That one is coming out of the water. He’s picked up his surfboard.”

The blond man in the red T-shirt came up the beach carrying his board under his arm.

He propped it against the wall just below the spot they’d chosen to sit, grabbed a towel that had been lying on the sand and began to towel his hair dry.

“He’s handsome, isn’t he?” Val whispered. “He doesn’t look like the average student.”

“Too mature,” Betty observed. “Come on, let’s go and see if the Tate is open.”

Abigail Phillips

Abbie is the newest member of the fiction team at the "Friend." She loves how varied the role is - every day is different and there is always a new story to read. She is keen to work closely with established writers and discover new writers, too.