The Catalyst (10 page)

Chapter 9

Jimmy had not called on Sunny the next day as he had promised but this had had nothing to do with the fact that, after an unexplained night away, Jenny had suddenly reappeared and told him she wanted some time away from him to think. Her statement had barely registered with him his mind was so full of Sunny and he had agreed without putting up any resistance, which had come as a shock to Jenny.

Although she had never spent a night away from the farm before he had not bothered to ask where she had been or even where she was going ‘to think about things’ as she so darkly put it. She was aware of a perverse disappointment at his lack of reaction but convinced herself it was better this way. She had found herself nervous of facing him and could do without another distressing row just at the moment.

After all his frantic searching for her, after all his remorse about his treatment of her, Jimmy now found himself totally unable to concentrate on anything Jenny said and he knew it was because of Sunny Smith.

Now he just presumed Jenny would be staying with one of her friends until she had finished sulking. She obviously thought she was teaching him some sort of lesson but now he no longer remembered how vital he had thought her to his life and work. All that concerned him was Sunny and so far it was only some nameless unease that had kept him from going to see her.

Since the incident on the cliff path his head had been full of pictures of them together and he had been unable to put brush to canvas in any coherent way. His inability to work worried him as it always did whenever he faltered but not as much as it would have done before Sunny had literally thrown herself at his feet.

Now, he was too preoccupied with his inner turmoil to do anything other than nod agreement to Jenny’s request. There may have been a small part of him that had finally admitted he deserved this apparent defection but for now he was just eager to have her out of his way and the greater part of him had secretly given thanks that now he would be free to go and see Sunny unhindered.

It was only later, after a full two days, that he had begun to wonder why he had so far ignored his usual desires and been unable to take advantage of the fact he was on his own for once.

Instead he had listened to some even more primitive feeling, a feeling of self-preservation. He had a vague intuition that when he saw Sunny again something would happen to him, something that may well change his life, and while his life might not be that great he was not sure he could handle any sort of major change to it.

Jimmy Fisher was not the only one confused about his emotions. There had been a silent watcher in the wings, waiting, needing, to make some sort of move that he hadn’t quite formulated yet. Edward Hervey’s home, a converted net loft, was perfectly placed to fulfil any neighbourhood watch obligations needed concerning the goings-on in Sunny’s little cottage.

Sitting on a corner at the edge of the Porthcarn quayside, Edward’s home looked out over both the harbour and the narrow street leading down to it, the street where Sunny’s cottage stood. Really only big enough for one person Edward’s cottage held an enviable position in the hearts of the many tourists who visited the village and dreamed of living there.

Like many other cottages piled up against the cliff side in this tiny village, an ancient upstairs net loft had been converted into a long open plan living room with a kitchen area at one end. The only bedroom and the bathroom lay below on the ground floor and had been adapted from an old cellar that was now no longer needed for gutting and packing pilchards in barrels.

An outside staircase of old granite steps, worn concave in the centre by the feet of generations of fisher folk, led up to the door which opened onto his kitchen area. As the cottage adjoining Edward’s was slightly set back to accommodate these steps the glass window in his kitchen door had an uninterrupted view up the street to Sunny’s cottage.

It was a reverse level style of living that had been adopted by many of the village cottages now that the old fishing industry had died out. This quixotic arrangement of rooms gave Edward an enviable view, not only over the harbour but also far beyond the harbour wall to Penherne Castle and the distant headlands across the bay.

These living arrangements suited Edward well in all respects except for the doorways when he had to stoop to get through them. Only when he forgot and hit his head did he wonder at the small stature of the tough and hardy villagers who had originally lived and worked in such buildings.

Now the window in his kitchen door was becoming a bit of a distraction to him as he found he could simply turn his head sideways whilst he cooked and see the comings and goings at Sunny’s cottage a little further up the street. Worryingly, it was becoming apparent to him that he was glancing up the street rather more frequently than he once did.

Edward spent a lot of time in his kitchen as he had always enjoyed cooking. It was just one of the many things about him that had annoyed Francesca who had felt there was something effeminate about a man who cooked for pleasure.

Since she had left him he had consoled himself with creating ever more adventurous food, feeling in some way as if he was taking a belated stand against her. He even imagined she could see what he was doing and her imagined annoyance had given him a strange sense of satisfaction, but now his hobby was leading him to spy on someone else’s life.

He had tried hard not to be interested in what was happening a few doors away but he had come to feel Sunny’s vulnerability almost as if it were his own. He knew she loved the village and wanted to make friends here but he wondered if she understood how conditional that friendship was, and the condition was that you did not cause a scandal.

Of course, there had been many scandals in the village over the many hundreds of years of its existence but the locals were protective and tightlipped about the misbehaviour of their own. Local backsliders were talked about only between themselves, pursed over by the women in private corners and sniggered about by the men in the pub.

For incomers, as the new people who settled in the village were called, the boundaries were different. Any deviation from the rules set by the Chapel matriarchs, and all tacitly understood by the natives, could result in life being made subtly miserable for any outsider who transgressed.

It wasn’t that the villagers especially watched out for what they considered as deviant behaviour but the many years of devotedly following the religious tenets of various chapel sects had honed their collective antennae for the merest hint of wrongdoing, especially sexual, that most prevalent of transgressions.

If the wrongdoer was a stranger their punishment was to be ignored, to be treated as if they were transparent. Whilst this was not as blatant as actual shunning, there was a definite sort of studied avoidance, a sudden noticing of something that meant they had to veer off down a back alleyway rather than even nod at the perceived miscreant.

Although Edward knew Sunny must be innocent of any immorality, having men visiting her could be construed very differently by prurient old ladies lurking in wait behind their windows, and what they didn’t know he was sure they were capable of making up. He knew the locals well and although they could be warm hearted there could also be a certain slyness to them.

He had seen the visit by Matty Tregoning and had correctly surmised he had been invited in for a cup of tea, instinctively knowing Sunny would not be foolish enough to encourage the boy in any way. He had been more than concerned however on seeing Jimmy Fisher helping Sunny through her cottage door, even though she had strapping on her ankle and a metal crutch to aid her.

Edward knew of Jimmy Fisher. He had heard of his reputation and seeing him with Sunny had made him feel deeply uneasy. He tried hard now to remember if he had a wife. He had heard the village men laughingly discussing him and his many women the few times he had ventured into the local pub but he just couldn’t remember whether they had mentioned a wife.

He had tried hard to convince himself that what Sunny did was none of his business but he could not get the event out of his mind and he knew he would not be able to stop himself warning Sunny about Jimmy. He knew he would feel guilty if she became embroiled in Jimmy’s filthy little life and he had not warned her about his predilections for casual affairs.

Arguing with himself had been futile, he knew he had to say something, he just could not  stand by. Whether he had a wife or not, Edward was sure that Jimmy Fisher was not a suitable man for Sunny to know and, as he felt certain that it would only be a matter of time before Jimmy made a move towards her, he knew he must warn her as soon as he could.

He liked to think he would have done the same for any woman but this was a lie, he usually had the utmost difficulty in talking to women. Still, it would be a novelty to think of himself as a Sir Galahad figure.

Saying something to Sunny, however, was proving harder than he thought. Whatever she had done to her ankle was going to have to be his way in to a conversation with her. After all, he was her employer and it looked as though she would not be able to come in to work so he had the perfect opening line. He just hoped the rest of the conversation would come as easily.

He would simply have liked to have said, 'Sunny, Jimmy Fisher is a serial fornicator and user of women.' Hmm, he thought, direct and to the point. He discarded it as being a bit too direct and to the point. He was just pondering the niceties of how he might tell her the true nature of Jimmy Fisher when, glancing up, he saw her limping past his cottage and as if feeling his gaze on her she looked up and gave him her generous smile and a wave.

Unexpectedly his heart leapt in response although he had no illusions about his own attraction to women. Francesca had made sure he had no self-esteem left in that area. It was obvious that Sunny was being friendly to him because he was her employer. His nerve failed him for the moment and after returning her wave he moved away from the window, berating himself for his weakness as he watched her struggle to the village shop at the other side of the harbour. He steeled himself to talk to her on her way back.

When he saw her trying to negotiate the cobbled quayside again on her way back he picked up a yard brush as an excuse and started to sweep the steps leading down from his front door. His need to warn her about Jimmy had now become a desperate mission in his mind and he was aware he had to avoid his usual abrupt method of communication.

He had to try to find some sort of charisma to make her listen to him and take him seriously. It was not a job he relished and he realised with a sinking feeling that he was not even sure how to do charisma. It was not a quality he had ever felt he had naturally.

‘Hello, Sunny! What have you done to your ankle? Should you be trying to hobble about on it?’

He tried a tentative smile and felt he didn’t do too badly at it. Smiles were difficult for Edward at the best of times, he had hardly needed them for a long time. He was trying so hard he did not notice Sunny’s quick look of surprise at his unfamiliar bonhomie and rusty rictus of a smile.

‘Hi Edward, I slipped and sprained it and now I’ve run out of tea so I just had to get to the shop. I was going to call in to see you about work … although I hadn’t actually thought about how I was going to manage your steps.’

They both surveyed her bandaged ankle dubiously.

‘I’m going to have to have a day or two off work until I can get about with a little less pain. I really don’t think I could stand in the shop … it does seem to get quite a bit worse by the end of the day if I don’t rest it.’

‘Of course you can’t possibly work like that,’ he said automatically, his mission to warn her about Jimmy still in the forefront of his mind. She hadn’t mentioned Jimmy’s role in bringing her home and with a sinking heart he wondered if she was hiding the fact for some reason.

He didn’t want to think about why she should feel the need to hide anything from him. Surely even Jimmy wouldn’t try anything on with an injured woman, would he? But what if this wasn’t the first time they had met, what if they had met before?

He shook his head slightly, a gesture of private annoyance at such thoughts, asking himself why it should matter to him. Unfortunately, just at that moment his brain forgot to communicate with his mouth and it was with surprise that he heard himself say, ‘I saw Jimmy Fisher bring you home …’

Sunny looked at him, startled, and he felt a confused sense of gratification that his assumption seemed to have been correct. Maybe she did have something to hide after all. Instantly depression set in again.

‘Yes, it was very lucky he was walking along the cliff path at the same time as I slipped. It was Jimmy who took me to hospital and brought me home afterwards.’

She was aware of a certain defensiveness in her answer and wondered why she felt she owed Edward any sort of explanation for her actions. It alarmed her a little to think she was probably under scrutiny although she had always known this was the price one paid for living in a small village. Why should it matter that it was Edward who was watching? Somehow it did and she felt uncomfortable.

‘Look ... life is going to be a bit tricky for you for a while and I’d like to help. Why don’t I cook dinner for you? I’m quite a good cook … I think.’ Despite his by now habitual self-doubt surfacing he had had an idea.

Trying not to be thrown by Edward’s sudden change of tack, she thought for a moment. There was something so touching about his self-deprecation, the gentle hesitation in his manner that she had a sudden insight into the private pain of a crippling lack of self-esteem. Intuitively she now saw how his usual brusqueness covered a deep uncertainty about himself and, moved beyond her own wishes, she accepted his invitation to dinner.