Huer’s Lookout

This atmospheric short story by Gwen Rollinson welcomes you to our brand-new Summer Special. It was the perfect place for Meryl to gather her thoughts and consider the future . . .

THE evening was warm and bright as Meryl made her way along the cliff path. After a short distance she veered off on to a grassy track, which climbed steadily between windswept trees and overgrown bushes of rhododendron, towards what was known as Huer’s Lookout.

It was where she had always come when she lived in Polmerryn, when she needed to be alone to think and make decisions.

She had been doing it a lot lately.

On the way, she passed old Alec’s hut, which had fallen into a state of disrepair after he died, but which someone had evidently now renovated.

Set higher up the incline, behind a gated fence,

Meryl noticed that the top half of the hut’s stable door was open and an easel stood in the centre.

She stopped to look but, suddenly aware of a figure in the shadows, she hurried onwards.

Huer’s Lookout, a simple stone building with its open frontage and unimpeded view of the bay, was hidden from the lower cliff path, so it was really only the locals who knew of its existence.

Hence Meryl could enjoy solitude without tourists walking past.

Positioning herself on the wooden bench, she gazed out across the expanse of sapphire water to where sea and sky met, just as the huer, in days gone by, would have looked out for shoals of pilchards, or herring swimming into the bay, and alerted the fishermen.

“Hi,” a voice said and Meryl jumped.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he added.

Meryl found herself looking into the cheerful face of a brown-haired man with eyes as blue as the water behind him and her irritation vanished.

“I sometimes like to take a walk along this path. I’ve noticed you walking here lately. The view is something special, isn’t it?”

“Oh, the hut with the easel in the doorway . . . is that your place?” she asked.

“It is. It needed a lot of work done to it, but it’s the perfect place to paint.”

“You’re an artist?” Not that it surprised Meryl – Polmerryn enticed many artists due to the quality of light which bathed the east-facing resort.

He nodded and produced a business card.

Garrett Hudson. Artist: seascapes, portraits and pets, she read.

“It pays to be versatile,” he said. “But seascapes are my favourite.

“Sorry,” Garrett suddenly said, reaching to take his card back. “I have a habit of handing them out to anyone I meet.

“I don’t have any gallery space in Polmerryn, so this alerts people to my website.

“You’re obviously a local to know about this path.”

“I grew up here,” Meryl answered. “And it’s OK, I’ll keep the card.

“You never know when I might want my portrait painted.” She grinned.

“It’s worth painting,” Garrett replied and their eyes met.

“I should leave you,” he began. “You came up here for solitude and I’m peddling my wares.”

He turned and started to walk away, calling back over his shoulder.

“Feel free to drop in for a coffee on your way back if you fancy, Miss . . .?”

“Trelawney. Meryl Trelawney.” She laughed, watching him stride away.

****

The shrill cry of a seagull brought Meryl back to the present. It was time to head home.

She had been churning thoughts over in her mind until the light had faded, but was no nearer to reaching a solution – certainly not one that would satisfy both parties.

Either way, one of them would have to make a big sacrifice.

A warming glow emanated from Garrett’s home, and whilst Meryl was deciding whether or

not to take him up on his offer, he appeared at the door and beckoned her in.

Inside, the hut was more spacious than Meryl expected, and it had the sweet aroma of pinewood.

A pot-bellied stove stood in one corner, just perfect for wild, winter evenings, with a pull-out sofa near it.

A stack of blank canvasses and art equipment dominated the rest of the space. A small kitchen and bathroom had been added in the extension to the side.

Whilst Garrett went to fetch her a drink, Meryl took the opportunity to view his paintings on the walls.

The seascapes were simple but stunning, particularly the way he managed to capture the light through a breaking wave.

“The Artist’s Garrett,” Meryl read aloud, picking up a wooden sign propped against the easel.

“That’s to go on the gate,” Garrett explained. “Perfect name.”

“I like to think so.” He smiled, handing Meryl a glass of wine with a heartstopping smile.

It seemed that within no time they were sharing their life stories.

Meryl told him that she was a teacher in Yorkshire, and this summer she’d come to help her mother in the family gift shop.

“Quite a distance to come,” Garrett remarked.

Meryl winced inwardly. It was over a year since she had been here and she felt the familiar stab of guilt.

“I wanted to spread my wings, so after college I started working at a small primary school in the Dales. I fell in love with the place so decided to stay.”

“Nothing wrong with following your heart.” Garrett commented, going on to explain that he that been an architect for a company in the Midlands for a number of years.

“It was my parents’ idea for me to have a steady career,” he went on, “but my heart was never in it. I wanted to paint like my grandfather, Alec.”

“I remember him.” Meryl smiled, pleased that the conversation had taken a different turn. “He was a very talented artist.

“He had a small gallery off a courtyard at the back of one of the cottages near the harbour.”

Garrett nodded.

“In the evenings he used to love coming up here away from the bustle.” Garrett suddenly looked wistful.

“He left me the cottage, but I sold it to fund my new venture. I sometimes wonder if I did the right thing.”

“This is a great place and it fits the whole artist image,” Meryl said, though she did feel that Garrett’s paintings deserved to be hung where people could see.

“It certainly does,” Garrett said, brightening. “The most important thing is that I’m doing what I love.”

“Then we should drink to that.” Meryl raised her glass.

****

Trelawney’s gift shop was ideally situated on the main shopping street.

Its double frontage meant that one half could be devoted to giftware and the other to selling Cornish ice-cream, clotted-cream fudge and other delights.

Even though it was early, people were already queuing for ice-creams, and after Meryl helped Claire, the assistant, serve them, she joined her mother in the giftware section.

“It seems a shame to even be considering selling the business,” Meryl’s mother, Eve, said in hushed tones so that Claire couldn’t hear, “especially when it’s busy like this.

“You know how much I enjoy being here and meeting people, but since your dad died, I’ve been finding it difficult to manage.” She looked at Meryl.

“I’m not expecting you to give up your career to help. I know how much you love teaching.”

Meryl again felt a stab of guilt.

It was, after all, the family business which her mum and dad had built. Meryl had spent many a school holiday happily helping out here, too.

She could picture her dad now in his long striped apron and matching sailor’s hat, scooping ice-cream and sharing banter with the customers.

“I know, Mum. It would be hard letting it go.”

Eve nodded.

Meryl didn’t want to see the place sold any more than her mother, but unless a solution presented itself soon there was nothing else to be done.

Taking on an additional person to help with the everyday demands of running a business wasn’t really viable.

They only needed extra help during the summer season anyway.

Then there was the social element. Her mum was still too young to retire; she’d be lost without all this.

As customers came and went, Meryl enjoyed chatting to them; enjoyed being a part of their holiday experience, and there was no denying that Polmerryn was a lovely place to live.

Perhaps if she reminded herself of it often enough, she might just convince herself that returning to Polmerryn for good wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

****

Maybe she could do some part-time teaching as well as co-manage the shop, Meryl pondered as she sat in Huer’s Lookout that evening.

The sea was fairly calm again, waves gently lapping the beach at Trelant Bay further along the coast.

Their ebb and flow was soothing and, for a while, Meryl was lost in the tranquillity of the scene. If only her current problem would ebb away as gently.

The copper sun began its descent, leaving in its wake a fiery, red sky.

Meryl watched until it sank below the waterline and the sky turned violet and indigo.

Tiny lights twinkled from the trawlers on the horizon, and the lighthouse cast a bright beam over an inky sea.

Meryl noticed that Garrett’s place was in darkness on her way home and she felt a twinge of disappointment.

She had enjoyed his company the previous evening; he was so easy to

Within no time they were sharing their life stories

talk to. And that smile!

Still, it was probably for the best. Meryl didn’t want any romantic distractions further complicating her situation.

The following day the gift shop was busy again.

Meryl could see that Eve was in her element dealing with customers, and she enjoyed helping Claire on the ice-cream counter again.

As Claire served the last couple in the queue, Meryl began replenishing boxes of cones under the counter.

“A rum and raisin clotted cream cornet, please.”

The voice made Meryl glance up, and once again she found herself looking into those sapphire eyes.

“On the house,” Meryl declared, standing up and serving Garrett with an extra-large scoop.

“I missed you last night,” Garrett said and Meryl felt her cheeks redden. “Missed you walking past, I mean.”

“If you went past,” he added awkwardly.

“I did.” Meryl laughed. “This is a great place,” he continued quickly. “Perfect location in terms of footfall.”

Meryl nodded.

“We’ve been happy here,” she said, unconsciously letting her thoughts slip out.

“Have been? Are you selling up?”

Meryl motioned him to be quiet until

Claire had disappeared into the store room.

“We might have to. It’s difficult to talk right now,” Meryl said, as Claire returned with boxes of fudge and began to fill the gaps on the display stand.

“Pop in for a drink later,” Garrett told her, and Meryl found herself agreeing.

A group of tourists entered and Meryl was needed in the gift section, so Garrett thanked her for the ice-cream and headed out into the sunshine.

“He seemed nice,” her mum commented once the shop had quietened down.

As Meryl told her mum all about Garrett, she could see her mum’s face brightening.

“Don’t start ordering the wedding cake,” Meryl warned with a laugh. “This is the start of a friends-only relationship.”

Although it felt good to see her mum smiling – and Meryl really did treasure these moments – it also made her wonder how she would cope with Meryl’s returning to Yorkshire in August.

But now wasn’t the right moment to remind her of that.

“I just need to do some stock ordering,” Eve said once Claire had left and they turned the sign on the door to Closed.

“I’ll give you a hand.”

“No, you won’t. I’m grateful for your help during the day, but go and have a walk while it’s sunny.” Eve picked up a clipboard from under the counter.

“Will you be taking your usual route?

“You mean past Garrett’s place? Yes.” Meryl shook her head knowingly.

“Mum, we are going to have to make some serious decisions about the gift shop soon.”

“I know, love. We’ll talk tonight.”

Meryl hugged her mother and left the shop.

Wending her way through the narrow street and along the wharf to the cliff path, she knew she had to make a decision about her future and she needed to do it before tonight.

Garrett was in his garden and he waved to Meryl. “Fancy a cuppa?”

“Love one.” Meryl hadn’t made any progress in resolving the problem on her own, so talking to Garrett might just help.

At the very least it might help her clarify a few thoughts before having the conversation with her mother later.

“So why might you need to sell the gift shop?” Garrett asked, as he carried two mugs of tea out to the garden and they sat down on a wooden seat.

Meryl explained everything to Garrett, including her own, conflicting feelings.

“There’s nothing wrong with following your heart,” Garrett reminded her.

“Your mother sounds a sensible person, and it also sounds as though she’s accepted that you will return to your job.

“Just because she tells you that it’s lovely having you back . . . Well, why wouldn’t she? She’s your mum.”

“But I don’t want her to have to give up doing what she loves, either.”

“It strikes me that you’re letting emotion cloud rational thought,” Garret said.

“You’re so worried about who will fare worse if one of you has to give up on their dream that you haven’t been able to focus on finding a practical way forward.”

“I’m still not sure there is a way,” Meryl replied, but she had to admit that what Garrett said made sense.

Her feelings had been clouding her mind.

“Fancy making an offer for the premises?” Meryl joked as she was leaving.

“It would make a wonderful gallery.”

“Enough sales patter,” Garrett retorted with a grin. “Besides, I couldn’t afford it.

“I’d have to sell a lot more paintings first.”

As Meryl walked up to Huer’s Lookout, she felt a renewed spring in her step.

Not that anything had changed at this point, but the heavy feeling of guilt seemed to have lifted thanks to Garrett’s objective comments.

She sat down on the bench in Huer’s Lookout and gazed out at the bay.

Usually, her thoughts and emotions would be tumbling over one another, but now she sat with a clearer mind.

As she watched the rhythmical, almost hypnotic, sway of the water, with seagulls gliding above, the softest of breezes caressed her face and Meryl began to relax.

She sat for a long while, tension ebbing from her.

Compared to the vast expanse of sea and sky out here, the problem suddenly didn’t seem quite as mountainous; a mere grain of sand on a beach.

Suddenly, a solution came to her as clear as the horizon.

She would need to talk to Garrett first, then run the idea by her mother . . .

****

It was an overcast afternoon in September when Meryl made her way through the narrow streets of Polmerryn.

As she turned into the main street, the bright lights from the gift shop were welcoming, and she stood outside for a moment, admiring the changes.

“Meryl!” Her mother ran to greet her with open arms as she stepped through the door. “You’re earlier than I expected.”

“The traffic was light.”

She hugged Eve back.

“Just in time for a cuppa,” Garrett said, emerging from the back room.

His bright smile made her knees feel slightly weak as he came over to hug her, too.

“The place looks fantastic,” Meryl said. “The snapshots you e-mailed didn’t do justice to the finished work.”

She wandered around the half of the shop where the ice-cream counter had been and where Garrett’s paintings now hung in pride of place.

He had set an easel at one side of the window so that tourists could watch an artist at work.

“Garrett’s helped me streamline the stock.” Eve joined her.

“I’m still selling boxed fudges and sweet treats, but they’re now in my side of the shop, in place of some of the souvenirs which weren’t so popular.

“And in summer,” Eve continued to enthuse, “I thought we could set up a small ice-cream kiosk between the window and the door.”

“Your mum agreed to introduce a new line in gifts,” Garrett said, holding aloft a mug with a print of one of his seascapes on the side.

“We are thinking of adding to the range, too.

“I still don’t know how you came up with the solution, but it was truly inspired.” Eve beamed and Meryl was pleased to see her mum looking so radiant.

Meryl could also see that her mum and Garrett worked well as a team.

They had gelled from their first meeting in July, and Meryl had had no qualms about leaving them to sort out the details of their new venture:

It meant that Eve had Garrett’s help in the shop all year round, in exchange for allowing him gallery space.

In the summer, they would still have Claire, too. Everything was working out perfectly.

“I knew he seemed a nice young man from the first time I saw him,” Eve remarked when Garrett had gone to make tea.

“Your dad and I knew his grandfather, and he was always such a charming man, so how could Garrett be otherwise?”

“I thought so, too,” Meryl admitted coyly.

She and Garrett had been messaging each other regularly since her return to Yorkshire, and Meryl had a feeling she might just start spending a few more school holidays in Polmerryn from now on.

The End.