The Secret of Trefusis Cove

Had the two friends solved the mystery of the midnight thunder?

WAKE up, Betty!” Betty Silk woke from the dream of a delightful aromatic bath with candles and a glass of wine to find Val in dressinggown and slippers, shaking her shoulder.

“What is it? What’s happened?” She threw back the duvet, sat up and shuffled her feet on the floor to locate her slippers.

“Nothing, I just want you to come and see this!” Val helped her into her dressing-gown and guided her to the open front door of Tangara Cottage.

Betty rubbed her eyes.

“Oh.” She sighed. “I never imagined it could be as lovely as this.”

They looked out over the cove. Betty had no idea of the time but it felt early. There was a cool breeze and the tide was halfway across the bay.

The whole scene was magical, the sun dancing on the wavelets, making the water look as if it were scattered with diamonds.

A stretch of sandy beach reached nearly to the grass in front of the cottage.

“We have to have breakfast out here,” Val decided. “I don’t want to miss one moment of this.”

“There will be lots of mornings like this one, Val.” Betty smiled.

“But this is the first. Stay where you are. I’m going to get my camera.”

She left and returned with her camera and a hairbrush.

“Here, let me settle your hair down. You look like the wreck of the Hesperus.”

Betty grinned as her friend tidied up her unruly hair.

“Now, stand on the grass with your back to the view.”

“Wearing my tatty old dressing-gown?” Betty grimaced, but didn’t have the heart to deter her old friend from her creative moment.

“It’ll look lovely in the photo.” Val aimed the camera. “Smile!”

“Good morning, ladies.” Kit Pelago approached, carrying a carton of milk and a loaf of bread. “I thought you’d like something fresh.”

“How kind.” Betty smiled.

“We’re breakfasting out here – it’s so lovely.”

“Isn’t it?” Kit gazed over the water. “I never tire of it. Did you sleep well?” “Like a top,” Val said. Kit handed the milk and bread to Betty.

“These are on the house. If there’s anything you want to keep fresh you can stow it in my fridge in the shop.

“Peter does that at times, although he mostly dines at the Crab and Mermaid of an evening. He’s hardly any need for a fridge.”

“Thank you. Kit, can I ask you something? You may be able to solve a mystery.” “Of course, what is it?” “Just after eleven last night there was a sort of heavy rumbling sound. We thought at first it was thunder, but there was no rain and no lightning.

“It sounded as if it was high up at the back of the cottage. It was just for a moment or two, then all was quiet again.”

Kit was silent for a moment then turned and looked out at the cove.

“Don’t worry yourselves about that. It’s no harm, and nothing that you should get involved with. We take no notice; Aircut and me just ignores it.”

“But what is it?” “Least said the better. It happens most nights. You won’t pay no heed after a while.”

He turned back to them. “I must get along to the shop now, there’ll be folks wanting bread, milk and the papers. Come and see me if there’s anything you want.”

He gave a wave and made his way back in the direction of the little store. “That was odd,” Val said. “He can’t have that many customers. The place seems deserted apart from Aircut’s place and us.”

“We don’t really know that yet,” Val replied. “We haven’t explored. Let’s have breakfast and then take a walk around.”

Not being up to tackling the tin bath yet, they each had a good wash at the old stone sink, cleaned their teeth and put on a slick of lipstick.

“Best to wear trainers, Val, the lane looks a bit bumpy.” Betty tied her cardigan around her waist, went out on to the porch of the cottage and waited for her friend.

“I’ll be with you in a tick,” Val called.

They strolled together along the path and past the Trefusis Stores which, surprisingly, was busy with people.

At the top of the lane they were on the rough road that they had come along on the previous night. It continued on and ran above the stores and Tangara Cottage. They walked along it until they could look down and see the roof of the cottage below them.

“So,” Betty said. “Whatever that noise was, it would appear that it may have come from this roadway.”

“Maybe it was a truck?” “It was too rhythmic. And no engine noise.”

“Betty, I can’t bear the suspense.”

“You’ll probably have to. It was obvious that Kit was not interested in telling us. It’s probably one of those things that are none of our business.”

“That’s why I want to pry!” Val groaned.

“Wait.” Betty parted some undergrowth at the side of the road. “Look – there’s some stone steps leading down the slope to our cottage. We can get up to the road without having to walk past the stores.”

“We’ve got the car, Betty. We’ve no need of all those steps.”

They continued walking for a while until the road seemed narrower and they came on to a grassy meadow. In the distance there was a building with a tall chimney, dark against the sky.

“Oh!” Val said excitedly. “It’s a tin mine, a real Cornish tin mine! I must get a photo. Stand there, Betty, I can see the building just behind you.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes. It’s called a bit of human interest.”

“There is also a notice with PRIVATE written on it,” Betty observed. “I think we should turn back.”

Val protested, took two more photographs then followed Betty back the way they had come.

They passed the stores again and continued following the road that they’d driven down the night before.

There were a few cottages built against the hillside that they hadn’t noticed last night, which explained the customers in Trefusis Stores.

Bearing to the left, they discovered Aircut’s cottage which faced the most beautiful view across the bay. Val’s camera was working overtime.

“Betty, I’m certain to get a photo in the Countryfile Calendar!”

“Good morning, ladies. Fine day, isn’t it?” Aircut stepped out on to the path in front of them. “Did you have a good night?”

“Yes, thank you. We were very tired,” Betty replied.

“No disturbances, then? No mermaids calling from the sea?”

He laughed.

“There was a rumbling. A rhythmic rumbling sound, going along the road above our cottage. We don’t know what it was. Can you –?”

Before Betty could finish the sentence Aircut scratched his red beard and laughed.

“You’ll soon be accustomed to that. It’s nothing at all. Just forget it. You don’t have to get yourselves involved with the likes of that.”

He blinked and gave a little cough as if he thought he had said too much.

“I must be off to get the newspaper from old Kit, then out in my boat before the tide turns. I have to check my lobster pots, see.” He set off towards the Trefusis Stores.

“Curiouser and curiouser.” Val had read “Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland” more than once.

“Strange, indeed. However, I have a plan to find out the answer to the mystery ourselves. I’m now just as willing to pry as you are, Val.”

“We’ll get that tin bath down off the wall, Val, and see if it’ll fit in the kitchen. At least we’ll have a bit of privacy in there.”

Betty made her way towards the outdoor privy. “Give me a hand, please.” Val grabbed one side of the bath. They lifted it easily off the wall and put it down on the ground.

“Eek!” Val stepped back quickly. “There’s a spider in it – two spiders!”

“Turn it upside-down and give it a good whack.”

It worked, for when they turned it right way up there was no sign of the wildlife.

“Get it inside quickly,” Val advised, “before they come back.”

It was a tight fit in the kitchen and they had to stand in the bath in order to get to the sink and the cooker, but at least a curtain could be drawn over the whole bathing procedure.

“If we heat up some water in a bucket and stand in the bath with a jug, we could have a shower of sorts and there won’t be so much water to deal with when we’re finished,” Val said. Betty beamed.

“Val, that’s a grand idea and should do nicely. Plus, if we tip the bath on its side afterwards there’ll be plenty of room in the kitchen and we won’t have to hang it on the wall again.”

They spent the afternoon on the beach. The tide came in gently and they swam in the sun-warmed water until it turned again.

Val, a towel around her waist and in her wet swimsuit, photographed shells, seaweed and bits of rock to her heart’s content.

Betty made sketches of her in charcoal and planned a watercolour. She sighed with pleasure.

“You two don’t have to concern yourselves with the likes of that”

She couldn’t want more from life than this. Then the rumbling noise from the night before came back into her head.

“Val!” she called. “Time for a cuppa.”

Back at the cottage they changed out of their sandy swimsuits.

“So, what was this plan of yours, Betty?” Val asked.

“We go up to the road and wait until about the time it was when we heard the noise last night. Whatever it was may happen again, then the mystery will be solved.” “It’ll be a bit scary.” “We’ll hide in the bushes at the side of the road. There will probably be a very simple explanation.”

“Suppose it’s smugglers! What’ll we do?”

“Val, no-one smuggles nowadays.” Betty laughed.“we’re as likely to see a mermaid as a smuggler. Maybe you should bring your camera.” “I certainly shall.” After two very welcome “showers” they snuggled into their pyjamas and dressing-gowns and Betty cooked bacon and eggs, which they ate with what remained of the crusty loaf, followed by fruit.

“Are we going to go out and solve the rumbling mystery tonight, Betty?” Val took a sip of tea. “We certainly are.”

“In our jimjams?” “No-one will see. Anyway, remember we discovered steps behind the cottage going up to the road?

“They’re a bit overgrown but we’ll manage. So we won’t have to pass the Trefusis Stores in our pyjamas. We’ll have the mystery solved in no time.”

“Well, I’m game if you are.” Val grinned.

They sat together at the table in the little livingroom, Val reading her book about mermaids and Betty working on the sketch she’d made on the beach.

They lit the oil lamp when it got dark and it shone warmly in the room.

Betty felt loath to go outside to wait for the mysterious sound. Maybe it was none of their business. But surely Kit or Aircut would have warned them if there was any danger.

“Come on, Betty, it’s nearly eleven.” Val put on her trainers. “We’ve lots of steps to climb before that rumbling comes again.”

“I’ve been thinking – maybe we shouldn’t.”

“Don’t say that!” Val wailed. “I’ve got used to the idea now.”

“OK, I’ll get my shoes. Bring your camera.”

“You bet.”

There were more steps than they had realised.

“I’m puffed!” Val said as they reached the top.

“Me, too!” Betty replied. “Let’s sit on the top step and wait. We won’t be seen if we keep our heads below the bushes.”

A rabbit darted out and ran across the road. Val jumped and squealed.

“You’ll have to be quieter than that,” Betty whispered.

They sat in the dark, the cold stone step gradually getting colder as it penetrated their pyjamas and dressing-gowns. An owl hooted.

“I wish I’d worn my jeans and a sweater.”

“And a coat,” Betty said softly.

The moon came out from behind a cloud and lit up the roadway. Whatever was making the noise, they’d get a good view of it. “What time is it, Betty?” “A quarter to twelve.” “It’s not going to happen now, is it?”

“Maybe it isn’t always on time.” Betty sighed. “Let’s go back.”

They made their way down the steps again, their legs stiff from sitting for so long at the roadside.

Back in the cottage Betty put on the kettle and Val found the hot chocolate.

“We aren’t certain that the noise happens every night,” Betty pointed out.

“Kit and Aircut just said it happens most nights. We’ve only been here a day, and it’s Sunday. Maybe it’s quiet on a Sunday.”

“Tomorrow, then.” Val grinned. “We go up the steps again tomorrow! The whole thing is getting exciting now.”

“OK, but I’m wearing a coat next time.”

They tumbled into their beds and were asleep before the waves washed up on the beach at full tide.

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.”

The gallery was indeed open and they spent a happy hour studying art.

“I could never aspire to that.” Val gazed up at an oversized picture of a full-blown rose.

“Just concentrate on your sunflower, Val.

Small pictures are just as important,” Betty said. “I’ll stick to my photos,” was the reply.

The smaller galleries were inspiring, too, with a chance to speak to the artists. They each bought a canvas bag with ST IVES SOCIETY OF ARTISTS printed on them. “They’ll be handy to keep our art stuff in,” Betty said.

After all that inspiration it was mundane but necessary to buy groceries, newspapers and a magazine or two.

Clouds began to gather and it looked like rain so they decided to return to the cottage.

When they got back to Tangara it was to find Kit waiting outside, sitting in one of the deckchairs.

“Hello, you two. I figured you were out shopping. I came to tell you we’re singing shanties at the Crab and Mermaid tonight. If you’d like to come along we’d be pleased to see you.

“We get quite a crowd when the landlord chalks us up on the board outside.”

“Of course we’ll come,” they replied in unison.

“Seven-thirty, we begin.” Kit smiled. “Maybe you’d like to eat there. I could phone and book you a table, if you like, you not having a telephone here.”

“What a grand idea,” Betty said. “If you can book us for seven o’clock that would be very kind of you.”

“No problem.” Kit stood up. “The landlord cooks good fish and chips – big portions, too. I can recommend that.

“I must get back to the shop now, it’s nearly time to lock up. Then I’m off to Aircut’s for a quick rehearsal. See you later.”

“Wonderful!” Val exclaimed after he left. “No cooking tonight.”

“We’ll stow our groceries away and find something to wear,” Betty said. “We don’t need posh frocks.”

“Just something with a loose waistband.” Val laughed. “Those fish and chips sound very filling.”

“This is the pub that we called into to get directions to Tangara.” Betty pulled into the car park of the small hostelry. It was nearly full.

“Lucky Kit booked a table for us,” she observed.

“Betty.” Val nudged her friend’s arm.

“What?” Betty took the keys out of the ignition.

“There’s a horse in one of the parking bays.” Val pointed. “A very big horse.”

“My word, so there is,” Betty exclaimed. “It must belong to one of the locals.”

“He seems quite contented. He’s tethered to a post and he’s eating the grass along the edge.”

“Well,” Betty said. “That won’t do him any harm. By the way, he’s a she.”

They laughed as they made their way to the door of the Crab and Mermaid.

“Good evening, ladies,” the landlord greeted them. “You managed to find Tangara, then?”

“Yes, thank you.” Betty smiled. “And we found a group of very talented shantymen, too.”

“So I’ve heard. Now, I have a table for you right near the action.” He guided them to a spot near what appeared to be a temporary stage. “You’ll see all the fun from here.” He took their order.

“It has to be fish and chips,” Betty said. “They’ve come highly recommended.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” the landlord replied. “I’d guess that was Kit, eh?” “You’re absolutely right.” “What would you like to drink? Wine?” His pencil was poised above the little notepad.

“Just water, please,” Val said.

“Two glasses of good old Adam’s Ale, eh?” he said as he wrote it down.

“With ice, please.” Betty smiled.

He went away through the swing-door at the back of the bar which, judging from the enticing smells coming through, obviously led to the kitchen.

The message about the shanty men on the board outside the pub had worked its magic for the room was full to bursting with people talking and laughing together.

One was sitting in a corner by a window saying little to his two companions at the same table. “Betty!” Val whispered. “What?” Betty answered. “That man in the corner over there, the one with the very blond hair? He’s the surfer we saw earlier today. I’m sure he is.”

Betty took a quick glance. “You’re right, Val. He must be staying near here.”

“You were absolutely right, Betty, he does seem more mature than an average student, close up,” Val replied.

“Don’t stare, Val!” Betty said under her breath.

“I can’t help it,” Val replied. “He’s right in my sight line.”

“Then concentrate on your dinner – here it comes.” Betty smiled up at the girl bearing two plates of fish and chips.

The shantymen arrived, mounted the little stage and arranged themselves into a semi-circle. All became quiet as the audience waited.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’d like to begin with a popular shanty that I’m sure you all know. We’d be delighted if you would join in the chorus.”

They began.

“What shall we do with the drunken sailor?”

Betty and Val joined in heartily with the chorus.

“Way, hay, and up she rises . . .”

Tables were thumped as the audience sang at the tops of their voices. Shanty followed shanty, from sail-hauling songs to sad “Kit Bowlin” and “Shenandoah”, all accompanied by Aircut on the concertina.

The landlord came forward at the end of the first half of the programme with a tray of beer for the singers.

“If there’s anyone who’d like to sing a shanty they’re welcome to come up and have a go.”

He grinned at the audience.

“I will.” A voice came from the table in the corner by the window.

“Betty, it’s the man with the blond hair!” Val exclaimed.

The man got up from his chair and approached the stage.

“I don’t need accompaniment,” he said quietly.

The room became silent as he mounted the step and faced the crowd. Even Kit and the shanty men stopped drinking their beer and waited expectantly.

Tucking his hands into his pockets, he took a breath and sang “The Wild Colonial Boy” in a deep bass voice. When he came to the end there was a short silence before a loud round of applause rang out.

“It’s not a shanty,” he said, “but it comes from my own country.”

“Well done, Aussie!” someone shouted.

The shantymen and some who were obviously local people remained strangely silent, but Betty and Val clapped their hands with gusto.

He went back to his seat at the table in the corner and took a sip of beer.

Kit came and sat with Betty and Val for a short time before the second half of the programme.

“Who is that man?” Betty asked.

“Alexander Grey,” was the reply. “He did well tonight but he’s not very popular with the locals or us.”

“Why is that?”

“I’ll tell you. He owns Whealgrey, the deserted old tin mine up the road, and the tumbledown house that goes with it.

“He inherited it from his great-uncle and he’s come over to claim his inheritance, which includes the land at the back of Tangara, and to make changes which we don’t approve of.

“What changes?” Val asked.

“He’s made an application to develop the land behind Tangara into a holiday set-up. He’s a rich man in his own right, but he’s living rough in the old house.

“He wants to make a killing out of this place.

He’s made a bid to Peter John to buy Tangara and pull it down, making way for a beach resort.

“He’ll just put in a manager, go back to Oz and rake in the takings. The whole place will be changed and the peace and beauty gone for ever.”

“I can’t believe anyone would do a thing like that!” Betty exclaimed.

“You’d better believe it. There’s nothing much we can do about it as his application is already going through. We’ve tried petitioning, but we’re so few.” Kit shook his head.

“Avoid him if you can – he’s an unpleasant man. You don’t need to get yourselves involved, being that you’re only here for a little while.”

“I shouldn’t think he’d be interested in a pair of amateur artists,” Val said. “We’re no threat to him. What a sad tale, and him so handsome, too.”

“Handsome is as handsome does,” Kit said. “I must get back now, the second half is ready to go.”

After the second half the chat in the pub continued. Betty and Val decided to go back to Tangara and prepare for the vigil at the top of the steps by the road.

“Aren’t you too tired, Betty?” Val yawned as she got into the car.

“I’m not as tired as I’m curious, Val.” Betty started the motor and backed out of the parking space.

“That poor horse is still standing there. I wish I’d asked the landlord for an apple for her,” Val said sadly.

“She looks pretty well cared for to me.” Betty laughed. “She’s used to it, no doubt.”

At a quarter to eleven the pair of them felt much warmer at the top of the stone steps than the night before. Dressed in trousers, coats, warm socks and sweaters they waited, Val poised and ready with her camera.

The obliging moon illuminated the road and then the noise started – in the distance at first, then getting louder and louder as whatever it was approached.

“I can feel a vibration!” Val exclaimed.

“Get your camera ready and we’ll soon solve this mystery,” Betty said as they moved out on to the road.

The noise was loud now and the road throbbed beneath their feet. It appeared before them around the bend in the road. Panting and galloping, a large horse at full pelt headed straight for them.

Val froze but aimed her camera. In the nick of time Betty pushed her into the bushes at the side of the road where they both landed uncomfortably.

The rider pulled hard on the reins and the horse came to a stop, its hooves scraping the rough surface of the road into a cloud of dust.

“Get out of the road, ya dozy sheilas!” a voice yelled. “Ya wanna get yerselves killed?”

He kicked the big horse into a gallop again and made off towards the old tin mine. Betty could see his long coat flying out behind him and the leather bush hat crammed on his blond head.

“That was the horse we saw in the car park!” Val gasped.

Betty pulled herself out of the bushes and helped her friend to her feet. She was shaking with fear and anger.

“It certainly was, Val. And those hooves sounded like the rumble of thunder.”

“I think I got a good shot of him, but I don’t think my flash was working. I couldn’t see who the rider was, though, it was all so fast.”

“I saw him clearly, Val. He was so close that I could smell the alcohol on his breath. No wonder Alexander Grey wasn’t driving a car!”

To be continued.