A Cornish Stranger by Liz Fenwick Page A

deliveries and cheques and struggled so much with the new world of technology. In the end, many suppliers spoke to Gabe in order to resolve payment issues, and Gabe had managed her grandmother’s bank account for the last few years – the gallery had insisted because Jaunty became muddled by the amounts being transferred into her account.
    Gabe sighed. Jaunty was old and the world had moved forward. But because Jaunty had locked herself away in her studio, she hadn’t seen it nor had she wanted to take part in it. It was too late now.
    â€˜Do you want to take the quick route or the scenic one?’ Gabe stopped on the cattle grid at the top of the track, wonder­ing what she herself felt like doing.
    â€˜Scenic.’ He shrugged, and Gabe watched the play of ­muscles under his shirt. She had seen them up close . . . Shaking her head mentally she strode out ahead of him down the lane towards Penarvon Cove, pushing the images away. Instead she filled her mind with the height of the trees above. It felt as if she was in a magic world where she became tinier the lower down the lane she went and the trees above closed into tunnel. She inhaled, filling her lungs, wanting to sing but releasing the breath in a slow sigh.
    â€˜OK?’ He turned to her.
    â€˜Yes, a bit stiff, that’s all. How are you?’
    â€˜Same, but glad to be alive.’
    They reached the beach and signs of the storm were strewn all over the pebbles. Among the seaweed were bits of wood and empty bottles which told an interesting tale in themselves. The wood was mixed, a few branches, some plywood and a turned table leg. The bottle selection consisted of a milk carton and an empty bottle of Château Latour. Gabe wondered if it had been consumed last night on one of the few visiting yachts still moored on the river.
    They followed the narrow path above the cove and into Helford, passing the pub. Signs of damage were evident here too. A roof slate from a nearby cottage was lying smashed on the road and Gabe was glad she hadn’t been walking back from the pub last night when that had come down. She looked out to the river. This morning there was no wind, but the water still displayed signs of the storm. Even from in front of the shop she could see the swell as a boat made its way out to the bay. She climbed the stairs and Fin followed.
    â€˜Morning.’ Gabe didn’t recognise the woman behind the counter.
    The woman smiled. ‘Quite the night, last night. Three boats broke anchor on the river.’
    â€˜Really?’ Gabe looked up from the bread selection.
    â€˜Yes. Wild, it was.’
    â€˜Do they know the owners of the boats?’ Fin asked.
    â€˜Not all – there was one they couldn’t identify.’
    â€˜That’s probably mine.’
    Gabe watched the woman study Fin over and could see the appreciation in her eyes. He certainly was handsome, Gabe gave him that, but wouldn’t give him anything more. It was something about his cheekbones and smile. But she was still in shock that Jaunty had offered him a bed in her studio. She didn’t understand why he needed it or, more importantly, why Jaunty had offered.
    A woman walked in the shop. ‘Oh, how lovely to see you, Gabriella.’
    â€˜Hello, Mrs Bates.’
    â€˜Thank you for helping the choir, by the way.’
    Gabe swallowed. ‘No problem.’ She noticed Fin studying her.
    â€˜I’m thrilled you’re back with us. Jaunty will be better now that you are with her.’ Mrs Bates eyed Fin up and down. ‘And who is this good-looking stranger?’
    He smiled and extended a hand to Mrs Bates. ‘Hi, I’m Fin.’
    â€˜Is this your boyfriend?’ Mrs Bates positively glowed.
    Gabe gagged. ‘No, I rescued him last night in the storm.’
    â€˜A stranger from the sea? How poetic. Now, if only I could remember these things . . .’ Mrs Bates put her basket down. ‘What was it