The Cornish Guest House Read Online Free PDF Page B

fisherman, an old sea dog if ever there was one, was the only man Liz had ever met with muscly fingers. They were so thick, from handling the nets all his life, that it was a wonder he could bend them.
    Anything he caught that Robert and Alex didn’t want for A Winkle In Time went to Blue Ocean Seafoods, the fishmonger in Market Square, and what they couldn’t source locally they’d buy from the fish markets of Looe and Plymouth.
    The first customer to arrive on the dot of seven forty-five was none other than Rick Kane, accompanied by a new lady friend whom Liz hadn’t seen before. Rick, who ran the village gift shop, Treasure Trove, was a fan of internet dating. Into his sixties now and sporting a bushy grey beard and sideburns, he seemed to be working his way through the county’s entire population of mature women and was never without someone on his arm.
    ‘Good evening,’ he said to Liz, rather formally, she thought, and he kept a protective hand on his date’s back as he ushered her solicitously to her chair. She was rather glamorous, with long red fingernails, thick blue eye shadow and a halo of white-blonde hair. She must have had a blow-dry earlier in the day.
    ‘May I see the wine list?’ Rick asked, leaning forward so that his companion had the full focus of his attention.
    Liz smiled inwardly. Usually, he shunned the menu in favour of house white or red; he was obviously keen to make a good impression.
    ‘Of course,’ she said, adopting her best, professional tone. She couldn’t help noticing that several of the buttons on his red and white striped shirt had been left open, revealing an impressive crop of grey chest hair. ‘I’ll ask the manager to advise you.’
    As the restaurant filled up she darted to and fro, carrying bowls of sweet potato and ginger soup and plates of pot-roasted gurnard and spiced cod and scallop linguine. Robert popped back and forth, too, fetching wines from the store in the backyard and keeping an eye on the bar as well as Loveday, who could have done with a firm hand, though he never gave her one. He was so quiet and intent on his work that Liz didn’t like to speak to him. Every now and then, though, they’d exchange glances, he’d mouth, ‘OK?’ and she’d smile and nod back.
    It seemed hard to believe, now, that she’d once thought him awkward and antisocial. How wrong you could be! Focused, yes, unfriendly, never. In fact, the well-being of all his staff was his greatest concern.
    Rick and his lady friend were deep in conversation and took ages to finish their first two courses. At one point he lifted her hand from the table and played with her fingers, interlacing them with his own. She, meanwhile, lowered her eyes frequently and gazed at him through heavily mascaraed lashes, popping off every now and again to the ladies’ to refresh her pink glossy lipstick.
    Liz went over a couple of times to top up their wine glasses then stopped, sensing that Rick wanted to do the honours. They were in a world of their own. The other customers were new to her and she heard one man say to his companion that he couldn’t believe he’d never been here before.
    ‘It’s charming,’ the woman agreed. ‘And the food’s delicious.’
    Liz made a mental note to tell Robert and the other staff later. They worked so hard and everyone needed a pat on the back from time to time.
    Towards the end of the evening her legs were aching and she marvelled at how nimble she’d once been. Amazing to think that she’d held down this job as well as cleaning offices in the mornings; she was definitely out of practice. It wasn’t until most people were finishing dessert that she managed to stop for a proper chat with Jesse, who informed her in his pronounced Cornish accent that he and Loveday were shortly moving in together to a little rented flat on the top floor of Jack’s Cottage, near The Victory Inn pub.
    He’d previously been living with his mum, while Loveday had been paying a