only rang to tell you … Gabriella, hang on while I get a towel, I was in the shower.’
When he came back, Gabrielle said, ‘Sorry, sorry, this is why I hate phoning people … It’s always the wrong time.’
‘Gabriella, it’s exactly the right time. I am stuck in a hotel bedroom trying to decide what to do with myself. Stay in and get bored or go out and eat alone, which I hate.’
‘Oh dear.’
‘Oh dear, indeed.’ Mark laughed. ‘I thought you might be interested. One of my researchers found a Welland grave in Yorkshire. There were three generations of carpenters, all in the parish records of the time. A Ben Welland moved to Cornwall where his wife originated from. It is unclear whether he moved from his own county to please her or whether he left Yorkshire to find work in the Cornish boatyards. He had three sons and a daughter who survived beyond childbirth and one of the sons must, I believe, have been our Tom.
‘Ben Welland must have gone home to die, or asked to be buried in the same churchyard as his parents, not his wife, which seems a bit strange.’
‘So were there were no records of the names of Ben Welland’s sons?’
‘All the sons who died in infancy were entered and legible, but the bottom of the page was damaged by water marks.’
‘So, no grave for Tom in Yorkshire?’
‘No grave for Tom, or his wife or children, if he had them. So, Ben was buried in Yorkshire, his wife and children in St Piran, and Tom presumably died abroad, maybe Canada, Australia or New Zealand. There was huge migration at that time, as you know. As the mines failed, hundreds of people left Cornwall and brought back stories of fortunes to be made.’
‘Anything about Lady Isabella?’
‘Not yet. I am purely following a hunch at the moment.’
‘Sounds intriguing …’
In the kitchen the phone was ringing. ‘Mark, my other phone is ringing. I’d better go.’
‘Thank you for ringing me back, Gabriella. Tom was just an excuse to ring you. Hearing your voice has cheered me up.’
His voice was soft and Gabby shivered. ‘I’m starting work on Lady Isabella on Monday.’
‘Good! Keep me posted about progress. Goodnight.’
The phone in the kitchen had stopped ringing and Gabby dialled 1471. It was Zoë’s number, an old girlfriend of Josh’s. She dialled.
‘Zoë? It’s Gabby. Did you ring?’
‘Yes. Hi Gabby, I just wondered if Josh made it home. He said he might.’
‘Yes, he did, they’re in the pub.’
‘Oh, great! Are you coming?’
‘I might actually. Is it coincidence you are both back home on the same weekend?’
‘Well … Josh rang and told me he was hoping to come home and I was planning to come this weekend or next … OK, Gabby, see you down there.’
Zoë had been in love with Josh for as long as Gabby could remember. It seemed she still jumped at the chance of seeing him and to Josh she was just a mate, no more than that. Gabby hoped Zoë had no residual hope in that direction.
She pulled a comb through her hair and pulled a jacket on, then went out into the yard and started her car up. She stopped at Nell’s cottage.
‘I’ve changed my mind. Come on, Nell. Josh might not be home again for ages, let’s join them. Zoë is on her way, too.’
Nell hesitated, loath to move from her warm house. Then she said, ‘You’re right, let’s go. Why should the men have all the fun? I must not get old and fuddy-duddy. But we’ll go in my car, if you don’t mind, Gabby.’
Gabby laughed. ‘You, fuddy-duddy? I don’t think so!’
Nell thought, How pretty she looks tonight, how excited and alive. It is true, sons do keep their mothers young.
Gabby, driving down the rutted track, thought, How amazing that a voice can enfold you like velvet, go on holding you.
Later, in bed that night, with Charlie snoring gently beside her, Gabby lay awake listening to the sea. The pub had been warm and full of people she knew. Charlie, Josh and Elan had been so genuinely pleased to see her, Nell and Zoë, that Gabby had felt surprised and touched.
They sat round a large scrubbed table while Elan told his outrageous stories. Gabby had looked round at the flushed and laughing faces of her family, for Elan counted as family; at Zoë and a couple of Josh’s local friends, and she felt a surge of contentment in Josh being home. In the evening. In joining in. In Charlie’s pleasure in the fact that she had joined in.
It’s odd, she thought, as she turned on her side to sleep. It is as if I am viewing my life suddenly from a tiny, imperceptible shift in perspective.
They stood in the yard saying goodbye to Josh. Gabby watched him mooching about, inspecting the bantams. He had loved Elton John, a Welsomer who had pranced showing off his glossy petrol feathers of flame and green and chestnut – the current cockerel was not so spectacular. Shadow was following Josh about anxiously, her long nose pressed to his calf.
Josh always put off the moment of leaving. As a small child he had run back two or three times to Gabby before he could get himself through the school gates.
Zoë stood by the car, also watching him. Josh was giving her a lift back to Bristol. He walked back towards them.
‘Get in,’ he said to Zoë. ‘I’m just going inside to make sure I haven’t left anything.’
Nell and Gabby smiled at each other and Charlie raised his eyebrows but said nothing. Seeing Josh off always took ages.
‘Drive carefully,’ Nell said when he came back out.
‘Yes, Granny,’ Josh said grinning, and Nell clipped him over the ear.
He hugged Nell and Gabby, then he and Charlie did their usual slightly self-conscious hand-slapping and ‘Wahoo’ at each other before Josh bent and got into his car, which had been a present from Nell.
Gabby leant in at his window. ‘’Bye, Zoë. Josh, have a good week. Ring me.’
‘I will. Good luck with your figurehead.’
They watched the car bounce down the track until it was out of sight, then Charlie went off to get the cows in and Nell and Gabby went inside to tackle the remains of Sunday lunch. Watching Charlie’s shoulders, Gabby felt a stab of pity. Every time Josh came home she knew Charlie secretly hoped he would announce he had done the wrong thing. If they had had another son it would have made all the difference.
Neither she nor Nell talked much as they worked. They both hated the aftermath of Josh leaving and the hole he left for an hour or two until their lives slid back into a rhythm without him. Nell would go and nap while pretending to read the Sunday papers. Gabby would walk Shadow until it was dark, following the progress of Josh’s car in her mind until it was time to make sure he had got back safely.
‘I miss going over the Tamar Bridge,’ Josh said. ‘It used to feel more like coming home and leaving again.’ Like a definite marker as the wide river swirled underneath, full of boats and the small ferries chugging from one side to the other. A marker between home and the rest of the world.
Occasionally he got called a Cornish pasty by an instructor who wanted to annoy him. Josh did not rise. He did not have to prove anything. He was glad he had gone home this weekend, but it made returning worse. It felt like going back to school. He would