A Cornish Summer
Chapters (36)
- Cover
- Also by Catherine Alliott
- Dedication
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- A Message from Catherine
Cover
Also by Catherine Alliott
The Old Girl Network
Going Too Far
The Real Thing
Rosie Meadows Regrets…
Olivia's Luck
A Married Man
The Wedding Day
Not That Kind of Girl
A Crowded Marriage
The Secret Life Evie Hamilton
One Day in May
A Rural Affair
My Husband Next Door
Wish You Were Here
About Last Night…
A Cornish Summer
Behind Closed Doors
Learn more at:
facebook.com/AlliottCountry
Dedication
For my god-daughter, Jemima.
Chapter 1
Celia peered nervously through the rain-spattered windscreen at the towering hedges lining the narrow lane we were snaking along. Sodden trees formed a dark canopy overhead. She wrapped her vintage silk shawl more tightly around her bony shoulders and gave a mock shiver.
“Remind me again why I'm coming with you?”
I gave a small smile.
“You know very well. To paint the swirling seas and the billowing blue skies — your words, I believe, to persuade me to let you come in the first place.”
“I had an idea it would all be bathed in golden hues and honey-colored light, that's all,” she said petulantly, gazing out into the gloom.
“It is, for about ten days a year,” I told her cheerfully. “If we're lucky we'll catch one of them.” I gave her a bolshie grin and her eyes widened in genuine alarm.
“And — for moral support,” I reminded her. “Your words again. For which I'm super grateful. And don't worry, the weather will perk up. It's always a bit mercurial down here.”
“Yes, well,” she rearranged her shawl and slid her bottom forwards in the passenger seat beside me, setting her faded orange espadrilles on the dashboard. “Can't have you entering the lion's den on your own, can we? Might never see you again. And anyway, I've heard too much about this famous family to pass up the chance.” She narrowed her eyes contemplatively. “Actually, I might paint the old girl, Belinda, while you do Roger the Dodger. They won't know I only do landscapes, will they? I could do a Francis Bacon on her,” she said suddenly, sitting up delighted. “All naked and bloody and flagellated — the final reveal coming to light in a dramatic spin of the easel! Can't you just see her face?”
“She'd faint clean away,” I told her as I hit the brakes. A speed camera heralded yet another gray, damp little village with opposing rows of blank-faced stone cottages, punctuated by the ubiquitous pub at the end. “Roger, on the other hand, might like it.”
“Oh? Is he into bondage?” She glanced at me, encouraged. “Bit of a Max Mosley? The gentry often are.”
“I’ve no idea what his sexual predilections are, but he's certainly not the crusty old buffer you're imagining. He's quite open-minded.”
“Oh good. I'll twinkle at him.” She grinned. “See if I get a response.”
“Do not,” I said nervously, knowing Celia's charms of old. Twinkling was mild within her repertoire.