“I did, but they are not always reliable, you know. And there were times when one got carried away and was not too careful. And in my defense I have to say that I really believed that chap wanted to marry me. He certainly hinted as much.” She sighed. “Anyway, it’s all past now and it turned out for the best, didn’t it? So no more men for me. I’ve renounced them entirely from now on. I’m going to become pure and virginal.”

I chuckled. “Hardly the latter, at this stage.”

“Well, pure anyway. I’ll become an incredibly successful businesswoman and an adoring godmother to your brood of children.”

We both looked up as the woman came in bearing two plates on which resided enormous pasties. I had been rather afraid that a pasty would be a dainty little thing and I’d still be hungry. Instead they filled a whole dinner plate. I took a bite: warm flaky pastry and then a delicious interior of meat, potatoes and root vegetables in a rich gravy.

“This is delicious,” I commented, looking up for a second.

“They are good, aren’t they? Cornish pasties are one of the things I remember fondly from my childhood. They make them for the miners, you know. To take down the mines for their lunch. That rim of pastry is for the miners to hold with their dirty hands so that they don’t actually touch the good part.”

“How interesting,” I managed to say before I went back to eating.

After a pint of hard cider that was surprisingly strong and the pasty I felt much better. Ready for anything, in fact. Belinda must have felt the same because she said, “Well, now we’d better go back and tackle that oil lamp, I suppose, since there is nowhere to stay and I don’t feel like driving all the way into Padstow.”

Chapter 5

AT WHITE SAILS.

THE NIGHT OF OCTOBER 15

White Sails is an overly refined name for what is a primitive fisherman’s cottage, and so remote it feels like the middle of nowhere. I’m not sure I want to stay here but Belinda still seems quite keen.

We managed to coax a box of matches from the landlady and went back out into the night. The wind had dropped when we arrived back at White Sails and we could hear the surf crashing onto rocks far below us.

“I wish we had thought to ask to borrow a torch,” Belinda said as we felt our way down the treacherous steps. She clicked her cigarette lighter on again and held it up like the lady with the lamp as we found our way down to the house. Once inside we took the glass top off the oil lamp and after much discussion (and a few choice words) we got it to light.