Another Life: Escape to Cornwall with this gripping, emotional, page-turning read

She got Shadow’s lead and they both skirted the scarred field and jogged along the coastal path down to the cove. The tide was coming in and Gabby ran along the sea’s edge to the rocks at the end of the cove. She loved the power of the rough sea which blew spray in great salty bursts into her eyes. The wind, cold against her face, was as light as air as she ran. She felt a wonderful euphoric freedom that made her imagine she was flying, or poised on the crest of a turning wave with the combined exultation of a seasoned surfer and the equal terror of the pull of the sea.

Small waders rose in flocks in front of her with tiny faraway cries. The waves crashing against the rocks drowned out all sounds except her breath, and the plop of her feet and Shadow’s paws on the wet sand as she ran. She stopped by the rocks, panting and laughing, and bent and hugged the dog.

What was happiness? No more than a fleeting moment such as this. Seabirds, dog, vast waves rolling inexorably towards her with the same raw energy that she felt within her. This small single moment separated from any other, entire in itself, held so perfect and timeless that she might lift her head from Shadow’s rough fur, turn for home, and this tiny second of happiness would vanish; leaving only a memory like a threnody in the place it had been.

Chapter 15 (#ulink_69bbedda-84c4-5d13-be9a-a91b319aa316)

Josh, on a twenty-four-hour pass, surprised them by turning up suddenly on Friday night for the weekend.

Gabby, Charlie and Nell were astounded at how he had filled out. Gaining muscle made him seem bigger, stockier.

‘We do nothing but yomp, with packs on our backs, stumble badly around the parade ground, hurl ourselves round assault courses, hang from ropes in the gym, polish everything in sight … and eat.’

‘I’ve never heard you complain about eating!’ Charlie said.

Josh laughed. ‘I’m not complaining, Charlie. I should be used to piles of food, growing up on a farm, but at Sandhurst we have a cooked breakfast, coffee with buns mid-morning, lunch, afternoon tea, and dinner in the evening. All those carbs just to keep us going.’

‘Or alternatively to develop obesity and alcoholism,’ Nell said fondly.

‘Right, I’m off to start the milking. See you later, Josh. We’ll go to the pub after supper, have a few jars.’

Nell went to phone Elan to ask him over to eat with them. Josh went around the kitchen touching things, prowling. He always did this when he had been away, as if to reassure himself all was still the same.

‘Is everything OK, Josh?’

He went and leant with his back to the Aga. ‘Sure, Gabby, everything’s fine.’

But he had hesitated for a split second. Gabby, watching him, said carefully, ‘There’s something worrying you. It’s such a long way to come for a short weekend …’ She went to hug him, ‘But, oh, it’s lovely to see you.’

Josh said quickly, looking at the door, ‘I just needed to come home; touch base.’ He paused. ‘It’s a tough course. Sometimes it seems as if there is always someone shouting at you. It’s all for reasons of discipline, obviously, but after university it feels like going back to school. I just wanted to feel like a grown-up human being for twenty-four hours.’

‘If you’ve made a mistake, you know …’

‘No, Gabby, it’s nothing like that. I haven’t made a mistake and I’ve made some really good mates. It’s just …’ Josh looked at his feet and wiggled them as he always did when he was thoroughly miserable.

‘What is it, Josh?’

Josh looked up. ‘There was this guy from Ghana in my year. He was a bit useless, but our sergeant definitely had it in for him, seemed to think he was bucking the system, not trying, taking the piss. We went up to the Brecon Beacons last week to train and this guy kept saying he felt unwell. He hated the cold, he just couldn’t cope with it, none of the Africans can, so we end up wrapping them in silver foil as their body temperature just plummets.

‘Anyway, this particular night there was a clear sky and it was absolutely freezing and Ojai’s teeth were rattling so much he could hardly stay upright. Two of us were each side of him holding him upright, keeping him on his feet, or he would have fallen. We came to this river that we were supposed to swim across and Ojai just rolled his eyes in terror. It was obvious he wasn’t up to it so we used the radio to get him casevaced back to camp, but this sergeant insisted he went across with the rest of us, said he wasn’t having anyone on his course who thought he could pick and choose what he could and couldn’t do. He said if any of us wasted any more time we would all be on a charge.

‘Me and this other guy roped Ojai to us and told him the river wasn’t deep, which was a lie, and that we’d make sure he got to the other side. He was frozen and scared, Gabby; he hated water, he was such a lousy swimmer he was having extra coaching. Anyway, we all descended into this bloody river and we were fine until we got to the middle, where obviously it was deeper and faster.

‘Ojai started to panic. Everyone was calling from the other bank, encouraging him on, but he completely lost it and started to flail around. The current was stronger than it looked and the three of us were being pulled downstream and under. We had to cut the rope, because if we hadn’t we’d have all drowned. We tried to keep hold of him, but … it was impossible.’

Josh stopped, looked away. ‘He drowned, Gabby, they found him downstream. There is an inquiry on. All the officers are pissing themselves in case the press get hold of it.’

‘Josh, that’s terrible. Poor, poor boy. I hope the sergeant loses his job.’ She could see Josh was still upset. ‘You don’t blame yourself, do you?’

‘Not really. It’s just we lied, we said the river wasn’t deep, we said we would make sure he stayed with us and got to the other side, then we had to cut him loose to drown. There was no reason for him to die, he could have been back-coursed or just sent home as unfit. He died horribly frightened a long way from home, for bloody what?’

Gabby bent and got a beer from the fridge, opened it and handed it to him.

‘Thanks.’ Josh smiled. ‘Anyway, I just wanted to get home for a bit. Let’s talk of something else.’

Nell came into the room. ‘Elan is on his way.’

‘Great,’ Josh said. ‘Gabby, is it all right if I go and have a long hot bath?’

‘Josh, you don’t have to ask. Go and relax, my radio is still in there …’

She went to the door with him. ‘I’m glad you came home, it was the right thing to do.’

Elan, Charlie and Josh had gone to the pub, and Nell and Gabby were clearing up the supper things. They had both been invited and had both refused as they knew they were supposed to. Gabby told Nell Josh’s sad little story.

‘I knew there was something,’ Nell said. ‘I still cannot fathom the attraction of the army; I never will.’

Gabby smiled and changed the subject.

When Nell had gone back to her cottage, Gabby went into her workroom. She got her mobile phone out. One missed message. It was from Mark.

‘Hi there, it’s Mark Hannah. Just to say I’m back in London, slight change of plan. I’m following a small lead that may be a wild goose chase, but may give us a clue to Isabella.’

Before she lost her nerve, Gabrielle pressed return call. It rang and rang, and then a breathless Mark came on to the line.

‘Hello, it’s Gabrielle. I got your message.’

‘Hi there, Gabriella, it’s great to hear from you!’

‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here at six. Josh came home unexpectedly for the weekend.’

‘That’s great. Hey, you don’t want to be talking to me …’

‘It’s OK. They’ve all gone down to the pub.’

‘I 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?’