Free Plotted in Cornwall by Janie Bolitho Page B

the larder which led off the kitchen. It was cool and airy and a handy place for storage and somewhere to keep the freezer.
    The cloud began to break up and drift away. The ground would be damp but it was possible to work outside now because the light was good. Rose toyed with the idea of going to the Tate in St Ives. Whoever was being exhibited, the building alone was always worth a visit. From inside, the concave glass semicircle which formed the front reflected the golden sands and the sea, and there was always a Hepworth sculpture worth viewing. And I occasionally get to meet another artist, she thought. But in the end she decided to drive to Zennor again. More work was needed on the painting she had started only yesterday but which seemed like a lifetime ago. Her treat would have to wait.
    Being a Saturday there were a few people around but not enough to distract her, not that there was anything from which to distract her except her thoughts. She stared, unseeing, at the canvas and relived the previous evening.
    Jack had arrived at the Mount’s Bay Inn ahead of her. He sat on the padded bench near the fire, one arm stretched along the length of its back. As Rose pushed open the door he had smiled and stood to buy her a drink.
    Longing to talk about Joel and his connection with the sisters, she’d decided to wait. Such coincidences were not rare in Cornwall. Many locals were interrelated with families up and down the county. But two of this family seemed to be missing.
    Rose sighed deeply. The beauty of the scenery was dazzling, more so through the sparkle of tears. The conversation she had hoped to have had not taken place. Not wishing to blunder in with her story first Rose had asked, ‘What was it you wanted to tell me, Jack?’
    ‘It’s about last night. You know, after I left you I said I was meeting some friends.’
    ‘Ah, your CID chums. I bet it was a good evening.’ She had actually smiled.
    ‘Yes, but not in the way I intended. They couldn’t make it. Something big cropped up in Plymouth. They’d tried to get me at home during the day but I was out with you. Anyway, they caught me at the pub on my mobile.’
    Rose had had no idea what was coming. In retrospect it should have been obvious, but she hadn’t spotted it, hadn’t wanted to, perhaps.
    ‘A woman came in. Alone. We were both at the bar so we got talking. She was meeting afriend. The friend turned up eventually, about half an hour late.’
    Rose’s mouth had gone dry, there was lead in her stomach.
    ‘I’m taking her out tomorrow,’ Jack had said without embarrassment, without guilt.
    Rose had nodded. Unexpected jealousy had made her speechless. She knew how unfair she was being, hadn’t she once arranged to meet Jack in a pub in Marazion where she had put an end to their affair? Not that it had ended completely, not until that minute last night.
    ‘I wanted to tell you face to face. You know what it’s like down here, we’d have been seen, maybe even by you. I didn’t want to go around feeling, wrongly, I was doing something underhand. I wanted you to hear it from me, Rose.’
    So she isn’t married if it isn’t underhand, Rose had realised. ‘Where are you taking her?’ she had asked stupidly, as if it made any difference. But people in such situations have masochistic tendencies.
    ‘The Newlyn Laundry restaurant, and maybe a drink afterwards.’ Jack had paused, wondering how much to tell Rose. ‘Her name’s Anna Hicks. She’s a beautician and runs her own business. Anyway, enough ofthat. What did you want to see me about?’
    ‘It doesn’t matter, it wasn’t important. I have to go now, I’m expecting a phone call.’ A feeble excuse but the best she could think of at the time.
    Rose’s fingers were stiff. She had been gripping the paintbrush, which had yet to receive any paint. Gazing out to sea, nothing had changed. The blues and greens shimmered in the winter sunshine, just as they always would, heedless of her