Free Caught Out in Cornwall by Janie Bolitho Page A

corduroy jacket against the rain.
     
    Barry Rowe was preparing a meal in his flat above the shop. How right Rose had been about decorating it. For far too long he had let it go. And now it was a pleasure to cook in the completely refitted kitchen which a firm had come to measure up then planned to perfection for convenience and space. 
    Barry, whose culinary skills were limited, was grateful for the fact that Jenny was not a fussy eater. What he felt about her, he wasn’t yet certain. It was too soon to tell where the relationship was going. What surprised him was that it had started at all.
    Jenny had come into the shop looking for a birthday card knowing that everything he sold was in some way produced by local artists and craftsmen. Her granddaughter, baby Polly, had been with her at the time and had managed to tip her pram over and bang her head. Barry offered the use of his first aid box and it had started from there. He had met Rose, too, in his shop not long after she came to Cornwall, a short time after he had started the business when he had no idea if he could make a go of it.
    He pushed his glasses into place and continued slicing chicken for the stir fry. The shop. How ironic that it was in the shop that he had also introduced Rose to David. It had taken him a long time to realise that Rose would never be his.
    When David died, Barry had grieved for his friend but somewhere in his subconscious was a spark of hope that now she was free she might turn to him, might even need him. But it had become apparent that Rose didn’t need anyone, not even Jack Pearce. What she felt for Jack was on some other level.
    He heard Jenny’s footsteps on the flight of metal stairs which led to the flat from the back of the building and went to let her in.
    ‘It’s started to rain,’ she said as he took her damp mac.
    ‘So I see.’ He felt only the slightest pang that it was Jenny and not Rose with whom he would be sharing his meal.
    ‘They still haven’t found that little girl yet,’ Jenny remarked as she took off her coat. ‘God knows what the mother must be going through.’
    Barry nodded. He couldn’t even begin to imagine her feelings; all he knew was that Rose was involved and would remain so until the final outcome, whatever it might be. ‘Would you likea drink? I think I’ve got almost everything.’ He realised he had been influenced by Rose. At one time he would have gone to the pub if he fancied a pint.
    ‘Wine for me, please.’ Jenny sat down, smiling, as she watched him struggle with the corkscrew. He was a nice man and she thought she might already be halfway in love with him.
     
    Arthur Forbes had bathed and shaved and taken trouble over his appearance despite what Rose had said. It would be far too easy to let himself go and he knew there were times when he was in danger of doing so now that there was no one living with him to care how he looked. Why should I worry when my daughter manages to be so popular when half the time she dresses like one of those New Age travellers, he thought with a wry smile.
    The doorbell rang. Rose had a spare key to his house but she would never presume to use it unless there was an emergency. She would have hated anyone walking into her own home unannounced. ‘Oh, very smart,’ she said as she took in the tweed jacket, sharply pressed trousers and the turtleneck sweater.
    Arthur held her shoulders and kissed her cheek.Rose reminded him so much of Evelyn when she was younger.
    ‘It’s raining so Jack’s brought the car.’
    Arthur lived in a 1930s house in one of the side roads set back from the seafront. The houses, built on the side of a hill, were tiered and all had views of the bay. ‘No point in moving to Penzance if I can’t see the sea,’ Arthur had commented at the time he was studying estate agents’ details. It was too far from the restaurant to walk without getting soaked, especially as the wind had risen again and waves were sweeping over the