What Happens In Cornwall.... T A Williams

I’ll try them. I’ll send them a letter on university paper, asking if we could be afforded access. You never know; the new owners might be unaware of the historical significance of what they’ve bought.’

      Sam felt like telling her that anybody who was going to shell out millions to buy a chunk of rock in the English Channel would surely have done their research first. Still, true to her promise to the mysterious Ann, she made no mention of what had happened on the island and let her get on with it.

      ‘In fact, I think I’ll go off and do that this very minute.’ Virginia stood up, waved absently, and headed back to her office. Samantha sat alone for a few minutes finishing her yoghurt.

      ‘Hi.’

      She looked up in surprise. ‘Hello, Neil. What are you doing here?’ He was based in the Physics department and they had their own canteen up there. It was very unusual to see him down here.

      He slipped into the seat vacated by Virginia. ‘I thought I’d just come and see if you’d changed your mind about tomorrow.’ He was trying and failing to look nonchalant.

      ‘Moira’s wedding? No, still the same. We go.’

      ‘Oh, Sam…’ He really did sound more like a teenager every day. ‘Do I have to?’

      She took a deep breath. ‘Yes, you do, Neil. We both do. But why come and bother me on my lunch break? This could have waited.’

      ‘It’s just that I won’t be back till late tonight.’ In response to her raised eyebrows, he explained. As he did so, any remaining vestiges of nonchalance fell away. ‘We’re all going to a club. There’s a rugby night at the Green Bottle Club. All the locals will be there.’

      ‘When you say, all? Do you mean you want me to come too?’

      He was quick to reply. ‘Oh no. Not at all. I mean local players. Tonight’ll be just blokes.’

      She sighed. ‘Well, just don’t drink too much. The wedding’s tomorrow and we’ve got to be there early afternoon. I don’t want to have to prop you up during the ceremony.’

      ‘Couldn’t you go on your own and say I’m not feeling very well?’

      ‘Considering half the town’s going to see you looking fit and healthy out and about tonight, I would say that’s a definite non-starter. No, just accept the fact that we’ve said we’ll go and so we’re going.’

      ‘Oh, Sam, for Christ’s sake!’ He puffed with frustration, grunted and left the table.

       Chapter 7

      Seeing as the sun was shining, Samantha chose to have her lunch outside in the university grounds the following Monday. Now that all the undergrads had left for the summer it was quiet on campus, and she had a whole bench to herself on the hillside. Behind her, the ever-growing sprawl of university buildings covered everything as far as the eye could see. Ahead of her lay the city of Exeter, the old cathedral standing proud in its midst. Beyond that was the estuary and she could just glimpse the sea in the distance. It was a sparkling clear day and the sun was warm enough to make her glad she had put sun cream on her nose.

      Now, as July was drawing to a close, the weather had finally taken a turn for the better. At long last, the forecast was for sunshine. Sam reflected upon the irony of the fact that now that she and Becky had returned from their few days in grey, wet Cornwall, and were back at work indoors, the rain had stopped. She sighed into her sandwich, the fine weather unable to lighten her mood of depression. Things with Neil were going from bad to worse. Fast.

      ‘Hi, Sam. Room for one more?’ It was Becky.

      ‘Restaurant with the best view in town. Take a seat.’ Sam moved her bag to make space. ‘I thought you’d be lunching with your Scandinavian friend. Aren’t things working out with Andras?’

      Becky shook her head ruefully. ‘We went out for a few drinks the other night and it was great, right up to the point when he pulled out the snapshots of his wife and three kids. Three kids! He’s only thirty-two as well!’

      ‘It’s those long, dark Nordic nights. What else is there to do?’

      ‘Well I wouldn’t mind doing a bit of it myself. Why the hell did I choose archaeology?’ As Becky grumbled on, Sam sat back and smiled in spite of herself. She was familiar with the rant to come. Becky was far from smiling. ‘If I’d done any kind of science I’d have been surrounded by men, and by the law of averages at least some of them would’ve been presentable. Instead, what did I do? Archae-bloody-ology, that’s what. And I find myself in the middle of a bunch of women and a handful of geeky men. Where’s an Indiana Jones when you want one?’

      ‘They’re not all geeky. Take Ryan for instance.’ That suggestion fell on stony ground. For months, years, Sam had been convinced that their fellow postgrad would be perfect for Becky, but she refused to see it. No response was forthcoming so Samantha changed the subject. ‘Has Virginia had any word back about getting access to Rock Island?’

      Becky shook her head. ‘It’s been over a week now and still nothing. She’s fretting terribly. Oh I do hope they say yes, whoever they are.’ She shot Sam a sharp look. Although Sam had repeatedly told her that she didn’t know the identity of the woman called Ann, Becky clearly didn’t believe her. She had tried everything short of physical assault so far in her attempts to get Sam to spill the beans, but without success. ‘Wouldn’t it be great to be able to spend our summer out on an island? Especially one full of millionaires.’ Becky was looking a bit more cheerful now. Samantha took another mouthful of sandwich and relaxed. Her relaxation only lasted until Becky changed the subject.

      ‘So, Sam, I forgot to ask. How did the wedding go?’ Samantha’s heart fell. Her day had just got worse. She took a deep breath. Maybe talking about it might help.

      ‘Erm, not brilliant.’ Moira’s wedding had been in a fancy hotel on the outskirts of town. It had been every bit as bad as she had feared; not the wedding, but the behaviour of Neil, who had come back from the club very late on Friday night, reeking of beer. He had got up late on Saturday morning in a foul mood. He had at least managed to behave himself during the service, but he then did nothing but drink, moan and complain throughout the reception. Sam had finally accepted defeat and left with him immediately after the speeches, doing her best to excuse their early departure by explaining that Neil wasn’t feeling well. Worst of all, she had clearly read sympathy in Moira’s eyes. There was no getting away from it. Samantha’s failing relationship was on very public display and the clock was ticking.

      She related the full, sad story to Becky and saw the same expression of sympathy on her face. Becky caught her eye. ‘Think it’s time to call it quits?’

      ‘Oh, Bec, I don’t know. Last Saturday night I was on the point of moving out but I kept thinking of my mum.’ Becky knew the story of Sam’s father’s disappearance.

      ‘Sam, your mum wouldn’t want you to let this Neil business totally fuck your life up. She’ll understand; I’m sure she will.’

      ‘You haven’t seen her recently. She’s still terribly down about the whole thing. At least she’s off the anti-depressants, but I haven’t seen any great improvement in her mood. I’m honestly afraid another bit of bad news might push her over the top.’

      Becky made no immediate reply. Sam watched her as she thought it through. When she did decide to speak, her tone was more positive. ‘It’s not up to me to tell you what to do, Sam, but what I would say is that the two of you were very happy together for a good few years. Might there be some way you could get over this little hiccup and get back to where you were?’

      Samantha ran her hands through her hair wearily. ‘Some hiccup! I think it’s gone way past the hiccup stage. I think we’ve reached the full projectile vomiting stage now, to be honest.’

      ‘Well, ask yourself if you think it’s worth