Louisa's subtle, yet appreciative gaze followed Martin as he strode purposefully across the gravel and into the house. She smiled to herself because it had almost been, if she were honest, a little bit of a thrill to watch him put the famously cocky Danny Steele back in his place. While it was true that Danny was her friend, everyone knew he was spoiled and indulged as the only child of older parents and, in his mother's eyes particularly, he could do no wrong. Louisa especially resented the way he ran hot and cold with their friendship. They had been in the same year at Port Wenn Primary but Danny's parents had sent him off to a boy's grammar school for his secondary schooling, where he'd consequently abandoned his Cornish accent, along with most of his PortWenn friends, and he had acquired a heavy dose of self absorption to go along with his not inconsiderable self confidence.
She seldom saw him during term time and, even during the holidays, she'd always felt like his attention to her was only when he'd exhausted all the other entertainment options available. But his parents had a VHS player, a full pantry, and a fridge that was always stocked with homemade ginger beer so, whenever she and Isobel were invited, and they could find a way to get up to his house, they didn't hesitate.
In Louisa's mind, they were just a bunch of village kids; watching videos, listening to music and just mucking around; she'd never had any particular attraction to him, so the way Danny had spoken to her just now, as if she were some sort of possession, had irritated her quite a lot. For some reason, and she needed to think about that a bit later, it seemed to have bothered her even more because he'd done it in front of Martin. So, while Danny began to tell her about a band he'd formed with some mates from school, she fixed him with a bored expression, chewed disinterestedly on a strand of her hair, and kept her eyes glued on the front door of the house.
While the ladies busied themselves in the kitchen, Martin soon discovered PC Tregurtha hovering about the the kitchen counter; a well laden plate of savouries balanced in one large hand, a dainty china mug of tea in the other.
Lester smiled at him in his pleasant, reassuring way. A clever, young fellow, he thought as he looked at Joan's nephew. Impressive and clearly destined for great things, if only he could just relax a little bit, be a bit more affable, and lose some of his aloofness and formality. Hopefully that will come with maturity, Lester pondered benevolently, thinking it was no surprise that his aunt was so proud of him.
Martin acknowledged his smile with a brief nod and no change of expression. He took in the policeman's endomorphic body type, his ruddy complexion, and his heavily laden plate. Inevitable that he was a candidate for gallbladder issues, hypertension, diabetes, Martin thought grimly. Why won't people take responsibility for their own health?
Glancing back at the ladies in the kitchen, he said quietly: "May I speak to you in private, Constable?"
Lester nodded, somewhat surprised. Still carrying his plate, he turned around and made his way back into the drawing room. He stood by the same window that Martin had gazed out of earlier, and he placed his Royal Albert Old Country Roses china cup and saucer carefully on the window sill, looking peaceably back at the serious looking young man beside him.
"I, aah, I have no idea if you are able to help, or, well, even if my request is within your, aah, jurisdiction but I'm hoping that you will, at least, be able to direct me if you are unable to assist me personally." Martin explained, in a low voice.
"Go on." Said the policeman calmly, intrigued by, and keenly observant of, the young fellow's discomfort as he stood awkwardly and fiddled nervously with his cuff links.
"Louisa, aah, Miss Glasson was upset when we visited her home this morning. Aaah, quite distressed it seems, because she discovered that her diary was missing...that is to say, umm, she assumes that it was taken during the search of her home. By the police. So, aaah, I was wondering if there were any chance...Do you think the girl's diary would be, ummm, could it be required as evidence?" Martin paused for a moment and looked resolutely at Lester. "Or, is there a chance..ummm..might it be able to be returned to her?"
Lester gazed back at him thoughtfully.
"I see," he said, picking up his teacup and taking a delicate sip of the now lukewarm brew. "Let me make a few phone calls and I will see what I can find out."
"Right." Martin replied. "I, umm, the thing is, I will be returning to London tomorrow so I trust I can leave this...issue... in your hands?"
Lester nodded. Twenty years in the force had honed his ability to judge character and, despite the young man's abrupt tone and general air of detachment, he felt that he had decent principles, and Louisa's best interests at heart. Wearily, he added Truro nick to the list of the calls he would be making that afternoon.
Martin acknowledged the policeman with an upwards tilt of his head and a quiet thank you. He walked back to the kitchen, hoping that his aunt was ready to leave but the conversation was flowing freely and the sponge cake was being cut into slices. Martin had had enough.
"Right," he said to Joan, not pausing to hear her response. "I'll be off then."
When he got to his car, he noticed with distaste that the pencil-necked boy was still swaggering about, and he felt the thunderous scowl return to his face. Martin had both a deep seated mistrust, and an intense dislike, of those whom he considered brazenly cocksure and self confident. It especially irked him when men behaved like that toward the opposite sex, probably, he thought, because it reminded him of his father's licentious and libidinous behaviour with women, a trait he had always found appalling and embarrassing.
Martin also was a little surprised to realise that the bored expression on Louisa's face was rather satisfying. He acknowledged to himself that he'd been somewhat discomfited to hear Danny refer to her as 'his girl' and some uncomfortable alarm bells had rung in his head. He knew that he had told Louisa to use the pharmacy account for whatever medical needs she might have but an unpleasant thought struck him. Surely, she was more sensible than that. And hopefully, more discerning, more astute...and, as he reminded himself, still only fourteen years old. He felt a familiar wave of uneasiness pass over him, but he also knew without a shadow of a doubt that there was absolutely no way in hell that he was ever going to have that conversation with her
"Louisa." He said loudly and firmly. "If you want a lift, I'm leaving now."
She looked up at him and flashed a radiant smile. Without hesitating, she abandoned her friend, before remembering his VHS player and the endless tins of home baking.
"Bye, Danny," she said cheerfully, over her shoulder. "Good luck with the band."
As she sauntered over to Martin's car, she willed him to open the door for her, if only for Danny's benefit, and she was not disappointed. As usual, Martin didn't look at her, or even speak, but Louisa didn't mind. In fact she felt triumphant.
As she settled into her seat, and Martin started the engine, she looked over at him, her face a picture of innocence.
"Danny said that this car is Foreign Rubbish, and he doesn't think much of it." She said sweetly. "He said you should have got an English car like a Rover because they are better. In fact, I couldn't believe it, he actually said this car was..ummm, well...it was a bit shit."
Martin's scowl intensified.
"Did he?" He growled sharply, fighting the temptation to floor the accelerator and spray gravel everywhere as he roared off up the narrow driveway.
Louisa leaned back in her seat as the hedgerows flew past. After a few minutes of silence, she reached out her finger and delicately traced out the wording stamped into the dashboard, wondering if she dared slip another cassette into the stereo.
"Was it the 'Lympic Rings then?" She asked sweetly, her eyes twinkling and a virtuous smile spreading across her face.
Martin turned his head and gave her a bemused glance
"The what?" He asked, perplexed.
"Painted on the door. The 'Lympic Rings. Is that why you chose it?"
He paused, and then he gave a loud, irritated sigh.
"Louisa, it's an Audi. That's the Audi symbol." He explained wearily.
"That's weird."
"It isn't weird!" He said, disdainfully, and added, a little heatedly. "It's completely different. For a start, there's FIVE Oh-Lympic Rings."
She rolled her eyes at him, reached down into the bag at her feet and began to rummage around.
"I'm already really bored with this conversation, actually." Louisa said, pretending to stifle a yawn. "And anyway, Martin, don't act too superior, you're the one who didn't know who David Bowie was."
"Oh right, you're bored now because you're wrong." He retorted. "Time to bring up your boyfriend. In the yellow suit!"
"That's him. The famous one you've never heard of." Louisa said with spirit, and started to laugh. "Honestly, Martin, don't they have radios in London then? Or do you just not know how to tune in the stations? Like in your car?"
"Don't confuse inaptitude with disinterest, Louisa." he replied, trying unsuccessfully to sound stern and reproachful.
She reached up, pushed the eject button with her index finger, swapped over the cassettes in the stereo, and turned to bestow upon him her most beatific smile.
It was wasted on him.
"Really?" He groaned.
Don't worry, once you get back to your own house, you'll get to listen to whatever you like..." She laughed as she sounded out the word, "On your Gram-o-phone..."
Martin took a deep breath.
"Actually, Louisa." He said firmly, and somewhat coldly. "Here's what's going to happen. You and I are going to complete the short drive to the farm without any so-called musical accompaniment."
Without averting his eyes from the road, he reached down and pressed the power button on the radio/cassette to 'OFF'.
She glared at him and was about to protest when something about the look on his face, and his tone of voice, made her change her mind. She sat in annoyed silence; arms folded, jaw clenched, jiggling her lower leg in agitation until, gradually, she began to feel more reflective. It was then that she felt a flash of regret. Telling Martin that his car was a bit shit, even if she were only repeating what Danny had said was a bit rude. She wondered why she kept saying things to him to deliberately wind him up, and then being annoyed when he reacted as he had just done. Her heart sunk.
"I'm sorry, Martin," she blurted out suddenly. "I just keep being horrible and I don't know why! Honestly, you've just been so lovely and kind to me all day, looked after me and everything, and I feel terrible now, you know, for being so...so...well such a bitch really."
Martin cast an alarmed sideways glance at her. Once again, her rapid change of mood had taken him by surprise and he had no idea how to react.
"Ummm, it's fine." He said, trying unsuccessfully to sound dismissive of her apology.
He'd never admit it but, earlier, Martin had realised that he didn't actually mind her ridiculously childish teasing, since he was now beginning to recognise her impudence for what it was; the self-protection technique of a vulnerable young person.
And, as he had forced himself to acknowledge, he existed almost entirely in self-protection mode himself, even if his armour manifested itself so differently. In a way, he admired Louisa's resilience; he was amazed that, despite being the offspring of such appalling and neglectful parents, she retained her warmth, and appeared to still find so much joy in life.
He realised that he didn't want her to think that he was cross with her so he found the courage to speak.
"It's just, ummm, it's just that I Just need silence sometimes...it recharges me, ummm, if you want to know. I find noise...well, noise just exhausts me."
Louisa shuffled sideways in her seat. Somehow, what Martin just said had seemed a very uncomfortable and difficult admission for him. She searched for an appropriate response.
"Oh, right." She said awkwardly. "I thought you just didn't like my music."
"I don't!" Martin replied hurriedly.
To his surprise, she laughed.
"That's one of the things I like about you, Martin. I think you are the honestest person I've ever met."
He tucked his chin to his chest and looked at her somewhat ruefully.
"Aaah,...Most honest." He said quietly, and quickly looked away.