Flying on the wings of Dragons - Book 3, The Porth Kerensa Series

Chapter Three

The weather is cold on the drive to Cornwall and Joe keeps the heater going most of the journey in his old blue nova. I sit huddled in the front seat underneath a blanket, my poor battered nose peeping over the top. Joe insisted I put on his woolly hat and scarf before he drove me anywhere and he tucked me in the car tenderly like a mother hen. The radio plays quietly and we have spent most of the time singing along to the songs we have picked up as we have driven through the counties. It is my job to re-tune the radio and sometimes Joe groans at my choice in music but mostly he nods his head in agreement which pleases me inordinately more than it should.

I sit next to him, gazing out the window at the grey sky and the heavy silver clouds that are being pushed along by the winter winds. For the first time in my life I have seen Stonehenge, though it did not move me spiritually and Joe laughs when I tell him that. We ponder whether it only works if you get out and see it up close, but neither of us is keen to put it to the test in this biting freezing weather. We share a flask of coffee and on one of the toilet stops we buy Danish pastries and munch them in the car.

I feel like I am on an adventure and it is liberating knowing that I have escaped. I am on the road running for freedom and no one except us knows where we are going. My mobile phone is in the bottom of my handbag, yet I ignore it. I know there will be messages from my mother, Sue and my boss; who by now will have received the medical certificate, signing me off work, from the consultant that treated me after the accident.

Maybe Simon will ring and try to reason with my message service, maybe he will speak in that hollow voice and plead with me to ring him, or perhaps he will be angry with me for walking away from everything we built over the years. It is beyond hope that he might possibly understand and encourage me.

"Hey you," Joe says, softly and I smile at him. "Are you okay, Lia?"

"I was just thinking about the messages on my phone."

"I didn't realise you had listened to them."

"I haven't. I think I'm a bit scared to do it, to be honest." I giggle and he laughs with me.

 "You will when you're ready."

He is so laid back and easy going and it amazes me. I wish I could be like him instead of feeling wound up and uptight all of the time. Being with him delights me.

"We'll be there in ten minutes, sweetheart," he says with a grin. My heart leaps every time he calls me sweetheart in a way it shouldn't for this man I only met three days ago.

I gaze out the window at the countryside we are driving through. It is barren in the harsh glare of winter, however it is obviously beautiful in a skeletal way and I realise I am hopeful that I will still be here in the summer to see it in all its glory. My first glimpse of the ocean takes my breath away. Even on this grey drab day it is sparkling beautiful shades of blue and green that instantly reminds me of Joe's eyes. It is no surprise to me why he comes here to paint or why he believed it would help me. There is no better place for me to escape to than here in Porth Kerensa with Joe.

We drive the narrow windy roads heading downhill towards the diamond sea that beckons to me like a pool of hope. My heart beats faster and faster with excitement. We drive through the village with its cobbled streets and white stone buildings; past the promenade, past the harbour and up the cliff road. The cottages here are whitewashed with black slate roofs and chimneys pumping out smoke; these homes are plain and functional, yet all of them look cosy and welcoming.

"See that cottage there? That's mine" Joe slows the car, pulls to a stop and we sit in silence staring at the house. It is simple and basic but it looks like the grandest place in the world to me. I can't help but reach out and touch Joe's thigh, mindful of his injured wrist, to emphasise how truly pleased I am to be here with him.