Talking Location With … Rob Starr: SOUTH AFRICA
‘An Introduction to Renweneth Farm’ by Linn B Halton
26th September 2023
My name is Grace Newman. Having spent the vast majority of my life living near Stroud, a pretty market town in the glorious Cotswolds, I never dreamt I’d end up moving to Cornwall.
When my husband, Gabe – affectionately known to family and friends as Cappy – retired from the Royal Navy, he was like the proverbial fish out of water.
I tried to get him interested in a wide range of hobbies, but each one turned out to be a disaster. A couple of months later, I booked a surprise, two-week stay in a little cottage down in Cornwall. It rained the whole way there and we got soaked to the skin just carrying our bags from the parking area to the bijou ex-fisherman’s cottage.
However, from the bedroom window he could look out and watch the turbulent waves smashing against a huge rocky outcrop. Suddenly, Gabe was smiling again.
It rained continuously for three days, and we only ventured out to buy some fresh provisions. If he’d been off on a fishing trip and staying there alone, I know he would have put on his waterproofs and walked the headland, but he didn’t because of me.
Gabe used to laugh and say the sea wouldn’t dare swallow him up because my wrath was daunting. As long as he believed that I was happy.
On our fourth day, the sun came out and the sky was the sort of blue that melts into the sea on the horizon, as if there is no division.
‘Come on, Grace, it’s time to explore.’
Now while I can swim, I spent a lot of years fearful of what the sea might take from me. Gabe could never get me to take that huge step from having two feet firmly planted on the land, to stepping aboard a floating vessel. Our daughter, Jess, used to laugh at me, as the pair of them often came here to stay for a weekend break to do some fishing.
As we walked along the jetty, he pointed to a smart looking pale blue boat, named Graceful. ‘It’s time, m’dear,’ he’d said, giving me one of his wicked smiles.
‘Time for what?’
‘To find your sea legs. And she’s even named after you.’
‘Gabe! You’ll have to carry me onboard, as that’s the only way you’ll get me on that thing!’
‘But look at the sea, Grace. It’s as smooth as a mirror. I want to show you what it’s like to look back at the shore. Then you’ll understand why a part of me will always miss the sea.’
‘Maybe another time. I’m happy to sit and read.’ I didn’t want him to feel guilty for getting behind the wheel and I pointed to a bench a bit further along the quayside.
A man came hurrying towards us and he greeted Gabe as if they were old friends. They clapped each other’s backs and shook hands.
‘Is this the missus?’ The man asked.
‘Yes. Grace this is Tom, we’ve been on many a fishing trip together.’
The man stepped forward, thrusting out his hand. ‘At last. And you win the bet, Cappy. I said you wouldn’t be able to talk her into it after all these years, but here she is!’
What could I possible say, or do, other than to take Gabe’s hand as he extended it to me. Oh, how my stomach filled with butterflies, as the boat began to bob around. He settled me down in the seat and I closed my eyes, clinging on for dear life.
I focused on listening to the raucous calls of the seagulls. It was scary and disorientating, but after a few minutes I began to feel calmer. I sat there watching Gabe’s hands on the wheel. He was at home, his other home.
When I turned my gaze inland, it seemed surreal. Suddenly, the sound of the engine subsided and there was a sense of peacefulness. And then I saw it.
‘What’s that?’ On the headland, there was a narrow stretch of moorland and beyond that, two old stone buildings.
‘That’s Renweneth Farm. It’s been on the market for a while. It needs a bit of fixing up. The first building is a farmhouse. The second is Renweneth Manor, but it hasn’t been lived in for many years.’
If we lived there, Cappy could look out over the sea every single day. That cliff walk would be on his doorstep. He could even buy a boat. And I’ve always dreamed of owning a farmhouse, but a manor house… is destiny calling.
Linn’s latest book A Cornish Christmas at the Farmhouse Bakery is released in October.
Join TripFiction on Social Media
Twitter (@TripFiction), Facebook (@TripFiction.Literarywanderlust), YouTube (TripFiction #Literarywanderlust), Instagram (@TripFiction) and Pinterest (@TripFiction)
Please wait...
I think that a permanent sense of needing to belong to the ‘great outdoors’, must be engrained in the DNA of ex-forces personnel. My own husband is ex RAF and would like nothing better than to be travelling the world, attending every air show there was to be found, so he would totally relate to the way Gabe feels about the sea, even though to me ‘seen one air display, seen ’em all’ comes to mind.
Now living on the coast in Cornwall would be my idyll, although I share Grace’s feelings about actually being out on the water, but unlike Grace, I can’t swim either. Farmhouse high on the hill, or fisherman’s cottage on the harbourside? – the jury is still out on that one!
A lovely ‘feel good’ coffee break story I could totally relate to. Thanks Linn 🙂 x