Tales from Corny Cove

By Alannah Foley

A series of five fun feel-good reads set against the delightful backdrop of Corny Cove.

When redundancy forces Henry and Margaret to reassess their lives, they decide to 'live the dream' and move from their home in central England, down south to Cornwall.

Discovering the golden sands and rugged cliffs of Corny Cove, it's love at first sight, and they take on the running of a campsite.

They soon realise, however, that it isn't all plain sailing, and Henry regularly ends up getting into scrapes with a host of bothersome campers such as the brutish Mr Botherham and unruly Mrs Gladstone as well as 'Rusty' Gates, the obnoxious red-bearded farmer next door... And, of course, he does so all under the watchful eye of Margaret.

All in all, life at Corny Cove is both a blessing AND a curse!

Set over the course of a typical British holiday season, Tales from Corny Cove is a series of 5 fun feel-good reads (also available as standalone novelettes).

SUMMARY of TALES

TALE #1 – BEASTLY ENCOUNTERS
After a busy Easter start to the season on the campsite, Henry relaxes with his newspaper only to discover that the murderous Beast of Bodmin Jail is on the loose. But with a brutish, jealous camper running around on site, Henry isn't sure who his biggest threat is. But what does his wife, Margaret, think?

TALE #2 – FLY IN THE OINTMENT
When a top-notch customer like the retired air marshal turns up on site, it seems that things are looking up. Sadly, the dishevelled Mr Chigwell lets the side down by tramping around each morning looking like he's drunk. However, as events unravel, Henry and Margaret discover that appearances aren't quite what they seem.

TALE #3 – CORNISH HOSPITALITY
Captivated by medical romance books set in Cornwall, Margaret can only dream of how wonderful it would be to be swept off her feet by a handsome young doctor. But when she finally meets one, she begins to wonder whether a life of passion is all it's cracked up to be.

TALE #4 – NO BED OF ROSES
With the imminent arrival of the judges for a campsite flower competition, Henry and Margaret are hotter than ever on cleaning up the degenerating doggy-doo situation. But do they stand any chance of success with the unruly Mrs Gladstone roaming around on site?

TALE #5 – HARVEST THE SUN
Henry and Margaret fear their place in paradise is in jeopardy when they receive the news that a huge solar farm may be built on their doorstep. But will their voice be heard, when the obnoxious red-bearded farmer next door is set on making it all come to pass?

BONUS DOWNLOAD

Pick up the FREE series prequel, Living the Dream, via a link inside to find out how Henry & Margaret travelled round in a camper in hot pursuit of their dreams, only to discover a few potholes on the road to paradise.

Life in a Cornish paradise... What could Possibly go Wrong?

Find out as you join Henry & Margaret in the Tales from Corny Cove, a series of five fun feel-good reads...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pyjama Writer Publishing
• Release date: Nov 21, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370629916

Alannah Foley

Alannah Foley... aka The Pyjama WriterAuthor of mysteries, travel tales, fiction, and other maverick titles that won't fall in line...Raised in the UK, Alannah lived in her Aussie birthplace for five years in her twenties, where mozzies regularly used her for target practice. She managed to return to Old Blighty devoid of shark or snake bite, however, and currently lives in picturesque Cornwall with her cycling-obsessed partner.Alannah is a multi-genre author who has published mysteries & other works of fiction as well as travel tales about her capers in a campervan and adventures Down Under. She also enjoys writing humorous portraits of life (some still in the pot!).When she's not writing, Alannah likes to hit the trails on her bike, take walks in nature, and go kayaking – basically, anything that will get her butt out of the chair for a while that doesn't involve going to a sweaty old gym.Get the author's pester-free newsletter and be the first to hear about upcoming titles, early discounts on new releases, and a few other goodies exclusive to her VIP Readers Group. Simply visit bit.ly/PJW-Newsletter to sign up.To find out more about the author & her work, visit her website at www.thePyjamaWriter.com.

Book preview

FREE PREQUEL STORY

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Where it all Began…

How did Henry & Margaret wind up in their Corny Cove paradise?

And what potholes did they stumble on along the way?

Find out in your free copy of LIVING THE DREAM, the prequel story to the tales – available exclusively to members of the author's VIP Readers Group!

Click here to get started.

FREE MYSTERY EBOOK

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Introducing The Campervan Bushman Mystery Series

An Edge of Humour,

A Sense of Adventure and

A Hint of Romance

Scott Chevalier isn't just a pretty face! He's got an enviable campervan-surfie lifestyle and a handful of impressive bush skills under his belt…

Which is why the Aussie is such a good fit for the Campervan Bushman TV show.

If you want a mystery series with a difference, why not join Scott and his crew as they film on location in the British Isles and catch a few killers along the way?

Book 1 is free when you join the author's VIP Readers Group.

Read a preview and pick up the link to download it at the end…

CONTENTS

FREE PREQUEL STORY

FREE MYSTERY EBOOK

A Quick Note on Lingo

SUMMARY of TALES

Tale #1 BEASTLY ENCOUNTERS

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

Tale #2 FLY IN THE OINTMENT

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

Tale #3 CORNISH HOSPITALITY

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

Tale #4 NO BED OF ROSES

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

Tale #5 HARVEST THE SUN

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

EPILOGUE To Tales 1 – 5

FREE PREQUEL STORY

NOTE TO READER

AUTHOR'S NOTE

BEHIND THE SCENES

PREVIEW - FREE MYSTERY EBOOK

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

FAUX REVIEWS

ABOUT the Author

CONNECT with the Author

OTHER TITLES by Alannah Foley

COPYRIGHT Information

A Quick Note on Lingo

This work is written in British English, so a few words might be different for American readers – eg caravan = trailer, motorway = freeway/highway, bin = trash, etc.

SUMMARY of TALES

1. Beastly Encounters

After a busy Easter start to the season on the campsite, Henry relaxes with his newspaper only to discover that the murderous Beast of Bodmin Jail is on the loose. But with a brutish, jealous camper running around on site, Henry isn't sure who his biggest threat is. But what does his wife, Margaret, think?

2. Fly in the Ointment

When a top-notch customer like the retired air marshal turns up on site, it seems that things are looking up. Sadly, the dishevelled Mr Chigwell lets the side down by tramping around each morning looking like he's drunk. However, as events unravel, Henry and Margaret discover that appearances aren't quite what they seem.

3. Cornish Hospitality

Captivated by medical romance novels set in Cornwall, Margaret can only dream of how wonderful it would be to be swept off her feet by a handsome young doctor. But when she finally meets one, she begins to wonder whether a life of passion is all it's cracked up to be.

4. No Bed of Roses

With the imminent arrival of the judges for a campsite flower competition, Henry and Margaret are hotter than ever on cleaning up the degenerating doggy-doo situation. But do they stand any chance of success with the unruly Mrs Gladstone roaming around on site?

5. Harvest the Sun

Henry and Margaret fear their place in paradise is in jeopardy when they receive the news that a huge solar farm may be built on their doorstep. But will their voice be heard, when the obnoxious red-bearded farmer next door is set on making it all come to pass?

Tale #1

BEASTLY ENCOUNTERS

1-BEASTLY-ENCOUNTERS-WS.jpg

CHAPTER 1

Henry eased back in his chair in the campsite reception area, settling in with a hot mug of tea by his side and his Cornish Voice newspaper for a vital catch-up on local events.

Finally, I can put my feet up, he sighed.

The ten o'clock departure time had come and gone, and – as if by some miracle! – all the holidaymakers had checked out early. His wife, Margaret, was out of his hair, helping Marc in the café due to staff illness. Their two Saturday girls were busy cleaning the vacated caravans and chalets. And only a handful of arrivals were due later that day. So what else was there to do but take a break? he thought, shaking his newspaper, relieved that the Easter holiday rush was finally over now.

Although the campsite he ran with Margaret needed to bring in the punters to keep the finances afloat, he was always glad when things died down a bit. It wasn't that he regretted taking redundancy from his job and moving from their home in the Midlands to their little corner of paradise at Corny Cove in Cornwall – not at all! It was just that Easter was the first main holiday of the year – and, as such, was like a warm-up training session for the marathon that was the main summer school holiday in Britain.

No one called the summer holidays 'silly season' for nothing. Roads, beaches, attractions, and campsites like theirs, would be swarming with tourists. It was as though all the flies within a 200-mile radius were suddenly trying to land on one cowpat. Luckily, between now and then, though, they could expect a less hectic period on site before the May bank holidays and half-term school break.

Henry breathed a contented sigh as he picked up his steaming mug. But as he went to take a sip of tea, a couple came through the door. He tutted to himself, reluctantly putting his mug back down before standing up behind the counter.

Mr and Mrs Botherham were from Cardiff in Wales and had stayed overnight with a relative in Devon, and were hoping for a last-minute vacancy.

Not a problem, smiled Henry. Caravan number 34's free, he said, taking their details as they explained that their relative had suggested Corny Cove was just the place to go for a bit of R'n'R, as Mr Botherham called it.

Rest and recuperation, eh? thought Henry, looking him over. The guy's buzz-cut, khaki vest, dog-tags and menacing demeanour all spoke military. And his wife was a dead ringer for that busty blond woman in Bay Watch, Henry mused. Although, since he'd only ever caught the odd snippet of Bay Watch over Margaret's shoulder, he couldn't think of the actress's name.

Lovely place you've got here, said Mrs Botherham in rich Welsh tones.

Glad you like it, Henry said giving her a big smile. We live out the back, so if reception's closed, just ring the bell. We're always willing to be of service if we can, Henry looked at the couple and continued beaming. But, as far as Barry Botherham was concerned, Henry's smile had lingered just a little too long on his beautiful wife. And no doubt he'd been gawping at her cleavage while he wasn't looking as well. All the blokes did, he thought.

Mr Botherham sized Henry up, eyes narrowed. Dressed in beige gear. Hiking trousers, sleeveless jacket, light cotton check shirt, cloth hat. All from a civilian outdoors shop. And the little round glasses only made him look more of a pipsqueak, he thought.

Right then, here are your keys, Henry said cheerily, trying to ignore Mr Botherham's deepening frown. Mrs Botherham reached out eagerly with a well-manicured hand to take them and thanked Henry.

Mr Botherham couldn't help noticing how Henry's touch had lingered just a little too long as he passed her the keys. Or that's how it looked in Barry's mind. Let's go, he grunted.

The couple headed for the door. Henry couldn't help wondering about Mr Botherham's expression. Most people looked desperate for a holiday by the time they came to Corny Cove, but they didn't usually look that unhappy, he thought. Was it something he'd said?

As Mrs Botherham went out the door and got in the car, her husband hung back; and before Henry knew what was happening, Mr Botherham had swiftly returned and planted his face firmly up against Henry's.

You just leave my wife alone, he growled in a low, menacing voice, pulling Henry up at the collar from behind the reception desk. Barry Botherham wasn't in the business of sharing his wife with anyone – and he liked to let lesser mortals like Henry Mooney know just where they stood.

Mr Botherham's stubbly boxer face was suffocating and sweaty as his nose pressed up against Henry's. His glasses steamed up with each bullish snort of Mr Botherham's hot breath. Henry's eyes widened and his mouth dropped as he felt the tingle of fear shoot down to his toes.

What the hell was going on? he thought. But before Henry could respond to the situation, Mr Botherham was out the door.

There was no doubt in Henry's mind that he wasn't about to mess with the likes of Barry Botherham. As the hulk of sweating muscle squealed off in his 4x4 to find their caravan, Henry couldn't help being reminded of his old secondary school PE teacher. An ex-Marine without a platoon to bend to his will any more, the teacher had delighted in humiliating weaker kids like Henry; and he would often run up beside the skinny fair-haired boy during cross-country runs, blowing a noisy whistle in his face, and hollering negative comments till his throat was raw.

He was glad those days were far behind him. Or were they? he wondered, trying to shrug off the disconcerting incident with Mr Botherham. What on earth was his beef, anyway? Henry had merely greeted his customers in the usual way.

Botherham by name, Bother 'em by nature, Henry couldn't help tutting to himself. There was never any accounting for folk. But in this case, he'd definitely be keeping his thoughts to himself.

At the moment, Henry noticed Margaret coming back to reception, and it was obvious from her expression that she'd seen the commotion between the two men from afar.

Oh, I do hope you haven't been upsetting the customers again, Henry! Margaret tutted when she came in.

"Eh? He's the one who upset me," Henry whined. Was it even worth trying to defend himself? he wondered. Margaret often took the customers' side over his. And he couldn't help being irked by it sometimes.

Margaret put a hand on her hip and rolled her eyes at Henry. There was always a valid reason why Henry had upset someone. But surely it couldn't always be their fault.

Right, then… said Margaret, moving on from the topic. It never helped to dwell on things with Henry. He just got more defensive and the conversation would go nowhere. Marc seems to be managing all right in the café without Jenny, but we'd better remember to buy some more scones. People can't get enough of our Cornish cream teas this year, she added as Henry lifted his newspaper.

Oh, and Marc reckons some food's gone missing from the café, by the way, Margaret continued, Henry making an idle hum at her comments as he tried to tuck into the news. "You didn't take any supplies from the café kitchen, did you, Henry?... Henry?"

Something clicked when he heard his name, and he looked up from the paper. What is it, Margaret? Can't you see I'm trying to read? he tutted. With you in my ear, all I'm doing is reading the same line over and over again.

Margaret ignored his complaint. I just wanted to know whether you'd taken any supplies from the café kitchen, that's all, she said.

Henry lowered his paper. Err… No, why?

It's just that Marc's sure someone's taken a loaf of bread and a couple of packets of ham and cheese. He thinks it might've been yesterday afternoon when Jenny was off sick. Just seems a bit strange, that's all, Margaret frowned.

No money stolen from the till, I take it? he asked, matching her expression.

Margaret shook her head. No, Marc kept the till locked whenever he went out the back to the kitchen.

Henry lifted his newspaper back up and gave it a shake. Sounds like some holidaymaker's too tight-fisted to pay for a sandwich at the café, if you ask me, he chuckled. Still, best to tighten up on security – just in case. We'd better tell Marc to make sure that back kitchen door's locked at all times.

Right then, he thought as Margaret finally disappeared into the back office, let's get some serious reading done here. But just as he thought the coast was clear, he glanced over the top of his newspaper and spotted one of their holidaymakers, Mr Naseby, through the large plate-glass window of the reception – and he was heading his way.

Oh, God! thought Henry as he put his paper back down. Not again!

Mr Naseby was one of those people who Henry put firmly in the 'pain-in-the-posterior' category. The man had only been on site two days, and already he'd torn through the list of things one could possibly nit-pick about. The children in the neighbouring caravans were too noisy. The distant church bells were too clangy. The mattress on the bed wasn't firm enough. And he just couldn't get to grips with gas instead of electricity. Henry heaved a sigh and put down his mug, as Mr Naseby opened the door. What's it going to be this time? he wondered. The toilet flushes too loudly?

Mr Mooney, I've come to report some rather odd goings-on, Mr Naseby said. As usual, Henry couldn't help feeling like the man was looking down his nose at him. It certainly was long enough, though, he thought. Olympic ski-jumpers would have a great time on that slope of a nose.

Ooh, yes, Mr Naseby? Henry replied, feigning a smile as he put on his mantle of diplomacy.

Well, you haven't got any strange wild animals running around in the woods near our chalet, have you? he asked. It's just that we – my wife and I, that is – spotted some kind of dark figure in those woods last evening when we were returning from a walk on the trails. Terrified the life out of us, it did!

Well, it could be the infamous 'Beast of Bodmin', replied Henry jokingly, growling and raising his hands into a claw as if he were pretending to be a wild cat. Mr Naseby looked blank.

You know… The scary black panther that supposedly roams about Bodmin Moor – and anywhere else in Cornwall it fancies making an appearance, it seems, explained Henry dramatically. Mr Naseby just stood there open-mouthed, staring vacantly at Henry as he jabbered away.

"I suppose you could say the Beast of Bodmin is a bit like the Loch Ness Monster. Unsurprisingly, no one can ever get a decent photograph of the blighter. Not even in this day and age when just about everyone has a phone camera," Henry chuckled.

Mr Naseby wasn't sure he liked the site owner's upbeat delivery at all. He pierced him an angry stare, but Henry's eyes just smiled back at him through little round glasses as if he were oblivious. Was the curious little man even taking his problem seriously?

Look here! My wife was petrified – and we're sure we heard something shuffling about round our chalet last evening as well, he said, raising his voice to get the point across.

Err… Sorry, Mr Naseby, I didn't mean to make light, Henry replied. I expect the noises round your chalet were just the kids nearby playing hide and seek or something. And you do come across a fox in the woods on the odd occasion… But, don't worry. They usually stay away. Won't do you any harm.

Ruddy big fox, if that's what it was, Mr Naseby replied, his jaw tensing. Henry could see that Mr Naseby probably wasn't going to be pacified unless Henry went out to the woods himself with a shotgun and blasted anything and everything that moved. The Council might have laid out proper forest trails for walkers, but the woods were still quite a wild place, full of shadows and haunting sounds which often put the wind up city folk who were more used to wires and windows than leaves and branches.

Don't you worry! I'll keep an eye out, Mr Naseby. Let me know if you have any other trouble, said Henry, adopting a more suitable, serious tone. We don't want your wife getting upset on her holiday now, do we?

Mr Naseby raked a hand through his thinning ginger hair and dropped his shoulders, realising he might have been over-reacting. His wife said he'd been wound up like a coiled spring ever since they arrived on site. Ever since they booked the chalet, in fact. The word 'holiday' just wasn't in his vocabulary.

Mr Naseby hadn't had any time off in a long while. His job as a solicitor had been squeezing the life out of him for years. He imagined his office right now, files stacked up like the basalt blocks of the Giant's Causeway, growing higher by the day. He shouldn't be here in Cornwall taking time off work when there was so much to do. He should be back in his London office trying to catch up.

But the recent death of a colleague had shaken him to the core and made him take stock. His wife had phoned in the news that he'd died of a heart attack, and promised she'd have someone return his case files to the office.

It turned out that his colleague had nearly half of his case files piled up in his office at home and had been working on them in what should have been his time off. It was with some consternation that Mr Naseby realised he was no different. Was he on the path to the same fate? His wife seemed to think so if he didn't make some serious changes.

Mr Naseby raked a hand through his hair again and blew out a sigh as he looked at Mr Mooney. Perhaps he just needed to cut the chap some slack. After all, he had replaced his mattress with a nice, firm one when he complained about it.

Have you taken a look at our selection of tourist brochures here, Mr Naseby? Henry said somewhat cheerfully as he came out from behind the reception counter. Might be better to leave the woods alone for a while, eh? Some lovely places to see down here in Cornwall.

Henry waved his hand over the leaflet rack against the wall, looking like someone in a TV game show presenting the prizes contestants could win if they played their cards right. He knew there was plenty to do right on the doorstep, but most of the time, tourists seemed to prefer selecting from the designated 'tourist menu' rather than explore the unknown that lay within easy reach. And they often didn't think twice about travelling farther afield in order to stick with places whose names they were more familiar with. The world-famous biomes of the Eden Project, the artistic town of St Ives, the beaches at Newquay, King Arthur's home at Tintagel. And most didn't consider their holiday complete without a visit to the famous landmark of Land's End.

Henry didn't think the cliffs at Land's End were any more spectacular than those around Corny Cove, and was always surprised that people were happy to sit in the holiday traffic for well over an hour to get there, even if it was only to take a few snaps and say they'd visited the place. Still, when he thought about it, he and Margaret had done the same when they'd first gone down there together. It was like getting a Scout badge to say you'd done the rounds of well-known tourist spots. Going back home to say you'd skulked around a backwater slate mine didn't have the same ring to it as