‘The children have all left, Mr Lidgey. So has Miss Teague. I am the last.’ He did not respond. Jo put her own umbrella down and slipped her head in under his. ‘Everyone has gone home, Mr Lidgey,’ she repeated.
‘What?’ He saw her then, popping up at him out of nowhere. Shining with kindness, honesty, vitality. She was fresh and lovely. Pity he could not tell her so.
‘Thank you, Miss Venner. I was deep in thought. It’s turning into another stormy night. Can I offer you a lift home? I have a meeting with the headmaster of Pendeen Primary School in half an hour. I shall be driving past Nance Farm.’ It was an excellent opportunity to form a closer link with her.
A ride in a comfortable motorcar to Nance would be welcome in the gusty, wet weather but it would set the tongue-waggers into overtime. Jo did not care. It would appear churlish to decline Mr Lidgey’s offer. He was always considerate towards her, always spoke with patience and sometimes humour. He reminded her a little of Alistair. Caring, attentive but often remote. Unlike her brother, Mr Lidgey often seemed tense. He would rub his brow and compress his eyes. A sufferer from violent headaches?
On the drive out of the village, Jo could almost sense the curtains twitching. Marcus, craving a cigarette but too polite to ask her if she would mind him smoking in the close confines of the car, guessed why she was craning her neck in all directions. ‘We’ll both be clocked out and I’ll be clocked in when I return,’ he said.
‘Does it bother you? All the nosiness?’
‘Quite often. I’m a very private person.’
Relaxing against the thick leather upholstery, Jo told him about her chat with Kenneth Willis, while following the measured movements of his hands on the steering wheel. Fine hands with long fingers, which gentled evocative music on the harpsichord, cello and violin. She had heard him play all three instruments during the play or dinner breaks. Passable on the violin herself, she had accompanied him once while he had performed on the harpsichord. His playing somehow always echoed a beautiful sadness. Eleanor had not been in the sitting room with them that one time and he had seemed a different man, calm, inspired, almost spiritual.
Celia must have spoken to him in connection with her donation to the school. She had probably liked him. Jo liked him.
‘You drive so fluently. My brother drives like a lunatic.’
‘Does it scare you?’ He glanced at her.
‘No.’
‘I can’t imagine it would.’
‘Why?’
‘If I may say so, I think you have a sense of bravado.’
From the security of the motorcar, she studied the weather-ravaged moor, the watchful tors, the hardy stone walls. ‘Irene Trevail told you the truth. I used to run about this area with her sons like a wild moorland pony.’
‘Are you close to her sons?’ It bothered him, that she might be on friendly terms with other men. She had spent a lot of time with Luke Vigus. They seemed on rather friendly terms. Thank God the handsome dealer had taken himself off.
‘Not really. I’ve had a violent quarrel with Lew Trevail over his abandonment of Marylyn Vigus. He’s hardly spoken to me since. I suppose it is none of my business.’
‘No one can be sure he fathered the child.’
‘She looks very much like Lew.’
‘Then it must also be the case that she is very much like his brother. I’ve observed that they favour one another in features.’
‘Russell? I didn’t think about that possibility. Oh, dear. See what happens when one accepts gossip as the truth or makes an obvious judgement. Mind you, it is more likely that Marylyn is Lew’s baby. Russell has been hankering after Sally Allett for some time.’
‘His calls at the schoolhouse were becoming a blessed nuisance. Things are better now Sally is walking out with him.’
‘I didn’t know that.’ She had been too preoccupied with Luke, the Vigus children and her pupils to take much interest in other events. She studied her companion. He seemed relaxed. She might not get a better opportunity. ‘Marcus, I’d like to talk to you about our girl pupils. What more we could do for them.’
‘I don’t understand. I’ve thought through their lessons very carefully to equip them with all that’s necessary for their future.’
‘Well, yes, I agree, and please don’t be offended, but have you considered that they should also be given encouragement of a different sort? More than what is expected of them?’
‘Such as?’ He frowned. He wasn’t offended, but was sure he was about to hear some unrealistic ideas from the young woman who had enjoyed privileges and backing that the girls of Parmarth would never have any hope of receiving.
‘We need to turn their expectations into something more than domesticity, marriage and motherhood. Worthy as all three occupations and institutions are, it’s not for every girl. Given the right motivation, intelligent girls like Ann Markham could go out and make their mark in the world.’
Marcus smiled softly at her. Joanna was fired up with enthusiasm for her ideals. It was noble of her to be concerned for girls who were usually thought of as the servant class, but she couldn’t see that in a place like Parmarth her ideals were virtually pointless. ‘I admire your intentions, Joanna, but putting them into action would be imprudent, and indeed seen as improper, in an area where even the boys face the prospect of poor employment, if they can obtain employment at all.’
‘Don’t be indulgent towards me, Marcus. If you don’t agree with me then say so.’
The short distance to Nance was covered. ‘What I shall say is that you would be doing the girls a great disservice in building up hopes in them that can only be crushed, making them more discontent with their lives. But I shall think again on the matter of the girls’ education, see if there is something that might lift their lives above the mundane. We must discuss this again, pool our ideas. Does this suit you?’
‘It does. Thank you, Marcus.’ Jo was satisfied, grateful to him. The majority of teachers, male and female, would have accused her of being absurd and extreme. ‘And thank you for the ride home.’
‘Not at all. It was pleasant talking to you. If the weather turns really inclement I’ll come and fetch you in the mornings, if you like. I used to do the same for Miss Choak, who lived on the outskirts of the village. No one should make a misconception out of that.’
‘It would be very kind of you.’
After they had wished each other a good afternoon, Marcus drove on to Pendeen, praying there would be gales for the rest of the winter.
* * *
Next morning, the wind had died to a sulky whisper and a watery sun shone in the sky. It gave no cause for Marcus to drive to Nance Farm, to enjoy more moments alone with Jo, but Joel Willis’s presence first thing at the school made him request her company at his desk.
‘Miss Venner, do take a seat.’ He pulled up a chair for her. ‘This is Mr Willis, Kenneth’s father.’ Joel Willis refused to sit down, so Jo and Marcus remained standing.
‘I’m pleased to meet you, Mr Willis,’ Jo said evenly.
From his stance, she knew she was about to meet the kind of reproach and obstinacy that was the province of the insufferably proud. He was a big man, square jaw tracing a high line, shabby but clean. He pointed a work-grimed finger at Jo.
‘You had a go at my boy yesterday.’
‘I’ve already explained to you Miss Venner’s reason for her talk with Kenneth yesterday,’ Marcus said before Jo could answer. ‘I support her entirely. I’m sure you agree that his constant exhaustion had to be brought to the light.’
‘I can assure you I only wished to help Kenneth, Mr Willis,’ Jo said.
‘You’re bound to say that, both of you.’ Joel Willis’s brooding eyes flitted from teacher to headmaster. ‘Getting good marks on books is all you care about.’
‘It is part of our job,’ Jo explained. ‘Kenneth is an intelligent boy. I’ve looked back over his past work and he’s achieved some very good results. It would be a shame to allow
his education to slip, don’t you think?’
Joel Willis spoke to Marcus. ‘You know as well as I do, ’master, that all the book learning in the world will do he no good in the end. I teach him lots of things when he’s with me. I go through his numbers, tell him history, get him to read notices and old newspapers. He keeps up with the world, even though he ain’t got much hope to live well in it. The best way for him to learn about life is the hard way.’
‘That’s all very well, Mr Willis,’ Marcus said, ‘but it is the law that children should attend school regularly. If you do not send Kenneth more often, the authorities will be in touch with you. They check the registers. No exceptions are made. And, of course’ – he deepened his tone – ‘there is Kenneth’s health to consider.’
‘I know that!’ Joel Willis roared. ‘What do you think I am? Cruel? I’ll see he gets more rest. He’ll come to school most days. Is that good enough for the pair of ’ee?’
‘It’s a start,’ Marcus said dryly.
‘It’ll have to do.’ Before pounding to the door, Joel Willis rounded on Jo, saying, ‘You made my boy look at me like I’m a devil to him. I’ll never forgive you for that,’ and stormed out.
Jo met Marcus’s eyes. ‘I sometimes wonder why we bother,’ he sighed. ‘Did he distress you?’
‘Not in the least.’ She smiled triumphantly. ‘I knew he would be too proud to risk people saying he was neglecting Kenneth’s health. Kenneth was getting desperate for enough rest and sleep. He will get it from now on, and inevitably his schoolwork will improve.’
‘How astute you are,’ Marcus said. ‘You sound as if you almost enjoyed sounding him off.’
‘I’m used to battling to get my own way. Sometimes, though, it’s easier if you slip in by the back door.’
All Marcus could do was gaze at her in admiration, then he was disquieted. She was clearly too clever to fall for his mother’s scheme. She would quickly detect if his interest in her was genuine and honourable. Actually, it was. He liked her. A lot. More than any woman he had known before.
Chapter Seventeen
‘People are talking about Jo,’ Lew remarked to Mercy. They were bringing up the rear of a procession of cows, on the way to the farmyard for milking. Darius Pendower was at the front of the herd, setting an unhurried pace. The two collies were darting up and down in attendance.
‘What’re they talking about her for?’ Mercy strode along, stout stick in hand in readiness to prompt stragglers back into line.
‘You know. They’re saying she’s interfering in people’s lives.’
‘How do they make that out, for goodness’ sake?’
‘Well, she made Joel Willis feel like a rotten father, and since Luke Vigus went on the road she’s been giving Beth Wherry orders on what to do for the children. She’s been in that stinking cottage every minute she’s not in the school.’ With narrowed eyes, Lew puffed on a cigarette. ‘She won’t last long in Parmarth the way she’s going on. People won’t put up with it.’
‘Those being spiteful should put their hands in front of their mouths,’ Mercy said crossly. ‘All this being said, when she’s only showing concern and kindness. And you, boy, are only telling part of the story because the maid’s got you feeling guilty, and rightly so. It’s your child she’s trying to make things better for. ’Tis time you gave Jo the respect she deserves.’
‘Huh! How many times have I got to tell you that the Vigus brat don’t belong to me? I can have virtually any woman I like. Honestly, Mercy, Jessie Vigus? I just couldn’t. Give me some credit.’ Lew glanced behind them. There was very little traffic on the road, but it paid to check regularly nothing was rushing up on them.
Mercy peered down loftily on her nephew. ‘Why should I believe you? You don’t own up to none of the children you’ve fathered. You’re too ’fraid you’ll be call to recompense.’
Lew’s face grew flushed and he did not reply. ‘Mother sticks up for Jo but others think she’s asking for trouble. She’s even bought things for the Viguses. Betterfit she helped more deserving cases. There’s plenty of honest, hard-working people in the village going through hard times.’
‘Like Joel Willis? Who’ll see it as charity and throw it back in her face. If you ask me, whatever Jo does she can’t win. People were suspicious of Celia Sayce’s generosity, and now they’ve found out she was involved with a married man, they want the school to get rid of everything bought with her money. Load of damn hypocrites.’
Lew kept a mulish silence as the herd turned into the farmyard and headed for their stalls in the shippen. Darius Pendower’s working day was over and he left for home. Mercy put on her white coat. Lew fetched the milking pails and slammed one down in front of her.
Mercy grinned, exposing her big teeth. ‘Gets to people, that maid does, but I reckon Parmarth won’t get the better of her.’
* * *
Marcus hurried through the partition dividing the upper and middle classes, anxious to catch Jo before she left the school. She was repacking items laid out on her desk into a straw bag. Foodstuffs, disinfectant, dishcloths, all bought earlier in Pascoe’s store. It appeared she was about to call at the Vigus household again.
He was desperate for her to ease off her association with the misfit family. His mother had slated him today over her absence at her side. Eleanor demanded he put a stop to this charity work and concentrate on beguiling her into his bed. He had tried to explain that he must progress slowly, but his mother stubbornly refused to agree that Joanna Venner would not be easily harnessed. From his considerable experience with women, Marcus sensed with despair that love and a husband were not on Jo’s agenda. She had been at the school just a few weeks and had found her crusade, bettering the lot of a classful of mainly disadvantaged children.
‘Mrs Lidgey was hoping to have your company for a little while this afternoon, Joanna,’ he said mildly.
Jo’s mind was on the rusks in her bag. Would Marylyn be able to eat one crushed in a little warm milk? From the advice she had sought from Verena Jelbert, Marylyn should be introduced to solid food. Would the buttons she had bought fit Molly’s cardigan? ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Marcus. What did you say?’
‘I hope my mother is not going to be deprived of your company,’ he entreated pleasantly.
‘I went to the schoolhouse during the morning break,’ Jo pointed out, picking up her handbag. She was eager to leave. Jo had arranged with Beth that she would make the children’s teatime sandwiches.
‘Yes, but that was only for a few minutes. My mother has long lonely hours to endure. She likes you, Joanna. If I may say so, she needs you.’ He was concerned about the talk that was circulating. Those expressing admiration and wonder at her benevolence could all too easily change their views to agree with the malicious gossipmongers.
It frustrated him being unable to press again the protests that were indeed his duty as headmaster. For the sake of his mother’s wicked scheme he could not risk antagonising her; he had to appear to be totally supportive. At this moment, she looked so appealing, smelled so attractively. She was like a delicate flower of rare configuration. He imagined crushing such a flower in his hand and waiting to see if the petals would unfold and regain their once perfect formation. Would some petals be lost? The stem snap in two? How much damage could the bloom of this young woman withstand?
‘I’m sure Mrs Lidgey will understand that the greater part of my spare time is needed elsewhere for the moment,’ Jo said, missing the hardness playing round his eyes and mouth. It would have reminded her of the look a child bore when ripping wings off a butterfly.
The irony of her statement made Marcus gape at her.
Jo felt uncomfortable. He was right not to applaud her efforts with her two pupils. She was giving Rex and Molly too much of her time. But she was devoted to Marylyn, and being close to the children helped her feel close to Luke. She was missing him more than she had imagined.
Her sudden discomfiture made Marcus regret his sadistic thoughts
. Putting his long sinuous fingers inside his waistcoat pocket, he produced his wallet and pulled out two folded one-pound notes. Reaching for her hand, he placed the notes on her palm, folding his hand around hers, very gently. ‘I hope this will be of some help towards what you’re trying to achieve for Rex and Molly.’
‘Thank you, Marcus,’ she said. His flesh was hot, strangely alive, as if pulsating with an unquiet energy.
‘I hope all your good intentions will soon be accomplished.’ He let go of her hand and walked away. Then a distorted vision of his mother’s face appeared in front of him, as real as the blackboard, as the wooden screen in the room. He saw Eleanor’s carping mouth, heard her vicious demands. ‘What have you achieved today? Did you mention the recital? Are you getting somewhere with her at last?’
He turned back, speaking in a voice that gathered strain. ‘Joanna, you may be aware that a strings recital is to be performed at Penzance on Saturday afternoon, in the town hall. I know you appreciate good music. I’m thinking of attending. Would you care to accompany me?’
Jo would enjoy a social occasion, but she could not accept an invitation from Marcus Lidgey unless it concerned the school. She considered his motives. Any excursion would probably be diverting for him from the boring life he must lead. Did he simply want her company? She could not forget that he had a mistress. Her position, she hoped, disqualified her as a replacement for or an addition to the services he received from Sally Allett. Could he possibly be interested in her romantically? Marcus had supported her in her first days here with understanding and kindness, had intimated he valued the presence of an equal in Parmarth, but from such a short acquaintance she could not determine what might be on his mind.
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