Listening to the Quiet

by Listening to the Quiet (retail) (epub)

  Mercy placed her big stockinged feet to rest up on the side of the range. ‘’Tis Sunday afternoon, maid. Sit down and relax.’

  ‘I can’t. I think I’ll go over to Cardhu and take a look around again. I’ll reply to the solicitor when I return.’

  Mercy never idled her time speculating on something that would become evident all in good time. She stretched her long limbs. ‘It’s no good, I can’t rest now. Think I’ll go over to Stan and Ellie Blewett’s for a yarn.’

  After putting on her outdoor things, Jo found Mercy and the collies gone. What could Celia have left her, as the letter implied? She hoped it was the house. Please let it be the house. It was hers in her heart. As Luke was. Realising she had deep feelings for Luke brought Jo absolutely still. He was due back in three days. Now it seemed like three long years she still had to wait. She understood Celia’s loneliness.

  She was irked to see Russell striding into the yard. He looked furious.

  ‘You lying little bitch! I’ve just found out from Sally that you never spoke to her about me. Why didn’t you ask her to meet me at the mine ruins that time?’

  ‘I’ve got better things to do than run your love life,’ she answered darkly. ‘Why should I do anything for you? Clear off, I’m busy.’

  She turned her back on him, but he grabbed the collar of the Burberry coat and yanked her off her feet. Jo choked as it tightened round her neck. She kicked and struggled, but Russell dragged her through the yard, her boots scraping the cobbles. He stopped, turned her round to face him, and despite her wild attempt to fight him off, shook her until her woollen hat fell free and she turned a violent red.

  ‘Get your hands off me!’ she yelled.

  Clutching the front of the coat, he hauled her off her feet and spat in her face. ‘Think you’re really someone, don’t you? Because that stuck-up schoolmaster and his mother’s taken to you. Because some people think you’re a bleddy heroine because you’ve stopped the sodding Vigus bastards starving to death. Well, you can’t behave round here like you’ve been brought up in Court; there’s pigs down the other ruddy end! Your plan to keep me and Sally apart didn’t work. She’s just agreed to marry me.’

  Her air supply was being cut off by his vicious hold and Jo felt light-headed. Her sight dimmed. Suddenly he tossed her away, stood over her and laughed for several moments. As she gasped in air and her senses cleared Jo realised he had thrown her on the dung heap. With a hand to her burning throat she fought to sit up. ‘Sally must be mad. I’ll tell her exactly what you’re like.’

  ‘You cause trouble for me and you’ll bitterly regret it.’ He thrust out his foot and pushed her down to lie flat on the stinking dung. ‘You’re not quite the lady now, Jo Venner. You were a scraggy little kid and wallowing in cow shit is where you belong!’

  ‘Hey! Get away from her.’

  Jo heard the sound of boots running over the cobbles. It was Marcus Lidgey, sliding over the mud in his haste to reach them.

  ‘Sod off,’ Russell snarled at him, ‘or I’ll toss you in the cow shit too!’

  ‘Get away from her, Trevail,’ Marcus growled, hands extended, ready to grasp Russell by the throat.

  ‘I’ll not fight you wearing my best clothes, Lidgey. Just you keep away from Sally Allett. She’s mine.’ Russell stalked off, away over the fields.

  Jo crawled down on to the cobbles and wiped some of the filth off herself.

  Marcus reached for her hands. ‘Are you hurt?’

  ‘My throat feels like it’s on fire,’ she rasped. He pulled her gently to her feet. A rush of blood thundered in her ears. She moaned and closed her eyes. Marcus helped her inside.

  Jo pulled off her coat and sat down at the kitchen hearth, the comforting warmth of Mercy’s home wrapping itself around her.

  Marcus was pouring hot water from the kettle into a bowl he had found under the draining board. He approached her with the bowl and a towel. ‘It was a brutal attack, Joanna. May I ask what it was about?’

  ‘Spite left over from our childhood, nothing to worry about,’ Jo croaked. ‘Marcus, there will be some tea left in the pot. Would you fetch me a cup, please?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Jo was trembling. He held the cup to her lips. She placed her hands over his. The tea was bitter but soothed her throat. Marcus wet the towel. He passed it to Jo and she rubbed at the muck on her face and hair. He brought the bowl up close so she could wash her hands.

  ‘Thank you. I must get out of these filthy clothes. I’m afraid your clothes are soiled too.’

  ‘No matter. Joanna, you have an angry mark on your neck. Will you unfasten your blouse buttons and let me see if it’s serious?’

  Jo lifted her fingers to her throat and undid the top three buttons of her linen blouse. When she pulled the sides apart, Marcus knelt in front of her to examine the wound. ‘There’s a deep welt. Trevail very nearly drew blood. It must be very tender. I suggest you bathe it.’

  ‘Yes, of course. Thank you for your help.’ She refastened the buttons. ‘Why are you here, Marcus?’

  He sat down on the bench. ‘I’ll come straight to the point. Your brother recognised my name, didn’t he?’

  Jo nodded. Alistair had said this man was a degenerate. Yet he had touched her, studied her exposed skin with modesty, and a natural gentleness. She felt no threat from him, but neither did she welcome this interview.

  Marcus coloured. ‘Forgive me, this is embarrassing for you. You will understand that I have to know if you intend to report what you have learned to the local authorities. They are not aware of the circumstances that forced me to resign from the music college.’

  ‘Actually, I can’t see that it’s anything to do with me.’

  He did not bother to hide his relief. ‘Thank God. A fresh scandal would ruin me. I’m not proud of what I did. I confessed my dishonour to my mother immediately. She has forgiven me. You will appreciate that I am eager to make her last years as contented as possible.’ His guts lurched at the lies.

  Jo now had the reason for him teaching in a position inferior to his accomplishments and experience. The chances of his disgrace coming to light were fewer in such an isolated area. She could think of no comment she should make.

  ‘I hope this will not affect our professional relationship,’ Marcus said. He was squirming on the bench like a schoolboy caught in the act of something odiously disgusting. ‘What I am going to say next is difficult for me but I’d like to be completely honest with you. My mother is harbouring notions that you and I will form a romantic alliance. I admire you, Joanna, but I swear that I will never compromise you. In fact, I’m hoping we can be friends. Otherwise, it will be impossible for us to work side by side. I’m hoping that with everything out in the open, you will not ever misunderstand my intentions or misconstrue anything I say to you. I’d like to tell you what happened in London.’

  Jo sighed. When she had sought the teaching post here she had envisaged difficulties, but nothing of this sort. Apart from being faintly disgusted by him, it was hard to know what she thought of this man, while he was looking at her so pathetically, pleading for her understanding. Not long ago he had been her rescuer; Russell might well have given her a brutal kicking. If she wanted to make successful advances with her pupils, she could not treat the headmaster as a social leper. Was it possible for them to be friends? Lew was a friend. Perhaps she could think of him rather as she did the kinder Trevail brother; another man of libidinous appetites.

  ‘You don’t have to tell me anything, Marcus.’ She really did not want to hear about it.

  ‘But all kinds of things may go through your mind. There will be times when you may not be able to look me in the eye, and I won’t know what to say to you. Please.’

  Jo was reminded that it was a sexual indiscretion by her own mother which had led to her achieving her aims, and she was living under the late Bob Merrick’s roof. Marcus Lidgey had positive aspects to his character. He cosseted his ailing mother, was an excellent
teacher, could resume an outstanding career. He deserved a hearing.

  ‘Well, I think we could both do with a tot of Mercy’s medicinal brandy, if you can find it in the cupboard. I’m still feeling shaky.’

  Marcus went to the oak cupboard, his thoughts racing. He was in the presence of an uncomplicated, circumspect woman, of a sort he had never met before. He was suddenly burning with desire for her.

  ‘Don’t,’ he mouthed anxiously to his treacherous body.

  Keeping his back towards her, he quickly located a nearly full bottle of brandy but pretended to search among crockery, ornaments, old letters and other miscellanea to find a pair of tumblers until he was under control.

  The strong smell of alcohol spread through the kitchen, clearing Jo’s head. She sipped the potent red liquid from the glass he handed her.

  Marcus held his glass in his palms. Meeting Jo’s steady gaze, he cleared his throat. ‘I cared very much for the married lady. We met at the college, following a student concert. She was fair and lovely. Her husband was a lot older than her, a cantankerous stuffed shirt. He was unkind to her, left her on her own for hours. We found we had a lot in common, were easy to talk to and laugh with. She and her husband had a violent row. I came across her weeping in St James’s Park. I won’t deny I sought an affair with her. I was intoxicated by her.’

  ‘You fell in love.’

  ‘Love? What is that?’ He stared into the fire, sizzling and crackling behind the grid of the range. Jo had the impression he was somewhere else, somewhere he could not quite reach. He returned to her. ‘Where was I? The husband, he found out. Couldn’t take the shame. He shot himself. I resigned before I was dismissed from the college.’ He switched off again.

  ‘And the lady?’

  ‘Oh, yes. She wanted to make a fresh start on her own. I respected her wishes. Shortly afterwards I returned to Cornwall, then my mother had her fall. We are not financially independent. I needed to earn a living. I obtained the headmastership of Parmarth. We’ve lived here rather quietly for the last year.’

  ‘A year that has been stultifying for you?’

  ‘Yes, I won’t deny it. One day I’m hoping to get a better position. I would like to join an orchestra as second violinist or cellist. I’m hoping people will have forgotten about me by then.’

  ‘And what about Parmarth?’

  ‘I shall give my best efforts to the school while I’m its headmaster. Do you intend to stay here for good?’

  ‘No. Actually I have plans to found a school for girls, but not for some years when I shall have the means. Until then, I’m still keen to do something for the children of the village, particularly Ann Markham who is above average intelligence. I can remember the Solace Mine being worked. For a short time I knew Parmarth when it was busy, alive. It’s sad and humbling to witness what’s happened to its inhabitants.’

  Jo pulled at the clothes chafing her skin. The stench from them was steamy and offensive in the cosy kitchen. ‘Marcus, I really must ask you to excuse me. I need to bathe and change.’

  ‘Yes, of course. Thank you for listening, for not being judgemental. Good afternoon, Joanna.’

  It was after Jo had put Mercy’s enormous hip bath to use, was wrapped in her dressing gown and dabbing a soothing ointment of soapwort on her throat, that she realised this new informality with Marcus Lidgey would inevitably bring about more unrealistic expectations in his mother. Might even lead to unwelcome complications.

  Dismissing the thought, she replied to Celia’s solicitor. Then she lingered over her drawing of Luke.

  Chapter Nineteen

  ‘Tell me what my daughter’s up to these days, Mardie.’ Through cracked eyelids, Mardie Dawes glanced up as she gathered her tarot cards together. For her fortnightly appointments at Tresawna House, she wore a clean blouse and splashed her hands and raddled face with water and scented soap, making her more tolerable to be close to. ‘Strange, you suddenly asking about she. Did something in the reading put Joanna into your mind?’

  ‘No, and I’m still waiting for this wonderfully rich man to come into my life who you keep promising me,’ Katherine replied coldly. She stretched out her silk-encased legs, where she reclined on the couch in her bedroom. ‘With Alistair well matched, I was simply wondering if my recalcitrant daughter has made any progression on that front. You should know all about her.’

  ‘I keep my eyes ’n’ ears open.’

  ‘I don’t suppose she would be the slightest bit interested if a young blood danced attention on her anyway,’ Katherine muttered crossly, regretting bringing up what was to her a boring subject. ‘All she cares about is her pathetic career.’

  Sitting at a small round table in a darkened part of the bedroom, illuminated enigmatically by candlelight, Mardie was pleased to be in the position to spring a surprise. She interlocked her bony fingers over the pack of cards. ‘Actually, the girl’s got herself a man.’

  ‘What?’ Katherine spilled the glass of white wine in her hand as she jerked herself up to a sitting position. ‘Who is he? Why didn’t you tell me this when you first arrived, damn you?’

  ‘He’s nobody you’d approve of, Katherine. His name’s Luke Vigus. A most handsome fellow. He’s a travelling man, lives most of the time on his wagon and is light-fingered. His drunken mother and her three other young snotty-nosed brats live in a hovel in the village.’

  ‘If you’re telling me the truth, what on earth does Joanna see in him, for goodness’ sake? Has she gone mad? The wretched little bitch. I’ll have to send Alistair to her to put some sense into her stubborn brain.’

  ‘Won’t do you no good, Katherine. Like I said, Luke’s all man; you’d like him for that. He’s got an amiable nature underneath his wild ways. He’s a wandering soul, mind, can’t see him staying interested in Joanna for long.’

  ‘I don’t care if this reprobate ends up breaking her heart!’ Katherine snapped angrily. ‘But it could ruin her chances of making a good marriage.’

  ‘When are you going to learn that you have no influence over the maid? Interfere, and you’ll only drive her deeper into his arms.’

  ‘Blow it. Why couldn’t there be someone at least remotely suitable in that God-forsaken village for her? There would only be the vicar, but he’s an old man, isn’t he?’

  Mardie eyed Katherine shrewdly, knowing she did not really care about her daughter’s prospects of making a good marriage. She simply hated Joanna being independent, making a success of her life. ‘There is someone. The schoolmaster. He’s the same class as you, expert at playing and teaching music. A fine-looking man he is too, not yet forty. He’d definitely suit your tastes in bed, my dear.’

  ‘How do you know this?’

  ‘You know I make it my business to learn everything about everybody in Parmarth. I asked about him in Penzance, where his mother comes from. There’s a nice juicy scandal in his past.’

  ‘You evil witch.’ Katherine picked up her beaded purse, took five pounds out of it then passed it to the fortune-teller, who rapidly slipped it down inside her bodice. ‘I suppose you’re blackmailing him too.’ Until William Venner’s death, Mardie had obtained hush money from Katherine over her affair with Bob Merrick, then continued to demand half the funds to keep quiet about the two abortions she had performed on her.

  ‘Not him. I wouldn’t get away with it. I wouldn’t even dare spread rumours about he.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Mardie tapped her head. ‘Touch of madness, dangerous.’

  * * *

  Luke raked out the ashes of the fire, put more coal and furze on the glowing embers then employed the bellows until he had created a good blaze. When he stepped back, he nearly fell over Molly, who had crept up behind him to crouch in her usual spot. She howled in pain, clutching her scuffed hand to her scrawny chest.

  ‘Bloody hell, Molly. Can’t you watch where you’re going? I’m sorry. Are you hurt?’

  Keeping her head bowed, Molly nodded miserably, making the yellow
ribbon Jo had bought for her fall out of her thin mousey hair. Clutching a scrap of cloth for comfort, which had become a habit of hers, and sniffing back tears, she flopped down on the cushion next to the hearth.

  ‘Let me see,’ Luke said.

  Rather than holding out her hurting hand, Molly curled herself into a tight ball.

  ‘Please yourself.’ He turned to Rex, who was copying out a simple nursery rhyme, which Jo had set exclusively for him, in large shaky handwriting. ‘Go and get the baby from Mrs Wherry.’

  ‘You get her,’ Rex muttered, without looking up from his labour, his brow furrowed in concentration.

  ‘Do as you’re bloody told, or I’ll clout you round the ear.’

  ‘I’m doing this.’

  ‘Rex!’ Luke marched to the mirror on the wall and combed his hair.

  Moments later, his younger brother was still sitting at the table. ‘Rex, go and get Marylyn. I’m warning you. Off your ass, now!’

  ‘You shouldn’t swear. Miss Venner says you show yourself up for an ignorant fool when you swear. And this is more important than getting ready to go down the pub, spending all your money.’

  ‘You little runt! I’ll tan the skin off your backside.’ Red-faced, because Rex had shamed him, but disinclined to pass over the issue of his cheek, Luke leapt across the room, grabbed Rex by the back of his shirt collar and dangled him up high in the air. ‘Do as you’re told, or you’ll be sorry.’

  Struggling, his sallow, elfin face indignant, Rex shouted, ‘Why don’t you go and fetch Marylyn for a change? You don’t do nothing when you’re here but give orders.’

  ‘Shut up, Rex.’ Luke shook him. ‘You’ll wake up the old woman and she’ll be down here making you wish you’d never been born.’ He put the boy down and cuffed him across the top of his head. ‘I spend money on you, your sisters and this miserable place, never forget that. I could walk out the door this very minute and never come back, then where would you be? Bundled off to an orphanage, and they’re terrible places. You won’t get nothing to eat. You’d—’