‘You don’t need to know,’ he said curtly.
Jenny gazed up at him, a mother’s passion in her eyes and in her response. ‘Yes, I do, Matt. Whether you like it or not, I’m your mother and I care about you. Not a day’s gone by without me praying for you and worrying about you and wishing you’d come home. One day when you’re a parent yourself, you’ll understand how much you love your kids. It’s a powerful love that lasts forever, and sometimes it hurts worse than any pain in your body. So you tell me what happened, Matt, because I’m not leaving this boat until you do.’
Jenny sat down firmly on The Jenny Wren’s blue painted seat and looked at him expectantly.
Matt softened. He sat down with a thud, folded his arms, stretched his long legs across the deck and tried to look arrogant. Jenny believed she’d got through to him at last. But she’d only get this one chance.
Please God, where are you? she prayed. Help me get this right for once. Otherwise I’m going to lose my son forever.
Instinct told her Matt was actually glad she was there. She made her voice quiet. ‘What happened to your face?’
He managed a shrug, looked at her from under those long eyelashes and said, ‘Morwenna’s mother, Cora Bartle – she threw a frying pan at me in the street.’
‘That’s appalling.’ Jenny was instantly furious. ‘Why would she do that?’
‘I did nothing to her. I was just walking past her house minding my own business.’
‘Cora Bartle – she’s usually all right. I get on with her,’ Jenny said. ‘Mind you, I wouldn’t like to upset her. Matt, I’m going to confront her. I could kill her for doing that to my boy.’
‘I’m not exactly a boy now, Mum.’
‘No, you’re a big handsome guy like your dad,’ Jenny said. ‘Every time I look at you, I see Arnie. It pulls at my heartstrings.’
‘Thanks.’ Matt looked pleased and the ghost of a smile passed over his face.
It was going well. Jenny began to feel hopeful. She and Matt were talking, quietly, and he was looking at her as if he needed a mother.
‘Don’t get into a cat fight with Cora Bartle, Mum,’ he pleaded. ‘Stay out of it or you’ll get hurt.’
‘I’m hurt anyway. A bit more won’t make much difference.’
‘I know I’m not the kind of son you wanted,’ Matt said, and for a moment he emerged from the hard shell of arrogance, ‘but I was doing well, living like this, on my own. I work hard at the drawings and I really want to be an artist, like John.’
‘You like John, do you?’
‘Yeah, I do. He’s a good guy.’
An interval of warmth and light glowed between them, a rare sense of togetherness.
Ring the bells in heaven, God, Jenny thought, we’re actually smiling at each other! Her heart told her to walk away at this point and leave it pleasant, but she needed to know why Cora Bartle had attacked her son.
‘Have you put anything on that awful bruise?’ she asked.
‘I haven’t got anything. Don’t let Nan near me – she’ll come at me with a big spoonful of marigold oil,’ he grinned.
Jenny handed him the envelope containing his money. ‘I’d better go, Matt. I’ve got a job now in John’s gallery – four mornings a week. It’s been really good talking to you.’
Matt nodded. He glanced at her briefly then stared at the floor, his eyes black and desperate.
‘I will speak to Cora Bartle,’ Jenny said. ‘She mustn’t get away with it.’
‘No, Mum, don’t,’ he said fiercely. ‘Please.’
‘Why not? I’m a fighter, Matt. I fight for my family.’
Matt regressed to looking wild and savage. ‘I don’t want you to.’
‘Well, I’m going to unless you tell me why not.’
Matt held his head with both hands, his elbows on his knees. He began to rock to and fro. ‘The truth is, Mum . . .’ A great sob escaped from him and his back heaved. ‘I’ve lost Lottie.’
‘What do you mean?’
Matt just rocked and muttered. ‘What am I gonna do?’
‘Tell me – please.’ Jenny tried to touch his hunched back but he shook her off.
‘Hasn’t she told you, Mum?’
‘No, but I know something’s wrong with her.’
‘Oh, God.’ Matt looked at her with black desperate eyes. He took a deep breath. ‘Lottie’s having a baby. And it’s mine.’
Jenny froze. She felt like a bomb about to explode. It was unstoppable. In the seconds before detonation, Matt added, ‘I didn’t force her, Mum. We’ve been lovers since last December.’
Jenny screamed and clenched her fists. She wanted to hit him with the burning passion of an enraged mum. What stopped her was his use of the word lovers. Her raging mind couldn’t sort out exactly why it had made a difference. All she could see was the ruin of her family. The shame, the gossip, the merciless prejudice.
The consequences.
She let go of a torrent of words, her arms crossed, her fists digging into her own shoulders. ‘You’ve ruined our family. Everything we’ve tried to build. Haven’t we been through enough without you doing this? You’ve ruined Lottie’s life. You’ve ruined Tom’s life. And Nan’s. And you’ve ruined your own life. Oh, you’ll pay for this, by God you will. We’ll be driven out of St Ives. Just when things were going well for us – and . . . and John won’t want me now, or Lottie. How could you do it, Matt? How could you?’
Matt hesitated. Then he said the worst possible thing. ‘Mum, you just don’t understand what it’s like to be in love.’
Jenny narrowed her eyes. ‘You rat – and Lottie’s just as bad. After all I’ve done for her. Wait ‘til I get my hands on her, the deceitful, precocious little whore.’ She stood up. ‘Help me off this boat.’
Matt did as she asked, towering over her, offering a strong, suntanned arm, and looking at her with frightened, soulful eyes.
She didn’t try to say goodbye.
She didn’t look back.
She didn’t go to the gallery where John would be waiting for her.
Jenny headed up through the town without looking at anyone, carrying her burning rage in dignified silence up The Stennack and towards the school.
*
Lottie always enjoyed the English lesson with David Merryn. Even today, the poetry they were studying held her attention. It was a poem by William Wordsworth and it spoke to her soul.
‘Will you read these lines aloud for us, Lottie?’ David Merryn asked.
Lottie stood up and read the extract in her clear, expressive voice.
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The Soul that riseth with us, our life’s Star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar . . .
‘Beautifully read, thank you,’ David Merryn said. ‘What do you think it means, Lottie?’
Lottie was considering how to answer when there was a scuffle of footsteps and the tap of a stick approaching the door. It flew open with a crash and Jenny barged in, her face white with fury.
‘Mrs Lanroska – please – you are disturbing my class!’ David Merryn protested.
‘It won’t take a minute,’ Jenny said. ‘I want my daughter outside, right now, please.’
Lottie dropped the poetry book she’d been reading. She looked at Jenny in alarm. ‘But . . .’
‘Don’t you dare argue.’ Jenny hobbled over the wooden floor. She clenched her fist around Lottie’s slim wrist and held it viciously. ‘You come with me right now, you wanton little trollop,’ she hissed. ‘I’m taking you to the doctor. Come on.’
Shocked, Lottie stumbled after her. ‘You’re hurting my wrist.’
‘Mrs Lanroska, I must protest at . . .’
Jenny threw David Merryn a contemptuous glare. ‘Don’t you dare intervene, and don’t criticise me when you don’t know what it’s about.’
‘I’ve a shrewd idea.’ He reached the door before she did and blocked it with a wiry arm. �
��Please let go of Lottie. She doesn’t have to be dragged. And – please – bring her back here. She’s my best student and I don’t want to see her hurt.’
Jenny snorted. She let go of Lottie’s wrist. ‘Come with me – now – or I will drag you, madam.’
Lottie looked at David Merryn gratefully. She felt vulnerable and frightened. The bedrock of her life was crumbling. Jenny had never treated her like this before.
‘Who told you?’ she asked, expecting it to be Cora Bartle.
‘Matt,’ Jenny hissed, ‘and I’m not discussing it in the street. The surgery’s not far so just walk with me as if everything is normal.’ She pursed her lips and walked on. ‘And we’re not discussing it in the waiting room either.’
Lottie bit back the words she wanted to say. She walked meekly behind Jenny, rubbing her wrist, indignant at how suddenly the person who had rescued her and loved her as a daughter could turn into an enemy.
She remembered how Jenny had lost her temper so easily in the past, even with Arnie. Usually when she felt powerless. She’d flare up and later regret it, calm down and apologise. Once she’d told Lottie she got in a rage because she loved too much and cared too much. It helped her to understand, but it didn’t ease the shock and hurt Lottie now felt at being suddenly criminalised.
In the doctor’s waiting room, Jenny sat, poker-faced, having an inane conversation about the weather with another woman who was sitting on the row of brown leather chairs.
‘Storm coming in tonight.’
‘So they say.’
‘‘Tis calm at the moment.’
‘But you never know, do you? What with autumn coming on.’
‘Next, please.’
They all shifted sideways to the next chair as the weather woman went into the surgery. Jenny sat white-faced and rigid. She didn’t look at Lottie once.
‘Come on,’ she said curtly when their turn came, ‘and no telling lies.’
Dr Tregullow looked different when Jenny was there. He hardly glanced at Lottie, even though she searched his old eyes for a trace of the wisdom he had shared with her. The script he’d given her was rapidly losing its power. Tarnished by Cora Bartle, ignored by Matt, it had no chance with Jenny in her present mood.
Lottie sat calmly next to her, thinking things couldn’t get any worse than they already were so she might as well stay calm for the sake of the tiny baby.
‘You look upset, Mrs Lanroska,’ Dr Tregullow observed.
The kindness in his voice made Jenny break down. ‘I’ve just found out that Lottie is pregnant, Doctor. Can you please confirm whether it’s true? Because if it is, it’s ruined our lives.’
‘Indeed I can. I examined her myself.’
‘You did what?’ Jenny cried. ‘Why wasn’t I told?’
‘I promised Lottie I wouldn’t tell you. She wanted to tell you herself.’
Jenny turned on Lottie. ‘So why didn’t you tell me, you dirty little whore?’
‘There’s no need for that,’ Dr Tregullow said calmly.
‘Why?’ Jenny pushed her face close to Lottie.
‘I was waiting for the right moment.’
‘The right moment! There is never a right moment to tell me something like this, you devious little madam.’ She swung back to Dr Tregullow, her face contorted with fury. ‘It’s been going on under my nose, Doctor . . .’ Jenny ranted and raged as if she’d never stop. Dr Tregullow clasped his well-scrubbed hands and listened dutifully. He glanced at the clock and then briefly at Lottie. It had been twenty minutes and Jenny was wrung out like a rag.
‘I’ve heard everything you’ve said, Mrs Lanroska,’ the doctor said, ‘and if you go on like this, my dear, believe me you will end up in hospital again. Furthermore – no, listen!’ He held up his hand as she tried to protest. ‘I suggest you turn around and look at Lottie. She is remarkably composed, given the circumstances. She’s an intelligent, responsible young lady and she is going to be a mother. Have you asked her how she feels about that?’
‘No,’ Jenny shook her head.
‘Then look at her, please, and I shall ask her.’
Jenny managed to look at Lottie, her gaze red-rimmed and quivering, and Lottie stared back. The bond of love was still there. Surely Jenny wasn’t going to break it?
‘How do you feel, Lottie, about being a mother?’ Dr Tregullow asked.
‘I love my baby,’ Lottie said. ‘It’s like the pearl in an oyster. I love my baby – no matter what.’
Jenny’s mouth fell open and some of the hardness in her eyes melted.
The doctor was watching her very intently. In a quiet, compelling voice he said, ‘I suggest to you, Jennifer, that this baby is a love-child, not a bastard. He or she is also your grandchild and, if Lottie doesn’t mind undressing and hopping on the couch, we are going to listen to its heartbeat.’
While Lottie quickly undressed behind a screen, Dr Tregullow looked sternly at Jenny. ‘You really must pull yourself together. Remember how it feels to be young and in love –and pregnant. And it’s not the baby’s fault.’
While Jenny stood defensively, arms folded, mouth set in a stubborn line, he moved the cold disc over Lottie’s bump. ‘Ah, I have it.’ His old eyes lit up and the magic was back. He handed the ear pieces to Jenny. ‘Now you have a listen.’
Jenny almost threw the stethoscope back at him. Stepping across the bridge from rage into wonder was too risky for her. ‘Don’t try to manipulate me.’
She returned to the brown leather chair and sat down, her back very straight. ‘I want to know what you’re going to do about this, Dr Tregullow. I don’t care who you are, I know my rights and you deliberately deceived me and apparently encouraged my daughter to go ahead with this unfortunate pregnancy. It was your duty as a doctor to tell me. I want something done about it. Otherwise I shall find another doctor.’
Dr Tregullow gave Lottie an apologetic look. ‘You wait in the waiting room. I’ll do the best I can to help you.’
Lottie got dressed. Hearing the heartbeat had filled her with wonder and she felt suddenly strong, strong enough to march down to the harbour and find Matt. Jenny had seen him earlier. Perhaps he’d had a change of heart and sailed back in to St Ives and was waiting to see her.
There was no one else in the waiting room. Lottie put her ear to the surgery door and strained to hear what was being said. She heard Jenny’s clear voice saying, ‘I want a termination.’
‘You know I can’t arrange that. It’s against the law.’
‘Even for a seventeen-year-old girl?’
‘I’m afraid so. But there are other options, like adoption – there are couples desperate for a child. The adoption agencies are very good – very discreet – and they take the baby straightaway.’
Appalled, Lottie went outside into the street. She’d thought of Jenny as her best friend and her adoptive mother. Jenny had always loved her, supported her and passionately defended her. Jenny was the one person who, she’d thought, would understand how much it meant to her to keep her baby. Jenny loved children and didn’t care about the gossip. Now Jenny had turned on her, called her a dirty little whore, and she was in there with Dr Tregullow working out a masterplan of how to get rid of her baby. Could this really be the same Jenny who had taken Warren in and been so kind to him?
Lottie felt hurt and bewildered. She couldn’t rely on Jenny any more.
She had some big decisions to make, with only minutes before Jenny came out of the surgery. Lottie felt she couldn’t let it happen. She must take immediate action to save her baby’s life. And it meant leaving everything and everyone she loved.
Lottie broke into a run, her shoes tapping. It didn’t help that St Ives was at its best, the blue air warm and still, the sea sparkling, and Matt’s boat was in the harbour. It didn’t help to look up at Hendravean, its gabled windows facing the bay, and wonder if Nan was in the garden.
First a broken heart, and now a broken life.
She must take a bold leap of faith.
Like the grey lady.
Chapter 18
Far From Home
Nan dragged herself upstairs. Bartholomew followed her and so did two of the chickens. They all came to a halt outside Lottie’s bedroom.
Despite feeling sure Lottie wasn’t in there, Nan knocked at the door. Bartholomew meowed and when Nan pushed the door open, he trotted in with his tail up, jumped onto Lottie’s neatly made bed and lay there, dough-punching her pillow with his furry paws. The knitted donkey, which was usually on the bed, wasn’t there and Nan couldn’t see it anywhere. She opened the drawer where Lottie kept her ironed hankies and a folded set of underwear and socks.
Empty.
She opened the wardrobe. A few items hung there forlornly, dresses and a pinafore Lottie had outgrown. Nan looked for the pale blue bag with the wide shoulder strap, but it had gone.
A chill crawled over Nan. She looked at the books Lottie had loved and left on the shelf, their spines upright. Black Beauty. Heidi. Anne of Green Gables. The Wind in the Willows. Only the slim copy of Hiawatha, which Nan had given her for Christmas, was gone. Books were too heavy to carry.
Nan opened Lottie’s trinket box. The blue lapis lazuli beads were gone and the gold bracelet John had given her. Nan shut the lid with a heavy hand. Her eyes searched the room and saw a piece of notepaper neatly folded into four. Her fingers trembled as she picked it up, took it to the window and read the hastily scribbled, poignant note.
To Nan,
I was happy here at Hendravean. I will always remember you, Nan, thank you for everything. I will always love you.
Lottie
Nan sat down on the bed. She put her fingers over Lottie’s signature and prayed in the silence of her soul. She accepted that there was nothing she could do to get Lottie back. Love and let go. Leave them alone and they’ll come home.
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