‘It’s the prettiest wedding I’ve ever seen,’ Grace Treloar smiled at Hannah. She had a mellow, cultured voice. ‘You must be very proud of your sister, Mrs Penney.’
Before Hannah could reply, Mrs Skewes said rather loudly, ‘Leah has this gorgeous house to live in from now on. Grace lives in similar circumstances, Hannah. She has a large house in Kent with servants and a stable holding half a dozen horses.’
Hannah gazed at Grace. She had a longish face with clear tawny eyes, a slightly crooked nose and pronounced mouth and chin. A brimless Juliet hat sat on the crown of straight, chin-length, ash-blonde hair. Her clothes were plain but tailored and set well on her angular frame. She wore no jewellery or strong perfume, unlike her loquacious aunt. Hannah judged her to be in her early thirties.
Grace was embarrassed by her aunt’s boastful comments and changed the subject. ‘I’m very grateful to Mrs Opie for her invitation. This has been the ideal opportunity for me to meet some of the villagers. I only arrived in Porthellis yesterday morning.’ She smiled. ‘I enjoy walking and I intend to explore the cliff paths and beaches and swim in the sea.’
‘There are many beautiful places known only to us locals,’ Hannah said, responding to the natural warmth and ease in Grace’s manner. ‘I would be happy to show you some of them when I have some free time.’ She still liked to roam unencumbered and there was no need for her to be tied to the house with so many willing hands to mind Nathan for a while.
‘That’s very kind of you. I’ve already strolled round the village. It’s just as I imagined it would be. Pretty stone cottages straggling down the steep hill, fishing boats in the little harbour, the sea lapping up the shore, gulls perched on seaweed-covered rocks. I could sense the feeling of history and tradition all about me and I was intrigued as I stood on the pier to see the roof and the top of the wood of Roscarrock.’
‘Grace has quite fallen in love with the place,’ Mrs Skewes prattled on. ‘I’m hoping to persuade her to stay with us for good. She could teach in the Sunday School, although she’s not very fond of children.’
‘My mother died recently and I’ve come down to Cornwall to stay with my aunt for a while before I decide what to do with my future,’ Grace replied to the question in Hannah’s crystal-blue eyes. ‘I noticed the new house that has just been built below the Manse in Cobble Street.’
‘It’s close to Hannah’s cottage, where the better properties of the village are,’ Mrs Skewes put in loftily. ‘I’ve told Grace all about it, Hannah, that it’s for the pub landlady, although goodness knows where Maggie Curnow could have got that sort of money from. She was in there this morning putting up curtains, good quality ones by the look of them.’
‘It’s a fine house,’ Grace said, jumping in quickly to prevent her aunt dominating the conversation. ‘I wouldn’t mind living in something similar myself.’
The house in question was much larger than all the other cottages in the village; it had indoor plumbing and was provoking a lot of envy.
‘I saw one little cottage across the harbour,’ Grace continued, ‘which looks as if it’s about to fall down. Has it been completely abandoned?’
As Hannah seemed reluctant to talk about it, Mrs Skewes explained. ‘Oh, you’re talking about the place next to Cliffside Cottage which is where Hannah’s parents live. An old rascal called Rufus Kittow lived there. He never looked after it. He was a dirty little man, a scoundrel and a thief. I hate to think what it was like inside. He died last year, got drunk and fell into the sea and developed pneumonia. His grandson owns it now and he’s another man who’s rotten to the core, isn’t he, Hannah?’
Hannah lost some of her colour and put her glass to her lips.
‘It’s not at all surprising that Daniel Kittow’s in prison at the moment. He was convicted, Grace, of receiving stolen goods, resisting arrest and striking a police officer. It’s a good thing he’s got several months left to serve of his sentence. I hope with all my heart he doesn’t come back to Porthellis when he’s released.’
Hannah’s graceful body gave a noticeable tremble.
‘We could do without his sort amongst us,’ Adela Skewes’ tongue marched on oblivious of Hannah’s disquiet. ‘He tried to kill your husband, didn’t he, Hannah? Well, as good as, anyway. He tried to push Matt into the water just after he’d been rescued and brought home by the lifeboat. And you’ll have to go a long way to find a more dependable and hard-working man than Matt Penney. It’s a pity you can’t find a young man rather like him, Grace.’ Grace fidgeted in embarrassment again. ‘He’s quite well off for a fisherman and good-looking into the bargain.’
Grace adroitly changed the subject for the second time by admiring the plaster decoration of grapes, tassels and garlands above the magnificent fireplace which ended in a cornice near the ceiling. Hannah told her some of the house’s history and was mightily relieved when the Reverend Skewes claimed his gossiping wife to talk to other guests, but she knew that Grace Treloar had been aware of her discomfiture over Daniel Kittow.
* * *
‘I hope Leah will be all right tonight,’ Hannah said. Already in her nightdress, she climbed on the bed where Matt sat undressing and kissed his bare back. Nathan was fast asleep in his cot in the room next door to the large, second-floor bedroom she shared with Matt. ‘I think it would have been more thoughtful of Greg to have taken her away tonight to begin their honeymoon.’
Matt tossed the last of his clothes on the floor. ‘She’s got a massive fourposter bed to spend her wedding night in, but I don’t expect she’ll go to Greg like you came to me the first time. I’ll never forget you seducing me on my little single bed in my old room.’ He held up his big, calloused right hand. The top of the forefinger was missing. ‘It was worth losing this to have you visit me as I recovered from the infection and having you throw yourself all over me.’ Taking her into his arms he kissed her deeply. ‘It’s your fault Nathan’s here.’
‘So you keep reminding me.’ She pressed her lips on the pulse at the base of his neck, knowing with delicious anticipation that she had him in her power, as she had the afternoon their baby was conceived. ‘And I still say it’s your fault for being irresistible to me.’
‘Only God knows how much I love you, Hannah Penney,’ he said huskily. ‘Thank goodness I’ve got the rest of the night to show you.’
Much later, as Matt slept soundly with his arms round her, Hannah lay awake. Grace Treloar and Adela Skewes had brought something to the forefront of her mind, something which for over a year she had pushed firmly to the back of it. When Daniel Kittow came out of prison, would he come back to Porthellis? The other partners on the Kittow lugger had pulled out and the Sunrise floated abandoned in the harbour. Rufus was dead, the cottage uninhabitable. There was nothing for Daniel to come back to. And no one. Everyone in the village despised him, including Hannah, even though he had once declared he loved her. But she knew Daniel well. He was selfish and arrogant and unforgiving, traits that for a long time she had overlooked until she had so horrendously seen his real character. She closed her eyes and prayed long and hard. If Daniel came home to Porthellis, she would never again feel safe for herself or for her family.
Chapter 2
Hannah carried Nathan along the cliff path to Hidden Beach, a small stretch of fine sand a little way upcoast from Porthellis. The village children had played here for generations, its location hidden by gorse and bramble from the cliff path. Few adults came here but Hannah made the short journey at least once a week in good weather.
The sky was hazy, the sun pleasantly hot, a caressing breeze blew in off the blue-green sea. Hannah sat on the sand with her back against a rock, cradling Nathan as he slept in her arms. She was thinking about Matt, who had joined her father and the Misty’s other crew yesterday evening for a thirty-six-hour stint of hunting for flatfish. Matt had said he was looking forward to the day when he could take Nathan on board the lugger to learn the craft of a fisherman.
Hannah loved Matt with all her bei
ng but she felt a little envious that the child she had carried in her body and for whom she had endured a pain-ridden, forty-eight-hour labour to bring into the world would one day belong more to Matt than to her. She gazed in wonder at her baby. His body was strong and sturdy; he was going to be tall like her and Matt. Under his white cotton sunhat was hair as fair and silky as hers; beneath his closed lids were the wonderful dark eyes he had inherited from Matt and which often held the same intense gaze. The lines and angles of his chubby little face hinted he was mostly going to resemble Matt.
When Nathan awoke, as always with a long stretch and immediate smile, she carried him down to the shore where, despite the still air, restless foam-topped waves crashed on to the sand. She walked into the water, enjoying the delicious bite on her bare feet and ankles. Nathan blinked at her, slightly bewildered by the stronger smell of salt and hardier breeze hurrying over them, then recognizing the happy, fearless smile on his mother’s face he chuckled contentedly and looked towards the sea, puckering his tiny features. Hannah paddled up and down the shore then dipped Nathan’s feet in the warm pools of water left by the receding tide. He loved this and she lowered herself down so he could splash his fat legs.
Hannah had been restless all weekend over the mention of Daniel Kittow but she had made an effort not to convey her worries to Matt. Wives of fishermen did not like to send their men to sea with something on their minds and Matt would have hated the subject of his one-time workmate and partner being brought up. Hannah resolved to push her cares aside; it was months before Daniel Kittow was due to be released.
She suddenly got the eerie feeling someone was watching her and a second later a waft of cigarette smoke hit her senses. She looked up sharply. Her body convulsed and, clutching Nathan to her, she shot to her feet.
‘Daniel!’
Daniel Kittow was only inches away from her. He stared at her for some moments, his expression stony and cold.
‘Mrs Penney,’ he said drily, his deep-set blue eyes turning into slits.
Hannah wanted to turn and run away from him but she couldn’t. Frozen on the sand, she took in his appearance. His rugged face with its broad cheekbones and firm chin had an unhealthy pallor, his thick red hair was severely cropped, and his muscular body had lost weight. The clothes, smart but casual, were the ones he had been arrested in. Daniel had always been a hard man, easily provoked to outbursts of temper, but he had owned a sense of humour and a joy for living. Now, however, he seemed aloof and brooding; the energy that had led Hannah and others into many childhood pranks, including the boating accident that had led to her brother and another girl’s deaths, had been replaced by a quiet deadliness. What Hannah had learned about Daniel told her she wasn’t being fanciful.
She stepped backwards. ‘I–I thought… I didn’t expect…’
‘That I’d be let out of prison yet? There’s such a thing as remission for good behaviour. I was very careful to behave, Hannah.’
He spoke slowly and carefully but each word seemed to rush at her with a threat on its tail. She felt he was scoffing at her. He shifted his gaze to Nathan, the corner of his wide mouth curling up, but he made no remark. Hannah held Nathan tighter. It was hard to face this man alone. Only her desperate reminder to him that they were supposed to be friends had stopped him raping her. Now they were anything but friends. She had never felt so helpless and vulnerable.
He drew in on his cigarette and took his time exhaling the smoke. ‘You’re the first person I’ve spoken to since I arrived home. I don’t suppose I can expect a warmer welcome from anyone else,’ he said coldly.
Hannah took a deep breath. ‘You can’t expect people to be pleased to see you.’
His eyes bore into her. ‘I don’t care about that. I’m sure none of you want to see me back, but I am back and for good. I guess you all hoped I’d be found guilty of stealing those pathetic little village knick-knacks as well as for receiving them. I bet you all thought it a pity it was proved I was not in the village when some of the things went missing.’ His voice dropped to an icier level and he moved closer to her. ‘The strange thing is, Hannah, I’d received plenty of stolen goods in my time and passed them on to a fence and was well rewarded for it. But I had nothing to do with the things I was sent to prison for. They were planted in my cottage and I’ve a good idea who did it. It’s him who won’t be staying in Porthellis.’
Hannah shivered at the menace in his words. She could think of nothing to say in reply.
‘Are you going now?’ he muttered disdainfully. ‘I came here to be alone.’
It was several moments before Hannah could make her legs move then she turned on her heel and ran to the rock where she had left her sandals. Sensing her disquiet, Nathan began to whimper as she pulled on her sandals. Before she pushed through the gorse bushes, almost against her will she turned to see what Daniel was doing. He had his back to her, facing the sea. She hurried back along the cliff path and through the village until she was home.
‘Hannah, dear,’ Mrs Penney exclaimed as she plunged through the back door into the kitchen. ‘You’re out of breath. Have you been running?’ Mrs Penney held out her arms for Nathan and Hannah gratefully handed him over; he had grown heavy in her arms and, unusually for him, was fretting.
‘I’ve just seen Daniel Kittow,’ Hannah panted. She sank down shakily into the chair at the hearth that Matt most often used, and for a moment she had the comforting feeling that she was in his arms. ‘I was alone on Hidden Beach with Nathan and I felt so frightened.’
‘He didn’t threaten you or do anything to you, did he?’ Mrs Penney asked anxiously.
‘No, but he was very hostile. Oh, Mother, I wish he hadn’t come back.’
‘I’m sure the men in the village will keep an eye on him,’ Mrs Penney said soothingly but she couldn’t disguise her nervousness; Hannah looked so fearful. ‘Perhaps prison life has softened him up.’
‘I don’t think so.’ Hannah did not believe that Daniel had had anything to do with the items that had gone missing from various houses and the general store in the village. It had been common knowledge that he had been involved in shady dealings but the village thefts did not bear his mark. A few minutes ago he had as good as announced revenge on the man he thought responsible for deliberately sending him to prison.
‘Goodness me,’ Mrs Penney exclaimed, handing Nathan back to Hannah. ‘I forgot that we have a visitor. Miss Grace Treloar is in the parlour. She called to see you, Hannah. You go along and speak to her while I make some tea.’
* * *
Daniel entered the Ship Inn at the back and made his way through the short dark passage to the tiny parlour. He found Maggie Curnow relaxing on her sofa painting her toenails.
‘Danny!’ she exclaimed, putting the bottle of bright red polish aside and standing up. ‘It’s good to see you again. So they let you out like you said in your last letter then? Been back in the village long?’
‘A short while. This is the first house I’ve entered. I’ve been trying to get the prison smell out of my head with sea air.’
Maggie smoothed her tight skirt over her hips and pouted her thick shiny lips. ‘You’ll soon do that, Danny.’ She rested her tongue on her lower lip. ‘What you need is something to take your mind off it. You must be—’
‘I’ve come for the keys,’ he said tersely. He was in no mood for small talk or any other kind of conversation.
‘They’re in my handbag, but first,’ she moved close to him and slid her fingers up under the lapels of his jacket, ‘why don’t we—’
He turned his face from her brassy features. ‘Get them.’
Reluctantly letting her hands fall away, Maggie did as he ordered. Daniel exchanged the bunch of keys for a wad of money which she tucked down her generous cleavage. ‘Now we’ve got the business out of the way,’ she purred, ‘why don’t we go upstairs?’
Daniel stood back and ran his eyes over the curves he had often been on intimate terms with. ‘You still givi
ng yourself to Jeff Spargo?’
‘Yes, but he doesn’t measure up to your performance, Danny.’ Maggie couldn’t wait to get her hands on him. It had been a long time for a man with his appetite to go without a woman. She was eager to experience what would be unleashed.
‘I don’t want to follow a Spargo anywhere,’ Daniel said harshly, adding on a kinder but brisk note when he got to the door, ‘Thanks for your help. I won’t be coming here again.’
* * *
Grace found Nathan’s whining annoying and she stayed in Seaview Cottage only long enough to drink a cup of tea and arrange to take a long walk with Hannah along the cliff path at the end of the week.
She carried on along Cobble Street until she reached the new house, which like the Penneys’ home was blessed with an unobstructed view all the way down to the harbour. She wasn’t a nosy woman but Grace was drawn to the building which was as engaging as the two-storeyed four-bedroomed cottage she had just left. Aunt Adela had excitedly informed her that a furniture van, not an unmarked van so its contents must have been paid for and was not on the never-never, had pulled up outside it this morning and only new items of good quality had been carried inside. How could a village landlady who could not have made much money out of the hard-pressed fishermen’s drinking habits afford to build the biggest house in Porthellis and furnish it so well? Perhaps, as Aunt Adela had put it, Maggie Curnow had been paid for other services.
Grace lifted the brass, anchor-shaped door knocker, hoping the pub landlady was at home and would invite her inside. It would be interesting to compare it to the Penneys’ home which exuded a close family atmosphere and was charmingly old-fashioned in Grace’s view. According to her aunt, it was better furnished than any other in Porthellis owing to Mrs Penney’s origin as a sea captain’s daughter. Seaview Cottage was tiled nearly to the ground in grey slate but this house was thatched and whitewashed, its walls at perfect right angles while most of the village houses bulged here and there due to uneven stones or because the cob was giving way. The paintwork on the door and window frames here was fresh royal blue. Everything about this new house was pristine, crisp and modern, more in keeping with what an outsider, an ‘emmet’ such as herself, might build in this quiet Cornish village.
Porthellis Page 2