‘There you are, boy,’ he grinned at Alan Weekley, teasing the school-leaver the Misty had just taken on. The boy was almost sleeping on his feet from exhaustion. ‘We’ll land the fish tomorrow at eight o’clock You’ll soon be home in bed and no doubt your proud mother will bring you a cup of tea first thing.’ Matt called softly to his father-in-law who was straightening his tired muscles after tying up the mooring rope on the quay. ‘He did well his first time out, eh, Jeff?’
‘Aye,’ Jeff agreed, rubbing his prickly growth of black beard and looking with carnal intent at the pub; who could blame him for thinking of Maggie Curnow, he asked himself, with Prim sharing Josh’s room instead of his bed? ‘We’ll make a fisherman of un, put biceps on un like a bull’s. He’s earned his uffy, be on a proper wage soon.’
Rolling along with their sea-leg gait, the other two partners in the boat, Graham and Malcolm Chellew, Alan’s uncles, escorted their nephew home, aiding his occasional faltering step in his cumbersome sea boots. His widowed mother would be told how well the boy had done. Alan had proudly memorized every encouragement he had been given, only mild praise, the fishermen too busy and not of a mind to bestow any sort of indulgence on him, but compliments just the same. Alan had done better than he’d hoped, his one big worry removed in the face of his natural ability to bait the long line and haul it back in, heavy with fish: Fred Jose would still retain his reputation as the worst fisherman who’d ever lived in Porthellis.
Matt said goodnight to Jeff at the bridge, knowing the older man would cross over but only stay on the dark side of the village for as long as it took him to disappear from sight. Matt kept his thoughts on the matter to himself. He was concerned about Jeff’s womanizing for Hannah’s sake, yet grateful the habit had brought Hannah into being.
Here and there, a light glowed in a window of the homes of men not yet safely ashore. No such light burned in the Spargo cottage but Matt knew the bedside lamp would be on in his bedroom. He had a comfortable picture inside his head of Nathan snuggled down in his cot and Hannah fully awake eagerly waiting for him. The fatigue from the long hours lifted from his broad shoulders.
His pleasant dream was crudely shattered.
‘Have a good catch, Penney?’
The voice from behind him came from the last man he wanted to see. Keeping control of the violent emotions that surged through him, Matt turned slowly and under the moonlit sky squarely faced his old adversary. ‘I was hoping they’d keep you locked up for good,’ he said icily.
‘You and most of the village,’ Daniel smirked, ‘including your dear wife.’ He was standing casually at the corner of Sea view Cottage, feet apart in the steadying stance of a fisherman, but there was a tension in his upper body which spread down to the large hands resting on the thick leather belt at his waist.
Matt let his allowance bag fall to the cobbled ground and strode to a breath away from the cocky young man with whom he had partnered one-fourth on the Kittow lugger until they had fought over Hannah. ‘Have you spoken to Hannah?’ he demanded.
‘Not by choice,’ Daniel replied as if he was spitting something bitter out of his mouth.
‘Stay away from her, Kittow, or I’ll rip your guts out.’ Matt’s voice was low and dangerous.
Hannah had heard Matt’s familiar tread turning into the street. Puzzled that it had stopped at the front doorstep and not carried round to the back where he always entered the cottage to pull off his sea boots, she got out of bed and looked out of the window. Her heart stopped. It wouldn’t be necessary to tell Matt the unsavoury news that had been buzzing round the village all day. He was fronting up to Daniel and they looked as if at any moment they’d have their hands round each other’s throats. She struggled into her dressing gown as she ran barefoot down the stairs and threw open the front door.
Daniel was about to respond in kind to Matt’s threat when he saw her over Matt’s shoulder. ‘Ah, here comes the little missus now,’ he mocked. ‘Come to join hubby in wishing your new neighbour well, Hannah?’
Hannah gripped Matt’s arm; he was an even-tempered man but could be easily provoked on his family’s behalf and wasn’t the least bit afraid of Daniel. At first Hannah didn’t understand Daniel, then she gasped. ‘You own the new house?’
Daniel produced a bunch of keys from his jacket pocket, tossed them in the air and caught them in his fist. ‘That’s right. I designed the place myself,’ he said at her astonished face, ‘during the long lonely nights I spent cooped up in my cell breathing in other men’s stench. I’m very happy with the outcome, it’s exactly what I’ve always wanted. I won’t be keeping it locked, there won’t be the need with me being around to see it doesn’t get smashed up like my old place. So, any time you want to borrow a cup of sugar…’ He laughed gloatingly, thrust his hands in his trouser pockets and swaggered home.
Matt put his arm round Hannah and for once did not bother to go round to the back. They went to the kitchen. Hannah hugged him, hiding her pale face against his strong body. It was as if a nightmare had come true.
‘The swine,’ Matt muttered under his breath, kissing her hair.
She pulled his head down to kiss his cold, salty lips. He responded tenderly then held her shoulders. ‘What’s he said to you?’
Determined to keep the extent of her fears about Daniel’s return to herself to avoid trouble between the two men, Hannah recounted the meeting on Hidden Beach, making it sound less alarming than when she had told Mrs Penney. ‘We knew he would come back one day, darling. It was too much to hope he’d live elsewhere. We must ignore him and get on with our lives.’
Matt sighed wearily. ‘You know it’s not going to be that simple, Hannah, with him just down the street. When I worked the Sunrise with him he often boasted about building a big house. He must have been stashing away his ill-gotten gains for years and he probably had a large insurance out on old Rufus. Damn him, he could have built that house anywhere, there’s plenty of empty spaces in and about the village. He couldn’t wait to tell me he’s not going to be far from us.’
Hannah couldn’t deny what Matt was saying; she, too, had known about Daniel’s ambitions but he’d always said he’d have his house built down on the waterfront. She took Matt’s face between her hands. ‘You won’t let him goad you, will you, Matt?’ she implored him. ‘Promise me that whatever he does, you won’t let there be any unpleasantness between you.’
He gently took her hands away. ‘I can’t promise that. I’m sorry, but I won’t let that evil swine ride roughshod over me and mine.’
‘Oh, dear God.’ Hannah raised her eyes to the ceiling and said a quick prayer. The set of Matt’s jaw and the hard glint in his dark eyes told her there was no point in continuing to plead with him.
Moving to the cream-coloured Cornish range, its embers giving off a welcome heat, she kept the frustration she felt out of her voice. ‘Do you want something to eat and drink? I won’t be able to sleep now.’
‘Yes, please,’ Matt said, his voice still grim as he sat down to pull off his sea boots. Stripping to the waist, he washed thoroughly and scrubbed his salt-encrusted hands, though the beguiling smell of the sea never wholly left him.
‘How much have you got to unload in the morning?’ Hannah asked as she made cocoa and toast.
‘About five hundred stone. We didn’t do bad,’ he answered in understatement so as not to tempt fate to bring bad luck to the boat on its next outing. ‘We went out further than most of the others.’ He gave her his warm and gentle smile, his eyes consuming every inch of her lovely face and soft feminine form.
Hannah’s inner being became awash with the deep-rooted, exquisite emotion she experienced when he looked at her that way. She scanned every minute detail of his features, the wide brow, sensuous mouth, perfectly set nose and cheekbones. She knew him better than anyone else on earth, this man with thick, earth-brown hair that curled about his neck, and eyes so deep and dark they seemed to reflect the secret chasms under the sea. He was her husb
and, her mate, the father of her beloved child. She vowed then with all her heart that she wouldn’t allow Daniel Kittow to hurt them or tarnish her life. She was strong and powerful now, no longer the frightened girl of a few hours ago on Hidden Beach.
Taking Matt’s hand, she kissed it, pressing each finger to her searching lips then crushing her lips over his mouth. She led him upstairs to warm him by another fire, the flames of her love.
* * *
Next morning as the men unloaded their catch, Hannah popped into number seven Quayside Street where she’d lived with the Rouses. Her Aunt Janet was pleased to see her but disappointed she hadn’t brought Nathan with her.
‘He’s sleeping. Mrs Penney’s keeping an eye on him,’ Hannah explained cheerfully, putting a parcel on the table. It contained a flannel nightdress she had made and two girls’ liberty bodices. Hannah and Janet worked in partnership as seamstresses; Janet received the orders and passed the finished items on to the customers.
Janet tapped the parcel. ‘Is this for Mrs Treseder and Lizzie’s stepdaughter?’
‘Yes. I’ll start on Mr Nunn’s mending later today. I don’t know how the old boy wears his vests out so quickly.’
‘I’ll pass on the money for the things you’ve brought when I get it.’ Janet studied her niece. Her face was aglow. ‘Glad to see you haven’t let him upset you. A hundred Daniel Kittows shouldn’t be enough to ruin your happiness with Matt.’
‘I won’t let him hurt us, Aunty Janet,’ Hannah said, reliving the wonderful moments with Matt last night. She added in a very serious voice, ‘I’m glad you understand how things could be for us with Daniel out of prison. I’m waiting for him to cause trouble for me and Matt. I know him better than anyone, he’s got a vindictive streak in him. Yesterday I recognized a certain look in his eye. What worries me is what Matt will do if he taunts him. He can be every bit as stubborn.’
‘Well, you can’t expect Matt just to ignore un if he does cause trouble but Matt’s too sensible to let him really upset him.’
‘I hope so, Aunty.’ Hannah kept her concern for her own personal safety to herself; only Matt knew about Daniel’s assault on her. Until things hopefully settled down, she’d make sure she was never alone where Daniel was likely to be.
‘I don’t know how that Miss Treloar could do his shopping and take it to Maggie Curnow’s new house for un. I warrant Maggie entertained him in there all night. Bit too close to your doorstep, eh? Never mind, no doubt he’ll be spending time in his own cottage after he’s got some silly female admirer to clean it up for un. You’d think Grace Treloar wouldn’t have nothing t’do with the likes of he.’
‘She did his shopping out of Christian charity, Aunty,’ Hannah said, having heard the tale of Grace’s indignation in the shop. ‘Misguided, of course, but then she doesn’t know him. You haven’t heard the worst yet. Maggie Curnow doesn’t own the new house, Daniel does. He made a point of telling me and Matt last night.’
‘Good heavens! That’s a blow. Well, they say the Devil looks after his own. Never a more rotten heart beat in a man’s breast than in Daniel Kittow’s,’ Janet ruminated like an ancient soothsayer. ‘Well, never mind him, that’s what your Uncle Roy would say. Daniel’s got his lugger and the cottage to sort out. I feel bad about his cottage. Someone should have reported what happened to the police and it should have been tidied up. One of us might have got round to it if Daniel hadn’t come home so suddenly.’
‘I pity the person who smashed up his home if he finds out who it was,’ Hannah said with feeling. She glanced at the kitchen clock. ‘I’d better go across the stream and tell Mum all about it before I go home.’ She made for the door before Janet started on something to detain her. Prim would be hurt if she spent more time here than with her.
‘You going up to Roscarrock this afternoon?’ Janet caught her arm before her foot got through the doorway.
‘Yes, I always go there on Wednesday afternoons. You know that, Aunty,’ she said, aware of what was coming.
‘Right, you can leave Nathan with me. Mrs Penney has him now and Prim had him the last time you went.’
‘I promised Mrs Opie I’d take him with me this time,’ Hannah said, raising her hands to still Janet’s protests that the lady of the big house had monopolized Nathan for much of Leah’s wedding reception. ‘I’m going for a long walk across the cliff with Grace Treloar on Friday. You can have him then.’
Janet was satisfied. ‘You stay out as long as you like. A break will do you good.’
Hannah smiled ruefully to herself. If she took all the breaks she was encouraged to take since she’d weaned her baby she’d spend very little time with him.
* * *
Immediately after breakfast, ignoring Mrs Skewes’ repeated warnings to keep away from Daniel Kittow, Grace let herself into the new house in Cobble Street. She found Daniel sleeping in his clothes on the settee, his head on the plump cushions, his hand hanging loosely to the carpeted floor, his long legs and bare feet stretched out under the low table. A half-filled unstoppered bottle of whisky and empty glass stood on the table. Grace didn’t wake him. She ran her eyes up and down his body, taking her time, thoroughly enjoying the masculine spectacle. She liked best his bulging sinewy arms, large rough hands and the ruggedly handsome face that ensured he didn’t have to work hard to ensnare all the hapless females her aunt had gone on about.
Through the misty hazes of his subconscious, Daniel recognized her musky perfume and thought he was back among the wreck of his old home and ordering her out. Beset again with the hurt and anger at finding his home violated and with an intruder inside it, he was suddenly wide awake.
‘You’re a forward bitch,’ he snarled, seeing Grace was present in the flesh and not part of a dream. He sat up quickly, clutching his reeling head. Although he could have bribed a prison warder to smuggle him in some alcohol he had been determined not to risk losing a single day of his remission, so it had been well over a year since a drop of anything stronger than insipid tea had passed his lips. ‘Do they just walk into people’s houses where you come from? Thought your sort had more manners,’ he went on sarcastically, wetting his dry lips and coughing to clear his arid throat. Lifting his cigarettes and lighter up off the floor, he lit up, and still the woman hadn’t explained or defended her intrusion. He growled impatiently, ‘Well, what the hell do you want?’
‘I thought you might need some more help,’ Grace said lightly, unperturbed by his ill humour.
‘What sort of help?’ he grunted, minding his language; the woman had been useful to him yesterday. He got to his feet, shaking his head to clear it.
Grace looked about the room in the critical way she had on entry the day before. Maggie Curnow had shown good taste in her choice of curtains and carpets and in the colour of the paintwork. The chunky modern lines of the three-piece suite, dresser, china display cabinet and sideboard suited the large square interior, but there was a hopeless higgledy-piggledy effect about where she had put the things; it offended Grace’s perfectionist eye. ‘Your furniture has been put in the wrong places. I suggest—’
‘You cheeky cow!’ The nerve of the bloody woman. He rubbed a hand over his stubbly jaw. Desperate for a drink of water to soothe his parched throat, he stalked groggily to the kitchen. Grace followed him. Splashing cold water over his face, he gulped down two cupfuls of water then turned to face her. Taking a deep draw on the cigarette, he said, ‘If you can move the furniture by yourself, put it where you like.’ He tapped his foot on the heap of clothes he had brought from the cottage and tossed on the floor. ‘And you can wash that lot. They weren’t ripped up and they’re not dirty but they smell musty. There’s a line in the garden and I expect Maggie has stowed some pegs away in here somewhere.’
‘I’m not a washerwoman, Daniel,’ Grace said demurely. She wouldn’t know where to start.
‘Well, Grace,’ he scowled, ‘you are if you stay here. If you want to help then you’ll do as I say or you can bugger off ri
ght now.’ He stared at her. He couldn’t work out what she was doing here. Was it out of genuine Christian concern? Was she trying to prove something to the village? Was she after his body? He’d met women of her class before who liked ‘a bit of rough’. He considered making a pass at her. She wasn’t the sort of woman he usually lusted after. He preferred them young, fresh and innocent, with the energy they exuded when they felt the world was at their feet, qualities that had made him see Hannah as much more than his childhood friend. This woman was older than he was but he sensed she was untried, and she was attractive in a ripened kind of way. Goodness knew he’d gone without sex for a very long time.
He banished the thought before his loins burned and he got carried away against his better judgement; Grace Treloar was better kept on side and he didn’t want to complicate things with her. Oh, yes, the good people of Porthellis would be expecting him to resume his old vices; he fully intended to, but not under their noses and certainly not in a way they’d easily notice – at first Whatever this woman was up to, she wasn’t easily rattled. She didn’t take issue with his ingratitude, bad language or coarse behaviour.
‘All right, I’ll try to do it,’ Grace said, careful to hide her abhorrence of undertaking such a menial task. The mustiness of the clothes was overriding the pleasanter smells of the new things in the house and the attractive scent of Daniel’s masculine body. ‘Have you a washing machine?’
‘No, but there’s a boiler beside the sink. Just put the clothes in the water, turn on the gas and it will heat up.’ He patted an odd-looking contraption on the draining board. ‘This is the wringer.’
Grace made a dismissive face at it. ‘Did you enjoy the meal I cooked for you yesterday?’ She was fishing for compliments.
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