‘Give me a few minutes,’ Prim said, laying Jeff and Josh’s collars in a neat row on her overgrown privet.
‘You should get yer old man to trim that, give un something t’do instead on spying on we.’
That the giant had seen through Jeff’s real intention for idling his sick leave away on the quay made Prim blush. ‘He has to take it easy, Brinley. Has to watch his heart.’
There was a frightened cry from inside the kitchen. ‘Josh!’ She dropped the enamelled bowl, her best small tablecloth spilling on to the ash-covered path, and hastened indoors; in a moment of despair she had once nearly smothered Josh but now she was as protective of her brain-damaged son as if he was a newborn baby. Brinley ran after her.
Wearing a sackcloth apron, Josh was standing on the rope mat at the fireside, whimpering and coughing. He was black with soot from head to toe, the long flue brush dangling limply from his hand. ‘Aw, Mu-um.’
Prim suppressed a kindly laugh. Josh became upset if people made fun of him but he looked so comical with only the whites of his narrowed eyes gleaming like beacons on the darkest night. ‘Just stand still, son. I’ll get you cleaned up in no time.’ She said to Brinley, ‘He was cleaning out the flue of the range. I should have known it was too hard a job for him.’
Brinley fetched the large tin bath hanging up outside on the back wall. With deft movements he gently helped Prim strip Josh naked and cover him with an old horsehair blanket. They filled the bath with hot soapy water from the copper, left over from Prim’s washing, and the young man was scrubbed pink and clean.
‘The soap’s not too harsh for him,’ Prim said to Brinley, furiously rubbing a flannel round her son’s ears while he protested about the indignity of having a bath during the daytime. He’d forgotten about his mishap with the soot. ‘Good job I didn’t do all my washing on Monday.’
Brinley was carefully cleaning up the soot with damp rags. ‘Poor bugger. He didn’t know what hit un. Well, at least yer flue’s cleaned out. Yer fire will draw like a wild stallion.’
‘Thanks, Brinley. Jeff would only’ve shouted at the boy and frightened him. And he wouldn’t have helped me clean up the place.’
‘’Tis my pleasure, Prim. Tell ’ee what, when we’re done, why don’t I go up t’the bakehouse and get us all some cream buns to have with that tea?’
‘We’d like that, wouldn’t we, Josh?’ Prim said, tipping clean water over her son’s head.
* * *
Grace knocked on the front door of Seaview Cottage. She was planning a house-warming party. Thinking Daniel would not be interested in this sort of entertaining, she had been pleasantly surprised when he had agreed to it. He’d had a twinkle in his eye when she said she would invite every neighbour in Cobble Street. Nan Trebilcock, who had agreed to become Grace’s daily help, was to do the catering; Grace would pay for the extra hours.
She had written a formal invitation to the Opies. On arriving home she had found a polite letter from Feena Opie awaiting her, concerning her horses; not a friendly gesture, and she had had to take up her original arrangement with Henry Teague, but she hoped someone from Roscarrock would attend the party. She thought some of the people from the village would come, if only out of curiosity, and hopefully she’d be able to persuade her aunt and uncle to join in. She was more doubtful about Hannah Penney but as she had been the first friend she had made here, and they were close neighbours, she wanted to ask her first.
Hannah answered the door and invited Grace inside. She led the way to the kitchen where she had been sewing at the table. Mrs Penney exchanged pleasantries with Grace and promptly brought out the biscuit barrel and set about making coffee.
‘I’ll come straight to the point,’ Grace said when seated at the other end of the table. ‘Daniel and I are giving a house-warming party on Saturday evening. I’d like to extend an invitation to you, Hannah, and Matt and Mrs Penney.’
‘What’s a house-warming party?’ Mrs Penney interjected before Hannah came out with the refusal written bluntly across her face. ‘I’ve never heard of such a thing.’
‘It’s what people do when they move into a new house, Mrs Penney,’ Grace said. ‘I do hope you’ll come.’
Hannah repeated what she’d said to her Aunty Janet not many horns since. ‘I will never set foot inside Daniel Kittow’s house and neither will Matt.’
‘That goes for me too, but thank you for thinking of us,’ Mrs Penney said politely.
‘Look, I know there are bad feelings between your family and Daniel, but coming to the party could change that,’ Grace coaxed.
‘You have my decision,’ Hannah said, her blue eyes cold.
Grace rose, leaving her coffee untouched. ‘I see. I hope we can still be friends, Hannah.’
‘Of course. I’ll show you out.’
‘This is silly,’ Grace exclaimed. ‘I’m holding out an olive branch to you. All the unpleasantness of the past could be left there. I don’t know what it is that Daniel’s supposed to have done—’
‘Never mind the past,’ Hannah said sharply. ‘You may choose to overlook his true nature but if you’d open your eyes you’d see what he’s doing now. He’s terrorizing all of us with his band of thugs. One of them is locked up for assaulting my cousin’s fiancée. Half the children in the village have learned the vilest swear words, women have had to clean vomit off their doorsteps after those men have been drinking. The door of the barkhouse was kicked in. Do I have to go on?’
‘No, you do not,’ Grace said. She wanted to say something in her husband’s defence but could only feel ashamed because she knew what Hannah was saying was true. ‘Good morning to you both.’
She saw herself out. Drawing in a deep breath of salty air, she listened to a pair of gulls perched on the roof of Seaview Cottage squawking raucously at each other and she knew she and Hannah had come close to an open quarrel. She had to find out exactly what had happened between her and Daniel. He must have known the Penneys wouldn’t come to the house-warming; it must have amused him to think of them being asked. Only on one occasion had he spoken of Hannah and it had been with loathing. Their mutual hatred had come out of a once very close relationship and that made Grace feel uneasy. She did not have the heart to go up to the Manse at this moment. Aunt Adela had sobbed down the telephone when she’d called yesterday to say she would be seeing about having her things delivered to the new house. She went home; perhaps Nan Trebilcock would be forthcoming about what she was burning to know.
Later in the morning Daniel saw Lily Andrews enter the Rouses’ house. He’d wanted to see her again and now he would make the opportunity. Lily must have heard about him but she hadn’t seen him in the village. Not wanting to risk being pointed out by her mouthy future mother-in-law, he finished his work quickly, went home, washed and dressed smartly. He told Grace he had some business to see to, then walked towards Roscarrock.
Lily had only a couple of free hours and it wasn’t long before she was walking back along the lanes, re-reading a romantic poem Jowan had written for her. Daniel had hidden behind the hedge of Turn-A-Penny Lane. When she passed by, he climbed over the hedge and quickly caught her up.
‘Oh, good morning.’ He doffed his hat. ‘Miss Andrews, isn’t it?’ He sauntered along at her side as if he had all the time in the world.
‘Yes, sir,’ Lily said politely. She looked at him sidelong; if she hadn’t taken up with Jowan she would have made a point of walking the lanes more often in the hope of meeting this handsome stranger. The pale gauntness of his face had gone, replaced by a healthy colour. ‘’Tis fair weather.’
‘Yes, indeed. Perfect for walking. Are you hurrying back to work?’
‘I’ve got half an hour to spare,’ Lily replied artfully; she might as well enjoy talking to him and she wanted to know who he was. ‘Um, are you on holiday, sir?’
‘No, I live in the area,’ he said. He swept his practised eye over her comely figure – pity he had to keep his hands off her, but she was connect
ed to Hannah. ‘I understand a family called Opie live at Roscarrock and didn’t you mention a Mrs Penney when I saw you last?’
‘Oh, she was the housekeeper before I come to Roscarrock. Mrs Opie owns the property. She got very fond of Mrs Penney and she still comes to visit every week. Dines there sometimes. Her sister, Miss Leah, married Mrs Opie’s grandson.’
‘So there is a family connection?’ Lily had mentioned before that Hannah was treated like one of the family. He wanted to draw out what she’d meant.
‘Yes, but Mrs Opie makes more fuss of Mrs Penney than Mrs Greg. Sometimes I think Mrs Greg gets a bit jealous. Well, you can’t blame her. Mrs Opie gives Mrs Penney presents all the time and treats her baby boy as if he was her grandson.’
‘What a curious arrangement,’ Daniel commented to encourage the under-housemaid’s runaway tongue.
‘’Tis when you think that Mrs Opie had no dealings with anyone from Porthellis for years until Mrs Penney came to work for her. Makes you think.’
‘Think about what?’
‘Well, Mrs Opie doesn’t go out and mix much. I s’pose she could be afraid of spending a lonely old age. But then Mrs Penney is ever so pretty and such a nice woman, anyone would get very fond of her.’
‘Would they?’ Daniel replied rather sourly.
Feeling that she was losing his interest, Lily became indiscreet. ‘Course, there could be another reason.’ Abruptly she closed her mouth. It was one thing to exchange rumours with other folk in service but quite another to gossip to a stranger.
‘You were saying?’ Daniel prompted, fearing she was about to clam up. He quickened his step and stood in front of her, smiling kindly.
Realization suddenly hit Lily. How could she have been so stupid? Why had she not realized before who this man was? She’d heard enough about him, he was the talk of the area. Tall, handsome, striking red hair. He’d made the effort to speak nicely but his accent and his rough hands had told her he was not a gentleman. Panic raced up her spine. Daniel Kittow was said to be devious and dangerous, and he preyed on young girls. For some reason he wanted to know about the set-up at Roscarrock, and Mrs Penney in particular; it was said he hated her. Lily was alone with him and he wanted an answer from her.
The rush of colour clouding her pert, chubby face and the way her body stiffened alerted Daniel. So the game was up. He said coldly, ‘What do they say about Hannah Penney and the Opie woman?’
‘Nothing. I… let me past. I should have got back ages ago.’
A cruel twist came to his wide mouth. ‘You’re going nowhere until you answer me.’
Remembering how Tippy had forced a kiss on her, Lily was terrified she’d be dragged off to a field and raped.
‘I – if I tell you, will you promise not to hurt me?’
‘Well, if you don’t tell me, Lily, I will definitely hurt you, very badly.’
Lily began to cry. ‘Th-there was a nurse, sh-she nursed Mrs Opie. My m-mother knows a woman who works at another big house where the nurse was employed. She said the nurse found out that Mrs Penney is really Mrs Opie’s…’ Lily swallowed the bile in her throat.
Daniel caught her arms and shook her impatiently. ‘Yes, go on.’
‘M-Mrs Opie’s d-daughter.’ Lily broke into uncontrollable sobs.
The subtle difference he had noticed in the Hannah he’d known for so many years fell into place, her haughtiness, the way she wore her clothes, her love of Roscarrock. Now he had the reason why she had suddenly been offered the job as housekeeper at a very young age, why Greg Opie seemed uncommonly fond of her, and why the Opie woman had been going to take her off to Torquay when she got pregnant. They’d be living there now if Matt Penney hadn’t nearly perished in the sea, making Hannah realize how much she loved him. The last thought made him feel sick.
‘The bitch,’ he snarled under his breath, terrifying Lily. When had she found out she was Feena Opie’s daughter? While they had still been friends?
He tightened his grip on the quivering maid. ‘You’re not to tell anyone else this, do you understand? I’ll know if you do and I’ll come after you and then I’ll break the legs of the silly little bastard you’re engaged to.’
Now he had something he could use to wipe the smug expression off Hannah’s face. He had the knowledge to cause a scandal that would upset her cosy little world and perhaps deny her an inheritance she was no doubt looking forward to. She was fond of the Opie woman and might do anything to protect her real mother’s reputation. He’d use the knowledge when it suited him.
Throwing Lily against the hedge, he left her there weeping bitterly.
Chapter 11
The Porthellis fleet left for the pilchard drive in July, staying at Newlyn, the men travelling home by train at the weekend to save time and fuel. Wives, mothers and sweethearts had long lonely hours to endure but at least they had respite from the Sunrise’s vulgar crew.
The Sunrise caught marginally better catches than the other boats, not because its crew were more experienced or more skilled but because their skipper drove them relentlessly. They made more money per week because they often fished on Sunday like some of the Newlyn men and their up-country rivals. The consensus was that Daniel Kittow was out to prove himself superior at his trade because of his enforced absence. Some people hoped he’d wear himself, his crew and the boat out permanently, others asked what good it would do if they foundered while out fishing in risky conditions.
Hannah’s pregnancy was beginning to show and bowing to the exhortations of Matt and Nathan’s four ‘grandmothers’, the riding lessons she had begun with Leah under the tuition of Greg and the able young stable boy came to a halt all too soon. She had taken to the saddle as if she had been born to it and looked forward to resuming the lessons after her confinement. She still went to the stable every week so that the pony she had ridden, an even-tempered chestnut mare called Bonny, would not forget her.
Jeff had been a regular visitor to Roscarrock during the days he spent recovering from his chest infection. Leah missed his visits now that he was back at work and she went more often to the village. She sat in the various homes of her family, hardly changed from the quiet, loyal girl she had been before her marriage. Greg lavished attention on her but neither Feena nor Patrick showed the same fond interest in her as they did in Hannah. Sometimes she felt miffed at being overlooked, but usually she was content to keep in the background. She spent many hours daydreaming or reading in the summerhouse erected specially for her. Very occasionally Mrs Opie joined her and the lady trusted her to take Pogo for his walks. All three women had their ears pierced.
While Leah prayed she would get pregnant, Grace made sure she did not. Having escaped the first month of her marriage, she visited her doctor and had a contraceptive fitted. She had no idea whether Daniel wanted children, he never mentioned the subject. If it turned out one day that he did want to be a father, she would consider having just one to please him.
Her gift shop was now up and running. She had taken the premises next to Phineas Brown’s butcher’s shop, renovating and enlarging the poky, long-deserted building. Its shelves were stocked with ornaments made from seashells, felt piskies, models of tin mines, cheap china animals for the less discerning mantelpieces, scenic postcards, Cornish wall plaques, pretty boxes of stationery, notebooks, pens and pencils. She approached local craftsmen and craftswomen and soon had lacework, knitted garments and pottery on display, together with good quality costume jewellery, wools and embroidery silks. She did not want to work in the shop full-time and for twenty-five hours a week she employed a middle-aged spinster, Miss Faulkner, who lived in a small wayside cottage not far outside the village.
Her fear that Hannah would shun her was unfounded. Hannah was not as friendly but she was one of the first customers in the shop on its opening day to wish her well and she bought some embroidery silk. Although none but the nosy turned up for Grace’s house-warming party, the villagers accepted her presence among them. They never ment
ioned Daniel; it was as if they overlooked the fact that she was his wife. The Opies had declined her invitation but Feena called on her one afternoon and promised to come again. It took Adela Skewes six weeks to settle her nerves and come to terms with her niece’s ill-advised marriage and visit her home. It now bore Grace’s choice of name in a flourish of wrought iron near the front door – Chynoweth, meaning new house. There Adela encountered the only family Grace desired: two pure white kittens called Crystal and Jade.
Porthellis lived in a restless quietness, concentrating on catering for the growing holiday trade. Mrs Trudgeon opened part of the bakehouse shop as a small tearoom and Hannah’s elder sister Sarah in River Street took in bed and breakfast. Like wary observers watching the tide for dangerous undercurrents, the villagers watched Daniel Kittow for signs of what he might do next, and the European nations watched Adolf Hitler.
One weekend after Daniel had been home, Grace left Miss Faulkner in charge of the shop and took a walk along the cliff to assuage her loneliness. The women spoke of how bereft they felt when their men were away, not knowing if they were safe and sound until the following Saturday, and although Chynoweth was on the telephone and Daniel occasionally rang her, she found the emptiness in her heart almost too much to bear at times. She loved him hopelessly.
She walked to the Dodman, stopping a moment to read the inscription at the foot of its towering cross: IN THE FIRM HOPE OF THE SECOND COMING OF OUR LORD JESUS CHRIST AND FOR THE ENCOURAGEMENT OF THOSE WHO STRIVE TO SERVE HIM THIS CROSS IS ERECTED A.D. 1896. She said a prayer for Daniel’s safety.
She trekked on until she was, according to her pathfinder’s map, looking down on Vault Beach. It was a picturesque spot. High sloping fields and cliff looked down on the sea passively lapping the sand. Seaweed bobbed in the surf. In shallower areas the water was a beautiful aquamarine green which she likened to the eyes of her kittens. Above, an unseen lark trilled. On the banks, foxgloves and cow parsley grew with sloe. Orange insects with black wingtips hovered over five-foot-high thistles with many deep purple heads on their stems. Pretty pink flowers brightened the brambles. There was honeysuckle and elderberry. On the gorse bushes, spiders had spun webs as fine as muslin.
Porthellis Page 12