Porthellis

by Porthellis (retail) (epub)

  Her spirits lifted. If Daniel felt a pull for the sea in the same way as this place tugged at her heart, she understood why he kept on as a fisherman. Every now and then he sailed up to Plymouth or caught the train there. She knew women weren’t allowed on the boats except for the annual picnic but he wouldn’t let her accompany him on the train either. She hoped he would come home next weekend.

  She moved on to Gorran Haven. Just before she reached the fishing cove famous for its crabbing, she saw a colony of kittiwakes nesting on the rocks. Honking and squawking, they made a glorious noise. Lower down, near the water, sat a row of shags. The water was busy with small craft.

  She took tea at an outside table of a small cafe, sharing it with a charming elderly couple on holiday from Newcastle who promised to drive round to Porthellis and visit her shop. Then she ambled back across the cliff, thinking her life was near to perfect.

  * * *

  Hannah was carrying a bag of groceries up Porthkilt Hill. Striding down towards her in a businesslike fashion was a woman dragging along with her a small girl. The girl’s faltering steps couldn’t keep up and she stumbled, hitting her knee on the hard ground. The woman slapped her leg. Hannah frowned at hearing the smack of flesh on flesh. As they got closer, she saw they were scruffily dressed and none too clean.

  ‘Can you tell me where Danny Kittow lives?’ the woman asked her in a rough voice.

  Hannah saw she was near her own age but harsh lines round her sallow eyes and mouth made her appear older. Her face was heavily made up. Hannah glanced down at the little girl and was dismayed at her filthy face, runny nose and stick-thin arms and legs. Blood trickled down her knee where it had scraped the ground; if Nathan had received such a fall he would have bellowed long and hard. The girl hung back, dry-eyed. A ragged cotton bonnet was rammed down over her head, the scrap of blanket she was clutching as a comforter was black with dirt. Her eyes were red-rimmed and had dark shadows under them. There was a strong smell of urine, mould and cheap scent emanating from their direction.

  Hannah was curious as to why this shabby woman should want to see Daniel. ‘He lives in the same street as me,’ she said. ‘I’ll show you the way. You’ll have to turn round, you’ve just passed it.’

  ‘Bugger.’ The woman pulled the girl round with her, making her worn-out shoes scrape the ground. ‘Is he likely t’be there?’

  ‘No, he’s away with the boats on the pilchard drive. Won’t be home till Saturday, if he comes home at all.’

  The woman swore more soundly. ‘I’ve come all the way from St Austell. I didn’t want t’go back until I’d finished my business with him.’

  ‘Mrs Kittow might be there,’ Hannah said, feeling sorry for the girl who stared vacantly up at her. She had some chocolate in her bag but felt the hostile woman wouldn’t appreciate her offering some to the child. ‘She owns a shop in the village but she isn’t there today.’

  The woman glared at Hannah suspiciously. ‘Are we talking about the same man? He told me his mother was dead years back and his cottage was on the waterfront.’

  ‘He’s got a new house now, down here.’ Hannah turned into Cobble Street, thinking she had never met a more aggressive woman. ‘And I was talking about his wife.’

  ‘Wife? You mean that bastard’s got married?’

  Hannah wished the woman wouldn’t keep swearing in front of the girl. ‘Yes, a few weeks ago.’ She pointed to Chynoweth. ‘That’s his house there.’

  ‘Bloody hell, the jammy bugger! But if he fell in a cesspit he’d make sure he got up smellin’ of roses.’ The woman snorted and strode off without saying thank you.

  Hannah went inside Seaview Cottage via the front door. She wasn’t usually given to twitching the net curtains but she peeped out of the parlour window as the woman approached the new house.

  Grace had only just arrived back from her walk and was making herself a light lunch. Wiping bread crumbs from her hands, she answered the urgent thumping on the front door. She raised her neat brows at the unkempt woman on the doorstep and assumed she was a Gipsy.

  ‘Are you Danny Kittow’s missus?’ the woman snarled, her rank breath hitting Grace’s face.

  ‘Yes, can I help you?’

  ‘Yes, you bloody well can. Come here!’ Her hand shot out and she pulled at something Grace couldn’t see. The next moment a little girl was pushed over the threshold into the hallway. ‘I’ve brought somethin’ for that bastard, his kid. She’s Danny’s. I’ve brung her up for four years on my own without a penny piece from him. Now I can’t cope any more and he can have her.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Here’s her things.’ The woman thrust a small cloth bag at Grace. ‘Her name’s Melanie. You won’t have any trouble with her if you give her a good clout round the ear.’

  Grace was outraged. ‘You can’t turn up on my doorstep and leave your child here.’

  ‘You mean Danny shouldn’t face up to his responsibilities?’ the woman jeered. ‘I’m not the first girl he’s got into trouble. If word gets round I’ve left her here you’ll have a queue outside your bloody door all the way down the road.’

  ‘You can’t prove Daniel’s the child’s father,’ Grace said angrily. She was about to say she was going to call the police when the woman snatched off the girl’s bonnet.

  Grace recoiled. The girl’s hair was thick with scurf and something was crawling through it, but her tatty mane was the rich red colour of Daniel’s. She peered closely at the girl to see if she bore a resemblance to Daniel but her face was so marred with ingrained dirt it was hard to tell. She had sores at the corners of her mouth. The girl pouted and backed away from her. She looked like a Dickensian street urchin and Grace was stung to fury for a different reason. How could someone neglect their child in this way?

  ‘I never doubted Danny would end up in prison,’ the girl’s mother said bitterly, ‘but I never thought he’d get married. You’re a lot older than him. Married you for your money, did he? For this grand house? I was a virgin when I met him. I was going to marry a boy in the same street,’ she snorted, ‘live happily ever after. Then I met Danny while out shopping for me mother. Right away I was dazzled by his good looks. It wasn’t long before I chucked Sidney over and let Danny have his way with me. When I told him I was pregnant he told me t’go to hell. My mother threw me out and all that was left for me t’do was work the streets. He’s welcome to his bastard. Her birth certificate’s in the bag.’

  Grace stood speechless as the woman advanced on her daughter. The child looked frightened and ducked out of her reach. ‘You’re staying with this lady from now on. Be a good girl for her.’ She said no more to bid her child goodbye and gazed icily at Grace. ‘I wish you well with Danny Kittow. I hope he doesn’t destroy your life like he has mine and others’.’

  Grace and Melanie stared warily at each other, not knowing what to do or say. Then to Grace’s horror she saw wetness trickle down Melanie’s legs. When the girl came out of her stupor and realized what was happening, she ran into the space under the stairs and curled herself into a tight ball. The eyes that stared up at Grace were filled with fear.

  Grace was mortified that Melanie should be frightened of her.

  She crouched down before her. ‘It’s all right, Melanie. It was only an accident. I’ll get you cleaned up.’ Grace had no idea how she would do this, only that she needed help.

  Chapter 12

  Grace hurried down the street and knocked on Hannah’s front door; she hadn’t got used yet to the more usual practice of going round to the back of a house where the door was always open. Hannah had stopped looking out of the parlour window when the woman and girl had gone inside Chynoweth. She put aside the little shirt she was making for Nathan and opened the door to find Grace very red in the face.

  ‘Hannah, please can you come with me? I need your help,’ Grace implored her.

  Hannah was alarmed to see this refined woman who was usually in total control of herself wringing her smooth white han
ds on her doorstep. ‘Why? What’s happened?’ Her first thought was that the aggressive woman had attacked her.

  ‘A woman came to the house a short time ago. She had a little girl with her and she’s gone away and left the child with me.’ Grace’s worry had made her as breathless as if she had run ten miles.

  ‘Left her with you?’ Hannah frowned, puzzled.

  Grace went even redder. ‘Yes, she said the girl is Daniel’s child. Now she’s wet herself and seems terrified of me. She’s obviously been ill-treated. I don’t know what to do. Please will you come and help me?’

  Stepping over Daniel Kittow’s doorstep would be like committing sacrilege to Hannah. ‘I don’t know…’

  ‘I know how you feel but I don’t want to ask my aunt, she would fuss so. Please come, for the girl’s sake. She’s wet and smells awful.’

  Hannah was reluctant but she couldn’t dismiss the plea; she had seen for herself how neglected the girl was. ‘Just give me a minute to ask my mother-in-law to mind Nathan.’

  The two women walked the short distance to Chynoweth together. Grace ushered Hannah inside ahead of her.

  The little girl was crouching like a rat in a corner, her red-rimmed eyes enormous in her thin, dirty face. ‘Poor little thing,’ Hannah said. ‘She probably thought you were going to beat her for wetting herself. We must find her something else to wear.’

  ‘Her mother left this.’ Grace picked up the cloth bag which she’d put down on the bottom step of the stairs.

  ‘Look inside it then,’ Hannah prompted her.

  Grace picked up the bag and gingerly loosened the ragged drawstrings. She pulled out a dress. It was washed but creased and in no better condition than the shapeless one on Melanie’s back which looked as if it had been cut down from an old curtain. A shrunken grey cardigan, a grubby nightie and two pairs of hopelessly stretched knickers made up her wardrobe. ‘There must be more than this surely.’ Grace dug about inside the bag but found only Melanie’s birth certificate. She looked at Hannah helplessly.

  It was obvious Grace had no intention of touching the child if she could help it; she probably had no notion about children anyway. Sighing impatiently, Hannah approached the little girl, kneeling close to her and using a soothing voice. ‘It’s all right, my handsome. We’re not going to hurt you. We’re not angry that you’ve done wee-wees. My name’s Hannah and this is Grace. What’s your name?’

  The girl gazed back from large startled eyes.

  ‘Her name’s Melanie,’ Grace said, then looked at the birth certificate. ‘Melanie Wicks. She’s four years old.’

  ‘She’s very small for her age,’ Hannah observed. ‘Listen, Melanie, you must be uncomfortable in your wet clothes. Grace and I want to give you a wash, a nice warm bath, and put you in clean clothes. Would you like that?’

  Melanie did not respond.

  ‘Do children talk by the time they’re four?’ Grace asked, keeping well back and hoping Hannah would lead the child upstairs to the bathroom.

  ‘Most children can form short sentences by the time they’re two,’ Hannah replied shortly, peeved that Grace was hanging back and showing her distaste so obviously. This wasn’t her responsibility.

  ‘I’ll pop upstairs and run the bath water and put out fresh towels. I’ll tip in some bath foam, that should help things along.’ Grace went upstairs, her mind busily ticking over what she should do with the child after she’d been made more presentable.

  Hannah gently touched Melanie’s arm and the little girl allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. Hannah had expected her to fight against her but Melanie meekly climbed the stairs with her. Too afraid not to cooperate, Hannah thought sadly, poor little soul. She tested the bath water for the correct temperature with her elbow.

  ‘You need to undress her,’ she said pointedly to Grace as Melanie stared down nervously into the frothy water. ‘She’s probably never had a bath in her life.’

  ‘Would you mind, Hannah? I know I’ve no right to encroach on your time but I’ve never done anything like this before. I’m afraid I might hurt her.’ Grace’s concern for Melanie was as genuine as her disgust at actually touching such a filthy individual.

  ‘Very well,’ Hannah said resignedly. ‘You’d better go downstairs and wipe some disinfectant over your hall carpet.’

  ‘Oh, yes, of course,’ Grace said, much relieved. She didn’t mind that, she had had to clean up after her kittens a few times.

  Melanie made no protest as Hannah stripped off her clothes but when she tried to take the comfort blanket from her to lift her into the bath, Melanie let out a piercing shriek and struggled violently. Hannah calmed her down and decided to put them in together. The comfort blanket smelled of vomit and other indescribable odours; it might as well be washed too. Melanie was terrified of the bath and clung to Hannah as she tried to lower her into the water. Her thin body was scratched and bruised and dotted with open sores. Hannah was afraid she would cause even more damage if Melanie struggled.

  At last, after much gentle persuasion, Melanie allowed herself to be lowered slowly into the water. Gradually she relaxed as Hannah, all the while speaking kindly, gently swirled it round her battered body. ‘Would you like to smell this soap, Melanie?’ She put the bar of sandalwood scented soap under her nose and Melanie gave it a tentative sniff. ‘I’m going to lather up a flannel and wash you all over. You’ll smell just like the soap and you’ll feel good.’ She hoped the bath would soothe the girl’s neglected skin. She used Grace’s Amami shampoo to wash her hair twice, commandeering her tooth glass to rinse it with clean water. Melanie blinked and wriggled, clutching at Hannah and soaking her, but she made not the slightest protest. She seemed fascinated with the bubbles. As the top layers of dirt washed away, Hannah was struck by how much she looked like Daniel; in fact she was the image of him even without her telltale mop of thick red hair. She had a defeated air about her, heartbreaking to see in one so young. She had probably been bullied and abused all her young life. Hannah was seething; it didn’t seem to have occurred to Grace that Daniel was partly responsible for his daughter’s distress. How she loathed the man.

  Grace came back as Hannah was wrapping a blue fluffy towel round Melanie’s shivering body, the comfort blanket dripping water on to the tiled floor. ‘It seems a shame to put her other dress on her,’ Grace said compassionately, it doesn’t smell very sweet. Is there something we can do?’

  ‘I could pop along to my cousin Lizzie. She mentioned the other day she’s got some clothes her stepdaughter has grown out of. She was going to pass them on to my sister Naomi but I’m sure she’d let me have some.’

  ‘That would solve our immediate problem. I’ll give you some money to pay for them. I’ll fetch my purse.’

  ‘Lizzie won’t want paying, she’ll be only too glad to help,’ Hannah said drily. ‘Shall I take Melanie downstairs?’

  ‘No, my bedroom’s across the landing. She’ll be more comfortable there until you get back.’

  Until she put Melanie on the Kittows’ bed, Hannah hadn’t really taken in how fine Daniel’s house was. The bed was a small reproduction fourposter in golden oak, matching the rest of the sturdy suite – rather masculine, Hannah thought. The bedspread was blue-green in watered silk. The bathroom had been impressive too, she realized. It was modern with brass fittings and a wall heater. Ceramic pots of delicate ferns trailed from glass shelving holding an enormous array of male and female toiletries.

  ‘I’m just going to pop out for a minute, Melanie,’ Hannah said after gently towel-drying the little girl’s hair and rolling her comfort scrap in the end of her towel. ‘If you want to go wee-wees, ask Grace and she’ll take you to the bathroom.’

  While Hannah was away, Grace tried to amuse Melanie by showing her the things on her dressing table. Melanie peeped somewhat mystified out of the confines of the towel. Grace showed her the teddy bear that had been hers as a girl. That had no interest for her either. Suddenly her tiny face lit up. Crystal and Jade, t
he kittens, had crept into the room and jumped on to the bed, seeking attention. They sidled up to Melanie and she let out a hollow giggle, then looking guiltily at Grace she shrank back inside her towel.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Grace said quickly. ‘These are my kittens. They’re called Crystal and Jade. Would you like to hold one?’

  Melanie looked uncertain but nodded. Grace picked up Jade, distinguishable from her sister by a dark smudge on the top of her nose, and nestled her into Melanie’s arms. Crystal followed but both kittens soon wriggled free. Shrugging off the towel for better mobility, Melanie began to play with the kittens on the bed.

  Grace’s mind was in a whirl about how one should treat a child. Then she remembered that children were invariably hungry or thirsty and Melanie looked as if she hadn’t ever eaten well. ‘When we’ve got you dressed you shall have something nice to eat and a glass of milk,’ she stated, feeling more confident.

  Melanie glanced up at her with a look of such longing Grace thought her heart would melt. ‘You stay with Jade and Crystal, my dear. I’ll run downstairs and fetch you some biscuits.’

  Melanie was making crumbs all over the bed as she frolicked naked with the kittens when Hannah returned with a bundle of clothing. She was glad to see that Grace didn’t seem to mind that her immaculate bedroom was getting messed up. There was an empty glass that had contained milk on the bedside cabinet.

  Melanie came reluctantly but instantly to Hannah’s call to get dressed. Hannah wiped the crumbs from her face and put her into a good white vest and pair of knickers, a blue print dress and white cardigan. An old pair of sandals from Lizzie’s stepdaughter fitted her quite well. A pained expression crossed the girl’s face. ‘Do you want to go to the toilet?’ Hannah asked.