She nodded.
Hannah carried her there swiftly, feeling she might not make it in time if she walked. Melanie was nonplussed by the toilet and Hannah had to help her on to the seat. She clutched Hannah’s skirt when she pulled the chain then stared down amazed as the bowl flushed.
Grace was waiting for them on the landing. ‘Shall we go down to the kitchen? I’ll make something for her to eat. Perhaps some scrambled egg on toast.’ She was learning to cook with advice from Nan Trebilcock and a number of cookery books but she hadn’t mastered very much yet.
‘That’s right, Grace, you’re getting the hang of this,’ Hannah said mischievously.
Grace made a wry face.
As Grace bustled about the kitchen and Melanie sat stiffly at the table, Hannah looked round in amazement at all the latest equipment designed to take the drudgery out of housework. There was an Electrolux refrigerator and a washing machine – she had only seen such items before at Roscarrock. She wondered whether Grace or Daniel had supplied them.
‘You’ll have to ask Melanie frequently if she wants the toilet,’ Hannah said. ‘I should burn her old clothes to get rid of the lice. You’ll have to get some lotion from the chemist to kill the lice in her hair and some boracic acid to bathe her eyes. She’s got pinkeye. You’ll likely as not find her eyes will be stuck together tomorrow morning by the heavy discharge. You’ll have to bathe them with cooled boiled water.’
Grace was sickened. ‘Poor little girl, but she won’t be here tomorrow.’
‘Why not?’ Hannah challenged tartly.
‘Well, I… I can’t look after her. She can’t stay here. I’ll phone the authorities and they can come and collect her and find her somewhere to live.’
‘Why can’t she live here?’ Hannah demanded savagely. ‘She’s Daniel’s child. You don’t dispute that, do you? Look at her, can’t you see the resemblance?’
‘Yes,’ Grace said lamely; she had been trying not to think about it. ‘But I’m not capable of caring for a child.’
‘You mean you don’t want to.’ Hannah faced her with the cruel truth. ‘It would upset your cosy little world, wouldn’t it? How can you think about sending her away? Her mother’s a despicable creature, she doesn’t want Melanie. Are you going to throw her on the scrapheap too?’
Grace was nearly in tears. The eggs she was scrambling were beginning to burn and she hastily piled the good bits on to the toast and put it in front of Melanie. Melanie was white and pinched. Grace smiled at her, hating herself. ‘There you are, darling. Tuck in and you can have some ice cream for afters.’ Melanie ignored the knife and fork and began to eat using her hands.
Hannah felt she had said enough. Saying goodbye to Melanie, she made for the front door. Grace raced after her. ‘Hannah, I feel sorry for the girl but it’s not my responsibility to bring her up.’
Hannah whirled round. ‘Yes it is. She’s Daniel’s daughter, you’re Daniel’s wife. It’s as simple as that. Or are you as rotten to the core as he is?’
‘Daniel’s not rotten,’ Grace exploded.
‘Then he won’t mind being presented with his child, will he? Or are you afraid of that, Grace? That he’ll insist on turning her out like he turned his back on her before she’d even been born. It’s not the first time he’s left some poor innocent girl in trouble, you know. He seduced the girl my brother Mitch married. She came to Porthellis looking for help from Mitch and then Josh tried to force himself on her. Daniel saved her from that and afterwards Mitch beat Josh until he turned stupid. It was all Daniel’s fault in the first place. He leaves a trail of hurt and destruction behind him wherever he goes. Don’t worry about Viv’s baby turning up to stake a claim on its real father, she lost it after what happened. If I want to see Mitch and Viv I have to go to Portmellon because they won’t set foot here again, and all because of Daniel. I hope that’s given you something to think about. Good morning, Mrs Kittow.’ Hannah swept out of the new house on a tide of indignation and anger.
Grace stood for several minutes in stunned humiliation then she picked up the telephone. She asked the doctor to call. When she went back to the kitchen, Melanie was raiding the biscuit tin. Grace could see that she had hidden biscuits inside her clothes and the damp comfort blanket but she did not say anything.
Melanie sat on the floor and played with the kittens until she nodded off to sleep. She looked comfortable so Grace left her on the floor and sat at the table, pulling at her nails as she waited for the doctor. She tried not to think about Hannah’s cutting remarks; instead she wondered how best to get out of this predicament. Melanie was Daniel’s responsibility and only to a lesser extent hers. The answer came quickly – boarding school. Until Melanie was old enough to attend, she could live in a nursery. She would see to it tomorrow. She would pay. Daniel couldn’t grumble. It was a pity he had to know about this.
When the doctor came he wanted to inform the authorities of Melanie’s neglect but Grace assured him that she would take care of the child’s future. She paid for a taxi to collect the prescriptions of boracic acid and treatments for head lice and scabies from a chemist in St Austell. Bribing Melanie with chocolate, she got her to lay her head on a towel on the kitchen table and clumsily bathed her eyes and treated her skin and hair, using the fine-toothed comb the doctor had said she’d also need to dislodge the nits. Again, Melanie did not complain.
There was a nightie in the bundle of clothes Hannah had brought and Grace changed Melanie into it at seven o’clock when she looked sleepy. The other three bedrooms were fully furnished with items Grace had sent to Kent for. She put Melanie into the single bedroom next to hers, complete with the damp and crumby comforter. Digging out a storybook from her childhood days, she read Goldilocks and the Three Bears to her. Melanie stared at her blankly. She probably had no notion of fairy tales. Grace went downstairs after telling Melanie where she was going; she only had to shout if she needed her.
Grace poured herself a large gin and tonic and curled up on the sofa. She hoped Hannah would say nothing about the girl to anybody. With any luck she would be able to get Melanie out of Porthellis without any fuss.
She was awakened in the middle of the night by the most terrible screams. Dashing to Melanie’s room, she found her sitting up rigidly in bed, screaming as if she was being burned to death. Grace shook her gently, then more forcefully until she woke up fully. Her little body shook with sobs. Grace didn’t know where the words came from but she gradually soothed her night terrors away until Melanie went quiet, resting her sharp chin on her shoulder. Suddenly filled with emotion, Grace hugged her close. The bed was soaked with sweat and urine.
‘Out you come, darling. Now, don’t worry. I’ll put dry sheets on the bed and find you something else to wear.’ Taking off the soiled nightie, she washed Melanie in the bathroom then improvised, feeling rather pleased with her effort, by putting a short-sleeved cotton cardigan of her own on her. She pulled off the wet sheets and scrubbed the bed with disinfectant. Her mother had been incontinent towards the end of her life and one of the rubber sheets had been mixed up with the good linen sent down from Kent. She put this at the dry end of the bed, put on a fresh linen sheet and tucked Melanie in a second time. The rest of the night passed quite peacefully but Melanie wet the bed again.
First thing in the morning, Grace bathed her sticky eyes and put her in the bath. Her repugnance for these tasks had gone and her actions were gentle. When Melanie was dry she smoothed ointment on her sores and dressed her in more of Lizzie Jacobs’s hand-me-downs. As they ate cereal at the breakfast table, Grace didn’t have the heart to send Melanie away – not until the signs of her neglect had healed. She didn’t want her ostracized for something that wasn’t her fault; people, particularly other children, could be so unkind.
She phoned her aunt. Adela Skewes immediately buzzed down the hill and agreed that the child must be sent to a nursery. She would have preferred straight away. ‘After all, she is a… you know.’
Grace
wanted to go to St Austell but Mrs Skewes declined to mind Melanie for a couple of hours. Nan Trebilcock was more sympathetic. Grace confided in her fully and she was happy to help. She started on the soiled linen and offered to cut Melanie’s hair tidily. Nan could be trusted. She’d been hurt when the villagers had shunned her for working for Daniel and she felt a loyalty towards the Kittows. She had willingly responded to Grace’s probings about Daniel and the Penneys, informing her that it was jealousy over Hannah that had caused the estrangement. This was as much as Grace had learned before; it hadn’t settled her, she felt Daniel must have loved Hannah very much to hate her like he did now.
‘There’s a box of my old toys in the smallest bedroom and Melanie likes to play with the kittens,’ Grace said, pulling on her light cotton gloves then reaching for her clutch bag and car keys. ‘She can play in the back garden if she wants.’
‘I’ll watch her with me life, Mrs Kittow, never fear,’ said Nan amiably. ‘She’s the dead spit of her father, right enough. Feed her up and put some flesh on her bones and I’ll reckon she’ll be a pretty little maid.’
‘She is pretty,’ Grace declared. ‘Be sure to ask her regularly if she wants to use the bathroom, but if she does have an accident you’re not to chide her. There are clean clothes in her room.’
Grace drove back and forth as fast as the narrow lanes and other traffic allowed her. She staggered into the house with armfuls of bags and packages. Nan helped her to spread the dresses and sets of underclothes, pairs of socks and shoes bought for Melanie over the sitting room furniture. She tried to add up in her head how much her employer must have spent but soon lost count. ‘Got something for every day of the week here, missus.’ She twirled a beribboned straw hat on her red-varnished fingertips.
‘Goodness knows she deserves it, Nan. I don’t expect she’s ever had anything but rags in her life. I want her to have nice things for her new start. Actually, I quite enjoyed myself. You’ve done a good job on her hair, a fringe suits her. I must pay you extra for that.’
Melanie was playing on the floor with the kittens, unaware that the clothes were for her. Grace smiled down at her. ‘Some of her habits are rather anti-social but she’s quite manageable. Has she spoken since I’ve been out?’
‘Not a word. She didn’t come near me unless I invited her to, like as if she’s used to having to keep out of the way of grownups. When I started singing she got a bit upset. I think she thought I was shouting at her.’
‘Poor little dear. She’s had a dreadful start in life. Well, I’ll make sure she’s well cared for from now on. I’ve written to the authorities. I’ll make sure her appalling mother can never claim her back.’
In the afternoon, Hannah knocked on the door. ‘You’ve still got her with you then?’
‘Yes,’ Grace replied coolly. Hannah had been right to attack her yesterday over her uncaring attitude but she was still smarting. ‘Do you want to come in and check on her?’
‘No.’ Up went Hannah’s chin. ‘Not if you’re going to put it like that. It’s really none of my business.’
‘That’s right. It’s mine and Daniel’s business.’
‘I doubt if he’ll think it’s his. I’ll leave you to it.’ On this dour tone, Hannah departed.
‘I forgot to thank you for your help yesterday,’ Grace called after her grudgingly. ‘I’m grateful to you. I’ll send back the clothes borrowed from your cousin.’ Then she muttered under her breath, ‘Don’t come here again.’
Holding her hand tightly, Grace took Melanie out into the village the next day. Her new crisp cotton skirt and blouse couldn’t hide her shameful thinness. The good food, milk and vitamins Grace had pumped into her had made the dark circles under her eyes a little less obvious and her nose didn’t run as much. Her straw hat obscured most of her hair but its colour was commented upon. Every now and then Grace had to discourage Melanie from scratching her healing sores.
They paid a visit to the gift shop where Grace told Melanie she could choose anything she liked from the shelves. Miss Faulkner’s high bust bristled at her lack of manners as Melanie snatched a three-inch felt piskie and wrapped it inside her comfort blanket. Grace bought sweets for her in the grocery shop where Hamlyn Innis looked down on Melanie in disdain. Grace decided she’d sell sweets in her shop in competition with Hamlyn. In the tea shop Mrs Trudgeon was kinder, giving Melanie a free cream bun. She asked straight out, ‘Belongs to Daniel, does she?’
Grace replied stoutly, ‘Yes, and I’m glad to be looking after her.’
After walking along the quay, afraid Melanie would tire easily, Grace led her to sit down in a quiet spot on an upturned rowing boat near the beach. A fresh breeze fanned their faces and Grace thought it would do Melanie good. They were joined by Lizzie Jacobs, her two stepchildren and her two natural children, the youngest a three-month-old baby.
‘So, this is the little maid Hannah told me about,’ Lizzie said good-naturedly. ‘You’ve got her looking a treat compared to what Hannah said.’ Lizzie’s older children scampered away to play on the sand. ‘She’s welcome to join mine if she likes. She’ll need friends.’
Grace was about to say Melanie wouldn’t be in the village long enough for that but a painful lump in her throat prevented her. She looked at Melanie, sitting so very close, leaning into, ramming her fingers into the sweet packet, a slightly aggressive gleam in her deep blue eyes telling she wouldn’t share them. An unknown force grew in Grace, a feeling she found comfortable and natural, and which she did not want to fight. She put her arm round Melanie firmly, kissed the top of her head. ‘Thank you. I think she’s rather shy at the moment. Tell me, Mrs Jacobs, do you think the villagers would shun Melanie because she’s Daniel’s and was born out of wedlock?’
‘Well, there may be some that would be prejudiced but most of us wouldn’t take it out on a child. ’Tisn’t her fault how she came into the world. Besides, she’s the minister’s great-niece.’
Grace gazed thoughtfully at the white sparkles of water where the breeze disturbed the reflection of the sun on it. The cliff of the dark side was bathed in light today. ‘Yes, she is,’ Grace agreed softly.
On the fourth night that Melanie had the night terrors, Grace took her into her own bed, putting the rubber sheet over the mattress as added protection to the nappy she’d put on her – a piece of advice from Nan Trebilcock. Melanie slept with one hand on her comfort blanket, the other clutching Grace’s nightdress. Grace wrapped her arms round her. ‘There you are, darling. Grace is going to make everything better for you.’
Daniel got home late on Saturday night, after personally passing on a package of jewellery, stolen in France and brought across the Channel, to his fence in Plymouth. Grinning at his wife’s bare arm stretched across the bed, he tore off his clothes, eager for her after the week’s absence. He yanked back the bedclothes and it seemed to him all hell broke loose.
A child was sitting up, stiff as a ramrod, screaming her head off in his bed. ‘What the bloody hell’s going on?’ he shouted.
‘Daniel, for goodness’ sake, put something on,’ Grace hissed. ‘You mustn’t let her see you naked like that.’
As he grabbed his shirt and held it to his waist, the child slithered out of bed and ran past him, blubbering loudly. ‘Grace, for goodness’ sake—’
‘Explanations will have to wait. I must go to Melanie. You’ve frightened her out of her wits.’
‘She’s frightened? Who is she?’ he demanded incredulously, but his wife had disappeared after the offending child. Next moment he howled in rage, ‘The bed’s bloody wet!’
It was half an hour before Grace returned to him, half an hour in which, clad in his underpants, he had smoked and ground his teeth and paced up and down the bedroom carpet. ‘It had better be good,’ he snarled at her.
‘Don’t you recognize her, Daniel?’ Grace sought to make light of it as she pulled the wet sheet off the bed, but she was nervous.
‘What’s the kid got to do with m
e?’
‘She’s your daughter.’ Grace rubbed her arms to stop her trembling. She felt vulnerable and a little fearful as he loomed over her. ‘Her mother brought her here five days ago. She’s been terribly ill-treated, Daniel.’
‘Are you out of your sodding mind? Some bitch turns up on the doorstep and you take in her brat? The bitch saw you for a rich woman and leapt in with both feet to get rid of the kid and you fell for it. She’s out of the house first thing in the morning.’
Grace fought to stay calm. ‘I’m positive she’s your child, Daniel. She’s the living image of you. Her mother’s name is Janie Wicks. She lives at St Austell. Do you remember her? She said you seduced her.’
‘Name’s familiar,’ he growled. ‘It doesn’t prove nothing.’
‘Look at Melanie tomorrow, Daniel. You’ll see she’s yours.’ Grace employed a softer feminine note, running her hands over his chest in the tantalizing way he liked.
‘Supposing she is. What’re you doing with her?’
‘I’ve been looking after her. At first I thought to send her away but I’ve grown very attached to her. I’m thinking about raising her as mine.’ She thought it wise not to say ‘ours’. ‘I want to see she gets a good education, all the benefits of life she deserves.’
He snorted. ‘What about your shop? Got bored with that already, have you? I got the impression you didn’t like kids. Or are you going to get a nanny or something?’
The cloud of worry that had hung heavily over her for the past five days evaporated and words she’d never thought she’d say tumbled out of her mouth. ‘Miss Faulkner has said before that she’d run the shop full-time if the occasion arose and I could employ a part-time girl to help. I don’t think I’ll get a nanny. I want to give Melanie all my time, to help her live a normal life. She’s four years old, Daniel, and she doesn’t talk yet and she still needs nappies.’
‘All right, I don’t want to hear any more about it. Do what you like with the kid. Just make sure you keep her out of my way and remember it’s your idea not mine.’ He pulled her to him roughly. ‘Now do you think you can forget about being a bloody mother and concentrate on being my wife?’
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