‘Shy? You?’ She giggled, raising herself to look down on him. ‘You’ve never been shy with me.’
‘I mean I wish I’d had the nerve to ask the doctor if it’s all right for us to make love properly. I want you so much I could die,’ he ended.
‘Do you think you’re strong enough?’
‘I wasn’t thinking of myself. If it hurts me I’d only have to stop. I was thinking of you, whether we ought to take the risk of you getting pregnant again. I don’t want you getting upset.’
Hannah moved to lie facing him on the pillow. She swallowed hard. ‘Matt, I’ve been waiting for the right moment to tell you something. Dr Bennett suggested it, to help us get over the grief of losing our baby. It sounds a strange thing to do, really, but he’s sure it will help us both.’
‘What is it?’ He took her hand and interlocked their fingers.
Tears glistened in her eyes. ‘He said that we should name the baby. I know it was a girl. Mother told me. Then we… should picture holding her in our arms, say hello to her, then goodbye. Then, as we’ve a strong faith, we –’ she was sobbing now and tears fell from Matt’s eyes too, ‘– we should p-picture ourselves giving her to God to look after for us, until we meet again in eternity.’
Matt held Hannah close. It was some moments before he could speak. ‘Catherine Ellen Penney. Hello, Catherine… it’s your mummy and daddy… we-we just want t-to say we love you and g-goodbye, for now. Dear God, please t-take care of our little girl for us.’
They cried until the tears would no longer come.
‘Are you all right, darling?’ Matt asked softly.
‘Yes,’ Hannah nodded, giving him a watery smile. ‘I love you so much, Matt.’
He kissed her very tenderly. ‘I love you with all my heart, Hannah.’
Their lips met and in a short time they were consumed with desire. ‘I want you, Matt,’ she whispered desperately. ‘I need you so much. If we make another baby it will be conceived with all the love we can give it.’
‘If you’re sure you’re ready,’ he whispered back. ‘All that matters is that we have each other and Nathan, that we are a family.’
* * *
That afternoon Matt told Hannah and his mother he wanted to rest, but after five minutes lying on the bed he got up and began turning out cupboards and drawers. As he put aside items for the bazaar, which was to be held in two days’ time, he felt useful again. Soon he had a pile of things on the bed, his sailing magazines, his collection of tin soldiers and cigarette cards, his Flash Gordon books. He added novels by Rider Haggard, Conan Doyle and R.M. Ballantyne. He would have liked to give some of his old toys to Nathan when he was older but the village was too badly in need to be sentimental. From his chest of drawers he donated his favourite tiepin and cufflinks made of nine-carat gold.
After a while he sat on the bed to rest What else could he give? He thought of his late father’s collection of gramophone records. Knowing he would have contributed if he’d been alive to do so, Matt decided they could go too. The only snag was that they were in an old suitcase, up on the top shelf inside the wardrobe. The suitcase was heavy and it wouldn’t be wise to try to pull it down from such an awkward angle. He couldn’t ask Hannah or his mother to do it. A stubborn part of him wasn’t going to wait for Josh to be fetched.
Opening the wardrobe doors, he steadied his feet and taking hold of the suitcase handle he braced himself. Counting, one, two, three, he pulled the suitcase out and swung it down towards the floor. An agonising pain tore through his body. He was forced to drop the suitcase the last few inches and it thumped on to the floor at the same time as he cried out. Clutching his ribs he doubled over, leaning against the wardrobe.
Hannah and Mrs Penney came rushing into the room together. ‘Dear God, Matt, what were you doing?’ Hannah rushed to him, climbing over the suitcase. ‘You shouldn’t have tried to take that down all by yourself.’
‘Why not?’ he howled, his twisted features showing inner torment as much as physical pain. ‘It doesn’t weigh a ton. I should be able to do that by now! I should be out there fishing with the other men, not stuck in the house like a bloody invalid!’ As he stared at Hannah, he saw her chin tremble and she looked away. ‘Oh, no,’ he groaned, a sound that came from deep within him. He sank to the floor. ‘That’s it, isn’t it? I am an invalid! I’m not going to get better. I’m nothing. I’m not a man any more.’ A great sob wracked him, he clenched his hands to his face and his shoulders shook as he wept.
Hannah knew she must break through his despair. She knelt before him and wrenched his hands away. ‘You look at me, Matt Penney!’ she bellowed passionately. ‘And you listen to me. You are a man, the best man this village has ever known. You are not an invalid and you won’t always be as weak as this. You will get better but it will take a long time and you’ll have to be patient. I know I should have told you before but things haven’t been easy. Matt, the doctors said you won’t ever be strong enough to be a fisherman again but you’re a young, intelligent man. You’ve been to grammar school, remember? You’ve lost some of your strength but you’ve been blessed with brains. You must sit down and take stock of yourself and plan a new future for yourself and us.’ Running out of breath, she sat down close to him, still gripping his hands, afraid he’d put them back to his face and cut himself off from her.
His eyes wide with horror, he looked across the room. ‘It’s true, isn’t it, Mother? I’ll never fish again.’
Mrs Penney nodded grimly, dabbing her anguished eyes with her hanky. ‘I’m sorry, son. I felt it was Hannah’s place to tell you but Hannah was ill herself.’ She spread her hands in a helpless gesture. ‘I suppose we were hoping you’d realise it yourself.’
Matt shook his head as if he was trying to clear his mind. ‘I knew it deep down. But l didn’t want to believe it.’
Hannah tried to feel his ribs but he pushed her hands away. ‘I’m trying to see if you’re hurt, Matt.’
‘I’m not hurt. I’ve just bruised myself a bit. Just leave me alone,’ he said loudly, then lowered his voice and pleaded, ‘Please, both of you. I need to be alone for a few minutes. I have to think.’
Hannah was about to protest but Mrs Penney intervened. She held out her hand. ‘We’d better do as he says, Hannah. You come along with me, dear.’
Downstairs, Hannah sat beside the kitchen fire, staring blankly into the flames. Would there be no end to the agony Daniel Kittow had inflicted on them?
‘He’ll be all right, Hannah,’ Mrs Penney said, preparing one end of the table for a large flasket of ironing. It was as hard for her as it was for Hannah, her only child disfigured, weakened, his working life brutally snatched away; the loss of her second grandchild; Hannah’s illness; the disruption to her home. She, too, had a stake in what Matt made of the future.
‘How can you be sure?’ Hannah muttered glumly. ‘I’ve been dreading this moment. You know how Matt can sink into low moods. Fishing was his life. He won’t want to do anything else.’
‘He won’t waste away, if that’s what’s on your mind,’ Mrs Penney said confidently, putting the iron on the range to heat up. ‘Matt’s a proud man and it’ll be hard for him to adapt but his family is more important to him than anything else. When he’s got used to the idea he’ll do exactly what you told him, plan for a new future.’
‘I hope you’re right.’ Too many terrible things had happened for Hannah to be optimistic. She couldn’t bring herself to sew; all she could think about was Matt, sitting on the bedroom floor, facing the fact that one of the biggest parts of his life was over. Was he angry with her for keeping it a secret from him for so long? She couldn’t bear it if he blamed her.
Nathan had fallen asleep where he’d been playing on the floor. He was in a warm, draught-free spot and Hannah had left him there, covered with a pram blanket. Now he woke up and crawling out from under the blanket he toddled to his anxious mother.
Holding out his arms, he gave her a broad, dribbly smile. ‘Hello, sleepy-he
ad.’ She swept him up into her arms, kissing him and clinging to his sturdy little body. Nathan patted the top of her head, gurgling and chuckling. At last Hannah smiled. She sat on the mat with him and played with his wooden building blocks. It eased the emptiness and worry inside her; she knew it was vital not to disturb Matt.
The two women prepared the food for tea. They laid the table, cut bread and butter, fetched Matt’s favourite pickle from the larder. Nathan was put in his highchair. They always ate at the same time. Hannah and Mrs Penney exchanged a questioning look. Would Matt come down? Should they call up to him?
His tread was heard coming down the stairs. Mrs Penney lifted the baked stuffed potatoes out of the oven. Hannah forced herself to turn away from the door, busying herself by cutting slices of bread in half and putting them on the tray of Nathan’s highchair.
Matt came into the kitchen. Closed the door. No one spoke. The women kept busy. Matt sat at the table. His face displayed the marks of bitter weeping. Hannah’s eye crept to something he put beside his plate. Paper, a fountain pen, their savings book and other documents. On the top piece of paper he had been doing sums.
Matt reached out and stroked his son’s head. ‘Well, boy, we might be going into business together one day.’ His voice was hoarse, emotional. He looked at his mother. ‘Tea smells good. I’m ravenous.’ Then he stretched out his hand to Hannah. ‘Like I said this morning, darling, all that matters is that we have each other.’
Chapter 23
From the cover of the giant oak tree in the middle of Roscarrock’s lawn, Jeff watched Leah, Lily, Miss Benson and the stable boy drive off in Greg and Patrick’s cars to the bazaar. Then Jeff crept round to the back of the house and, seeing no lights on in the servants’ hall, as he’d hoped, he let himself into the house. He knew from Leah that Angie Miller, the housemaid, would stay at home to attend her mistress, but she would almost certainly be upstairs in her comfortable attic quarters.
The servants’ hall led into the main kitchen and he stole carefully through the darkness in both rooms by the light of a small torch. He tried a couple of doors, finding himself first in the walk-in larder and then a broom cupboard before he found the right one to the servants’ stairs. Despite his efforts to tiptoe, his shoes tapped on each stone step and he halted a moment here and there so as not to make a regular noise. Once at the top, he had his bearings and switched off the torch. By the gentle illumination of the subdued electric lighting, he held his breath and made his way up the two flights of stairs, along the long corridor, to stand sheepishly outside Feena’s suite. He undid his overcoat, straightened his suit and tie and tidied his thick black hair with his hands.
Alerted to the stealthy noises outside his mistress’s rooms, Pogo began to growl low in his throat. Cursing softly, Jeff tapped quietly on the double doors before Feena became alarmed.
‘Come in, Angie,’ Feena called, her voice sounding curious; she obviously wasn’t expecting to be disturbed.
Jeff went into the suite quickly, closed the doors behind him and stood just inside them. As Pogo yapped about his feet, he grinned bashfully, ‘Hello, Feena.’
She was sitting in her wheelchair by the fire, a book resting on the crushed velvet of her dress. Her curved eyebrows shot up but that was the only sign of surprise she gave. Jeff watched, somewhat amused, his confidence gaining, as first anger flickered across her handsome, made-up face, then resignation. ‘You’ve got a nerve, Jeff Spargo,’ she hissed.
She called off Pogo and he obediently trotted to lie at her feet, clad not in comfortable slippers as might be expected at this time of day but high-heeled court shoes.
‘I know,’ he grinned. ‘I thought I’d take the gamble on you throwing me out.’ He was awkward for a moment, clutching the new trilby hat he’d treated himself to and not casting it casually aside as he’d first thought when this scheme had come to mind. ‘You don’t want me to go, do you?’
She put the book on a nearby table and looked him up and down, keeping him on tenterhooks. ‘Seeing as you’ve dressed up to come here, you may stay for a little while,’ she said finally.
Jeff was unsure from her tone whether she was pleased or simply tolerating him, but he wasted no time. He strode up to her, knelt down, took her face gently in his hands. ‘I couldn’t keep away, Feena.’
The romance of his sudden appearance and unexpected declaration filled her with emotion. He brushed her lips with his. Starved of intimate male contact for over twenty-two years, Feena gave a nervous and clumsy response. Then making herself relax, she put her arms round his neck and allowed her feelings to stir.
When he took his lips away, she stroked his rugged face, smiling girlishly; his tenderness had made the years fall away from her. ‘I never thought we’d be doing this again, Jeff.’
‘Me neither,’ he whispered huskily, gazing into her eyes. ‘Do you think we could start over again? I realised a little while back that although things turned nasty between us, you really did love me. Prim hasn’t loved me since the early days of our marriage. Now we’re like strangers sharing the same house, with only an idiot son holding us together. I owe her no loyalty, Feena. Nor to the other women who’ve kept me happy in bed. But things with you are different. I mean that. Apart from Hannah, I think there is something special between us. Don’t you?’
Feena wasn’t sure whether to believe him. It didn’t matter right now. A need that had lain dormant for too long burned inside her. ‘Oh, Jeff,’ she murmured.
He understood. Lifting her up into his arms, he carried her to the bedroom.
Later, when her breathing had settled, she opened her eyes to see Jeff looking down on her anxiously. ‘Was it all right for you?’ he asked softly. ‘I was afraid I’d hurt you. It’s a long time since you’ve made love and…’
‘And I’m an old woman?’ Feena said, hoping he would still her fears that the years had been cruel to her body, fears that had made her stay almost fully clothed.
‘I didn’t mean that,’ he said hastily, his face reddening. ‘You’re beautiful, Feena. You’ll always be beautiful to me. I was thinking of your arthritic hip.’
‘It’s easier for you men as time goes by.’ She ran a fingertip down his sweaty neck. ‘I enjoyed it, Jeff. The young think they have dominion over the physical side of life but at times I’ve found it hard, not having someone to touch me, give me comfort.’ She stared into his dark eyes. Jeff had changed. Before, he had cared only about his own gratification.
He lay down beside her and cradled her to him, careful not to hurt her delicate body. ‘We don’t always have to end up in bed, Feena. I’m quite happy just being in your company.’
‘That’s even more comforting.’ She gazed up at the canopy of white silk cascading down from its gilt crown high above the bed. She had longed to take Jeff to her bed when they’d had their affair instead of skulking in the woods or the coachman’s cottage but she had been terrified they’d be discovered. She had even more to lose now if their new liaison was discovered. ‘We shall have to be very careful. Greg would be shocked and outraged and Hannah would never forgive us. I couldn’t bear that.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ve thought of that too. I’d hate Hannah to be hurt again.’
‘Where do they think you are tonight? Won’t they expect you to be at the bazaar?’
‘The family’s used to me going my own way. As long as I show my face before the evening’s over.’ He gave a grin. ‘I’ll help pack up the hall and sweep the floor. That’ll keep ’em happy.’
‘I’ve hardly seen Hannah since she had the breakdown,’ Feena said wistfully. ‘Greg insisted I give her time and space. He said I can be overbearing and I was upsetting her. I don’t mean to interfere. But my son and daughter are dead. I’ve got Greg and Patrick but they lead their own lives. The rest of you have lots of relatives to fuss over, to fill the empty spaces. Hannah’s my only child now and Nathan may be her only child.’
‘You’ll have a great-grandchild when Leah’s b
aby’s born,’ Jeff pointed out.
‘Yes, and I’m looking forward to it. But it’s not quite the same.’ Feena looked at Jeff earnestly. ‘I don’t worry about Leah and Greg and the coming baby. Their future here is secure but what has Hannah got to look forward to?’
‘I can take one worry off your mind.’ Jeff kissed the scented skin of her wrist. ‘Matt’s been told he’ll never fish again but instead of moping about he’s planning to start up a little business.’
‘What sort of business?’ Feena was careful to keep a scoffing note out of her voice. ‘He hasn’t got much capital.’
‘He’s got some savings and he owns his house. He could put that up for mortgage to raise the money. He’s looking into starting up a boat’s chandlery. He could store all sorts of things to save we from going over to Gorran Haven or Mevagissey. With him we fishermen would know we’d get a fair deal. He’ll still be in the fishing business and Hannah will be much more settled knowing he’s safe on shore.’
‘I see. And when did he decide this?’ she asked tartly.
‘Only a couple of days ago. Hannah’s going to tell you herself next week. She said something about coming up here again.’ Jeff frowned, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut. Feena was hurt at being excluded from Hannah’s life for so long.
‘It’s about time she came here,’ she muttered, sitting up and straightening her clothes. ‘Greg could have collected her to come for a short while. I would have been careful not to be overbearing,’ she stressed sarcastically. ‘This is all very interesting about Matt starting a business but it doesn’t take away my main worry. Daniel Kittow lives just down the street from Hannah and Nathan and he could hurt them at any time.’ She began to cry softly and when Jeff touched her she leaned into his arms.
‘Kittow’s gone quiet lately, Feena.’ He caressed her back. ‘I don’t think we have anything to worry about now.’
‘I don’t agree’ she sniffed, pulling away. ‘Daniel Kittow may be quiet for a reason. He could be planning something diabolical. If we value our daughter and grandson’s future we’ve got to get them away from that evil man to where they will be safe. We simply must. Jeff, promise me we will.’
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