Chapter 24
Matt insisted he was well enough to attend the bazaar. When he entered the small, wooden-planked hall next to the chapel, the buzz of excited voices stopped and a spontaneous round of applause broke out. Feeling alive and energetic on the good wishes, he nonetheless took a seat next to the toy stall which was close to a paraffin heater; Hannah had extracted a promise that he’d take it easy and keep warm. People smiled indulgently as she wrapped the black and yellow woollen scarf he’d taken off back round his neck.
‘Hannah,’ he mouthed urgently, restraining her hands. ‘I’m not a baby. You’ll make me look a fool.’
‘Sorry,’ she grinned. ‘I just don’t want you catching a chill.’ He stuffed the scarf into his coat pocket, together with his gloves. Hannah had already put her contributions on the various stalls – three lace tray cloths and a duchesse set she’d made, a large fruit and cherry cake and a batch of scones. She sat down beside Matt. ‘See anything on the stalls you’d like to buy?’
He was pleased to see his own things on display; Josh had carried them here in the afternoon when the stalls had been set up. He was feeling part of village life again. ‘There’s a painted wooden engine there which would be nice for Nathan for Christmas. It looks as if the wheels move. And we’d better look for something for Mother and your parents.’ He slipped his arm round her and gave an affectionate squeeze. ‘Choose something for yourself too, darling.’
Hannah glanced round the stalls, making mental notes of what she might buy when the minister announced the bazaar was open. She had a white envelope containing a one pound note, tied with thin ribbon, in her hand. She’d add it to the others hanging on the decorated fir tree standing proudly on the raised platform. At the end of the evening, with great ceremony, Mrs Skewes would snip the ribbons, or pieces of wool or string, and pass the envelopes to Miss Peters who, as Porthellis’s oldest inhabitant, had been given the honour of opening the envelopes and calling out the amount of money each contained.
Prim and the Rouses joined them, all wrapped up against the dense fog outside. ‘Hope enough’s raised to start you off with another boat, Roy,’ Matt said as Janet engaged Hannah and Prim in conversation. Jowan looked longingly towards the door for Lily to appear while Ned, his lame younger brother, amused some children by letting them jump over his walking stick.
‘Thanks,’ Roy replied thinly, standing restlessly with his hands in his pockets. His agreeable face was pale and haggard and he’d lost weight. The wrecking of the Echo had taken the heart out of him. The boat had belonged to his father and uncles and he had taken it for granted that after his sons, it would belong to his grandsons one day. It had been his means of livelihood, his pride, and although he, Jowan and Ned earned a little money helping out on the other boats and labouring, it was damned hard watching his wife sewing every minute of the day to bring money into the house. He knew he should be sorrier for Matt than for himself, at least he could go to sea again, but Roy couldn’t bring himself to feel anything much.
‘Uncle Roy’s still looking down in the dumps,’ Hannah observed, her spirits taking a dip in concern over the man who had been her caring foster father. She’d have jumped up and given him a hug but Roy would be mortified at such a public display of affection.
‘Aye, I’ve never known him to be so miserable,’ Janet sighed. ‘Even Ned’s not as sparky as usual. Poor Jowan, he was looking forward to getting married and I was looking forward to having a daughter-in-law and grandchildren in the house.’
Hannah knew how hard it was to look on the bright side when things had gone so terribly wrong, but she took her aunt’s hand and smiled. ‘Well, hopefully tonight will put all that right, Aunty Janet.’
‘Mrs Skewes said there’s been some very generous donations,’ Prim remarked. Now that Hannah and Matt were re-establishing their lives, she was enjoying the social contact, glad Jeff wasn’t here yet. Since her disappointment over Brinley, she couldn’t bear the sight of her husband. She had lost her one chance of a new life but he was still enjoying himself.
‘There’s a lot of folk wanting good hard cash to repair their boats and houses.’ Janet shook her head despondently. ‘There’s not going to be enough left over for a whole boat and tackle. We’ll have to borrow some money whatever happens. It’s been a rotten year. Matt and my menfolk will all have to make a fresh start somehow.’
‘At least they’re still alive,’ Hannah said vehemently, suddenly remembering that the Joses weren’t coming this evening. ‘Fred Jose isn’t.’
The hall lights had always been dim and on mentioning this to Grace, Mrs Skewes had been delighted at the wealth of superior quality candles her niece had donated to brighten up the occasion. No one would know how much Grace had contributed to the evening. Mrs Skewes thought this a shame, but the villagers would baulk at her generosity because she was Daniel Kittow’s wife. Having begged candleholders and spare saucers from nearly every household, and added bits of tinsel and holly to them, Mrs Skewes went round the hall lighting the candles. The seasonal glow increased the sense of expectation that the bazaar would raise a goodly amount of funds; people from all round the area, not just those in the fishing industry, had pitched in to help.
‘Looks very cheery, dear.’ The Reverend Skewes caught up with her as she blew out the last match. ‘Most people seem to have arrived. I think I’ll make a start.’
‘Grace isn’t here yet, David.’ Mrs Skewes looked hopefully towards the door. ‘It wouldn’t be right to start without her after all she’s done. And all except Mrs Opie are coming from Roscarrock this evening.’
‘Oh, getting esteemed company, are we?’ David Skewes muttered drily, studying his pocket watch. ‘It’s two minutes past six. They’re late.’
Mrs Skewes frowned. Her husband had no time for the Opies, not so much because they were church, but because he saw their aloofness as snobbery. He was offended that he and Adela hadn’t been invited to the big house since Leah’s wedding.
‘Gregory Opie has taken some interest in the village since he married Leah,’ she reminded him. ‘He’s been very good to Hannah, don’t forget, dear. It will be interesting to have Patrick Opie among us. We must be sure to give them a warm welcome.’
‘Of course,’ the minister replied a trifle irritably, shaking his pocket watch to emphasize his earlier point. ‘As long as they spend lots of money – they’ve got more to spare than us more humble mortals.’
The Roscarrock party entered a minute later and David Skewes was one of the last in line to greet them.
Prim went to her pregnant daughter, passing Patrick who was making a beeline for Hannah and Matt. To cover the awkwardness he felt at public occasions, Patrick was more garrulous than usual and flapped his overcoat about, causing a draught. ‘Ah, Hannah, my dear, how are you? You’re looking a lot brighter than the last time I saw you. And how are you, Matt? Good to see you’re well enough to come out. I take it the little man is at home with Mrs Penney. And how is Mrs Penney? You know, I was thinking that in a little while I could sit with Nathan if he’s asleep, so as to save one of you going home to relieve her.’
Hannah bade him sit down next to her so he’d feel less conspicuous and answered his questions. ‘Mrs Penney will be as pleased as we are for you to mind Nathan.’ Knowing Patrick’s circumstances, it was unlikely he’d have much money to spend. It was his kindness that had prompted him to put in an appearance tonight.
Matt respected the unassuming gentleman and asked Hannah to change places with him so he could tell Patrick something about his proposed business venture.
Hannah kept her eyes on Leah but her younger sister either hadn’t noticed her or, Hannah felt, was ignoring her. She shrugged it off; she had too much on her mind to worry about that now.
People eager to buy certain items were jostling each other to keep their place in front of the stalls, the stall attendants were becoming anxious to begin, children were dying to hand over their pennies and get their mitts into the
barrel of sawdust and pull out a lucky dip, and David Skewes had run out of patience. Telling his argumentative wife that it wasn’t fair on everyone else to wait any longer for Grace, he climbed the three steps, which always seemed dusty no matter how much attention they got, to the small platform and called for hush. Silence fell like a warm blanket and all eyes turned to him. He didn’t waste time with a long boring speech. He offered a brief welcome, reminded the throng why they were here, said a prayer and then declared the bazaar open.
The proceedings began in a noisy, good-humoured jostle. Money and goods changed hands, a small pond of tea and a mountain of food were consumed. Children chased about with their lucky dip treasures and sticky halfpenny lollies. Hannah tried unsuccessfully to catch Leah’s eye as she brought the wooden engine and an armful of purchases over to Matt for safekeeping.
Mrs Penney was sitting beside him. ‘Isn’t it kind of Mr Patrick? Now we can both stay, Hannah.’
‘Yes, Mother,’ she smiled happily. ‘Looks like the bazaar is going to be a great success.’ The next instant her smile turned into a scowl. Grace, sleekly but plainly attired, had walked into the hall and with her was Daniel, holding Melanie’s hand.
Grace had deliberately waited for the bazaar to begin before arriving. She was sure her own and Melanie’s presence would not cause a stir, but she’d been worried about the reaction to Daniel. She was acutely embarrassed to be proved right. Hannah’s stormy eyes were targeted on them, and it seemed as if everybody else in the hall turned at the same moment to express their disapproval of the man most hated in Porthellis coming among them. Voices petered out, cups being carried to lips halted in mid-air, the buying and selling ceased. There was an unnatural quietness. It was as if Grace had brought a terrible smell with her.
‘G-good evening,’ Grace said to Miss Peters who was the nearest to her.
‘Evenin’’ the tiny old lady barked, looking past her to glower at Daniel. ‘What’ve ’ee brung he for?’
‘Daniel is part of the village, Miss Peters,’ Grace said, blushing furiously.
‘Not to us, he isn’t.’ Miss Peters had said her piece – the whole village’s piece judging by the mutters round the hall. She turned away and pattered off to get another cup of tea.
Smiling as if he was heartily amused, one hand placed nonchalantly inside his trouser pocket, Daniel led Melanie to the toy stall. He was very close to Hannah but did not look at her. As Mrs Skewes hurried over to rescue Grace from standing alone and looking foolish, Hannah watched him, her back rigid, as he lifted Melanie up so she could view the toys. She pointed to a furry rabbit in a knitted outfit and a large fairy doll and Daniel handed over a five pound note to pay for them. Not having enough change, the woman serving at the stall became flustered and Hannah ground her teeth when Daniel said loftily, ‘Keep it, Mrs Hoskins. The village’s needs are greater than mine.’
Taken by surprise the woman didn’t thank him but Melanie, looking sweet and pretty with her red hair framed inside a blue fur-trimmed bonnet, clung to his neck and said, ‘Thank you, Daddy.’
Hannah stared in amazement as Daniel kissed his daughter’s cheek. ‘You’re welcome, sweetheart. Let’s try the lucky dip next.’ He moved slightly, bringing Hannah into his line of vision. He met her hostile eyes and smiled briefly before walking away.
‘Did you see that?’ Janet gasped. ‘Well, I never thought I’d see the day when Daniel Kittow showed he cared about someone. I thought he hardly had anything to do with the little maid.’
‘You have seen the day, Janet Rouse,’ Miss Peters interjected, her sharp chin jutting out. ‘I got no time for un now but he weren’t such a bad boy backalong.’
‘We don’t want to talk about him,’ Matt snapped at the old lady, furious that she could find a good word for Daniel Kittow. He tugged on Hannah’s hand to attract her attention; she was still gazing after Daniel. Matt was tense, his head was aching. He was trembling and feeling sick, all brought on by the sight of Daniel Kittow. He was raging inside. The most primitive part of him wanted to tear the arrogant fisherman asunder with his bare hands. A greater part was ashamed that he’d sat still and said nothing.
Seething that Daniel had smiled at her, Hannah turned to Matt. ‘Do you want to go home?’
‘Of course not. All I want is to enjoy the evening.’ He loosened his grip on her hand and although he didn’t feel like it, he smiled at her. He wasn’t going to let Daniel Kittow or anyone else see he was bothered by his arch enemy’s presence here. Their paths would cross for the rest of their lives and somehow, for Hannah’s sake, he would have to make sure there was no more conflict. But how could he allow the man who ordered his brutal beating to get away with it scot-free?
Miss Peters stalked off and later, when Matt was talking to a group of men, including Greg, about his new scheme, Hannah joined the indignant old lady and some other women to help wash dishes in the kitchen.
‘Sorry about Matt getting cross with you just now, Miss Peters,’ she said, picking up a tea towel. ‘The trouble is, we never saw Daniel’s bad side when he was younger.’ She was speaking calmly and all the women were particularly interested in what she had to say on the subject.
‘Well, you knaw un better’n most,’ a chubby woman wearing an old-fashioned cloche hat and busy at the stone sink commented. ‘And goodness knows you’ve suffered the most.’
‘Perhaps not,’ Hannah said, wiping a plate and putting it on top of the growing pile of dry dishes. Mrs Penrose was beside her, similarly armed with a tea towel, and Hannah was looking intently at the engineer’s wife who had now become the Kittows’ daily help. Mrs Penrose’s broad pink features twitched uncomfortably.
‘What do ’ee mean, maid?’ Miss Peters demanded, rising on tiptoe to lower a stack of teacups into the sink of steaming sudsy water. ‘Who else have he had a go at?’
‘I was thinking of Fred Jose.’ Hannah wiped a plate very slowly. ‘Daniel made it plain he wanted him out of the village. Fred simply upped and left, but the circumstances don’t suggest he went of his own free will.’
‘You think Daniel told un t’get out or else, do ’ee?’ Miss Peters nodded as if she agreed with this. ‘Some of us have thought so, including his poor mother ’n’ father who’ll be scattering his ashes out at sea on Wednesday.’
‘Well, it would hardly be surprising,’ Hannah answered, glancing from woman to woman. She looked composed and not even Miss Peters’ sharp wit detected the mischief glinting behind her eyes. ‘Fred’s death is the most mysterious one we’ve had in the village. It’s believed Fred fell down the cliff, probably the day he disappeared as he wasn’t seen elsewhere, and his body was trapped in the rocks, only coming to light when the sea was running higher than usual because of the storm and the poor soul was bobbed about. The coroner recorded an open verdict. He could see no reason why Fred should kill himself. What’s strange is why Fred, who was too afraid to trespass, should wander on to Roscarrock land and try to climb down a very dangerous part of the cliff. Fred had no head for heights.’
‘Surely it was an accident,’ Mrs Penrose said abruptly, aghast at what she felt was being hinted at here.
Hannah turned to her. ‘You tell us, Mrs Penrose. The whole village would like to know for sure.’
There was a long, thoughtful silence while crockery was washed, dried and taken back to the hall to replenish the refreshment table. Miss Peters changed the subject by asking what Matt had in mind now he was no longer a fisherman. Mrs Penrose crept away from the kitchen with a tray of cups and saucers and tried to locate her husband.
Daniel, still with Melanie in tow, spoke to her. ‘Enjoying yourself, Mrs Penrose? The social will be starting soon. There will be games and a singsong. Grace will find them rather quaint.’
‘Oh, Daniel, you startled me,’ she panted, a hand clasped to her throat. Her flesh crept; was she talking to a cold-blooded murderer? ‘I–I was looking for Colville.’
‘He’s there.’ Daniel jerked his head towards
a gathering of men and women who were up on the platform removing a variety of musical instruments from their cases. ‘I didn’t know Colville played the fiddle.’
‘Yes, yes, he does. Since he was a boy.’
Annoyed at the woman’s obvious nervousness of him – or was she ashamed to be seen talking to him with the villagers looking on – he added sarcastically, ‘Should be in for a bit of hymn singing then.’
‘Yes, um, please excuse me, Daniel.’ Mrs Penrose blushed and hastened away.
Daniel was bored but he was not going to let the ill feeling towards him chase him away. Melanie was still too shy to run about and play with the other children and he had the feeling the mothers wouldn’t encourage it anyway. He had to present an amiable front for her sake, and if he hadn’t been disinclined to upset Hannah he would have enjoyed baiting Matt. Crafty glances at Matt’s face showed the scarring was livid and unsightly but it was true that in time his dark face wouldn’t be too spoiled.
He looked over his shoulder at the rattling of more crockery. It was Hannah carrying another tray of reinforcements. He thought she’d glare at him or make a point of ignoring him but as their eyes met, she held his gaze. She smiled. Not at him. Secretly, to herself.
Chapter 25
Feena was astonished to see Matt was with Hannah when she was shown into the drawing room the following Wednesday afternoon. They were still dressed in black from Fred Jose’s funeral, for which the whole village had come to a standstill. Matt was solemn but looked and felt invigorated after the short trip on the boat just outside the harbour with the other men, to watch Fred’s ashes being scattered. His anguish at losing his ability to fish had lessened; at least he had a future to look forward to, unlike Fred.
Porthellis Page 25