‘Take the weight of your feet, dear,’ Feena said sympathetically. ‘It might be a blessing if you don’t go full term. You’re getting huge. I’m pleased to see you’re wearing sensible shoes.’
When Leah was sitting, her arms resting protectively over her bump, Feena passed some colour charts and samples of materials to her. ‘I’ve been thinking about what you wanted for the nursery. It’s your first baby, you’re starting off the next generation of Opies, and if I may say so I think Greg was a little unreasonable not allowing you to make the changes you wanted. Men don’t understand about these things but it wouldn’t have hurt him to take his nose out of his writing for once. Roscarrock is not his house yet. You may choose exactly what you want, my dear. I’ve written down the telephone numbers you’ll need to order the work to be done.’
Leah was astounded. Mrs Opie had never before criticised Greg and Leah could hardly believe she was being allowed to contact the shops and workmen herself without any suggestions on the changes from Mrs Opie. For the first time she was being given free rein. Could Lily be right? Had this domineering woman developed a soft spot for her? ‘Thank you,’ she said, looking down at the charts and samples.
‘I’ve also written down the number you’ll need to advertise for a nursery nurse.’ Feena smiled soothingly as Leah brought her head up to protest. ‘I know you want to do most things for the baby yourself, dear, but you’ll need someone to look after it while you’re out riding or hostessing parties and dinners.’
‘Hostessing?’ Leah frowned suspiciously.
‘Greg’s a stick-in-the-mud and Patrick hates socialising but there’s no reason why we shouldn’t enjoy ourselves. You’ll need to know about these things one day, when Greg inherits. He might not want to entertain much but it doesn’t mean you should live like a hermit too. I know you probably feel nervous but I’ll guide you. The first thing you’ll need is a whole new wardrobe, befitting your station. I’m sorry your party was overlooked but we can have one to celebrate the baby’s birth. If you like, we could get together with Miss Benson and arrange it now.’
Leah turned over the samples in her hands but she wasn’t concentrating on them. She didn’t trust Mrs Opie, but whatever her reasons were for treating her like an equal at last, she’d make the most of it. With Mrs Opie as her mentor, she could learn to make her mark as the future mistress of Roscarrock. She’d be comfortable in the role by the time it became a reality. Best of all, it might make Hannah jealous.
* * *
Hannah was exercising Bonny over fields that bordered Roscarrock. The blood was tingling through her veins, splashing healthy colour on her cheeks. Her eyes were brimming with energy. She had a new vitality for life now that Matt was contentedly occupied preparing the chandlery.
After a long gallop she eased up and made her way down a field leading directly to the cliff. The sea stretched out to the horizon, grey and still like the sky, as if nature was in a dull slumber, but she felt settled and alive. The wind was cold on her body but she didn’t mind. When she got back to the house she’d soon be wanned through with hot tea and toasted crumpets and Feena’s undivided attention.
A movement down at the bottom of the field caught her eye. A man was sitting on the stile, a big man in working clothes with a mop of red hair.
‘Well, Bonny,’ she kept the pony at a steady trot down through the patches of tall thistles made stiff with the hard frost, ‘if he thinks I’ll turn round and not face him…’
She reined in when she reached Daniel and stared into his beautiful blue eyes.
‘I knew you wouldn’t ignore me,’ he said, gazing steadily back.
She raised her chin, eyes flashing. ‘I’m not afraid of you.’
‘I know. I’m glad.’ He grimaced and Hannah sensed it was with difficulty he said next, ‘Was it you who started the rumours that I murdered Fred Jose, Hannah?’ He had accepted the humiliation of Inspector Grant’s relentless interrogation with little aggression, knowing it was probably Hannah who had placed him in this position.
‘Yes.’ It was satisfying indeed that he realised it had been her ploy to send him to prison again.
He gave the smallest nod. ‘You hate me that much? Want me to dangle at the end of a rope? I didn’t kill him.’
‘You as good as. You may not have actually pushed him over the cliff but it was you that did it.’
‘I can’t change that now.’ He kept his stony expression. ‘You’ve got your revenge, Hannah. The whole village thinks I killed him. I’ll be branded a murderer for the rest of my life. But I’ve come to ask you to stop. Not for my sake. For Melanie’s. You saw her before me or Grace. You touched her, helped her, before we did. You know what a rotten life she’d had. If she’s shunned by the village she’ll grow up miserable, never feeling she belongs anywhere. I swear you won’t have any more trouble from me. Will you let things rest now? Please, for Melanie’s sake?’
She looked at him, wondering if there was anything of the Danny of old left in him. There wasn’t. Who exactly was speaking to her? ‘Is this the brave, high and mighty Daniel Kittow pleading?’
‘Yes. I love Melanie.’
‘I see. Very well, for Melanie’s sake I’ll live as though you don’t exist.’
The wind ruffled his hair. He sat rigid, eyes rooted on hers. ‘We meant a lot to each other once. I’d like us to be friends.’ He remembered how Hannah had made a similar plea to him that day he had walked into her parlour and found her asleep. ‘But I suppose there’s no hope of that,’ he added.
‘You’re right. I despise you. I always will.’
He was quiet for some time. Hannah held her head high. She had no idea what was really going on inside his head. It did not matter. She had gained superiority over him. He could not hurt her again.
‘There’s something I want you to know,’ he said softly. ‘Hannah, I know that Feena Opie is your real mother.’
She could not deny it, or ridicule him; she could see he was sure it was the truth. ‘How?’
‘I got the information out of Lily – in my usual manner of doing things. It wasn’t the girl’s fault. It got back to her mother from that vile nurse Mrs Opie engaged when she broke her hip. I was going to use it against you. But not now. I want you to know it’ll never pass my lips. You have my promise.’
‘I thank you at least for that, Daniel,’ she said in the manner of a dignified lady. She made to twitch the reins, to move on. She’d ride for another half hour, think over the conversation.
He put out his hand, touched hers. ‘I love you, Hannah.’
‘Don’t tell me that, Daniel,’ she replied quietly.
‘It’s the truth. I’ll have to live out my life knowing you hate me, that I can never have you.’ Then she saw his pain, the hunger that would never be assuaged. She even saw bewilderment.
‘I believe you. I simply don’t want to hear you say it.’ She slipped her hand away. ‘If I meant the same to you as the others you wouldn’t have hurt me so cruelly, tried to destroy Matt. Even if Matt had been beaten to death, you wouldn’t have destroyed our love. It’s all very sad. You’re sad, Daniel.’
He dropped his head. She trotted away, leaving him to his loneliness, the one emotion that was so often the worst to bear, and one he so richly deserved.
Chapter 28
On the second Saturday of March, Matt and Hannah stood proudly, arms joined, gazing at the sign over their shop, M & H Penney, Chandlery & Angling Supplies. The letters of their name, painted boldly in gold by Matt himself, curled into one another, proclaiming to the world their intimate, unbreakable relationship. Their eyes travelled down the fresh green paintwork of the low door – Matt had painted a sign above it, ‘Beware, ye mortals, of these low portals’ – then on to the window where a multitude of boat and angling equipment vied for space. Finally their eyes locked and their lips met in a kiss that would have lasted for half the morning, as Roy Rouse jovially put it as he clapped his hands on their shoulders.
&n
bsp; ‘You going to stand out here all day, or are ’ee going to open up?’
The couple laughed when they saw they had an audience – all their relatives and a good number of villagers. Matt held up his key then smiled lovingly at Hannah. ‘You do the honours, darling.’
‘Are you sure? You put in most of the work, Matt.’
‘Get on with it,’ Jeff bawled good-naturedly. ‘Or we’ll have t’take the boats out dreckly with nothing on ’em.’ Prim stood at her husband’s side, moist-eyed, proud that her daughter should actually own a shop.
Hannah drew in a long sniff of fresh spring air, took the key from Matt and unlocked the chandlery while the others clapped. She led the way in, Matt followed her and they stood behind the counter while family and friends spilled inside to take a close look at the goods.
Miss Peters barged up to the counter. ‘Be nice always to have paraffin at hand for my lamps in case of power cuts. There’s always a neighbour who’s run out.’ She plonked a can on the floor and some coins in Matt’s hand. ‘You can fetch me up the can later.’
‘Thank you, Miss Peters.’ Matt beamed down on the tiny old lady as he handed her the change. ‘Glad to be of service to you.’
Miss Peters eyed him coolly. ‘Mmmm. Thought I’d have a few pence off, being your very first customer.’
‘If you look in your hand you’ll see I’ve knocked off threepence,’ he returned. He knew Miss Peters would always find a reason to have a few pence taken off her purchases.
‘Good boy,’ and her wrinkled features broke into a smile.
The shop was busy all morning and although more people came to nose about rather than to buy, Matt was astonished to find they’d taken thirty-five pounds, eight shillings and sixpence by lunchtime. ‘I guess the men ran their supplies down waiting for us to open up,’ he ruminated gratefully.
During a quieter moment, Grace came in with Melanie. ‘Is it all right if I look round?’ she asked hesitantly.
‘Fine by me,’ Matt said, carrying on with the unnecessary polishing of a case of fishing reels.
‘Are you looking for anything in particular?’ Hannah said, joining Grace as she ran her hand down a navy blue jersey folded on top of a small pile of knitted garments. ‘Or are you just browsing?’
Grace was pleasantly surprised that Hannah should be so friendly. ‘I don’t knit and I thought I’d buy one of these for… buy one of these.’
‘You’ll need a forty-four-inch chest,’ Hannah said, pulling out the largest jersey at the bottom of the pile. She held it up for Grace to inspect. ‘Mrs Penrose made it. She’s an excellent crafts woman. It should last for years.’
‘It looks splendid. I’ll take it, please.’ Melanie was gazing at a small ship in a bottle that Jeff had made. ‘Perhaps we could have a look at that?’
‘Certainly.’ She held out the perfect replica of a galleon in full rig inside the thick glass. ‘Do you like it, Melanie? The sailors used to sail boats like these in the olden days.’
Melanie shook her head. ‘Not like Daddy’s.’
‘Well, how about one of these little boats then?’ Hannah lifted down a rough shape of a lugger, carved in crude timber by Matt while he’d recuperated in bed and now only meant to give atmosphere to the shop. ‘Would you like it, Melanie?’
She nodded shyly and Hannah placed it in her hand. ‘Well, you shall have it, as a gift for being the first little girl we’ve served.’
‘It’s very kind of you,’ Grace said as Hannah wrapped her shopping.
‘It’s my pleasure.’ Hannah smiled as she took the money for the jersey. Grace was not looking her best today. She was immaculately groomed, stylishly dressed as usual, but underneath her make-up her skin was lifeless, her eyes dull; the effort she had to make to maintain her standing in the village because of Daniel’s behaviour was obviously taking its toll. Hannah was reminded that the other woman was kind and caring. Daniel wasn’t the only one worried about Melanie’s future.
Grace returned Hannah’s smile, and at that moment seemed to stand several inches taller. ‘I wish you well with your business, you and Matt.’
‘You were very friendly,’ Matt remarked, watching his wife’s face closely when Grace and her daughter had gone.
‘It’s not their fault, what Daniel did. Now that Melanie’s legally adopted and bears the name of Kittow, she’s got something that won’t be easy to live with. I don’t want to make life more difficult for her.’
Colville arrived with his three sons and bought tackle obviously meant for the Sunrise. Matt wondered how he’d react if their skipper came into the shop. He found out that afternoon when he was there alone.
Carefully ducking his head under the low door, Daniel strode in and stood in the middle of the shop floor. ‘Will you serve me?’ he asked aggressively.
Matt felt his heart constrict. He came out from behind the counter, his hands clenched at his sides. He wanted to drag the other man out of his shop and toss him into the water. But what good would it do? Even if his aching need for justice lent him the strength to haul Daniel out of the shop and into the drink, the sweetness of revenge would last only a short time. Why risk spoiling the joy of opening his new venture? Hannah had the right attitude; he could never hold out an olive branch, but he might as well try to live under a truce, even if it was a bitter pill to take.
‘Feel free to look around,’ he said through gritted teeth and moved past Daniel to greet four of Porthellis’s venerable pensioners.
The old gents had left their bench on the quay to indulge their curiosity. As they shuffled about, humming and hawing over the wares, asking the prices, remarking on the quality, Matt watched Daniel keenly. Eventually the old gents went on their way without one of them giving Daniel so much as a glance.
‘How much you asking for this?’ Daniel asked, testing the sharpness of a gutting knife on his thumb.
‘One pound, two and six,’ Matt replied tightly. He could almost feel Eric slashing his face. ‘It’s made by Forester’s, stainless steel blade, solid wood handle. Guaranteed to last a lifetime,’ he lowered his voice to an icy pitch, ‘if you’re lucky enough to be able to fish for a lifetime.’
‘I haven’t come to fall out, Matt.’ Daniel stared at him while he took a handful of money out of his pocket. He counted the price out on the counter. ‘Don’t bother to wrap it. I’ll take it as it is.’
‘What’s his game?’ Matt murmured to himself, watching from the doorway as the arrogant red-haired fisherman made his way to his boat.
* * *
Over breakfast that morning, Greg carefully read a long, detailed letter from an old university friend. When he put it aside, he picked up The Times. He’d already read the headlines and used the paper as a cover to glance covertly at Leah. They would celebrate their first wedding anniversary in a week’s time, his spy novels were selling well, his latest play was a success on the London stage. His life was idyllic, would be fulfilled when his child was born, be it a boy or a girl, but would things stay that way?
Rudolph Walenski was a scientist and a Jew and his family had been expelled from Poland last November. Thankfully they were now living in Kenya, having taken up Britain’s offer of settling Jewish refugees in parts of the colonial empire, but his letter was full of disturbing accounts of the tightening grip of Nazi brutality. Buried away down here in Cornwall, Greg had thought little about Adolf Hitler and Nazi oppression.
British politicians who had visited Germany had, for the most part, claimed that Hitler was moderate, trustworthy and genuinely desired peace. Rudolph called them near-sighted prigs whose complacency was dangerous. There was an arrogant belief that Britain had won the Great War alone, that its powers were invincible, and while some forecast another terrifying war in Europe, most of the country was reassured by the politicians; when the Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain had returned from Munich last year and claimed that the Anglo-German agreement with Hitler brought peace with honour, most people had believed him. Rudolph
did not. He warned Greg to brace himself for war.
Greg pondered the situation deeply for the first time. For months now air raid shelters had been built in the big cities, sandbags had been filled and stacked against key buildings, there were compulsory gas mask drills in the schools. Greg had viewed these measures as no more than political manoeuvrings to silence government critics; now he began to wonder how Roscarrock could be fortified.
‘What’s the matter, Greg?’ Leah had hauled herself up off her chair and was wobbling towards him. ‘Was there bad news in the letter?’
Yes, there was, he thought, but he did not want to worry his heavily pregnant wife; they had so much to look forward to. ‘No, darling,’ he said. ‘I was just debating whether we should go down to the village for the opening of the chandlery.’ He gave a broad smile that fooled Leah entirely. ‘1 know the baby’s due in three weeks’ time and you’re feeling cumbersome but you’ll be fine if I look after you. Would you like to go?’
‘No,’ she replied, keeping the tartness out of her voice and winding her arms round his neck. He moved his chair so she could ease herself down on to his lap. ‘I’m a bit tired. I think it’s better that I rest. My ankles swelled up again last night and I’m not taking any risks with this baby.’
He kissed her cheek. ‘You’re right to be sensible. Grandmother says she might take a look at the chandlery next week. I’ll go then.’ He caressed her bulk, feeling their child moving about inside her. ‘Want me to help you upstairs?’
‘Yes, please.’ She nuzzled his neck. ‘To the nursery.’
‘You spend all your time up there,’ he chided her lightly. He had been put out at the refurbishment of the room after he’d said it must remain unaltered. ‘Wouldn’t it be better if you lie down on the sofa in our bedroom? The fire’s lit. I’ll tuck you up in a blanket. I’ve got some research to do. I’ll come up and read it there, keep you company.’
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