‘What do you see when you look down there, boy?’ Walter said suddenly. They scanned the glittering sky-tips of minerals and other waste thrown out of the china clay, so high now from all the clay that had been gouged out of the ground over the years that they were truly mountainous spoil heaps.
‘I see industry and success,’ Theo said. ‘And I aim to keep it that way. Why? What do you see?’
‘I see the past and the future. ’Tis all there for me, Theo, more than you’ll ever know. Everything here represents part of my life, and your life too. Even these cottages—’
‘I know all about them, and I thank God I never had to live in ’em, so don’t start telling me to count my blessings. I leave that to Uncle Luke. How Granny Morwen and her parents and brothers were all crammed into one of these hovels, I’ll never know, but you have to move on, Father. You’ve said it often enough yourself. We’re a huge business concern now, and not a little tin-pot affair—’
Walter snorted at his derisory words, ever mindful of the fact that he too had started life in one of these small cottages, and been glad of the family that loved him.
‘Killigrew Clay was never that. When so many smaller clayworks were bought out and swallowed up by larger concerns, we were one of the few able to stand firm. I still remember the time when a flashy woman clay boss thought she could lord it over we Cornish folk, and buy us out. But she failed, like all on ’em failed.’
‘She turned up at a town meeting, didn’t she?’ Theo said, having heard the tale and read the newspaper accounts many times before. Clay meetings were for men, not for the likes of women, especially women coming down from London with their quick city ways and thinking to mystify the simple folk.
‘That she did,’ Walter said. ‘Harriet Pendragon was her name. She was a fine figure of a woman and no mistake. And ’twas plain to see she’d set her sights on Ran Wainwright. She wanted him as much as she wanted control of the clayworks.’
‘Oh, ah?’ This was something new to Theo. ‘And what did Granny Morwen have to say about that!’
Walter laughed. ‘Your granny was certainly no backwoods maid when it came to fighting for her own, Theo. Let’s just say that the Pendragon woman was the one to back down in the end, and leave it at that. But if we’re not to be seen idling here all day, we’d best get down to see what’s to do.’
Theo started up the motor again, wondering for a moment just what this new American relative was going to make of them all. This cousin with the impossible name… Skye… she could almost have been named after the Killigrew sky-tips, he thought mockingly.
Then he forgot all about her as the motor neared Clay One, and he hooted his horn to let the men know of his approach as always. He spared a glance for the newly mechanised carts taking the waste up to the top of each tip, and coming down again empty with trundling efficiency.
Yes, progress was the thing, he told himself. You had to go with it, or go under.
* * *
In the end, it was a storm in a tea-cup, Walter reported to Cathy that evening. They were dining alone in the huge dining room at Killigrew House that could house a large family, and which he always felt they rattled around in now. Perhaps Theo was right in one way, he thought fleetingly. He was more suited to life in a cottage than life in a mansion…
‘So nothing much happened, did it?’ Cathy said, not over-concerned with what went on up on the moors. It had never been part of her early life, and she couldn’t feel the same way about it as the clayfolk did. She didn’t mean to belittle them, but it was so different from her own upbringing that she couldn’t see why Walter should get so het up about it any more. It was time he left it to younger folk.
‘Theo could do with a lesson in compromise,’ Walter stated in reply. ‘The long hours didn’t suit half the men, so we’ve come to a solution for a try-out period. We’re simply staggering the shifts, so that those who want to do two short shifts instead of one long one, can do so. That way, we don’t have to pay ’em the same wage for doing less work, and everybody’s satisfied.’
‘My word, I didn’t know my husband was such a tactician!’ she said.
‘You thought I was just good for grubbing about in the clay, did you, woman?’
Cathy laughed. ‘No, dar, I didn’t think you were only good for that,’ she said teasingly. ‘But who’s to sort out all these different shifts? It sounds a mite complicated.’
Walter started to laugh as well. ‘Your educated son soon began to dig himself into a hole, insisting that it all had to be done properly, and with lists posted up so that each man knew exactly where he was and when. Before he knew what was happening, he’d landed himself with the job, so we won’t see hide nor hair of him for a few days. He’ll be busy at the offices with his paperwork.
‘All the same,’ Walter went on, more soberly. ‘I’m glad the spring despatches are well behind us now. ’Twill give us a bit of a breathing-space if the war rumours are right. Not that anybody really knows, despite what your father’s printing in his newspaper now. He were always a scare-monger.’
Cathy was indignant. ‘He never shied away from the truth, if that’s what you mean. If something was deserving of public attention, then he was prepared to print it. And Jordan’s the same,’ she added, knowing that in Walter’s eyes, the claying son was worth ten of the other, even though he tried to love them both in equal measure. But taking up with Tom Askhew in the newspaper world was not Walter’s idea of men’s work.
‘Jordan’s becoming northernised,’ Walter said.
‘Oh, and is that so bad? The world doesn’t begin and end in Cornwall, Walter!’
‘Yours did, same as mine. I don’t recall your being rushed off to Yorkshire with your parents with any great glee. I remember tears and—’
‘And so do I,’ Cathy said softly, remembering how their youthful parting had been such a painful and heartbreaking time for them both. But that was long ago…
‘Anyway, you were going to tell me something else, weren’t you? Why should these vague rumours of war, which I don’t believe any more than you do, affect us? It’s not as though our boys would be eager to fight. Thank goodness they’re past such mistaken thoughts of glory.’
‘You were always a pacifist, weren’t you, dar? Just like your mother.’
But before she could react to that, he went on. ‘And how it would affect us, my dear head-in-the-sand woman, is that our biggest markets are in Europe. If war did happen, those markets would be instantly closed to us, and we’re not yet fully established in the American market to make it highly profitable. We couldn’t rely on the medical outlets to keep us rich, either, though I daresay the demand for medicinal supplies would grow once the casualties began—’
‘Walter, stop it. You’re frightening me!’ Cathy burst out, her eyes wide. ‘For somebody who thinks it will never happen, you’ve thought it all out pretty well! But it’s just tittle-tattle, and there’s no reason to believe it at all.’
‘Your father seems to do so,’ Walter said drily. ‘Haven’t you read Jordan’s latest report? Tom wouldn’t have let that pass his editorial eye unless he approved of it.’
‘Of course I’ve read it, and it was purely a speculative article written by a boy with too much imagination. All Jordan was saying was what might happen, not what was going to. And I don’t want to talk about it any more. It makes my head ache, and I’ve more important things to think about.’
‘Oh, and what’re they?’
‘Skye’s welcome party, of course. And I can’t think why that should make you smile in that silly fashion.’
* * *
Skye’s exact date of arrival in Falmouth hadn’t been widely advertised to her Cornish family. It wasn’t that she wanted to sneak up on them, but she was more unconventional than most, and she had had the unconventional notion of taking a good look around before she made her presence known.
It was one reason why she had told no one the name of the ship she would be travelling on, n
or the actual date and time of her arrival.
It would be nice to be met, but far more exciting to find her own way around this county of which she had heard so much. Besides, she intended spending a couple of days in the sea-port of Falmouth first of all, before going farther west. She had lived for twenty-three years without meeting these relatives, so a few days more weren’t going to hurt anyone.
And not for all the tea in Asia was she going to admit for one moment that a sense of nervousness was starting to creep in. It wasn’t that she was afraid of meeting new people. It was just that there were so many of them, and they would all want to inspect her like a specimen under a microscope. They would all have their own expectations of what Primmy’s daughter was going to be like.
‘You look as if you’re laying ghosts,’ Philip Norwood remarked on their last evening at sea. ‘Don’t tell me the great excitement in the adventure has waned?’
Skye pulled a face. ‘You see far too much, but no, it hasn’t exactly waned…’
‘Wavered then?’ he suggested. ‘Cracked a little? Deflated like a spent balloon?’
‘Stop it!’ she laughed. ‘It’s just a faint touch of cold feet, if you must know, and I didn’t think I’d be admitting that to anyone.’
‘Why not? Y ou’re human, like the rest of us. So just remember the underwear trick.’
‘I really wish I’d never mentioned that to you!’ Skye said. ‘I’m embarrassed every time I think about it.’
‘I didn’t think anything would ever embarrass you. You always seem in such perfect control of yourself.’
‘Do I?’ she said in surprise. ‘I’m not sure that makes me sound a very attractive person. It sounds far too cold and unemotional.’
‘And if you’re fishing for compliments—’
‘I’m not—’
‘Then let me assure you that you’re the loveliest young woman I’ve ever met, and I’m perfectly sure that beneath that sophisticated exterior there beats a heart that is going to be full of emotion the moment you set eyes on your ancestral home and family.’
Skye said nothing, but the heart of which he spoke was beating much faster than usual at that moment. She nodded.
‘I’m sure you’re right,’ she murmured. ‘And do you think I’ve done the right thing, in not letting them know when I’ll be arriving?’
‘That’s up to you. But a list of ships’ arrivals is always announced in local newspapers, anyway, so they’ll have a pretty good idea when a ship from New York is arriving!’
‘So I’m asking for your advice.’
But she had begun to realise that he rarely gave it. It was the tutor in him, of course, offering suggestions and choices, but allowing the students to decide for themselves which course to take.
She wasn’t one of his students, though… and it would have been so wonderful if he’d said he had a few days to spare, and that he’d be happy to escort her around the county that was so new to her. Seeing it all through his eyes… seeing it together…
Skye stared unseeingly across the elegant ship’s dining room, to where the band was playing, and the dancers were taking to the floor, and she knew she was in danger of reading too much into their instant friendship. Such empathy wasn’t love. It wasn’t even lust, though Skye knew enough of the world to know that there were times when Philip was aroused by her nearness. In the waltz, and the sensual closeness of the foxtrot, and the passion of the tango…
‘May I have this dance?’ Philip asked her quietly now. ‘There’s so little time left for me to hold you in my arms so legitimately.’
From his voice, and the intensity of his dark eyes, she knew at once that the feelings weren’t all on her side, and she felt a small, rising panic. This hadn’t been meant to happen. It wasn’t part of her plan. It wasn’t happening…
She threaded her way through the dining tables ahead of him, her heart thudding now, and turned into his arms. The lights had been lowered, and the band was playing a dreamy waltz as the ship ploughed gently through the summer night.
It was a night made for lovers, and there was no way on earth that Skye could resist leaning her head against Philip’s shoulder, nor miss the way his hand above her waist caressed the silkiness of her long hair.
‘You know what I want more than anything, don’t you?’ he said against her cheek.
‘Yes. Something I can’t give you,’ she whispered, unable to spoil the magic of the moment by pretending to misunderstand.
‘Can’t, or won’t?’
They were jostled by another couple then, and their smiling apologies saved Skye from having to give an immediate reply, but she was very aware that she had just encountered the biggest decision of her life.
‘Will you take a last turn around the deck with me in the moonlight?’ Philip asked gravely, when the dance ended.
‘I’m not sure if I should. Will my honour be safe?’
But she spoke lightly now, trying not to betray how very emotional she was finding the situation. She had never met anyone she liked so well. But shipboard romances were not to be trusted. They never lasted. They were not the Real Thing. Even if she had been looking for the Real Thing.
‘You’ll always be safe with me, Skye,’ he said, tucking her arm in his.
They left the dining-room, aware that some of the older passengers watched them leave with fond glances. Whatever Skye’s own opinion, it was clear that their association was being seen as more than just friendship. But while she was no prude, she wasn’t fast either, and she had no wish to get that kind of reputation.
But Philip had never even kissed her, for pity’s sake, so what was she getting so all-fired uppity about!
The ocean had never seemed so balmy and beautiful as it did tonight, she thought. The path of golden moonlight on the tranquil water seemed to stretch away to infinity, as if there was no beginning to it, and no end. The way she wished this night could be.
She shivered, and at once Philip placed her gossamer wrap more securely around her shoulders. As he did so, he bent his head, running his fingers beneath the fall of her hair and kissing the soft white skin of her neck.
‘Don’t – please, don’t—’
‘Why not? Isn’t it what we both want?’ he said, in a strained tone that was unlike his normal one.
‘Yes. It is.’ She couldn’t deny it. ‘But I don’t want this lovely voyage to end with recriminations or regrets, Philip. I would far rather remember it as a few days out of time, if you like, that I shall always treasure.’
‘Good God, if that’s not enough to dampen a man’s ardour, I don’t know what is,’ he said. ‘Don’t you know that I would never have spoken to you like this if I didn’t think there was something very special between us?’
She didn’t answer, but the fragile, magical spell of the night had been broken now. She wanted him so much, but she had never felt this way before, and it scared her.
And she knew what the consequences of making love out of wedlock could be. Some of the desperate letters sent to the magazine had made her more aware than most young women of what could happen through a moment of reckless passion.
Not to mention the disgrace to the family… and how could she descend on them all here in Cornwall with that kind of anxiety at the back of her mind!
‘Then perhaps it’s time for us to say good night, my sweet and lovely Skye,’ Philip was saying more gently now. ‘Because if we stand here much longer, I swear that I won’t be able to resist kissing you.’
‘Then don’t resist it,’ she said in a strangled voice. Because if one kiss was all they could have, what harm could it do?
He pulled her slowly into his arms, and she was held as tightly as though she had melted into him. She could feel his heartbeat, so close to hers that they merged into one. His mouth was cool on hers from the slight evening breeze, and she could taste an erotic saltiness on his lips.
And then she was kissing him back with all the passion in her soul, wishing that this night w
ould never end, and that there was no tomorrow. For who knew what tomorrow might bring?
Chapter Four
There was a restraint between them the following morning. It shouldn’t have been there, and Skye couldn’t understand why it was. Nothing terrible had happened – but perhaps that was it. Perhaps Philip had thought it would happen, and was disappointed in her. She didn’t want to think that of him. She had thought him a man of integrity, and still did.
But now, this morning, dressed formally for disembarking, and with the coastline of Cornwall beckoning them, there was no magic between them. Other passengers were chattering excitedly now that the long voyage was almost over, but for Philip Norwood and Skye Tremayne, the conversation was stilted and brusque. And she couldn’t bear it.
‘Philip, what’s wrong?’ she said quietly. ‘I know there’s something bothering you, and I don’t want us to part like this. Can’t you tell me what it is?’
He didn’t look at her as they watched the huge, natural harbour of Falmouth coming ever nearer. He had already pointed out the two great fortresses on either side of the vast stretch of water – Pendennis Castle and St. Mawes Castle – the sentinels of past battles and reminders of a turbulent and bloody history.
‘I should have told you before now,’ he said abruptly. ‘I never intended to hide it, but somehow it just happened.’
‘Goodness, it can’t be so dreadful, can it?’ she said, trying not to show her alarm. Surely he wasn’t suffering from some ghastly illness that was going to cut his life short…?
‘It’s not dreadful at all. But you told me so much about yourself and your family and your life—’
‘Well, so did you!’
She knew that he had taught at various universities. And from the honours he had received, that he had mentioned so modestly, she guessed he was well respected. She knew he had an aged mother in a Ladies’ Rest Home in London, where he originated. She knew there were few other relatives, except distant cousins he never met. She knew he wasn’t married.
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