Primmy's Daughter

by Primmy's Daughter (retail) (epub)

  ‘I see you’ve been upsetting her again with your cussedness. What gory tales have you been telling her now to send her rushing for her smelling-bottle?’

  ‘Nothing for you to worry your head about.’

  Just putting the idea into Birdie’s stubborn old head that she would have a future long after Morwen was gone, and that she should think ahead and not be left in the void that Morwen knew must come. Provoking her to remember the existence of the brother who would take her in… even though Morwen had every intention of leaving her independently provided for. It had had to be said, but tomorrow she would make up for it by being as sweet as she knew how.

  She took the medicine Nurse Jenkins had brought her with a grimace, and waved the woman away, well satisfied with the way she had manoeuvred Birdie into thinking for herself, and knowing that she was gradually getting her own thoughts in order. You had to plan for all the big things in life, and that included your death, and she wasn’t shirking that, any more than she had ever shirked anything in her life.

  But that wasn’t quite true, she admitted, as the sedative medicine began to take effect and allowed her mind to wander on its usual trail into the past. Long ago, when she had come up in the world and married Ben Killigrew, she had shirked telling her adopted daughter Primmy of her own background. She had grandly pretended that they had always been clay bosses, instead of revealing that Morwen and her own mother had been humble bal maidens, working for the Killigrews.

  For years she had omitted to tell Primmy and Albie and Walter that they were not her own children, but the children of her dead brother Sam, who had been killed in a dreadful accident when Ben Killigrew’s rail tracks had collapsed. She had never been totally honest, and Primmy had hated her for it. Especially when the ghastly young Cresswell Tremayne had been the one to shatter all her vulnerable illusions.

  The tangled threads of love and hate ran very closely together, Morwen mused. For of all people in the world, it had been Cresswell who had finally stolen Primmy’s heart. Her cousin Cress, whom she adored with such a passion that she couldn’t live without him.

  And between them they had produced this golden child Skye, who was now the darling of Morwen’s heart.

  But she had upset Birdie more than she realised, and the companion did something she had always vowed not to do. There was a limit as to how much you should interfere in other folks’ lives, but this was something that had to be done.

  She wasn’t even sure if Skye was aware of just how morbid Morwen’s ramblings had become of late, but that was exactly how they appeared to her. And it was time her own daughter knew of it, and of how Birdie fretted and feared for the senses of her old lady. She wasn’t a great letter-writer, but the more information she penned to Primmy, the more fluent she became, until she was opening up her heart.

  * * *

  ‘Your people are leaving it pretty late in the day, aren’t they?’ Theo asked Skye sarcastically, on hearing the news that a huge number of Americans had registered for conscription by the middle of September. ‘By the time they get over here the bloody war may well be over and they’ll all have to be sent back again.’

  Skye bridled at once, ignoring the oath for which he didn’t bother to apologise. ‘My Lord, that sounds as if you’re actually complaining about the fact that things are looking more hopeful on the Western Front,’ she snapped.

  They didn’t like one another and never would, but they had to tolerate one another, for Morwen’s sake. And with her journalist background, Skye’s own knowledge of the war progress was every bit, if not more up to date than his.

  ‘Of course I’m not complaining.’

  ‘Good. Then wouldn’t you say that it must do every mother’s heart good to learn about our forces’ successes in Flanders and that the Germans are in an almighty hurry to retreat out of Belgium now?’

  ‘I read the newspapers too, and if the bastards are rounding up every man between sixteen and sixty to help build up their defences as they retreat, as is reported, then that ain’t exactly good news, is it, my clever little know-all?’

  Skye stared at him unblinkingly.

  ‘Why do you hate me so?’ she said at last.

  ‘I don’t,’ he retorted. ‘I just think folk should stay where they belong, and women should attend to their knitting.’

  ‘Tell that to the American servicemen who have already died alongside the British and French – men and women,’ she whipped out, infuriated by the arrogant pomposity of the man. He and Uncle Luke together…

  As they heard Morwen coming heavily down the stairs to join them, still adamantly refusing to stay in her room all day, she spoke more urgently to Theo.

  ‘Look, can we please put our differences aside for now? Gran hasn’t been so well these past few days. It’s probably no more than a heavy cold, but with all this talk of an influenza epidemic everywhere, the less upset she has, the better.’

  ‘Agreed,’ Theo said coldly. ‘I’ve got some news to cheer her up, anyway. And since you seem to be her chief confidante lately, she’ll naturally want you to hear it. Anyway, I seem to remember you started the whole thing in the first place—’

  ‘What in heaven’s name are you talking about, Theo?’ Skye said, exasperated as he burbled on.

  ‘You’ll find out,’ he said, annoying her even more.

  When Morwen joined them, it was obvious that if this was no more than a heavy cold, it was taking a serious toll on an old lady who had recently suffered a stroke.

  ‘Good God, Gran,’ Theo said at once, forgetting all else. ‘You should be in your bed, and I could easily have come to see you there. Has the doctor been to see you?’

  She waved him aside irritably. ‘He’s coming later today,’ she wheezed, her voice thickened and hoarse. ‘Now let’s get down to business and then I’ll think about going to bed for an hour to keep Nurse Jenkins and the rest of ’ee happy.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure it’s not going to tire you.’

  As she glared as him, he shuffled some papers out of the leather briefcase he always carried so importantly. His next words startled Skye and made Morwen look at him more keenly.

  ‘I’ve been thinking seriously about turning the abandoned site at Clay Two over to making pottery goods, as we’ve discussed on more than one occasion. I’ve taken the liberty of having an architect draw up some plans, as I feel now that we’d do more good for ourselves if we expanded in this way. Clay One can still take care of our present commitments as well as providing the raw material for our needs.

  ‘If and when the European markets open up to us again and the orders get back to normal, the two smaller pits can be brought back into production again. Though I’ve got my doubts as to just how quick that’s going to be. I fancy there’s going to be a lot of resentment about consorting with the enemy, even when we’re no longer at odds with ’em.’

  He paused, as neither woman commented. They all knew the old matriarch still had the final say-so on what they did with Killigrew Clay and its environs, and in Theo’s opinion the American upstart had far too much influence over her. But she had started this whole idea, he reminded himself, and he continued with his spiel.

  ‘So I’d like you to take a look at these plans, Gran, and tell me what you think. I’m not forgetting the roll-call of dead and wounded and our concern for them, but I doubt that Cornwall’s in any danger of being invaded, so I think we should look to the future and put the Clay Two site into better use. I know my father would have approved.’

  It was his trump card and he knew it. Bringing Walter’s presence into the discussion, however obscurely, was a sure way of softening any objections Morwen might have.

  Before she could say anything at all, Morwen was racked by a sudden paroxysm of sneezing and coughing, and finally managed to gasp her reply at him.

  ‘You’ve taken a lot on yourself, Theo, but then, that was always your way. So you’d best show me these plans, if you think I’m capable of understanding ’em.’r />
  ‘Look, Gran, if this is a bad time, perhaps we’d best let it wait,’ he said, eyeing her in some alarm as she seemed to shrink back in her chair, as if he thought she was going to expire there and then.

  ‘Just get on with it, Theo. Skye can cast her eyes over ’em and give me her thoughts on it as well.’

  He spread out the plans for the proposed pottery without any more comment, biting his tongue at the blatant inclusion of his cousin in any decisions that had to be made. It was family business, and even though he couldn’t deny that she was as much a part of this family as he was, he still wasn’t ready to accept her wholeheartedly.

  She hadn’t been born here, nor born into the clay like himself, and his daddy and grandaddy before him. And ever since Walter had drowned himself, Theo’s unreasoning resentment of any family outsider, and this one in particular, had eaten like a cancer into his soul.

  The fact that she looked so blooming and beautiful now, with the expected infant giving her a special radiance, did nothing to soften his feelings towards her. Especially when he knew bloody well that his own little Sebastian was turning into a monster, and at six months old he was already starting to rule the roost at Killigrew House, with his ineffectual Betsy doing nothing to curb it.

  With an effort, he pushed such savage thoughts out of his mind and got on with the business in hand, explaining the various stages of the construction to the womenfolk. He was rewarded by hearing his cousin confirm his own opinion that the architect had done an excellent job in drawing up these plans to his own specifications.

  ‘So what are you waiting for?’ Morwen said, noting that the two of them seemed more in harmony over this little discussion than she normally suspected they were.

  She wasn’t daft, but she had no intention of playing up to their vanities by censuring them. They would have to get on with it long after she was gone, and she only hoped she’d be able to look down from heaven and see how the pair of them behaved. It was a thought to give her some amusement, but she pushed it aside now at their silent reactions.

  ‘If you think ’tis a viable concern, Theo, then get it started before some other clayworks gets the same notion. Bult and Vine’s have never been slow in following up our ideas.’

  ‘There’s a little more to it than that, Gran,’ he said, despite his relief at this virtual go-ahead. ‘It’s going to be a huge operation. We have to ensure there’s no danger of subsidence from both old tin and clay workings, so surveyors will need to be consulted, according to Harrison Dean. He’s the St Austell architect, so he knows the lie of the land, and he’s perfectly trustworthy.’

  ‘So I should hope,’ Morwen said dryly. ‘So – how much?’

  The figures he mentioned sounded astronomical, and Skye drew in her breath. Surely it couldn’t possibly cost as much – and all this before the new buildings were even constructed?

  She presumed Killigrew Clay was a rich enough concern, and it was well-respected for its continuing success over the decades. Other clayworks had come and gone, or been swallowed up in bigger concerns, but there must be a limit on how far the coffers would stretch.

  ‘From the look of these figures, you’d best call in the accountants before you make any move,’ Morwen said at last.

  ‘But if all is well, you think we can go ahead, then?’ He admitted to himself that he could hardly believe his luck at this lack of objection.

  ‘You can go that far,’ she said, more sharply. ‘I’ve already said ’twould seem like a good venture, and I’m too weary to be going over and over it. Providing it don’t bankrupt us, then you have my say-so on it. ’Twill be summat for your young ’uns to work toward for when I’m gone.’

  ‘Gran, please don’t talk like that,’ Skye said quickly, knowing that Morwen was tiring far more quickly than she cared to show. Nurse Jenkins would be hovering soon, insisting that she go back to bed, and she hoped fervently that the doctor would arrive soon as well.

  ‘Now then, my girl, I’ve already told Birdie there’s nothing wrong in planning your own demise, so don’t you be the one to go and spoil my enjoyment of it,’ she chided Skye with a wicked smile.

  She suddenly started to shiver, and Skye moved towards her quickly, wrapping her shawl more closely around her thin shoulders. She was alternately chilled and sweating, and she had admitted that all her bones ached, but insisting that it was all to do with advancing age, and nothing to fret about.

  When she regained her breath, she spoke feebly, but pointedly. ‘Theo, go and leave me to the womenfolk, and sort out your business dealings with my blessing. And don’t kiss me, unless you want what ails me, and drive yon Betsy to distraction with worrying that the babby will catch it.’

  He glanced at Skye, and the look they shared was mutually troubled. For all his bombastic ways, he truly cared for Morwen, she thought, and that went a long way towards tempering her own feelings towards him.

  He was long gone before the doctor arrived, and after he had done his examination, and taken some swabs for further tests, he warned them gravely that it could be serious.

  ‘Not the Spanish flu!’ Skye burst out, her eyes wide with horror. ‘I know that millions of people in other parts of the world have died from it, Doctor, but my grandmother never goes anywhere, nor does she meet foreigners!’

  ‘My dear young lady, I would have thought your own intelligence and your knowledge of recent events would have alerted you to the possibility,’ he said testily. ‘We have become a global community, Mrs Norwood, and soldiers returning from other parts of the world bring the virus with them. Those who are weakened by age or war privations are easily susceptible, and if it is the particularly virulent kind of influenza, your grandmother is not the first case in Cornwall. And at the moment, I’m not prepared to say categorically that it is the so-called Spanish strain.’

  As he prevaricated, annoyed at her questioning, and obviously unsure of his own diagnosis, Skye already had her grandmother dead and buried in her mind. And all she could think about was that this strong old lady, who had gone through so much in her lifetime, including a stroke, was likely to be struck down by a miniscule virus that no one could see.

  ‘But you can do something for her, can’t you? You must!’

  He sighed, clearly seeing he would be unable to get away until he had satisfied this imperious young woman’s demands.

  ‘She’s in Nurse Jenkins’ capable hands, and apart from giving her sedatives to calm her, influenza must always run its course. Time will tell if she has the strength to combat this disease. But you can do your part—’

  ‘Anything,’ Skye said passionately. ‘I’ll sit with her day and night, if need be!’

  ‘And much good that will do for you in your condition. You have another life to consider now, Mrs Norwood. You must think of your baby, and Mrs Wainwright wouldn’t want you to do otherwise. But since I know it’s useless to suggest that you stay away from the sickroom, I suggest that you take turns in relieving the nurse and companion’s vigil. At all times you must see that the sickroom is well-ventilated, and that you constantly burn coal tar in a container to ward off any germs for yourselves. She’s sleeping peacefully now, but I’ll call back later this evening to check on her progress.’

  And that in itself was an ominous sign, thought Skye.

  * * *

  ‘There’s only thing I’m glad about in this whole worrying business,’ she told Philip later, once the doctor had been and gone again, and Morwen was uneasily settled for the night.

  ‘And what’s that?’

  She spoke slowly, hoping he would understand. ‘The fact that Granny Morwen knows I had decided to stay permanently in Cornwall, without any thought of this house being my legacy – which I still can’t believe she truly meant. Cornwall is my home now, and I know she would go more peacefully to her grave, knowing I was always going to be here.’

  She clapped her hand to her mouth, immediately wishing she hadn’t said such a thing. Like Birdie, she was afraid th
at putting it into words was tempting fate, an omen, a touch of fey presentiment that she didn’t want.

  Philip hugged her close, feeling her body shake. ‘Whatever is destined to happen, will happen, darling, and there’s nothing you or I can do to stop it.’

  ‘That sounds more like me than you! Since when did you become so Cornish?’ she said, trying to be smart.

  ‘Since sharing your life, I suspect. Don’t you know the old adage that people in love begin to share the same thoughts and feelings, and even start to look alike?’

  ‘I thought that only applied to people and their dogs,’ Skye said, starting to laugh, despite herself.

  ‘Oh well, maybe that’s what I’m thinking about,’ he said airily, ‘but at least it made you smile. And Morwen won’t thank you for walking around on tip-toe with a gloomy face all day. Even Birdie knows that. If you’ve got any crying to do, then do it in private, darling, the way I suspect she does. But Morwen would be the first to tell you not to waste your tears until it becomes necessary.’

  ‘And there speaks the college lecturer,’ she murmured.

  ‘I’m not trying to lecture you. I’m trying to say, in my clumsy way, that if this illness is going to end Morwen’s life-span, then you must let her go, Skye.’

  The silly comment that she could hardly stop the inevitability of death faded on her lips, because she knew exactly what he meant.

  But she had known her grandmother for such a little while, for far too short a time, and in her heart she was already mourning her. She swallowed the lump that had suddenly gathered in her throat.

  ‘You’re saying that I must be strong for her,’ she said slowly, wishing she had the strength of a man. His strength. At that moment, she seemed to have nothing inside her at all.

  ‘I’m saying you should be yourself, sweetheart, because that’s all your grandmother ever wanted. You’re so like her in every way, and she’ll always be proud of you.’