Primmy's Daughter

by Primmy's Daughter (retail) (epub)

  ‘Oh, I agree with that!’ she said quickly. ‘Advertising can mean all the difference to the success of a new business.’

  ‘And we couldn’t advertise it without a name. So have you had any ideas about it, Mrs Norwood?’ he asked.

  She looked away for a moment. She felt ungainly, awkward, heavy and unlovable, but there was no mistaking the admiration in the man’s eyes. Considering her girth right now, it certainly did her a power of good, but it also disturbed her to feel pleasure in knowing he was attracted towards her.

  After all, it was hardly becoming for someone about to give birth to be distracted by such thoughts about a man who wasn’t her husband. And especially when she had just buried her grandmother, and was in mourning.

  The thought sobered her at once, and to her relief the unreal feelings vanished. He was just a pleasant young man who meant nothing to her, and was never likely to do so.

  ‘I don’t think anyone has given much thought to it,’ Primmy answered for her. ‘We’ve had other family matters to attend to recently.’

  ‘Of course. But Mr Tremayne thought that getting the project started might be good for everyone,’ Harrison replied. ‘I’m sorry if I offended you in any way.’

  ‘You didn’t,’ Theo said shortly. ‘But you’d best explain where you think we need further advice, Harry.’

  They all studied the blueprints again, and he ran his finger along a curving line from north to south on the original plan of the area.

  ‘This is where the main problem could lie, where the narrow channels of water ran down to the settling tanks. It will need careful surveying to ensure there’s no likelihood of subsidence as happened long ago, I believe.’

  Primmy spoke abruptly. ‘That was due to Ben Killigrew’s rail tracks being built over old disused tin mines. He had arranged for the clayworkers to go on a day’s outing to the sea, and the tracks collapsed.’

  ‘I remember reading something about it,’ Harry Dean said. ‘And that’s the kind of thing we must guard against. There was one fatality, I believe?’

  ‘My father,’ Primmy said.

  Nobody said anything for a minute, and then the architect spoke awkwardly. ‘I begin to feel as though I’ve unwittingly stirred up a hornet’s nest, Mrs Tremayne, and perhaps this is best left for another day after all.’

  ‘No. Please go on, Mr Dean,’ Skye said quickly. ‘You didn’t know we were coming here today, and you and my cousin had obviously planned to get some thoughts in order.’

  He nodded, glad of her support. ‘Well then, these little white rivers in themselves wouldn’t do much harm, but it all depends on what’s beneath them, and I’ll have the report on that in a week or so.’

  ‘Why do you call them that?’ Skye said curiously.

  He laughed. ‘Just a slip of the tongue. They call the river running through St Austell the White River, on account of all the clay slurry that pours into it and out to sea, and of course it’s these little channels at all the pits hereabouts that’s the cause of it all.’ Skye stared at him, and then at Theo, feeling a sliver of excitement in her veins.

  ‘Couldn’t that be our name, Theo? If we called it White Rivers Pottery, it would get right away from the Killigrew name, but still have a deep significance to the area.’

  ‘Maybe so. But it needs some more thinking about before we make such a hasty decision,’ he said.

  She knew very well that if he had thought of it first, it wouldn’t need thinking about at all. She also knew that her small surge of excitement and well-being was quickly fading, and her make-shift seat was becoming harder by the minute. Philip saw her discomfort, and came to a decision.

  ‘It’s time to get you home, I think. We’ll leave the gentlemen to get on with the investigations, and they can report back to us when they’re ready.’

  And if he was taking a more proprietorial interest in the business than he should, Skye was too weary to make any comment. Why shouldn’t he, anyway? They were husband and wife, and that made them partners in all things. And all she wanted now was to get home and rest. She suddenly felt very old and very tired, almost as if she was taking on the mantle of Morwen Tremayne.

  She shivered as Philip helped her into the car, and leaned against the back of the seat.

  ‘Are you all right, darling?’ her mother asked anxiously. ‘If you want us to send for the doctor when we return—’

  ‘I’m perfectly all right, thank you, and I don’t need the doctor. In fact, I’m wondering if this baby ever intends to be born at all!’

  She spoke sharply as she so often did lately, unable to control the way her moods seemed to swing so rapidly from good to bad. Whatever the reason, she didn’t like it, and she knew she was becoming a trial to everyone around her.

  ‘There’s one thing you can be sure about when it comes to babies, honey,’ her father said amiably. ‘They won’t stay in their cosy confinement for ever, but they won’t be born until they’re good and ready.’

  Skye swallowed. Would this child ever be ready to be born, and would it be well and healthy? But she still said nothing, too uneasy to put it into words that made the alternative seem all too much of a possibility.

  She couldn’t even explain why she felt the way she did, except that she had felt such a very real surge of magnetism between herself and Morwen when the baby had kicked. As if the two of them were saying goodbye…

  She saw Philip glance at her as she made an involuntary sound in her throat. She should be sharing this with him. This child was a part of them both, but right now she was jealously guarding all her fears, and she knew it was creating a small barrier between them.

  To ward off any further personal questions, she made her voice brighter as Philip drove carefully back down the moorland tracks towards the road leading to New World.

  ‘Perhaps the baby’s waiting for the war to end before he makes his appearance. If all the reports in the newspapers are true, it can only be days now.’

  ‘And you wouldn’t doubt what’s said in The Informer, would you, Skye?’ Philip said with a smile, knowing of her regard for David Kingsley being such a stickler for facts, and not reporting anything until it was verified.

  ‘I would not!’ she said airily. ‘If David’s got wind that German troops are being ordered to withdraw all along the Western Front, then it must be true, and surely that means the end has got to be in sight.’

  ‘Amen to that,’ her father said fervently. ‘The sooner the better. They say that some of the battles yielded no more than yards of territory for either side, at a terrible cost in lives. It’s a tragedy the world shouldn’t ever forget.’

  ‘My goodness, how serious we’re becoming,’ Primmy said nervously. ‘Let’s look forward instead of back, shall we? We’ve got a happy event to look forward to, and the pottery isn’t the only thing that needs a name, Skye. What have you decided on? You’ve been keeping it a very close secret.’

  ‘That’s because we’ve been too superstitious to decide on anything yet,’ Skye said.

  ‘You – superstitious?’ Primmy said sceptically.

  Philip laughed. ‘Your daughter’s become very acclimatised since living here, Primmy. She thinks like a Cornishwoman now. She’s even had a clash with an old woman who lives on the moors, and I’m not sure how much of her fairy-tales Skye actually believed.’

  ‘I wish I’d never told you any of that now,’ Skye said crossly. And if she truly thought like a Cornishwoman now, then she could believe anything was possible under the sun.

  * * *

  The days following Morwen’s death were subdued ones for everyone at New World. Nurse Jenkins had gone on to other duties, and Birdie was ready to bid them all a tearful farewell, promising to let them know when she was settled in her brother’s house.

  ‘You will, won’t you, Birdie?’ Skye urged. ‘Granny Morwen would want us to know that everything was well with you.’

  ‘Aye,’ the woman said. ‘And I’ll want to know when this babby’s
born too, so you’ll be hearing from me, never fear.’

  They hugged one another quickly, both conscious that in the parting, they were breaking a link with the past.

  And then it seemed to Skye that she was just marking time, just as the whole world was marking time. She, for the delivery of her baby, and the rest of mankind for the delivery of peace. She tried not to think that way, as if she was setting herself up as some divine mother-to-be.

  And at last, in the sleepless still of the night that she hated, she found the words to confide her fears to Philip. He folded her into him, gently rubbing her back to give her some relief from her awkward lying position.

  ‘Sometimes I’m so frightened that all may not be well with the baby,’ she whispered. ‘I haven’t told you how I’ve been feeling lately, Philip, but if we should lose him now—’

  He kissed her mouth, stopping the nervous flow of words.

  ‘Do you think I haven’t guessed? You’re not the only one with intuition, my darling, and I’m sure you’re not the first woman to feel this way. But you’ve got to keep believing that you’re going to carry on what Morwen began. You’re not a Tremayne for nothing.’

  She mumbled against his shoulder. ‘I know. Great-grandmother Bess Tremayne was a strong woman, and so was Morwen. And Mom too. I’ve got a hell of a lot to live up to, and I’m not sure I can ever read Granny Morwen’s diaries after all. It will be far too painful.’

  ‘They’ll come to no harm where they are, and you’ll know when the time is right,’ he said, not pressing her.

  She hugged him as close as she could, considering the bulge between them, a smile in her voice.

  ‘Now I know why I love you so much,’ she said illogically, but neither of them needed logic at that moment. It was enough to need and hold each other.

  * * *

  Shortly before a cold and misty dawn on November 11th, a group of men were bizarrely gathered in a railway carriage in the forest of Compiegne to agree the terms and sign the armistice that signalled that four miserable years of war were at an end. At eleven that morning, all hostilities ceased, and the news was circulated around the world.

  Jubilation was rife in towns and cities; toasts were drunk; the silent church bells began to ring out again; cars’ hooters blared out everywhere, and people spilled out of houses and taverns in the joyous knowledge that peace had come at last. And those who had lost loved ones, wept over the waste and futility of it all.

  ‘You’d think this babe would show its appreciation, wouldn’t you?’ Skye grumbled, when the momentous day had come and gone, with no sign of her labour commencing.

  A couple of days later the family gathered at New World for a celebration dinner, as they had so often done in the past. Theo arrived with his family, with Betsy trying hard to stop Sebastian having one of his screaming bouts of temper; Charlotte came with her husband Vincent, and their two daughters; Emma and Will had come over from Wadebridge; Albie and Rose were there, and so was Luke.

  They were all acutely conscious that Morwen was missing from their midst, but everyone was determined to be bright.

  ‘There’s to be a national Victory Day on the fifteenth, Skye,’ Vera told her, gleeful at the thought of all the young men returning from France. ‘Maybe the baby will arrive then.’

  ‘Well, it had better be born soon,’ Theo said, having drunk far too much champagne to mince his words, ‘before she turns into a barrage balloon.’

  ‘That’s a bit near the knuckle, even in these days, isn’t it, old boy?’ Luke reproached him mildly.

  ‘I thought it was more like hitting below the belt,’ Vera chortled, always ready to bait Luke, and uncaring what she said in these first heady days of peace, any more than any of them really did.

  It was a time for celebration, and the final toast before they went home again was to Morwen, who had missed it all.

  ‘But I’m sure she knows. Mammie always did know everything,’ Primmy said softly, raising her glass to Albie so surreptitiously that few were aware of it.

  Skye knew that families need to be together in times of stress or happiness, but she was glad when they all left and it was just the four of them again; herself and Philip, Primmy and Cress. And if there was to be a Victory Day in two days’ time, it would have to happen without her, she said fervently.

  But when the day arrived, she urged her parents not to miss any of the festivities that were planned. The Informer had published extra issues, detailing the various events.

  ‘There’ll be street parties, and they’ve put bunting up all over Truro and St Austell,’ Philip said, reading the gigantic headlines. ‘There’re going to be firework displays too, and flags are on sale everywhere,’ he reported. ‘All the street lights have been unmasked, and shops are ablaze with lights now without their black-out curtains. It sounds wonderful, but I bet London will really be the place to be.’

  He stopped, realising they were all laughing at him.

  ‘And you sound about ten years old!’ Skye said. ‘I wish I’d known you then. I bet you weren’t half as serious as the college lecturer you turned out to be.’

  ‘Were you serious at ten years old?’ he countered.

  ‘Sinclair was,’ Primmy put in. ‘But then Sinclair was serious in the cradle. He always looked like a little old man, even when he was six months old.’

  At which they all convulsed, until Skye begged them to stop, insisting that she had a terrible stitch in her side that wouldn’t go away.

  ‘This could be it,’ Primmy said at once.

  ‘I doubt it, but even if it is, you’re not to stay at home because of me, Mom. You and Daddy go and enjoy it all with Albie and Rose, and come tell me all about it later. I’m all right, really I am, so please don’t fuss. And Philip’s not going anywhere, are you, honey? You’re not planning to nip off to London or anything, are you?’

  She had to make a joke of it, because the pain was becoming more intense, and she wasn’t at all sure that it was just a stitch after all. But she didn’t want her folks to miss out on the fun because of her.

  ‘I’m staying right here, love,’ he said, and once they had seen her parents off after many protestations, he turned to Skye. ‘And now do I send for the midwife?’

  ‘Yes,’ she gasped. ‘And tell her to make it soon!’

  * * *

  ‘The poor maid’s having a hard time of it, Sir,’ the midwife said to Philip some hours later. ‘I think ’twould be a good idea to send for the doctor, just to be on the safe side.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Skye ground out between contractions.

  She asked the obligatory question, although dealing with the pain that was tearing her apart was uppermost in her mind right now. Philip gripped her hand tightly, assuring her that nothing was wrong. It was just that the midwife needed a second opinion.

  ‘What about? That the baby is still alive?’ Skye muttered with an awful fatality.

  If he heard, he didn’t answer, but went rushing out of the room to telephone the doctor, and praying that he wouldn’t be somewhere in the midst of the day’s festivities, like most of the rest of the country. It was sheer good fortune that the midwife hadn’t yet left for Truro to join her son and daughter, and she’d need paying double fees for attending on this particular day, Skye had joked.

  ‘He’s not there,’ Philip said a few minutes later. Ashen now, he stared down at Skye’s pain-distorted face. ‘He’s gone to attend a sick patient, and his housekeeper doesn’t know when he’ll be back.’

  ‘Then we’ll just have to manage without un, won’t we?’ the midwife said. ‘You can help, if you’ve the stomach for it, Sir, even though a man’s work was done nine months afore, and he’s best out of it, I allus say. But needs must, and this little lady’s getting very tired now.’

  ‘Just tell me what I must do,’ Philip said quietly, and Skye had never loved him more as he obeyed the midwife’s crisp instructions as that long day dragged on.

  It was dusk when the
y saw the glare of fireworks, and heard them exploding in the sky, but by then Skye was too disorientated to care about anything but ridding herself of her burden. It was almost here, the midwife said, just a little longer, and Philip was urging her to push…

  The sudden joyous peal of church bells in the vicinity burst through her consciousness. Celebrating victory after four long years of war, and as the sounds continued to ring out like a litany, they were also celebrating the arrival of a new child into the world.

  The baby finally slid out of Skye’s body, uttering a weak cry, and then a stronger, more vital one. As she heard it, tears dampened Skye’s cheeks, knowing the child was alive and that all her fears had been unfounded after all.

  She saw Philip’s awed and delighted face as the midwife wrapped the baby in a cloth and handed it to him.

  ‘Tain’t the usual way o’ things, but I reckon the father deserves some credit for today’s proceedings as well, don’t you, Mother?’

  Mother. With one word, she was elevated into another sphere, one that she would cherish as long as she lived.

  ‘Let me hold him,’ she said huskily, and Philip handed the bundle to her.

  ‘Him?’ the midwife hooted before he could speak. ‘’Tis a girl-child, Mrs Norwood, and a right little beauty she be. Now I’ll leave you two to coo over her while I see to tidying up.’

  A girl… but she should have always known it would be a girl, thought Skye. A dark-haired, blue-eyed daughter, with a perfectly-shaped mouth and creamy skin. A Tremayne girl.

  ‘Isn’t she beautiful?’ Skye breathed, almost afraid to take her eyes away from the baby. She reached out and held Philip’s hand. ‘Mom will be so mad to have missed it all. But you were just wonderful, darling.’

  ‘You weren’t so bad yourself,’ he said, ‘even though you did shout pretty forcefully more than once that all men should be sent to Kingdom Come.’