Sometimes, Emma thought, I don’t know you at all Seth Jago if you can keep things like this from me. And she knew without a doubt that he had.
‘So,’ Seth said. ‘I want you to go back home now. I’ll tell you everything later. Here isn’t the place.’ And then he placed the sweetest of kisses on her lips, not caring who saw him do it.
He’s kept his secret to protect me, hasn’t he? Because he loves me, Emma thought, as she returned his kiss, then turned and hurried back home.
‘I can’t tell you, Emma.’
‘Can’t or won’t?’
Seth considered his reply. He knew he was going to have to give one.
‘Can’t,’ he said at last. ‘I knew Miles had escaped again but I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t want to scare you, make you too afraid to live in your own house.’
‘It’s not my house, it’s yours. And I think you should have told me so that I could have been on my guard.’
Seth sighed. There were two things he had to respond to there: Emma’s implication that the house was his alone, when in fact he’d bought it for her sake so that she wouldn’t have to live in his childhood home with all the bad associations it had for her; and the reason he hadn’t told her about Miles.
‘But I didn’t. And I had my reasons for it. I ought to have gone to the authorities the second I was told that Miles had boarded the ship with Caroline, I know that. I think that omission could be considered a crime, or a criminal act, or something. And the person who saw Miles is implicated now as well.’
‘But that was Olly. He came here and said he’d seen Caroline boarding with someone. That someone was Miles, wasn’t it?’
‘Emma! Let me finish. And now you know. It’s going to be hard for us all to keep this secret now, isn’t it?’
‘Can Olly be trusted not to tell?’ Emma said. ‘If he’s had a few pints of ale too many he might.’
‘Olly doesn’t drink that much these days. He can’t afford to start work the next day with a hangover.’
‘But if he did?’
Seth thought he saw fear in her eyes that Olly might say something in an unguarded moment.
‘He won’t. What he’s done is probably considered a crime, or an offence. Against the law anyway. Olly’s not stupid.’
‘Hmm,’ Emma said. ‘Some of those telephone calls, Seth? Were they from the authorities? About Miles?’
‘Yes. I was asked not to tell anyone and that “anyone” included you, Emma. Our home and my boats have been under surveillance.’
‘Surveillance?’
‘It means we were being watched covertly.’
‘I know what it means. It just makes me shiver inside to think I was being watched.’
‘Not just you,’ Seth told her. ‘Me as well. And Fleur. And Shingle Cottage had a watcher at all times when Fleur was there, just in case.’
‘But I’m your w—’ Emma began, then a hand flew to her mouth before she took it away again. ‘You know what I was going to say there, don’t you?’
‘I do. And in my heart you are my wife and always will be. And this house is as much yours as it is mine. I’ll get your name added to the deeds.’
Not that he was at all sure he’d be able to do that, but he would ask Bettesworth the next time he saw him. But he could see his words had softened Emma’s face. She was almost smiling.
‘No rush,’ Emma said. She plonked a noisy kiss on his cheek. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
‘Good.’
‘But all those telephone calls you were taking. None of them was from Mrs Prentiss?’
‘Not a single one. Had she rung I would have replaced the receiver the second I heard her voice, but she didn’t ring. I don’t want to set eyes on her again as long as I live.’
‘Me neither,’ Emma said. ‘Although there’s a dreadful knot of something in the pit of my stomach – something almost indigestible like walnuts are for me if I eat them, even if they’re disguised in a cake or in biscuits – that tells me we might.’
‘There’ll be lists soon,’ Seth said. ‘Survivors and victims. I’ll call at the newspaper office later when I’ve finished at the fish market. Will that put your mind at rest?’
Emma nodded, pressed her lips together, and Seth knew that what she was hoping for was the same as he was – that neither Miles nor Caroline had survived. How un-Christian a thought, that was!
But it would be the best thing for them.
Chapter Nine
Seth decided to tell Olly the news first. He went to the boatyard just before Olly shut up for the day. No one else would be about because Olly liked to be the last one to leave. He always checked there were no lamps burning, nothing that could cause a fire. And he made sure all windows and doors were secure against anyone breaking in.
‘I’ve just come from the newspaper office. Miles’s and Caroline’s names aren’t on either list,’ Seth said, marching in without preamble.
He’d also come via his solicitor, who had told him that there was a serious buyer for the fishing fleet. But he’d been told that before and it had been a false rumour so he’d keep that bit of information to himself for the moment.
Olly carried on sweeping wood shavings into a heap in the middle of his workshop without looking up. ‘Why am I not surprised?’ he said. ‘A man who goes to the trouble of growing a beard when he’s never had one before, and disguises himself under layers of clothes, isn’t going to stop there with his subterfuge, is he? I would have bet that yacht over there that they wouldn’t be travelling under their real names.’ He waved his broom in the direction of a beautifully sleek craft Seth would love to own, if only he could conquer his seasickness.
‘I wonder what names they did travel under?’
‘I’m not going to waste any brain cells thinking about it,’ Olly said. He continued to find shavings to sweep where Seth could see none. ‘And if you’ve got any sense you won’t either. If they’ve drowned – under whatever false names they were travelling by – then they’ve drowned. If they’ve survived then – by the same deduction – they’ll be in New York and starting their new life which was their intention.’ Olly spun round to face Seth. ‘Won’t they?’
‘Yes. You’re right. But that’s not going to put Emma’s mind at rest, is it?’
‘Hey, man,’ Olly said. ‘I’m not the vicar doling out pastoral guidance here.’
‘No, of course—’ Seth began.
But Olly interrupted him. ‘God but I don’t mean to snap at you, Seth. You’re the best mate a man could have, even if I’m now holding secrets for you that I wish I wasn’t.’
‘Is something wrong?’ Seth said.
Olly screwed up his features and tilted his head from side to side quickly – maybe yes, maybe no, the gesture said. And it also said he wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about it.
Seth had imposed too much on Olly, hadn’t he? He was the only person – apart from the solicitor and Mrs Drew, and Dr Shaw, of course – in the whole town who knew the truth about Fleur. And he’d closed his boatyard for a day to go to Southampton on the train to make sure Caroline boarded the ship. Seth had offered to pay him the loss of the day’s earnings, but Olly wouldn’t hear of it.
‘Would a pint or two to soothe your worries help? I can telephone Emma and tell her I’ll be late in.’
‘No,’ Olly said, shaking his head.
Seth could see now that Olly had dark circles under his eyes. As though he hadn’t slept in ages.
‘My ma,’ Olly said. ‘She’s going doolally-tap. She put half a pound of tea down the lavatory yesterday. I caught her stirring it round with two silver tablespoons. And when I was upstairs getting ready to come over here, she put two aprons on, one on top of the other. Then she went into town and Fred Aggett’s wife had to bring her home.’
‘Dementia?’ Seth said.
‘Not confirmed yet. I’m taking her over to see Dr Shaw just as soon as I can get off from here. Fred Aggett’s wife is sitting with her until I
get home.’
‘And I’ve held you up. Look, I’ll drive you home and wait while you collect your ma.’
‘No. It could take me ages to get her out of the house. It’s not far to walk to Dr Shaw. You get on home and prove to that delightful little firebrand of a wife of yours that you’d slay dragons for her, never mind keeping her safe from Miles and Caroline – if they’re still alive.’
Seth turned towards the door.
Dementia could take years to kill a body. What a life Olly was going to have of it now with his ma to care for. And then an idea formed in Seth’s mind – it came fully formed and he didn’t think Olly would be against the plan.
But first he’d need to talk it over with Emma. And put her mind at rest.
The thought of Emma, warm and loving beside him in bed, which was always where they did their serious talking – so much more comfortable there for making up if there was an argument – meant that Seth nearly tripped over himself in his haste to get to his car.
‘Guess what!’ Ruby said.
Oh no, not another of Ruby’s silly guessing games. While Emma looked forward to Ruby’s weekly visits, she could have lived without her guessing games.
‘The price of spuds is going up?’ Emma said, deciding to play along.
‘Can’t you be serious for five minutes, Mrs Jago?’
Ruby loved calling Emma, Mrs Jago, and Emma loved hearing her say it. Somehow, Ruby filled the word with lashings of respect.
‘Spuds and stockings are going up by a shilling. Didn’t you know?’
‘Stop it!’ Ruby said. ‘I come ’ere and work my fingers to the bone all mornin’ for you, and on me ’alf day an’ all, and you’ve been singin’ your ’eart out all the bleedin’ time and there’s me ’olding a secret to me like a boil what needs to burst.’
Yes, that’s because I’m happy, Emma thought, happier than she could ever have wished for. Seth had assured her that Caroline Prentiss and Miles were travelling under false names and if they’d drowned then that was the last they were likely to see of them this side of heaven, and even then who could be sure they ever would see them there, either. And if they’d survived, then they’d be in New York getting up to goodness knows what.
And it wasn’t just that. Seth had said that someone was interested in buying his fishing fleet and as soon as the contract to sell was signed he was going to go and work for Olly Underwood. No more worries about keeping his men in employment and his tied cottages neat and tidy, or sitting with his heart in his mouth through a storm waiting for one of his boats to come in, hopefully without loss of life.
Emma couldn’t wait. And not only were things happening for Seth, they were happening for her, too. Mr Singer, senior, had been at the party in Steartfield House and had been so impressed with what she had made for the afternoon tea party – tiny bite-sized tarts she’d made in patty tins instead of in a large one that would have had to be cut into slices – that he’d asked that she prepare the food for an event he was holding at his house, The Wigwam. What a funny name for a house! But then, he was American.
‘I dunno what schemes an’ plans is goin’ round in your ’ead, Em, but I’m goin’ to burst if I don’ tell you what’s in mine.’
‘Spill the beans, then.’
Ruby took a deep breath. ‘There’s rumours goin’ around that Caroline Prentiss was on the Titanic.’
‘Oh? Are there?’ Emma said. It felt like the bottom had just fallen out of her happy little world. But she’d feign ignorance – even to Ruby – as best she could, although wasn’t she becoming an accomplished actress these days? Beattie Drew had asked her when her wedding anniversary was and Emma had immediately come up with the date – November 18th. And a detailed account of the ‘anniversary’ dinner she was going to cook for her and Seth, the menu details slipping over her tongue the way junket slips down the throat. ‘Was she?’
‘’Aven’t I just said she was? Gawd, but the older you get you don’t get any less questionin’, do you?’
‘You only said it was a rumour, Ruby! Not that I care what’s happened to Caroline Prentiss anyway.’
Emma rolled and turned, rolled and turned the rough-puff pastry ready for the apricot tarts she was making far harder than she knew it needed rolling and turning, but the pastry would be the better for the tough treatment. She was sick to death of the sound of Caroline Prentiss’ name.
‘Ha! I don’t believe you. You do care. ’Til I mentioned ’er name you was all up ’igher than a Mog off ear balloon.’
‘A what?’ Emma laughed. ‘Oh! You mean Montgolfier, I think. He’s French.’
‘’Im and ’is bleedin’ Frenchie balloon, then. But the minute I mentioned Mrs Prentiss your face went flat, like all the wind ’ad been knocked out of you. Seems to me you’re on the defensive all of a sudden, Emma. I may not have the learnin’ you ’ave but it seems to me Caroline Prentiss is like a thorn in the bend of a finger to you.’
‘She means nothing to me, dead or alive.’
‘That’s an ’orrible thing to say.’
‘We all say horrible things sometimes. And think them.’
‘What, me?’ Ruby said, mock-outraged. ‘I’m pure as the driven snow for thoughts, I am.’
Emma laughed. She knew Ruby was aware of how she’d wrecked Emma’s previous good mood and was doing her best to make her laugh again, so she’d oblige.
‘Of course you are! I’ll give you some Brasso to polish that halo of yours before you go.’
‘You wouldn’ ’ave a tin big enough,’ Ruby said with a giggle. ‘But I didn’t say what I did to upset you. ’Onest, I didn’t. I said it to warn you. Mrs Prentiss and your Seth was seein’ one another for a while, wasn’t they?’
Emma thought to correct Ruby’s grammar, because if that was how she was speaking to Isabelle Smythe, then her father would be appalled. But now wasn’t the time.
‘They were, yes, but that was then and this is now.’
‘But she was somethin’ to Seth at one time, wasn’t she?’
Emma shrugged. Ruby wasn’t going to let this go, was she? She knew her friend well enough to know there was another instalment coming, like the Jan Stewer stories in the newspaper every week.
‘What else have you got to tell me?’
‘Seth was seen in Victoria Park over to Paignton talkin’ to Caroline Prentiss last December. And ’er ’ad a bundle with ’er. A bundle that was mewin’ like a baby.’
‘There could have been anything in that bundle!’ Emma snapped. ‘And if he was there then, why are you telling me all this now?’
‘For all your learnin’ you’re dense at times, Emma Jago. I’m tellin’ you, as any good friend would, that there’s rumours spreadin’ about Seth faster than a rash of measles goes through the primary school. And, also, ’cos you ain’t been straight with me, madam. I thought we wuz friends and friends don’t keep secrets from one another. Nor tell one another downright lies. I thought I was a good friend to you ’
Ruby folded her arms across her chest and glared at Emma.
‘You are,’ Emma said. ‘The best.’
‘So why did you lie and tell me little Fleur was a foundlin’, dumped on your doorstep?’
‘I didn’t tell you that! I said she’s Seth’s cousin Frank’s child. Frank’s father and Seth’s mother were brother and sister.’
‘It was as good as, and it was all lies. Seth is the father of that baby. And Caroline Prentiss is the mother, ain’t she? Don’t take a university learnin’ to work that out, do it?’
Emma felt faint. It was getting harder and harder to keep up the lies, the pretence, to remember the same story every time, every little detail correct. Just for a second there she’d forgotten what name she’d given Frank’s wife and she still couldn’t be sure if she’d told Ruby it was Mary or Martha or … she prayed Ruby wouldn’t ask.
But I can’t go having the vapours every time, can I? Emma thought. She finished trimming two tart cases and placed them in t
he oven to part-cook before she added the filling. ‘Just because someone has come up with a rumour doesn’t mean you have to question that what I’ve already told you is the truth,’ Emma said, surprising herself that her voice was so firm, without the hint of a blancmange wobble in it.
‘Don’t you want to know who it was told me about seein’ Seth with Caroline Prentiss?’
‘No! No I don’t!’
‘Gawd, Em, but you’m scary when you’m wronged. I wish I ’adn’t said anythin’ now. I was only tryin’ to warn you.’
‘And I’m grateful. But, whoever it was told you the rumour, you might consider suggesting they go and see an optician, get their eyesight tested. And while you’re at it, you can ask this rumourmonger to spread the truth for once – that Fleur is who I told you she is. But ours now. Mine and Seth’s. For always.’
‘Hmm.’ Ruby began wiping down the work table. ‘I ’spect the lists what was in the newspapers will be updated soon. When them as is unaccounted for is presumed drowned, or livin’ the life of Riley – whoever that lucky bugger was – in New York.’
‘You don’t give up, do you?’ Emma said.
‘And I wonder who I learned that trait off?’ Ruby said. She tipped the crumbs into the waste bin, then whirled round and caught Emma in her arms, plonking a noisy kiss on her cheek. ‘But for now, subject closed or I’ll be without the extra money you pay me for comin’ ’ere, and I’ll be without a friend and all.’
‘Subject closed for all time,’ Emma said. ‘But you’ll always be my friend.’
‘Promise?’ Ruby said, pressing her lips together so hard that furrows appeared on her forehead. The look in her eyes was, Emma thought, like that of a dog when it’s unsure if someone is going to feed it, or kick it from here to kingdom come.
‘Ruby? What have you done?’ Emma placed her hands on her hips and waited for Ruby’s next instalment of, probably shocking, news.
Emma: There's No Turning Back Page 14