Rosemerryn

by Rosemerryn (retail) (epub)

  She picked up a storybook and tried to look determined. ‘I can’t stay up here long, Vicki. I have the dishes to do and then we have to sort out the workload on the farm now that Daddy’s hurt his hand. Settle down and we’ll talk about it another time.’

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘I promise.’

  Vicki was content with that and when the story was finished she settled down to sleep.

  Laura prayed Ince would be back in the kitchen when she went downstairs but Spencer was alone, sitting in his chair, drinking a glass of whisky - to steady himself after the accident or because of an attack of nerves following his sudden declaration? she wondered. Self-consciously she crossed the room and did the dishes, putting them away without a single word passing between them. Her mind was full of questions. Why had Spencer suddenly said that to Vicki? If taking the next step regarding their understanding had been on his mind, why hadn’t he spoken to her privately instead of blurting it out, exciting Vicki and embarrassing her and Ince? As he had nothing to say now, was he regretting it? She knew she should address these questions to Spencer but she couldn’t bring herself to ask him.

  Leaving aside her feelings for Vicki, she felt frightened at the prospect of marrying again and turned her thoughts to Guy’s birth. Standing at the oak dresser with a dinner plate in her hand, she went into a sort of trance as she recalled the feel of his tiny wet body in her hands as he’d emerged into the world. She heard again the sound of his first cry. She could almost smell the wonderful baby scent of him when she had held him after he’d been washed and dressed. Tressa would have fed him twice by now, changed at least two nappies. Laura was consumed with her old longing to prepare a nursery for herself, to knit baby clothes, to choose names and godparents, to hold and love and cherish her own baby, to watch it grow up. Tears were only a moment away.

  She didn’t realise Spencer was beside her until he touched her arm. ‘Laura, are you all right?’

  ‘What?’ She flinched and Spencer was horrified that she had recoiled from him. ‘Oh, yes. Sorry, I was miles away.’ She put the plate in its place. ‘I was thinking about Guy’s birth. It’s silly, isn’t it? How we women come over all emotional at a baby being born.’

  ‘No,’ he said softly. ‘I won’t ever forget how I felt when I first saw Vicki.’ After a small pause he added, ‘And how Natalie cried with joy.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Spencer. I didn’t mean to bring up old memories.’

  ‘I don’t mind any more, Laura. I’ve accepted now that Vicki’s birth led to Natalie’s death.’

  Dejectedly he returned to his chair. He had been thinking over what he’d said to Vicki. It hadn’t been a slip of the tongue even though he’d said it out of jealousy. When he had suggested the understanding to Laura, he’d thought he would be happy to allow things to ride until Vicki grew up, simply accepting the love and attention Laura would give her. Just lately he had been thinking differently. He had always desired Laura, even when she’d first arrived in Kilgarthen and he had hated her unjustly over Bill Jennings’ past behaviour to Natalie. He had been a widower for over six years and now he wanted to put an end to that kind of loneliness.

  Forcing a small smile, he said meekly, ‘I’m sorry if I make you feel you have to tread on eggshells over my feelings whenever we’re together.’

  Laura smiled back, feeling a little shy, but she liked these moments when Spencer was kind and considerate. She felt guilty at the description she had given of him to Tressa. She would try to remember the next time they clashed, as inevitably they would, that he wasn’t entirely an ogre. She gave him a few moments to say something about his earlier declaration. With nothing forthcoming, she reached for her cardigan. ‘I’d better be going. I’ll be over early tomorrow.’

  Spencer knew she had wanted him to say something to her but he could only clear his throat. ‘Thanks for all your help,’ he said sincerely, as if he was talking to someone no closer than a kindly neighbour.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ she answered in the same manner. ‘I’ll see Vicki on and off the school bus tomorrow. I’ll stay here throughout each day until things are back to normal.’ She stressed the word normal. ‘I’ll get Joy Miller to do my stints in the shop with Aunty Daisy.’

  Joy Miller was a young mother who had been Rosemerryn’s daily cleaning woman until Laura had taken over her job, unpaid, so she could spend more time with Vicki. She employed Joy on a part-time basis in her place in the shop.

  With that sorted out, Laura left hastily.

  Spencer lit a cigarette. For Vicki’s sake he usually smoked outside but he was troubled. He couldn’t get the look on Laura’s face as she had talked about the Macarthur baby out of his mind. It was plain she desperately wanted a child of her own. If he didn’t get things worked out with her quickly, there was the danger she might marry someone else to have a baby.

  He got up and paced the floor restlessly then looked out of the window over the sink. He was shaken to see Laura hadn’t gone yet but was involved in a close conversation out in the yard with Ince. She seemed to like Ince more than she did him, that was even more obvious after the way she’d recoiled from him. Ince might only earn a farm labourer’s meagre wage but with his dark good looks, black curly hair, his hard-working and gentle character he would make any woman a good husband. Laura probably realised that. One reason Spencer had been dragging his heels over Laura was the difference in their finances. Laura was well placed, while the farm was just breaking even and Spencer had no spare money to build the much-needed new outbuildings and maintain his all-important tractor. Ince had fallen in love with Laura soon after she had come to Kilgarthen, he probably still was in love with her. He might not be too proud to take a wife who was so much better off than he was.

  Spencer screwed up his face in anguish and banged his good hand on the draining board. Suddenly he wanted Laura Jennings with all his being and he realised he was running a great risk of losing her.

  Chapter 3

  Harry Lean alighted from a first-class carriage at Liskeard railway station and, humming softly to himself, made his way towards his red and black Vauxhall sedan. As he put the key in the door he felt a light tap on his shoulder.

  ‘I wonder if you can help me?’

  It was a young female voice, with a distinctly cut-glass accent. Harry turned round with a smile stretching the full extent of his wide mouth and he wasn’t disappointed. The woman smiling up at him was exceedingly well-dressed. The day had begun with a hard frost and she was wearing a fur stole. She was muskily perfumed, expertly made up if a trifle overdone, not a natural beauty, but a stunning redhead. She gleamed with natural confidence.

  ‘I promise I’ll do my utmost,’ Harry replied smoothly, raising an inquiring eyebrow. ‘Miss…?’

  ‘Celeste Cunningham,’ she answered, making her voice throb while looking him up and down with a twinkle in her green-flecked eyes. She smoothed her white-gloved hands over the narrow hips of her long flowing skirt. ‘And you’re right, it is miss.’ She put on an appealing frown and glanced about helplessly. ‘There doesn’t seem to be a taxicab about and I’m making my way to a place called Kilgarthen. It’s a little village apparently, on Bodmin Moor. Would you have any idea where it is? Mr…?’

  Harry put out his hand. ‘Harry Lean,’ he drawled, thinking the gods were decidedly on his side this morning to throw him this divine piece of fluff. ‘Not only do I know where Kilgarthen is, Miss Cunningham, but I also just happen to live there. Allow me to give you a lift.’

  Celeste placed her hand in his and summed him up: an animal of practised charm, about thirty years old, carelessly handsome, dark active eyes, an interesting three-dimensional fleshy circle in the centre of a strong chin, almost certainly an utter beast where women were concerned – but she could handle his type. Mmmm, perhaps the village wasn’t going to be a boring little backwater after all.

  ‘I’m delighted to find Cornwall can so quickly offer such a gallant gentleman. The guard is collectin
g my suitcases.’ She returned Harry’s firm clasp before gently withdrawing her hand.

  Harry saw her into the front passenger seat of his car then supervised the loading of her luggage into the boot. There was a lot of it. She had slipped off her stole and was checking her make-up in a silver compact when he got in beside her.

  ‘There’s no need. You look immaculate,’ he said, lingering over her full cherry-red lips.

  ‘Thank you. I must say I’m surprised at how well I’ve survived the long overnight journey down from London. Where have you travelled from, Harry?’

  Harry was pleased with her familiarity but his face showed disappointment. ‘The same as you, Celeste. What a pity we didn’t meet on the train.’ He was sure she would have made a much more enjoyable companion than the mousy little woman who had got off at Plymouth; he’d had to work hard to encourage her into his sleeper and the result had been far from satisfying.

  ‘My sentiments exactly,’ Celeste returned, eyeing him in the compact mirror.

  They pulled out of the railway station and were soon bowling along narrow country lanes.

  Harry glanced and smiled often at his delightful companion. She gave him a perky smile. ‘I’m down here making a surprise visit to a friend.’

  ‘Don’t tell me,’ he said, grinning, as he swerved expertly to avoid them ending up in a ditch. ‘Mrs Laura Jennings. I can’t quite imagine you visiting anyone else.’

  Wisely hanging on to a strap above the car door, Celeste replied, ‘Unless it was someone like you, eh, Harry?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  Celeste just managed to read the typically Cornish names of the little picturesque villages and hamlets they passed through. She caught glimpses of cattle and sheep in the fields. She gazed at the hedgerows, some high, some low, some made of earth, foliage and trees, others made of stone in curious slanting patterns. She tried to get a good look at the patches of pale yellow flowers adorning them as they flashed by. Spring came late to the upland but there were whispers of it to be seen in the bright yellow of celandines, the rich purple of wild violets.

  ‘These must be the primroses Laura’s been enthusing about in her letters. She says they smell divine. They’re very pretty. Everything’s so green at this time of the year. I spend so much time in the city I seldom see this much greenery.’

  They were now looking at a wild stretch of country, wide open spaces divided by straggling stone walls, softened in places by stretches of gorse, fern and brambles. ‘Oh, look, that’s the moor, isn’t it? It’s breathtaking. I can see a big hill up ahead. Laura tells me the moor you live on is the most beautiful place on earth.’

  ‘It is,’ Harry said, and he was sincere about that. He scanned the stony horizons and pointed to where a number of men could be seen working and a deep depression had been cut out of the moor. ‘That’s a china clay works. It’s ugly but gives some necessary work locally.’ As the journey progressed he pointed up ahead. ‘That big hill you referred to is called a tor, in this case Hawk’s Tor on Hawkstor Downs. It overlooks Kilgarthen. You must come riding with me, Celeste. I can show you some riveting sights.’

  Celeste eyed him sideways under mascaraed lashes. ‘I’m sure you can, Harry, I’ll look forward to it. Laura will be surprised to see me turn up on her doorstep, she has absolutely no idea I’m coming down.’

  ‘Any special reason why you have, Celeste?’

  ‘Oh, you know, just a spot of chronic boredom. I simply fancied a change.’

  ‘I’m glad you did. It’s unlikely you’ll find Laura home at the moment. She’ll almost certainly be at Rosemerryn Farm. I’ll take you there. I’m going there myself actually before I go home. The farmer happens to be my brother-in-law and my mother telephoned me last night to say he’s had a minor accident. Laura adores his little girl, my niece, Vicki, and she’ll be helping out there. I had a little more business in London but left it to come down and help out myself.’

  ‘You’re lucky to have close family ties,’ Celeste said. She looked out of the window to let her envy wash over and leave her. ‘I know about the little girl. She’s six years old and lost her mother at birth. I take it that was your sister?’

  ‘That’s right. Natalie had a kidney problem. It was terribly sad. Vicki’s father blamed my mother for not telling him about Natalie’s weakness and it’s only because of Laura that he came round at the beginning of last year and allowed my mother and me to have anything to do with Vicki. I’m keen to keep a good relationship with Vicki, make up for the lost years.’

  Celeste sifted through the names mentioned in Laura’s letters. ‘Spencer Jeffries, that must be the name of your brother-in-law. He sounds like an absolute rotter to me.’

  ‘We loathe each other,’ Harry said, meeting Celeste’s flashing eyes.

  Celeste pulled off her deep-brimmed hat and let her hair curl round her neck. ‘Let’s not talk about him. Tell me something about yourself, Harry.’

  He opened his mouth to oblige but instead out came the words, ‘Oh, damn!’

  ‘What is it?’ Celeste asked, wondering if she should get alarmed. Harry looked so angry.

  ‘From a twist further up the lane I saw a pony and jingle heading this way. It’s being driven by the village madwoman, known as Ma Noon. I’m sick and tired of having to pull in for that fat old crow when I’m driving to and from home.’

  Celeste patted his arm and tutted. ‘More haste, less speed, Harry.’ Then she looked shamelessly into his dark eyes. ‘You’ll get everywhere you want to go in the end, you know.’

  * * *

  Laura was upstairs in the farmhouse, collecting bed linen for the copper, mulling over the best way to ask Spencer if he would like to come to her cottage for supper with her; she had decided that would be the best way to get closer to him and try to find out what was truly on his mind concerning their future. After what he had said in front of Vicki and Ince last night, things had to be brought to a head. Nervous as she was about making a permanent relationship with Spencer, the present arrangement was no longer satisfactory. If it didn’t change it might have to end and the thought of seeing less of Vicki saddened her.

  Looking out of the landing window with a bundle of sheets in her hands, she wasn’t surprised to see Harry’s car jolting over the granite cobblestones, chickens and ducks scuttling out of its way. Felicity Lean had said yesterday she would be informing her son about Spencer’s accident. However, a lady was getting out of the sedan and this made Laura run downstairs and dump the washing out of the way in the back kitchen.

  ‘What is it?’ Vicki asked, looking up from the few things on the kitchen table Laura was allowing her to dust.

  ‘It’s your Uncle Harry, he’s just pulled up in the yard in his car with a lady.’

  ‘It must be Grandma,’ Vicki said, using the tone grown-ups employed to explain difficult things to her.

  ‘No, it isn’t her.’ Laura held out her hand. ‘Come with me and meet them.’

  Everyone entered the farmhouse by the back door and Laura and Vicki were stationed there as Harry approached with the mysterious lady who was holding on to his arm and picking her way carefully over the cobblestones to avoid the mud. Laura frowned, puzzled. Then letting go of Vicki’s hand she ran to the newcomer.

  ‘Celeste! Good heavens! It’s you of all people. What are you doing here?’

  Harry picked Vicki up and kissed her and they laughed as the two friends hugged one another excitedly.

  ‘Well, what are you doing here, Celeste?’ Laura demanded again, looking her friend in the face. ‘You look wonderful, as usual.’

  ‘Of course I do, darling. As I was telling Harry, whom I was fortunate enough to meet at the railway station and who offered me a lift, I was bored and I decided to look up my dear friend tucked away at the bottom of the country. And I must say you look pretty good yourself, but darling, these clothes,’ she fingered Laura’s apron and plain blouse disdainfully. ‘You wouldn’t have been seen dead wearing something like t
his eighteen months ago.’

  ‘I’ve changed a lot since then, Celeste. I’ve got a new life now and I’ve never been happier. Come and meet Vicki.’

  Celeste regarded Vicki in Harry’s arms critically for some moments. ‘I agree with you, Laura. She’s absolutely beautiful, just like you said in your letters.’ Then, as if losing interest in the child, she looked around. The low farm buildings lay in a natural dip of the moor and were almost completely circled by small fields which had seen the plough or on which cattle were grazing. A few leafless trees sheltered the buildings, oak, sycamore, ash, all aslant, having lost the fight to stand upright against the prevailing east wind and winter gales. She turned her nose up in distaste at her immediate surroundings. ‘So this is Rosemerryn Farm where you spend so much of your time. It’s just what I expected, muddy everywhere, heaped with junk and it smells appalling.’

  Laura grinned resignedly. She wouldn’t expect someone like Celeste to appreciate it but she had grown to love all the familiar sights of the farm, the crumbling outbuildings, hayricks, spare granite gateposts and animal troughs, the Ferguson tractor, ploughs and rollers, the old well which had provided the farm with all its drinking and washing supply before water was piped into the house. The kitchen garden where she cut and dug up vegetables to cook for the household. She loved every patch of randomly sprouting weed and nettle, even the endless black mud that got everywhere, some of which she carried away with her on every visit.

  ‘I don’t like her, Uncle Harry,’ Vicki whispered in his ear.

  Harry chuckled. ‘Never mind, poppit. Let’s go inside and make Miss Cunningham a cup of tea, then Uncle Harry will show you what he’s brought you back from London.’

  ‘Show me now, please,’ Vicki squealed in delight as they disappeared into the house.

  Celeste drew Laura’s attention from them. ‘Delightful she may be but there’s got to be more than just that little girl keeping you down here, Laura Farraday,’ Celeste asserted, calling Laura by her maiden name and using the silly adolescent voice they’d invented for themselves at boarding school. She clutched Laura’s arm. ‘So where is he?’