Rosemerryn

by Rosemerryn (retail) (epub)

  ‘Why has there got to be a man involved, Celeste?’

  ‘When isn’t there, darling?’

  Barney came dashing towards them and Celeste shrieked and gathered in her skirt, afraid the dog would jump up and muddy her. Laura pushed Celeste protectively behind her.

  ‘Spencer! Where are you? Come and call Barney off this instant. Stay behind me, Celeste. I can’t get this dog to do a thing I say. Spencer!’

  Spencer was in the cows’ shippen, working one-handedly. He had let out the water from the granite trough that kept the evening milk chums cool, tidied away the udder buckets, pails and milking stools and was putting dippers of cowcake into the feeding troughs. It wouldn’t be needed until the evening but he was doing as many small clean jobs as he could, plus it was dark and quiet in here which gave him the chance to think straight.

  He intended to ask Laura to have a drink with him at the village pub tonight, just the two of them, an open declaration to the village that they were courting. She must be wondering what would come next after his sudden promise to Vicki last night and, strangely for him, a deeply private man, inclined to keep his own company, he didn’t feel particularly shy about asking her to marry him and setting a date; they were halfway there already. His thoughts drifted over her attributes. She was as good as a mother to Vicki, the one thing at Vicki’s age that she needed most. She was pleasant, although she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind and he had found himself at the sharp end of her tongue more than once. Today, however, she had been very kind to him, fussing over him because of his injury and making him feel special. He liked that very much.

  It was her physical attributes he was mainly attracted to. She was blonde and beautiful, tall, shapely and graceful, and owned the same natural sophistication his late wife had possessed. He had not missed the special intimacy of husband and wife all that much, not until soon after he’d met Laura. Now it bothered him and he wanted Laura with an urgency that unnerved him at times.

  He heard Laura shouting to him to call Barney off.

  ‘All right, I’m coming,’ he shouted back, grinning mischievously. One of these days he must train Barney to stop tormenting her.

  He wasn’t pleased to see the female stranger who looked as out of place in a farmyard as full evening dress would in the village pub.

  ‘You only have to order him away from you, Laura,’ he said grudgingly, scowling at Celeste who was cowering behind Laura while Barney barked and jumped about in front of them.

  ‘Barney, down, boy! Off!’ The scruffy Border collie gave a parting yap and raced away.

  ‘Who’s this?’ Spencer asked ungraciously.

  Celeste emerged from behind Laura with her white- gloved hand extended, a heavy gold charm bracelet chinking on her wrist. ‘I’m one of Laura’s old school friends actually, Mr Jeffries. My name’s Celeste Cunningham. I’ve just met your darling little daughter.’

  Spencer raised his eyes to the heavens as he shook hands with her and Laura knew he didn’t approve of her friend’s name, her voice, her clothes, or her being here.

  ‘Harry’s gone inside to make tea,’ Laura said before he could make a biting remark. ‘Shall we all go in? Celeste’s come down to visit me.’

  ‘Obviously,’ Spencer grunted, leading the way to the kitchen. He was fuming. There would be no cosy drink for two at the Tremewan Arms tonight.

  Celeste held Laura back from following him. ‘You sly little cow, Laura. Now I can see exactly why you stayed down here after you’d buried Bill’s body. First I meet the tall, dark, handsome, if somewhat sleazy, Harry Lean and now your very own fair-haired hunk. I’d never have thought to find two gorgeous men in such close proximity. What’s he like in bed?’

  Laura shook her head ruefully at her friend’s question and replied patiently, ‘I haven’t been to bed with Spencer.’

  ‘You haven’t? Why ever not? Are you half dead or something? What about Harry?’

  ‘Oh, Celeste, you know I wouldn’t dream of going with an out-and-out womaniser like Harry.’

  ‘You know me,’ Celeste giggled, ‘I can hardly wait.’ She sighed heavily and put her arm round Laura’s waist and Laura did the same to her as they moved indoors. ‘I’m looking forward to some tea though, my throat’s parched and these damned heels are killing me.’

  Laura frowned down at her friend’s strappy high-heeled shoes. ‘You won’t have to be such a slave to fashion down here, Celeste.’

  ‘I suppose I ought to be grateful for that. I haven’t packed my Hartnell or Dior creations, and judging by the way you are dressed, the local women wouldn’t know what they were looking at if they saw one. Anyway, I intend to get up to a lot of new things while I’m here. I take it I can stay with you at this cosy little cottage of yours?’

  ‘That goes without saying. Harry will have to go home and change before he can start work here. I’ll ask him to drop us off at Little Cot on his way and get you settled in. We’ll take Vicki with us.’

  Celeste turned her head away and made a face. ‘Wouldn’t she be better staying here with Spencer?’

  ‘One of the reasons I’m here is to look after Vicki.’ Laura’s ears picked up a familiar sound. ‘Ah, I can hear Ince coming on the horse and cart. He must have smelled the teapot.’

  ‘Ince? What a funny name. I presume he’s some wrinkled-up local character.’

  Laura turned her friend round, pointed and waved to Ince. ‘If you weren’t so vain and wore your glasses, Celeste, you’d see that Ince is about the same age as Harry.’

  Moments later, when she got a clear view of the man in question, Celeste gasped. ‘He’s absolutely wizard.’ Forgetting she was a lady she whistled through her teeth. ‘Oh, I just love curly hair.’

  ‘You won’t get anywhere with him,’ Laura said, much amused. ‘You’re not his type.’

  ‘Don’t you count on it, old girl. Before I leave Kilgarthen I’ll have this Ince fellow eating out of my hand.’

  * * *

  ‘How come you sleep in a back bedroom?’ Celeste asked Laura as she came down the dark oak staircase that led directly into the front room of Little Cot. She had been unpacking her things in the main bedroom. Fearing she would have to use a primitive convenience like the one at Rosemerryn Farm, which flushed but was located outside in the yard, she was greatly impressed with the modernisations installed by Laura’s late husband, particularly the fully fitted bathroom.

  ‘I prefer it,’ Laura said, pouring Celeste a nightcap of brandy. ‘Bill used to sleep in your room.’

  Taking the drink to the settee, Celeste curled up on it, sombre now. ‘Do you still hate his memory?’

  ‘I don’t have any strong feelings about him now,’ Laura said truthfully, sitting in the rocking chair and looking completely comfortable; she was one of those women who seemed to fit in wherever she went. ‘The five years I spent married to Bill were the worst of my life. I’m grateful they’re over and now I just look forward.’

  ‘Good for you. I’d hate to think you were wasting time moping about on account of that utter swine. I must say the cottage is very nice.’ Celeste gazed up at the black beams of the low ceiling. Typical of the village dwellings, Little Cot had extremely thick walls to stave off the cold winds. It was painted in warm colours, and a tapestry-covered three-piece suite and several horse brasses gave it a rustic charm. ‘As I remember, Bill didn’t always have good taste.’

  The women hadn’t seen each other for nearly two years and Laura was eyeing her friend as much as she was her. ‘You never met anyone who took your fancy enough to marry then, Celeste?’

  ‘There was one man during the war, Laura. He was killed in action.’ There was a slight hesitation. ‘There’s been nobody special since.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  Celeste shrugged her shoulders philosophically. ‘You get over it. Would you ever consider marrying again? With a village full of desirable men, a woman like you must be spoilt for choice.’

  Laura’s thoughts wer
e never far from her desire to be a mother. She smiled. ‘I might.’

  ‘What do you mean, you might?’ Celeste’s eyes shot wide open. ‘I recognise that mysterious look. You’ve been keeping something from me. So there is a man in your life. Who?’

  ‘Well, I’m sort of engaged to Spencer. We have this understanding, you see.’

  ‘Mmmm, I’d have guessed it was either him or Ince. The way you and Ince reacted towards each other, I’d have put my money on him. You look so content in this new life of yours I’d say you’d be happy settling for a farm labourer. I suppose this understanding with Spencer came about because of Vicki.’

  ‘That’s right, it did, but I’m very fond of Spencer. He despised me when I first came to Kilgarthen. On the second day, curious about him because he didn’t attend Bill’s funeral, I went to Rosemerryn Farm. He saw me off and even threatened to set his dog on me.’ Laura smiled. ‘But we ended up as friends, I’m glad to say, and a little more.’

  ‘Well, that didn’t come across to me when we drank tea in his farmhouse. He sat there looking disgruntled all the time and hardly said a word. He scowled every time I said something and made me feel like a silly little schoolgirl.’

  ‘Spencer’s not as approachable as Ince or Harry, that’s all,’ Laura retorted, springing to his defence. ‘He’s a bit of a loner by nature.’

  Sipping her brandy thoughtfully, Celeste passed the glass from hand to hand, watching Laura with beady eyes. Laura recognised the joyfully wicked look that always preceded a cheeky remark. ‘I bet you haven’t even kissed him.’

  ‘I have.’ Laura coloured.

  ‘Really? Long and passionately?’

  ‘Celeste!’

  ‘Don’t protest. I know you, Laura. You’ve never been forward with men. Goodness knows how you married when just a mere girl. I bet that is the extent of your experience with men, as Bill Jennings’ wife. You’re rather shy in that department and you say Spencer Jeffries is unapproachable, so at that rate you’ll never get married.’ Celeste laughed salaciously. ‘Want me to warm him up for you? He’s very attractive. I’d be very pleased to.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Celeste.’ Laura had never quite come to grips with her friend’s looseness where men were concerned. She was amused to think how astounded Celeste would be at how far her short romance with Ince had gone.

  ‘Do you seriously mean to marry him, the fair-haired hunk of a farmer?’

  With the amount of time she spent at Rosemerryn Farm,, the villagers had been speculating on the possibility for some time. Ada Prisk had asked bluntly when the, wedding was going to take place. Faced with the question from someone not from Kilgarthen, Laura saw the answer clearly. ‘Yes, I do.’

  Celeste raised her thickly pencilled eyebrows. ‘You do surprise me. Well, what are you going to do about it?’

  Laura pursed her lips. ‘I was going to invite him for a meal here tonight.’

  Celeste pouted. ‘What a great idea. A candlelit supper for two and I’ve put the kibosh on it. Never mind, darling. Do it tomorrow night instead. I’ll make myself scarce, probably end up somewhere quiet and cosy with the delectable Harry Lean. Get Spencer to consume a couple of good bottles of wine, take him upstairs, get yourself pregnant to make sure he takes you to the altar, and there you are, the baby you’ve always wanted as well as a ready-made family.’ Celeste was rolling about the settee with mirth.

  Laura viewed her wryly. Life wasn’t going to be dull while Celeste was around.

  Chapter 4

  Early next morning two women were heading towards Little Cot. Halfway up the steep hill of the village was the shop and sub-post office, and Daisy Tamblyn was hastening down from there to beat the village gossip-monger, Ada Prisk, who was speeding along from the bottom of the hill. Ada had the disadvantage of having to cross the road and Daisy beat her by two full strides.

  ‘Who’s Laura got in there with her, Mrs Tamblyn?’ Ada barked. ‘I saw her go in with Vicki and the most extraordinary-looking creature yesterday. Someone down from London, is it?’

  ‘I’ve really no idea,’ Daisy returned, deliberately sounding puzzled. ‘Laura’s been so busy since Spencer hurt his hand she hasn’t had a spare moment to tell me anything.’ Actually Laura had popped into the shop and told Daisy, who was Bill Jennings’ aunt, all about Celeste Cunningham so Daisy wouldn’t fear there was an intruder in Little Cot. Daisy could lie perfectly to Ada; most of the people of Kilgarthen had found it necessary to perfect the art.

  The difference in appearance of the two women was striking. Ada was dominant and overbearing, her eyes constantly searching, like a hawk’s on the lookout for a tasty morsel. If she could be compared to a hard-backed chair, Daisy was like a lumpy comfortable armchair. Daisy was round, kindly faced and good-natured.

  Ada adjusted the black turban-style hat on her iron-grey bun and, being a lot taller than Daisy, lowered her thin face suspiciously towards her. ‘I hope Laura isn’t overdoing it. I’ve offered to help her out but she usually refuses me. If she’s got a fancy visitor as well as all the work she does on Rosemerryn to tire her out, then this time I shall insist.’ Ada prodded a flower basket hanging from the eaves. ‘This could do with a good watering for a start. Spencer Jeffries is taking advantage of Laura’s good nature, if you ask me. It’s about time he did the honest thing by her.’

  ‘I’m sure Laura will be very pleased to have your help, Mrs Prisk,’ Daisy said, sidestepping the other woman’s favourite topic of speculation although she herself had been wondering about the true nature of Laura and Spencer’s relationship. She hoped they would settle down together.

  She lifted the ancient latch, called out, ‘Cooeee, it’s only me, and Mrs Prisk is with me,’ and stepped inside the cottage.

  Ada followed on her heels. Laura had avoided the nosy old woman like the plague when she had first stayed in Kilgarthen, but Ada was welcome in her home any time now. When the village school had burned down and Laura had rescued Vicki and eight other small children, Laura had been overcome with smoke fumes as she’d tried to push the last boy out through the smashed window. Ada, standing on a dustbin, had grabbed her and with Spencer’s timely help had saved her and the boy.

  Laura appeared from the kitchen in her dressing gown. ‘Good morning, Aunty Daisy, Ada. Come in here and I’ll pour you both a cup of tea.’

  The cottage door opened straight into the front room. Before moving into the kitchen, Ada swept her formidable black eyes round it, noting the frivolous bolero cardigan on the settee, the long silk scarf draped over the large ornament of a sleeping ginger cat behind the brass fender of the hearth. She wrinkled her nose at the gold cigarette case and matching lighter, the empty brandy glass on the table, and grunted at the strong smell of wanton perfume. More money than sense here!

  ‘Still in bed, is she?’ Ada asked, nose prying everywhere like a bloodhound on the scent as she took her seat at the small round kitchen table.

  Laura smiled. ‘You’ll never catch Celeste up before nine o’clock, Ada.’

  ‘Nine o’clock? Scandalous. ’Tis a bit early in the year for anyone to be taking a holiday. Ill, is she, this Celeste woman? Come down for some good country air?’

  ‘No,’ Laura answered patiently, toasting a slice of bread at the grid in the range. ‘She’s an old school friend of mine. We’ve always kept in touch. She came down here to look me up. You’ll like her, Ada. She’s very friendly.’

  Ada looked delighted, a friendly stranger wouldn’t be shy about answering questions. Before she could pump Laura further, Daisy took the opportunity to plunge in. ‘I’ve got Rosemerryn’s groceries all packed up—’

  ‘I hear food’s going up again,’ Ada interrupted. ‘And beer’s coming down. It’ll suit that lazy good-for-nothing Gerald Uren.’

  Daisy looked vexed. She was getting fed up with the grumbles she received almost daily in the shop and didn’t appreciate getting them elsewhere. She wasn’t responsible for what the government did, any more than it wa
s her fault that there were still chronic shortages following the war, and prices inevitably rose. Returning to the matter in hand, ‘Bunty’s offered to do some ironing for you, Laura.’

  ‘I can do that,’ Ada interjected. ‘You poor maid, you’ll be wearing yourself out running around after that man. How’s his hand? Shouldn’t take more than a week before it’s healed up, surely. I saw Harry Lean driving his wretched noisy car through the village yesterday so Rosemerryn will have his help. Andrew Macarthur and Bert Miller’s been helping out and Andrew Macarthur a new father too! He needs the time to spend with his wife and baby. If you ask me, it’s Spencer who’s enjoying a holiday.’ Ada grunted disapprovingly then fixed a hard stare on Laura’s face. ‘Got a wife without a wedding ring, if you ask me.’

  Feeling rather wicked, and taking the opportunity to shock Ada, Daisy remarked stoutly, ‘But he isn’t having all the wifely benefits, is he, Laura?’

  Laura dropped her head and let her shoulder-length hair fall over her face to hide a huge grin.

  ‘Of course he isn’t!’ Ada rose splendidly to the bait. ‘Laura’s not in the least bit like that. As her aunty, Daisy Tamblyn, I can’t see how you could mention such a thing.’

  Daisy drank from her cup and looked innocently over its rim. ‘That’s what I’ve just said, Mrs Prisk.’

  Ada gave Daisy an indignant look then wagged a finger at Laura. ‘Now, dear, I’m insisting today, what can I do to help you out?’

  ‘I haven’t done my brasses for ages,’ Laura replied, thinking it a nice easy job the elderly woman could do sitting down. She knew it would delight Ada, she could ply Celeste with questions when she finally surfaced, and Celeste, used to having things done for her, would be grateful for the breakfast Ada would, no doubt, insist on making for her. ‘You can do those for me if you like.’