Rosemerryn

by Rosemerryn (retail) (epub)

  ‘Does the father know?’

  A sprinkling of tears again. ‘That’s the irony of it. I met David at a New Year’s party. We hit it off straight away. I liked him a lot. We’re the same age, we share the same interests, his people have a large estate in Buckinghamshire which I enjoyed staying at, we were compatible in every way. Then he asked me to marry him and everything was ruined. It was all my fault. You see, I panicked. I was too used to a mad social whirl, having different partners, no ties, no commitments. I was beastly to him. I sent him away. I missed him terribly and soon realised I’d made a dreadful mistake. I was going to go to him, beg him to give me another chance. Knowing David, I was sure he would.’ Using the towel she mopped her face.

  ‘Why didn’t you go to him?’

  The words came out in a sort of wail. ‘I discovered I was pregnant.’

  ‘But David would have stood by you. He obviously loved you.’

  ‘I was afraid he’d think I only wanted him back because I was pregnant. I couldn’t have borne him marrying me out of a sense of duty. I wanted his love or nothing, and too late I let my chance of happiness slip away from me. At least I will always have a part of him with me for the rest of my life. I’m going to have to leave here soon. I’d love to stay here and bring up my baby in the country, near Laura and the friends I’ve made, but the village will be scandalised if I stayed on here as an unmarried mother. I’ve got a little property in the Lake District. I shall go there, pretend I’m a widow or something.’

  Laura and Vicki came into the room and Laura rushed to her friend. ‘What is it, Celeste? I thought I heard raised voices. Oh, Spencer, what have you done to upset her?’

  Spencer moved aside for his wife. He could hardly protest at receiving the undeserved blame, his past behaviour merited it.

  Celeste laughed through her tears. ‘Spencer has just been comforting me, Laura. You see, we’ve been talking about the baby I’m expecting.’

  ‘Baby?’ Laura gasped. Celeste had always said she’d hate to have children. Then Laura felt a surge of excitement. ‘Why didn’t you say so before, silly? You shouldn’t have let my worries stop you from confiding in me. When’s it due?’

  Spencer and Vicki were left to dish out the roast while the two women talked animatedly. With Vicki sworn to secrecy about what she’d heard, the news making her forget that things weren’t quite right between Mummy and Daddy, the forthcoming child was the main topic of conversation until Celeste said it was time for her to go. Worried about her walking back along the darkening lanes alone, Laura persuaded Celeste to stay the night in Ince’s bed.

  Celeste lay awake, caressing her slightly swollen tummy, looking forward to her future. Strange, was her last thought before falling into restful sleep, Ince had been a possible chosen candidate as an ally to turn to over her pregnancy, not the irascible Spencer Jeffries.

  When Spencer had done his last rounds he climbed the stairs and got into bed beside Laura. They didn’t speak, and feeling shy and uncertain of each other, lay on their sides facing away.

  The day had been full of realisation, revelation, resolved hurts, and coming to terms with home truths. Laura went to sleep quickly. Spencer had been civil and, she sensed, somewhat apologetic with her throughout the evening. She knew she had gained ground she was unlikely to lose.

  Things were more difficult for Spencer. He had said and done some terrible things to Laura and Ince. Things he knew he couldn’t simply just say sorry for and expect life to go on as it had before.

  Chapter 18

  It was Johnny Prouse who saved both Laura and Ince’s reputations and put the blame for the sudden violent outburst at the fete firmly at Spencer’s feet. Johnny spread his opinion faster round the village than Ada Prisk could have done.

  ‘Spencer Jeffries is a funny bugger, we all know that, don’t we? And which one of us has ever had reason not to trust Ince or Laura? Whatever the reason for that scene at the fete, it’s none of our business but it’s bound be something daft going on inside Spencer’s head.’

  The fact that Spencer, having left his work early on Monday morning, turned up at Johnny’s cottage asking, in a humble manner, to see Ince helped to prove Johnny’s point.

  Ince had spent the entire time in his room since entering Johnny’s home, nursing a thumping headache and remaining in a dark, contemplative mood. He refused to talk to Spencer, asking Johnny to tell his old boss that he would go over to the farm when he felt like it.

  Johnny managed to pin Spencer down on the doorstep for a few minutes. ‘Come to ask him to take his job back, have ’ee?’

  Sighing impatiently, eager to be on his way now his approach had been rejected, Spencer said he had, adding, ‘And to say I’m, sorry and ask him to forgive me.’

  ‘I should think so too. You must have gone ruddy mazed to do something like that to the poor boy. Borried a trick from the Devil, did ’ee?’

  Spencer left believing Ince must have overheard the conversation; Johnny had spoken loudly and he hadn’t kept his voice down. He hoped it would help put things right. He hated the thought of working with someone else.

  He went into the churchyard and stood awhile over Natalie’s grave. ‘How did I bring myself to this?’ he asked her memory.

  He’d had to step down off his pride to go to Ince this morning, but saying sorry and asking for forgiveness, although not to Ince’s face, had been easier than he had anticipated. Somehow it was different with Laura. Now he was talking to her without biting her head off, sleeping in their bed again, all seemingly well on the surface, she appeared to have lost some of her eagerness of yesterday to get back into his good books. While she lavished every care and attention on Vicki, she seemed cool towards him. Given his suspicions, thumping Ince had almost been an honourable thing to do, but he had called Laura a slut, a terrible thing to accuse a decent woman of, and his distrust of his new wife was more unforgivable than his distrust of his friend.

  Natalie couldn’t give him advice. He would have to work out how to win Laura over completely himself. He knew now that the reason he had lashed out so violently was because he had fallen in love with her.

  So convincing had been Johnny Prouse’s counterattack to the scandalmongers that the incident wasn’t mentioned at all in the vicarage when those concerned for the Urens’ welfare gathered there on Tuesday evening. As far as Kilgarthen was concerned, all that remained was for Ince, after a suitable period of cooling off, to return to work at Rosemerryn.

  Harry, pursuing a devious campaign, sat on the other side of the room to Tressa. He looked and smiled at her only occasionally. Actually, Harry was glad he had taken this seat on the clumpy furniture. Tressa was wearing a thin summer dress and when she moved, he got the chance to drink in her shapely legs. Trim ankles, perfect silky calves, knees no doubt superb and dainty. Thighs—

  ‘Sherry, Mr Lean?’

  ‘Eh? Oh, yes, thank you, Mrs Farrow.’

  Roslyn was bending forward slightly in front of him and Harry got the unexpected bonus of a view of her firm cleavage. Harry took the sherry glass off the silver tray and mischievously waved his hand in front of his face. ‘It’s very hot tonight.’

  ‘Y-yes, yes, it is,’ Roslyn stammered, her full cheeks going pink. She’d had very few dealings with Harry Lean who never came to church unless it was to a wedding, baptism or funeral and seemed to leave the vicinity afterwards very quickly. As he fastened his dark eyes on hers, stretched a smile full of wicked charm, she felt very disconcerted by him. Pray God he never called at the vicarage when she was alone. She hadn’t felt this sort of excitement in her tummy since her courting days with Kinsley.

  Well, well, Harry digested her reaction to him. The vicar’s wife? Now she would make a pleasing distraction. She was an attractive lady, comely in the old-fashioned sense. He sipped his sherry. Frowned. Ugh, horrible cheap stuff. I thought clergymen were proud of the contents of their wine cellars. Roslyn was pouring out another drink. She had forgotten one for hersel
f. Her hand was shaking. Harry grinned, just stopping himself from laughing out loud. Steady on, Harry boy, one woman at a time. And he languished in his chair and for the thousandth time imagined how Tressa would feel, naked in his arms.

  Celeste took a notepad and fountain pen out of her handbag and put on her glasses. With black sweeping frames enhancing her clear green-flecked eyes she smiled round the room at the company, all clearly in view now, noting the fragile, breathtaking beauty that was natural to Tressa. The young wife and mother would stay beautiful all her life. Tressa would never have to resort to powder, paint and high fashion; she was so unaware of her looks and charisma it wouldn’t even occur to her.

  Also there was Mr and Mrs Farrow, Daisy Tamblyn, the Reverend Brian Endean, Harry, Pat Penhaligon, Joy Miller and the quiet little Mrs Sparnock. A one hundred per cent turn-out. Celeste would have invited Ada Prisk to join them but her persistent tongue, peppered with unwelcome sarcasm, would have kept them here all night.

  ‘We might as well begin. First, let me thank you all for coming. I’m sure you’re all aware that Mrs Uren appears to have taken to heart what Tressa’s father said to her on Saturday so I don’t think we’ll have any difficulty in persuading her to accept our help. All we need to do tonight is to pool our suggestions and decide, if we all agree each has a good idea, who will put them into action. I’m sure it goes without saying that we must be very careful not to offend the family. And we must think of the children’s feelings in this – young Alfie has a very fierce sense of pride. Now, Tressa, I might as well start with you. The baby’s clothes you passed on to Mrs Uren were well received and I’ve heard she has gladly accepted some from you, Mrs Miller, for the boys.’ Joy nodded. ‘Have you any ideas you’d like to share with us, Tressa?’

  Unused to and not liking individual attention, Tressa shifted about uncomfortably and colour crept up the pale ivory column of her neck, prettily pinking her small face. She cleared her throat.

  Harry restrained the urge to lean forward as she spoke but he listened to every word intently.

  ‘It was embarrassing after what my father said to Mrs Uren but I took some milk and eggs to the house yesterday. Andrew, Dad, Aunty Joan and I would be glad to send over something each week, perhaps a chicken occasionally. It’s nice to see the children looking cleaner and not dressed in rags. Alfie took the milk and eggs from me at the gate. He said his mother was too poorly to come to the door. He said she had a tummy upset. I think we ought to keep an eye on the children in case it’s something catching and they need a doctor.’

  ‘I’ll do that,’ Mrs Sparnock said shyly, then appeared to shrink half in size in her chair. The others knew she wouldn’t want to contribute anything more for the evening so she was thanked and left in peace after that.

  ‘Good, good, that’s excellent. You’re accumulating a number of things for us, aren’t you, Daisy?’

  ‘I’m keeping a large box at the back of the shop,’ Daisy duly replied, her kindly face displaying the itch to impart her glad tidings. ‘Laura’s given me a lot of things and I’ve put in several items of old stock and bits and pieces people have handed in to me. I’ve got a couple of nice blankets they can have and Mrs Lean is going to contribute some more bedding. Bruce has one or two items of clothing that will do for Mr Uren. He’s waiting to carry the box down as soon as he gets the word and has offered to do any more lifting and carrying.’

  The Reverend Endean spoke next. Resting his small white hands on his slight paunch he spoke each word precisely, as in his manner from the pulpit. ‘I’ve asked my congregation for help and the first offer came from Mr and Mrs Penhaligon. Mr Penhaligon’s mother, who lived in a little cottage at St Day, died a month ago and has left her son several items of good furniture and there are some nice pieces not required at the pub. Perhaps Mr and Mrs Uren would be glad of them. Also some other folk have come up with oddments, curtains, tablecloths, a cot, a mangle, a um…’ He raised his beetling eyebrows at Pat to come to the aid of his failing memory.

  ‘And a piece of wool carpet and some kitchen mats. A rocking horse for the little children, a bike that would suit Alfie, and some board games,’ Pat finished for her minister proudly.

  ‘Goodness,’ Celeste exclaimed, writing it all down. ‘Alfie will be thrilled at receiving a bike.’ She could imagine the boy whizzing along the lanes on it and was sure the resourcefulness in his character would mean he’d find a way of using it to make some money for the family. ‘While I have Alfie in mind, I have a friend who owns his own private airfield. He has promised to look into the possibility of giving Alfie an apprenticeship when he’s the right age.’

  There were murmurs of how pleased the gathering was at that.

  ‘I’ll pop into the pub later and thank Mike, and I must go to chapel on Sunday to thank your congregation, Mr Endean,’ Celeste went on, then rapidly added, after a piqued frown from Kinsley, ‘And church too, Vicar. I already know what your flock has come up with and I’ll detail that later. In fact, as I shall be leaving Kilgarthen soon, it will give me the chance to say goodbye to lots of people at the same time.’

  There were murmurs of disappointment and one or two direct questions but Celeste warded them off. She turned to Harry. She was sure he hadn’t come up with anything to help. She knew there was only one reason why he was here.

  ‘What about you, Harry? We’re doing ever so well. Have you got anything to add to round off the evening?’

  He looked directly at Tressa for a split second then he turned to Celeste with a hard stare. ‘I’ve given the plight of those dear little blighters a great deal of thought and concluded that they would benefit from a good day out. We could get some cars and adults together and take them for a picnic on the beach, Polzeath perhaps, it’s the nearest. Other children, like my niece Vicki for example, could be invited too so the Urens won’t look on the outing as charity. We could play cricket with them, take them paddling, build sandcastles, buy them ice creams, indulge them to the full. Give them a day out they’ll remember all their lives.’

  The others were so impressed, a spontaneous applause broke out. If she had voiced her derisory thoughts out loud, Celeste would have been happy to eat the words. She expressed her heartfelt thanks to the good-looking cad.

  ‘A Sunday afternoon would be best,’ Kinsley said enthusiastically. ‘We can forgo our traditional roast and pack up a feast to share instead. Our three children would love to go, wouldn’t they, Roslyn?’

  ‘Yes, dear,’ Roslyn agreed, smiling admiringly at Harry. ‘What an excellent idea, Mr Lean. I confess I had only thought of the usual kind of help. I’m sure the Urens will be overwhelmed with what they’ll be given. If they accept everything on offer they’ll be quite self-sufficient which, of course, is our main aim.’

  As she had nothing else to add, not wanting to blow her own trumpet by mentioning her gifts of clothes and another note of hard cash, Celeste brought the proceedings to a swift and satisfactory end. All declined the offer of tea, and moments later Kinsley and Roslyn were standing on their doorstep watching their guests depart for their homes – all except Joy who had mentioned going for a breath of fresh air and strolled down the hill. The Reverend Endean cycled ably uphill to his home on the other side of Lewannick. Mrs Sparnock and Daisy crossed the road and after a brief good night went into their respective houses. Celeste and Harry went into the pub. Tressa didn’t accept Celeste’s invitation to join her for a drink and carried on up the hill, daydreaming as she was apt to do, and Harry gazed after her until she had disappeared round the bend for home.

  Harry stayed drinking for a few minutes, long enough to down a brandy and bask in Mike and the regulars’ approval of his splendid idea to show kindness to the newest family in the village. Then he bid a hasty good night, got into his car, and followed the way Tressa had taken.

  In a tiny chink of time he had caught her up, stopped his car, and wound down the window. ‘I’m on my way to North Hill, to friends for supper. Want a lift the re
st of the way home?’

  His tone was casual, almost uninterested, but Tressa glared at him suspiciously. She threw down the stalk of wild grass she’d been threading through her fingers. ‘You’re always driving somewhere, Harry Lean. You must be getting your petrol off the black market.’ But it wasn’t his underhanded deals she was worried about. Did he really have friends to see at the next village or was he trying to get his hands on her again?

  Harry retaliated with a huge grin. ‘I can always help your husband out with a little extra juice, he only has to ask. Are you going to carry on walking or get in, Tressa?’

  Used to walking long distances, climbing rugged tors and doing heavy farmwork without getting out of breath, it seemed ludicrous to get into a car for a two-minute journey. But in the light of his earlier apparent uninterest in her, and her own secret scorn of Dolores Uren’s warning, it felt ridiculous to refuse. She would keep on her guard though, ready to fend him off if he did try anything.

  ‘You can drop me off at the end of the farm’s track,’ she said firmly, not appearing or sounding in the least bit grateful. Before he could spring out of the car and see her into the front passenger seat in his best gentlemanly fashion, she moved round the car and got in beside him. It was a hot, breezeless evening but she put on the cardigan she was carrying.

  Harry’s dark eyes twinkled. He started up the engine and drove very slowly. He wanted to savour these few moments of close proximity with her. He kept his hand on the gear stick, well aware that Tressa was keeping her leg as far away as possible.