Rosemerryn

by Rosemerryn (retail) (epub)

  ‘Oh, Ada,’ Celeste sniffed, giving the old lady an affectionate hug. ‘I should have known I couldn’t keep it a secret from you. I’ll make sure Laura tells you the moment I’ve let her know.’

  ‘I hope it will all work out right for you, dear.’ Then putting a quick kiss on Celeste’s cheek, Ada marched off down the hill for home.

  Inside the pub, Joy Miller had found her way to Bruce’s side and he was including her in the round of drinks he was buying. ‘Your mother doesn’t look very happy tonight,’ she said, tugging on his arm. ‘When I spoke to her just now she was quite sharp with me. She hasn’t found out about us, has she?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so. She’s teasy because I asked her to lend me a few pounds. I want to set up a little business of my own.’ Bruce wished he had thought of that lie when he’d tried to tap Daisy for money. ‘You’d think she’d want me to settle down locally. I don’t suppose you could lend me something to help get me started, eh, Joy?’

  His last sentence had been said in jest to stop himself getting worked up into a rage, but he nearly took Joy into his arms and kissed her there and then when she answered, ‘I’ve got an insurance policy I could draw out. We could talk to Bert about it. He might fancy the idea of going into business with you.’

  Just like that? Bruce thought smugly. The woman had begun to feel pangs of guilt about their affair but she was still besotted with him. ‘What does Bert drink? It’s about time I got to know him better.’

  Harry was slouching against the bar, deciding whether to go on ignoring Tressa or to make a subtle overture to her, or perhaps to go and chat up the elegant Eve Pascoe. He’d glanced at Eve often throughout the evening. He had caught her eye only once. He had smiled at her and she had looked straight through him. He decided to wait for the beach outing to further his plan with Tressa and his dark eyes returned to Eve. She was talking to the Methodist minister, her face turned up, emphasising the smooth angle of her jaw. Almost certainly a virgin, he mused. Rather too moral to succumb without a wedding ring and too clever to be someone’s mistress. What would you be like with all those layers of respectability peeled away? One by one, very slowly? I would savour each mo—

  ‘Mr Lean, I was talking to you.’

  Harry gulped. While those lecherous thoughts were going through his mind Kinsley Farrow had been trying to attract his attention. Harry hastily rearranged his features, in case they gave him away. ‘Sorry, Vicar,’ he smiled with all his charm. ‘I was miles away. I was thinking about next week’s outing for the kiddies.’

  ‘The very thing I wanted to talk to you about,’ Kinsley said, rubbing his hands in satisfaction. ‘I thought I’d just confirm that you are taking the five Uren boys in your car. My wife and I are taking baby Emily. I’m afraid I couldn’t talk Dolores into coming, but it will give her a welcome opportunity to put her feet up.’ Kinsley hesitated, but he felt he had to say it. ‘I, um, hope you will drive a little slower than you usually do.’

  ‘You can depend on me, Vicar, to get them to the beach and back home safely.’

  Bert was having a break and Bruce was holding out a glass of his favourite tipple to him, a tot of rum. Witnessing this, Kinsley caught his breath and Harry looked round his rangy frame. ‘Something wrong?’

  ‘No, no,’ Kinsley said rapidly. ‘Now, what was I saying?’

  ‘I think we dealt with it, Vicar,’ Harry said, wanting to get back to his sensual thoughts.

  Then he remembered the gossip that Mrs Biddley, his mother’s daily help, had imparted to Felicity recently about the two men on the other side of the vicar. Bruce Tamblyn was knocking off the other man’s wife. Harry hoped the farewell party would be livened up with some sport. He’d start it off himself, would be pleased to see the brute who had harangued him over his driving getting thumped by a jealous husband, but Tressa was present. He looked at her. Her nitwit of a husband wasn’t with her for once, probably gone to the toilet. She was laughing at something some old dear had just said to her. She was looking gorgeous in a simple beige dress with a little white lace collar, her long brown hair lying on her delicate shoulders. She was delectable and so very desirable. If she was his, he wouldn’t leave her alone for a minute – in more ways than one. He hoped she would wear a swimsuit on the beach.

  Biddy Grean, the Millers’ neighbour, grabbed Laura by the arm and pointed at Bert and Bruce. ‘Did you see that, Mrs Jeffries? That poor man has just taken a drink off that terrible Tamblyn creature, and he carrying on with his wife! Can’t you do something about it? His mother is your aunty by your first marriage. We don’t like that sort of thing going on in the village.’

  ‘Shush, Mrs Grean,’ Laura said vehemently. ‘If Bert overhears you it will cause a row.’

  ‘Well, something ought to be done about it.’ Mrs Grean moved her head about like a rancorous turkey. ‘It’s disgusting. And look at the vicar there. Practically standing beside them and not saying a word.’

  ‘It’s hardly the time or the place,’ Laura returned crossly, trying to free her arm from the woman’s tightening grip. ‘Now please keep quiet about it.’

  ‘I was only saying—’

  Mrs Grean was cut short by Daisy. Bruce and Joy were doing wrong but she’d had enough of the tittle-tattle that had been going on behind their backs. ‘Only trying to cause trouble, that’s what you’re up to, Biddy Grean. Now shut your mouth as Laura said and sit down and enjoy the party. That’s what we’re here for, not to go moralising.’

  ‘Well, really,’ Mrs Grean snapped, feeling very much an injured party. She had only been passing a comment about something that was common knowledge, something low and underhand that everybody else seemed happy to have going on under their noses without doing a thing about it. She’d had no intention of causing trouble, had never done so in all her life. A person only had to ask her Len to confirm that. And Daisy Tamblyn was the last woman who had the right to speak to her like that. Her temper rising, she raised her voice. ‘How dare you, Daisy Tamblyn? It’s your son who’s committing adultery and it’s time he was stopped!’

  Silence was brought quicker to the Tremewan Arms than by Ince and Eve’s arrival. Hands jerked and drink was spilled, jaws dropped and eyes grew round. Everyone had heard every word. Joy let out a shriek and dashed her hands to her face. Daisy gasped and looked at her son and then his mistress, as much guilt written over her plump face as Joy’s.

  If Bert Miller could not add up two and two from Biddy Grean’s outburst, the sudden silence and his wife’s subsequent shriek, he would have been considered the stupidest man who had ever lived in Kilgarthen.

  But although Bert was quiet and ordinary and perhaps boring, he wasn’t stupid.

  He had just thanked Bruce for the rum and now he dashed it in his face. He tore his accordion off his stocky body and had his hands round Bruce’s throat in a split second. He squeezed with all his might and the usually mild-mannered man was using the foulest language he had picked up in the army. Women screamed in fear and fright. Men gathered their wits and tried to pull Bert off. Kinsley pleaded for good sense. Mike shouted for order. Pat ran to the telephone, prepared to ring the police. Joy cried for someone to do something before Bert killed Bruce. Celeste stopped her from launching herself at Bert’s back.

  Spencer and Ince got hold of Bert’s arms and wrenched his hands away from Bruce’s neck. Bert’s fury had given him superhuman strength and he shook them off as easily as if they were young boys. Then he punched Bruce with all the strength his distress was giving him. Bruce was sent hurtling backwards and ploughed into Tressa, taking her with him. The screaming reached fever pitch and Biddy Grean started to sob in her Len’s arms. Harry beat Laura and Eve to Tressa’s aid, throwing his arm round her waist and dragging her out of the way before she got trampled.

  The party-goers scattered to the edges and corners of the bar. Bruce was on his feet, ready to fight back. His face was ugly, purple and bleeding. T’m going to kill you for that, you useless bastard!’
>
  ‘Give him what he deserves, Bert,’ Les called out, mightily enjoying the skirmish, waving his arms about, shadow boxing. ‘Kick him where it hurts.’

  Bert wiped sweat off his top lip, his eyes boring into the object of his hatred. T’m going to kill him,’ he raged.

  Catcalls followed and Mike rang the bell and bellowed threats to try to break up the fight. They were in vain. Bert didn’t hear a sound. Every sense and feeling in his mind and body wanted only revenge. He had always been a kind, loving and true husband, and in one vile moment he had learned that this big-headed wretch had been making a fool of him, and apparently he was the last to know about it. He had killed a German with his bare hands during the war and he’d make short work of this evil swine. He wanted Bruce’s blood to run and he didn’t care if he swung for it afterwards. He pounced on Bruce and with one punch broke his nose. As blood spurted down Bruce’s shirt, Bert drove his fist into the fleshy part of Bruce’s stomach, once, twice, three times. Bruce howled and groaned and hit the floor, sending tables and chairs flying in all directions. Bert laid into him with his feet, lashing out at his head, back, legs, anywhere.

  Mike had got round the bar and pitched in, grabbing Bert’s arm. The other hand flailed about, clawing to get at Bruce, and Spencer and Ince grabbed it together. Then with Kinsley, Brian Endean and several other men, Johnny taking a foot, they got Bert on the floor and held him down.

  ‘That’s enough, Bert!’ Mike boomed. ‘Or I’ll have to knock ’ee out.’ He looked about for Daisy. She was shaking and crying into her hanky. Laura had her arms round her and Eve was standing beside them, frowning at her grandfather who was still grinning and muttering, ‘Spoilsports.’

  ‘I’ll get some of the men to take your son home, Daisy,’ Mike said. ‘You’d better call the doctor and tell him he’s had a little accident. Pat, did you call the police?’

  ‘No, Mike,’ she answered firmly.

  ‘I don’t think anyone else is going to either. There’s been no fight here tonight.’ Mike looked at the younger men present. ‘Get him out of here,’ he said in disgust. Then he glared at Joy. ‘And you go too. We’ll keep Bert here for the night, poor sod.’

  Spencer and Ince were among those who carried the semi-conscious body of Bruce Tamblyn across the road to the shop. Laura led Daisy, who was crying uncontrollably, and Eve took her other arm and went with them. Joy fled on her own. Bert was crying now, sobbing in great distress. Mike lifted him up like a baby and carried him upstairs.

  Pat looked at Celeste. ‘I’m sorry about this.’

  ‘No matter,’ Celeste said philosophically. ‘It had to happen some time. It was nothing to do with my party really. Let’s get the drinks going again, shall we?’ Celeste looked sombre but she was pleased to have witnessed the fight rather than be told about it in a letter from Laura.

  All the while, Harry had cradled Tressa in his arms, having crept behind an upturned table with her where they wouldn’t be noticed. She had been stunned and took several moments to come to her senses.

  ‘What happened? Oh, I’m aching all over.’

  ‘It’s all right, Tressa. Don’t move. There was a fight. One of the men knocked into you. Are you hurt?’

  She struggled to sit up and he helped her to an upright position, keeping his arms firmly about her. ‘My arm hurts and my back where I fell,’ she groaned, pushing her hair away from her face.

  ‘Just stay here quietly,’ he murmured soothingly. He looked at her lips, slightly parted, red and full, and was tempted to kiss them. A wave of nausea came over her and she rested her face against his chest. Harry caressed her hair. ‘It’s all right, darling. I’ll look after you,’ he whispered tenderly.

  The combatants had been taken from the bar and Harry knew he must remind the others of Tressa’s plight. Her wretched husband would come back at any moment and if he saw him holding Tressa, he would be the next man to have his lights punched out by a furious husband. Harry wasn’t afraid of Andrew but Tressa would never trust him again no matter how much he schemed. He sat Tressa up and got behind her in a more innocent position, just supporting her, and pushed the table away from them.

  ‘Could someone give me a hand with Tressa?’ he called. ‘She nearly got crushed by those men.’

  Pat came running, so did Celeste and half the people in the pub. Harry let them take over and when Andrew came back from the toilet, Harry was just another bystander.

  ‘Good heavens! Tressa! What happened to her?’ He pushed people out of the way until he was holding her and she was clinging to him. ‘I heard some shouting but I thought it was just the party getting noisy. What on earth’s been going on?’

  Chapter 25

  ‘I hope the fight in the pub the night before last hasn’t given you a bad impression of the village, Eve,’ Ince said, putting down the wheelbarrow he was pushing and looking down on her as she tended a sick goat. They were in the goathouse where he had come to remove the manure from the night before and she was administering Epsom salts dissolved in warm water to a nanny which had eaten something that hadn’t agreed with her.

  ‘Not at all,’ she replied over her shoulder, expertly getting the purge into the goat without much spillage. ‘I’d hate to be that woman, Joy Miller. How will she ever dare to show her face in the village now? Goodness knows what her husband has said to her, the poor man.’

  Eve had enjoyed the night out and she liked having Ince about again. She was in higher spirits than was normal for her. She changed her tone to one that was designed to entertain him. ‘Actually, I’ve been close to fights before, Ince. Mrs Howard-Armstrong, whom I worked for, had a very rebellious son. Mr Clarence was a bit of a wag and he hated his mother’s set and the hypocritical high moral stand they took. He used to insult them every chance he got. Sometimes one of the gentlemen would take exception and once or twice it ended in fisticuffs. Mrs Howard-Armstrong would take to her boudoir for days and recline on her chaise longue with the vapours. She would shiver and shake and wail. She would swear she was going into a decline. You wouldn’t believe the amount of pills and tonic water she got through and how many times she made the doctor call on her.’

  Having arrived at Carrick Cross an hour earlier than the time agreed with Les in the pub, eight o’clock, Ince felt it was in order for him to pause and chat for a while. He had no idea where he stood with Eve, and he couldn’t make up his mind what footing he wanted their relationship to be on, but now she was opening up at last he wanted to ply her with questions. ‘Did you work for anyone else apart from this Mrs Howard-Armstrong?’

  ‘No, only her, apart from my stint in the Land Army. She was most put out when I left her employ for a year. I went into service the moment I left school and when Mrs Howard-Armstrong’s maid, Maud, retired I was elevated to that position. I had worked as kitchen maid for two years when one night Maud was taken violently ill. Mrs Howard-Armstrong was throwing a large dinner party that night and a duke was coming, and Madam, as we called her, became nearly hysterical about who was going to dress her and do her hair. I used to do the servants’ hair to save them money. The cook told the butler and he told Madam and in desperation she allowed me to help her get ready for dinner. I was very nervous but she was so impressed at what I did she promised me that if I trained under Maud in my spare time I’d get the job when Maud retired.’

  Ince made an ironic noise. ‘So you did your training unpaid and in your own time? Typical of that sort. Did she lead you a hell of a life?’

  ‘I suppose you could say that. Mrs Howard-Armstrong was meticulous in her demands and very temperamental. Everything had to be just so or there was the devil to pay. She could be utterly scathing and I had always to mind my place, but she paid me a little better than most women in my position and she gave me good-quality clothing for Christmas and my birthday. I usually received her handbags and scarves when she’d finished with them, and she was so happy on the night of Mr Clarence’s engagement party that she gave me a single string pearl
necklace that she hardly wore. I thought myself fortunate that I had a job in a good household and it was much better than skivvying for a living. The best part was the travelling. I’ve been to some lovely places.’

  ‘You must find living here very dull,’ he commented.

  ‘Not after Saturday night,’ she laughed. Putting aside the jug of purge, she looked at Ince while stroking the goat’s head and giving it an occasional soothing word.

  Goats liked human companionship as well as their own kind but Ince had noticed that the three nannies particularly sought out Eve who looked perfectly at home in this situation.

  ‘Was your mother proud of you?’ he asked. He was curious about Angela Tremorrow.

  Eve turned her head away but not before Ince saw a dark shadow mar her pale skin. She answered him sharply. ‘I didn’t see much of her after I left home. She moved about a lot.’

  Sensing he had made her clam up, Ince reached for the handles of the wheelbarrow. ‘Well, I’d better get on with this or I’ll have Les after me.’ He stopped in front of the raised platform that the goats, as natural climbers, had been provided with to jump up on, and took off the top. He scraped the dry pellets into the wheelbarrow. He cleaned all round the area and laid down some fresh hay and topped up the water buckets.

  Eve had left the sick goat and gone outside, probably, Ince thought, to avoid further questions. He would have to be careful what he asked her in future, her mother was obviously a no-go area. He trundled the wheelbarrow past her and tipped the manure on the heap that would be used to dress the garden.

  Eve would tend to the rest of the needs of the goats but Ince had more to say before he went off to draw potatoes. He wanted to ask her out to the cinema or for a meal but first he had a message to pass on to her. He went up to her as she made to go back into the goathouse and stood very close.