And suddenly, he knew it wasn’t just her body he had wanted. With despair ripping a path of abject hopelessness inside him, he realised he was in love with her. A devastating state to be in, because he knew he could never, ever have her.
‘You probably won’t believe this, Tressa,’ he said in a choked voice. ‘But I’m really sorry for what I’ve been doing to you. I promise I will never bother you again.’
He walked off, telling Rodney in a gentle voice why he must not wander away from those in charge of him.
Tressa sat down on a rock and cried and cried. She didn’t believe Harry’s last statement, but he’d had a queer look in his eyes when he’d said it. She pulled herself together quickly, not wanting to have red eyes and to stay away too long.
Most of the party were down at the shore paddling when she got back and she was glad to find that Andrew, Laura and Guy were with them and Harry was nowhere to be seen. She lay down on her front and pretended to sunbathe, hoping the fierce August heat would soon stop her shivering.
Later in the afternoon, after the ministers had left early to prepare for their evening services, Harry came back from the green and said he had twisted his ankle and would not be able to lead his cricket team. He refused to let Mrs Endean look at it when she hurried over with her first aid box; he said he would be happy amusing Rodney and the little ones digging in the sand. He didn’t look in Tressa’s direction for the rest of the day.
When the party had packed up and left the beach, the convoy drove home, each vehicle travelling at its own pace. With the exception of Tressa and Harry, everyone had enjoyed the day.
Chapter 28
Ada Prisk burst into the village shop with news burning on her tongue. ‘Have you heard? The Leans’ stable boy was out exercising one of their horses on the moor at daybreak and he came across a body. It was Bert Miller! Looks like he killed himself. The boy said he found empty bottles of whisky and aspirin. Bert must have done away with himself over the affair!’
Daisy was serving the quiet Mrs Sparnock and Pat Penhaligon was waiting her turn. All three women gasped in horror. Daisy’s hand flew to her ample breast and she staggered back, ashen-faced, against the shelves behind her.
‘Quick!’ Pat cried. ‘She’s going to faint.’ Acting with the agility and energetic mind that was typical of her, Pat threw up the counter partition and was on the other side in a trice, her arms out to prevent Daisy toppling to the floor.
‘Really, Mrs Prisk!’ Mrs Sparnock snapped, quite out of character. ‘Fancy telling Mrs Tamblyn like that. You must have known it would upset her especially.’ Spurred on by Pat’s calmness and efficiency, she picked up the chair provided for the shop’s customers, pushed it under Daisy’s fat bottom and helped ease her down onto it. Then she began to rub Daisy’s wrists.
Ada crept up on them gingerly. ‘I’m very sorry, Mrs Tamblyn. I didn’t mean to give you a turn. Can I get you a drink of water?’
Daisy was breathing rapidly, gasping for air and trying to speak, her lips colourless and moving like a fish out of water. Pat wiped perspiration off her face. ‘I don’t like the look of this,’ she said quietly. ‘Mrs Prisk, go and phone for the doctor.’
Ada rushed through to the sitting room and telephoned the doctor’s surgery in Launceston. When she was satisfied that the doctor was coming immediately, she stole a quick peep into the kitchen to see if Bruce was there. He wasn’t, but a sound overhead told her he was upstairs. She was about to call to him but changed her mind. Daisy probably wouldn’t appreciate having one of the sinners who had been instrumental in causing Bert Miller’s suicide around her at this moment.
‘I think we ought to get Daisy into the house where she will be more comfortable,’ Pat was saying when Ada got back to the shop.
Roslyn Farrow had come in to post a parcel and was watching Daisy’s stricken face anxiously. ‘Shall I get my husband?’ she whispered.
‘I don’t think she’s as bad as that,’ Pat whispered back. ‘It’s women she’ll want round her right now.’ Pat glowered at Ada. ‘Perhaps you’d keep an eye on the shop, Mrs Prisk, while the rest of us get Mrs Tamblyn onto her settee.’
‘Of course,’ Ada said importantly. This would give her the ideal opportunity to pass on and receive any amount of gossip from the customers. She flinched when Pat added sharply, ‘And for goodness sake, keep your trap shut. You’ve done enough damage for one morning.’
‘Oh, um, the doctor’s receptionist said not to give Mrs Tamblyn anything to eat or drink until the doctor says so,’ Ada said contritely. Daisy was the sickliest colour, she was trembling and emitting the occasional peculiar moan. Ada took off her light summer coat and put on her most stern and righteous face; she was now a stalwart of discretion, not a word about Bert Miller’s tragic death would pass her lips, nor would she tolerate one single word spoken about it in the shop while she was in charge of it.
The other three women half carried Daisy into the sitting room and put her down gently on the old lumpy settee. Putting up her feet, they took off her shoes and piled cushions behind her head. Daisy still couldn’t form any words and she clung to Roslyn’s hand.
‘I’ll find a flannel and towel to freshen you up, Mrs Tamblyn,’ Mrs Sparnock said shyly, and she left the room with tears filling her eyes at the news of Bert’s death and Daisy’s distress.
Pat spoke slowly and precisely to Daisy. ‘Would you like me to phone Laura and ask her to come over, Daisy?’
Daisy nodded feebly and her eyes watered. She wanted two things urgently to happen and one was to have Laura with her. She closed her eyes.
‘That’s a good idea,’ Roslyn said to Pat. ‘Laura is the closest person to Daisy and she owns half the shop.’ She heard a creaking of ceiling timbers and looked up. ‘Whatever he’s doing, let’s hope he stays up there.’
A short time later, Laura, carrying the big brown harvest kettle and crib basket, was hurrying Vicki to Spencer and Pawley where they were cutting a field sown with mixed oats and barley.
‘Something up, love?’ Spencer asked worriedly, getting down off the tractor. He studied his wife a lot these days and was receptive to her every mood.
‘I’ve got to get over to the shop straight away, Spencer,’ she said breathlessly, putting her burdens into his hands. ‘Bert Miller’s been found dead on the moor and Aunty Daisy has taken the news very badly. She’s collapsed. Pat Penhaligon’s called the doctor.’ Laura looked uneasy. ‘I have to do something about the shop. I – I know Ince isn’t at Carrick Cross today and I thought I’d ask him to serve in it. He’d be sympathetic to the customers and I can trust him not to gossip about Aunty Daisy, Bruce and Joy. What do you think?’
‘I thought we’d straightened out everything about Ince,’ Spencer said quietly. ‘It’s fine by me.’
Laura went pink-faced at his gentle chastening, but she was not always sure of what went on inside Spencer’s head and had felt compelled to get his agreement about Ince. ‘I’ll leave Vicki with you then. Felicity’s shopping in Launceston or I would have asked her to come over.’ A fleeting expression of anxiety marked Laura’s classic features. ‘Make sure Vicki keeps her sunhat on, won’t you? And keep an eye on her in case she ends up under the tractor. There’s enough food in there for her and some gingerbread men. I expect I’ll be back in time to cook supper.’
‘Don’t worry about Vicki, but you be careful, Laura,’ Spencer said sternly. ‘You don’t want any disappointments.’ He paused then added self-consciously, ‘Nor do I.’
‘You’ve realised I might be pregnant then?’ she said, glancing down shyly at the stubbly ground then into his warm, smoky eyes.
‘Yes.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘If you’re not back when we finish here, I’ll ring the shop.’
‘Thanks, Spencer,’ she said, rushing over to Vicki who was chatting to Pawley about how much she missed Benjy.
Laura said goodbye to her, promising she would be back as soon as she could.
Before going to the s
hop, Laura went to see Ince. He was in Johnny’s back garden trimming a privet hedge. He knew immediately something was wrong and was shocked to hear about Bert Miller’s death.
‘Of course I’ll help out in the shop but does Spencer know you’re asking me?’ he asked warily.
‘You’re thinking along the same lines as I did,’ she said. ‘He knows and he says it’s fine by him. Can you come at once? I want to get to Aunty Daisy and see if the doctor’s been yet.’
‘Right,’ he said, snapping the shears shut. ‘I’ll put these away and leave a note for Johnny. He’s gone for a stroll.’
Daisy had kept her doors locked since the burglary two years ago, but Laura had a key and let Ince and herself in by the front door. The doctor’s car was outside so she took Ince through to the shop first. Ada, rearranging the newspapers and magazines, was surprised to see them and flushed guiltily. She wondered if Laura had been told it was the way she had broken the news of Bert Miller’s death that had caused Daisy’s collapse.
‘I’m just tidying these up,’ she said. ‘Has the doctor said anything yet?’
‘I haven’t seen the doctor, Ada,’ Laura replied. ‘It was very good of you to take over serving in the shop. I’ve asked Ince to relieve you, so you can go about your own business now.’
‘Ince?’ Ada was aghast. ‘What does Ince know about the retail trade?’
‘He knows enough to take money and give the correct change,’ Laura said coolly; she had been told about Ada’s part in Daisy’s distress. ‘Good morning, Ada.’
‘You will let me know how Mrs Tamblyn is?’ Ada blustered as Laura gave her her coat and bundled her out of the door.
‘You can be ruthless when you want to be,’ Ince grinned as Laura gave him brief instructions on how to work the cash register.
‘Sometimes Ada makes my blood boil. If you want to know anything else, just ask, okay? I’ll take a risk with you serving stamps but anything else come and get me, I’m licensed for the post office.’
‘You don’t think Ada will start gossiping about me and you, do you?’ Ince asked, dropping the thought delicately. ‘After Spencer’s previous suspicions – well, an affair is what this is all about.’
‘No, the villagers are too busy wondering if you and Eve have a romance going.’
Laura left Ince thinking about Eve. He thought about her a lot, more than he had Laura when he’d fallen in love with her. He had acted upon Spencer’s advice the very next day. Seeing Les going into the outdoor lavatory with a newspaper and knowing the old man would stay ensconced in there for ages, he had crept into the goathouse while Eve was milking the goats.
‘I want a word with you,’ he had declared bluntly before she could fix her eyes absently on something else and give him only half her attention, a habit she had got into since Les had shouted at them. ‘Get up off that stool or I’ll pull you up.’
Startled by his unaccustomed intensity and the raw crispness in his dark eyes, she looked up with her mouth agape. ‘Whatever has got into you, Ince?’
‘Come here, Eve, while Les is busy,’ he demanded.
‘I can’t. You know Bella doesn’t like me to stop until her udder is empty.’
‘All right, if you want to be stubborn, I’ll ask you there, but don’t blame me if it isn’t quite manners.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘I would like you to come out with me for a drink in the pub tonight. Or if you prefer, we could go to the pictures or a restaurant. We could even have a meal at Johnny’s cottage. I’m a good cook.’ He laughed to cover a growing sense of embarrassment and dismay because his intended date was gazing solemnly at the ground. ‘I’ve had to be with me and Spencer living on our own at Rosemerryn for so long. Johnny would be glad to make himself scarce for us. Eve?’
Without looking up, she murmured passively, ‘I’m not much of a person for socialising, Ince. And now I’m selling my craftwork, I have orders to complete.’
His hurt pride and frustration he could deal with, but he was so irritated by her dismissiveness that he had an overwhelming desire to dip her proud head into the bucket of milk.
‘I understand,’ he said letting out a loud exaggerated sigh, his stance stiffening, eyes narrowing. ‘To you I’m only a simple labourer.’
She looked up at him then and her neat, pale features held the same pathetic quality as the calves he had taken to market from Rosemerryn Farm. He spun on his heel and strode outside. He didn’t hear her say winsomely, ‘It’s not like that at all, Ince.’
Since then they had kept at a polite distance.
But he was thinking of Eve now as he stared down sightlessly at the baskets of eggs in front of him on the counter. When she suddenly appeared on the other side of the counter – in his preoccupation he had not registered the bell – for a moment he thought he had conjured her up.
‘Eve?’
She was just as surprised to find him here. ‘Ince?’
‘I haven’t got another job,’ he said in a rush. ‘There’s been a tragedy and Laura asked me to take over here.’
‘Oh, nothing’s happened to Mrs Tamblyn, has it?’ Keeping an eye out for other customers because he didn’t want anyone else but Eve to know all the facts, Ince explained why he was here.
‘The poor man. I didn’t know him, of course, but he looked so happy playing his accordion in the pub that night. To think his life was to be shattered in just a few hours, and his life ended in just over three weeks.’
‘Yes, it’s terrible,’ Ince said in the soothing voice he would have used on any customer upset over the awful news. Despite her rejection of him, he still studied and admired everything about her. ‘Well then, what can I get you?’
She had been gazing at him. ‘Oh, yes, I’ve made out a list.’ She handed it to him.
He smiled with the charm a real shopkeeper might use to keep his customers happy. ‘Thank you.’ Moments later his stab at professionalism vanished as he scanned the shelves and displays looking for the first item on the list. He came round the other side of the counter to continue his search. ‘Hair grips, hair grips, hair grips… what are hair grips?’
‘I use them in my hair sometimes, to keep it out of my eyes when I’m working,’ Eve told him, amused. She put out her hand and picked up a small piece of card on a nearby shelf. ‘They’re here actually. Perhaps I ought to help you.’
‘I’d be glad of that,’ then he added quietly, ‘I’m afraid I know very little about feminine things.’
‘No, of course…’ Eve said vaguely.
She turned her back on him because she could not bear to see the slight recrimination in his face. And every time she looked into his rugged dark features with those big gentle brown eyes, she melted inside at the memory of their very near kiss. She would remember the feel of his strong arms about her, the sensitive masculine nearness of him, his fresh male smell… Stop it! she screamed at herself. Don’t torture yourself.
She had refused to go out with Ince because of the certainty of Les’s disapproval and because of something the old man had said when he had railed against their embrace. She wanted to live in harmony with her grandfather. And she couldn’t get it out of her mind that her mother was supposed to have done something much worse than giving birth to an illegitimate child. Could it be worse than the secret Eve had stumbled on at the age of sixteen on a surprise visit to her mother’s lodgings? That Angela was a prostitute, always had been. She had even tried to get Eve involved in her twilight life, saying she could earn more money than a maid and enjoy herself into the bargain. Eve had fled in shame and had never come to terms with the discovery.
Eve knew Ince would never look down on her, but with his honesty and deep beliefs she couldn’t bear to think of him recoiling at whatever the truth might be. She was desperate to know what it was but Les refused to tell her. Eve wanted more than anything to get closer to Ince and she was sorry she had hurt his feelings when she had declined his invitation. She felt now that she
owed it to him to be friendly.
‘You’ll be over as usual tomorrow, Ince?’ she smiled at him as he packed her shopping bag.
‘Never fear. I’ll be working at Carrick Cross until either I get another job, and then I’ll give proper notice, or Les fires me.’ He bent his head over the shopping list to reckon up the amount of the goods.
Eve knew a moment of intense panic. ‘You’re not looking for another job, are you?’
He kept her waiting and worked out her bill.
She couldn’t risk him leaving. Eve had a great affection for her grandfather but she could not bear the thought of living there, so remote and lonely, without Ince being there three times a week. She had to do something to make sure he stayed. A favourite phrase of her late employer leapt into her mind: ‘When all else fails, resort to subterfuge!’ What subterfuge could she use to keep a hold on Ince? Suddenly the answer was so obvious she couldn’t understand how she had not thought of it before. She could lie to Les, say she was calling on Ada Prisk or someone else.
‘That’ll be four and ninepence ha’penny,’ Ince said, straightening up from leaning on the counter. ‘Why?’ he answered her finally, almost insolently. ‘If I left would you miss me?’
‘Of course I would,’ she said miserably. Not keeping strict control of herself for once, she was bobbing about, shuffling from foot to foot. She put a ten shilling note into his hand. ‘Ince…’
Ince could see she was agitated and although his hopes were rising, he took a leaf out of Harry Lean’s book and prolonged her agony. He rang up the cash and took his time counting out the change into her hand. ‘Yes, Eve?’
‘L-listen, Ince—’
The shop bell rang shrilly and Alfie and two of his brothers trooped in. Eve pushed the coins into her purse, picked up her shopping and fled.
‘What’s up with her?’ Alfie thumbed over his shoulder. ‘Got ants in her pants?’
‘Stay here and guard the shop with your life, Alfie,’ Ince ordered him dramatically. He sprinted after Eve and because she was walking so fast he did not catch up with her until the bottom of the hill. He clutched her by the shoulders and swung her round.
Rosemerryn Page 33