A Stranger Light

by Gloria Cook

  ‘Never mind, Susie girl. It’s the company that matters,’ Kenny had grinned at her. It had been a friendly grin, but it didn’t lessen Susan’s distrust of him.

  Maureen had giggled at her uncle’s reference to her mother. ‘Shall I go up and ask Mr Fuller if he wants to join us, Mum?’

  Mark had been heard tapping in roof tiles, and Addi had appeared at the top of the track and stayed still, as if on guard. Usually he came bounding down to greet them. It could only be Kenny’s presence that had caused the change.

  ‘So that bloke Fuller’s been here for a meal before?’ Kenny gave Susan a meaningful wink, which made her colour up in anger. Kenny saw everything in an unsavoury light. He pulled the blue ribbon off the box of chocolates. ‘Here, princess, you can put this in your hair. I spoke to Mr Fuller earlier. I reckon he just wants to get on with his work today. Tell me all about yourself. I don’t like kids, but you’re my flesh and blood. That makes you different, special.’

  While fiddling with the ribbon, and gazing longingly at the chocolates, which she wasn’t allowed to eat until after tea and then only four each day, Maureen told him how well she was doing at school and how much fun she had playing with the Smiths. ‘And now we’ve broken up for the summer holiday I’ll do a few jobs on the farm every day with them to earn some pocket money.’ Kenny had listened while devouring all the food Susan put in front of him, then he followed it by bragging about his high connections in London, and how many famous film stars and singers he knew. Susan didn’t like the starry-eyed look it gave Maureen, and she ordered her upstairs to change out of her school clothes.

  ‘What’s brought you back here, Kenny?’ she asked bluntly. She started to stack the dishes on a tray, hoping Kenny would take the message and leave.

  ‘Come on, girl, don’t be like that.’ He leaned back in his chair and swept his hands through his Brylcreemed hair. ‘I’ve decided to leave the Smoke. I’ve made a stash, but not enough to run with the big boys. I like to wheel and deal, and I admit I’m a hard sod, but I ain’t as ruthless as them up there. So I’ve come back to Truro, back to my roots. I’d rather be a big fish in a small pond then a small fish in a big one. I’ve already put out feelers for a business or two,’ he added proudly, then crossed his fingers, smirking. ‘Strictly legit, of course.’

  Susan was horrified. ‘You’re not staying here with us!’

  ‘Relax. I’m staying at the Red Lion. I’ll be getting meself a nice big house and you and Maureen will be welcome there any time. In fact, with me around, you’ll always have someone to turn to.’ Kenny casually lit a cigarette. ‘You’re on to a winner round here, Susie. Got toffs eating out of your hand. Didn’t take to that snobby bugger up at the cottage above you. What’s his game then?’

  Susan fetched him an ashtray from the dresser cupboard. ‘You’re the sort of man who provokes that sort of question, not Mark.’

  ‘Mark is it? First names, eh? What’s he labouring for?’

  ‘He isn’t, not really.’ She gave him a few brief facts about Mark.

  ‘Well, if he’s getting divorced there’s a chance for you then. But the Harvey bloke’s your best bet. Plain as day to me it was that he thinks the sun shines out of your backside. Get anything you’d want out of him, I reckon. You could live like a lady, never have to worry about money or to skivvy again.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’

  ‘Why’re you offended?’ Kenny made a wry face. He’d spent years taking advantage of any situation by any means his crafty mind came up with. ‘You’ve not got something against the grand Mr Tristan Harvey, have you?’

  ‘Of course I haven’t. He’s the kindest man I know.’ Susan had squirmed in discomfort. It felt horribly intrusive and disloyal to be discussing Tristan Harvey in this mercenary manner.

  ‘There you are, then. Think what he could do for Maureen. You owe her the best. The bloke you married was bringing you down.’

  ‘You don’t know anything about Lance.’

  ‘Oh, but I do. I’ve made some of the same contacts he had. Did you know he was keeping knock-off goods in the cottage up there? The locals’ belief that it’s haunted was a great help to him. Just think, Sis, if the Krauts hadn’t finished him off he might be in the nick by now. Lance didn’t only receive and pass on to fences, he went out on the jobs.’

  Susan had shuddered. Instinct had told her Lance had been dodgy, but she’d had no idea by how much. ‘Keep your voice down,’ she’d hissed. ‘I don’t want Maureen hearing this. She believes her daddy died a war hero and I don’t want that shattered for her.’

  ‘That can never be shattered, Susie. He died for his country. And I’d never do anything to upset the girl. She’s a sweetie. So are you. You’re lovely.’

  ‘Oh, suddenly developed a soft spot, have you, Kenny?’ Susan said sarcastically. ‘Well, I’m not falling for it.’

  ‘I wouldn’t take that from anyone but you.’ Kenny pointed at her with his cigarette. ‘But you and Maureen are family, you’re all I’ve got. And I’ve heard all about Lance Dowling’s controlling ways and his nasty moods. You must have had a hard time with him. So what’s wrong with you looking for a bit of pleasure and security? Love, even? A chap like Harvey could give you all that. Don’t you want Maureen to look up? Do better in life? Seems to me you’ve got a God-sent opportunity just along the lanes but you’re refusing to see it. Maureen won’t thank you for it. Takes just one glance to see she’s bright and’ll want to go places. Your attitude’s holding her back. Can’t you see it? There’s more than one way to be a good mother.’

  ‘By behaving like a tart trying to snare a rich man! I’m not like that.’ Susan was appalled. She could almost cry at the suggestion, the interference in her life, the anxiety Kenny was bringing to her snug little world.

  ‘I know you’re not. I’ve seen many gold-diggers in my time, and if I’d have found you was one I’d smack you in the gob. I admire you, Susie. You’ve kept your dignity. You’re a lovely, decent young woman, and that’s what Tristan Harvey’s fallen for. I’m only pointing out that life could be different for you, that’s all. I can see the thought’s scared you, but why not have a quiet think about it, eh?’

  Kenny had wittered on, ‘And I can offer you and Maureen another future. When I’m all set up, you could come and live with me. You and Maureen would have everything you want, with no hard graft ever again. I’ll pay for her to have a private education. She could end up as a doctor, a scientist, anything. I’ve met and admired women like that. It’s in a woman’s grasp nowadays if she wants it. I’d like to see Maureen do well, one way or another. You can’t deny her a better future, can you? She’d end up hating you. Think about it, Susie. Think about it.’

  Apart from her surprise at Kenny’s change of view from pure chauvinism, she had thought about nothing else between his unwelcome arrival and Faye’s dismal departure. It seemed her world was being splintered, and she’d had ideas thrust upon her that were unnerving. It had been hard to act naturally with Tristan during the few minutes they’d spent alone in the house before he’d left for the farm office. He’d said, ‘I’m taking the children to the pictures tomorrow, the afternoon matinee. There’s a re-billing of National Velvet. It’s about a girl and a horse. Maureen likes horses. She’s a steady rider now. And there will probably be a Tom and Jerry cartoon too. Perhaps she’d like to come and keep Pearl company.’

  Susan was sorting out the linen basket for ironing so she wouldn’t have to look at him. She had been pleased before to have her daughter included in the Smith children’s treats.

  But now after all that Kenny had said, she realized that Tristan had gone out of his way to spoil Maureen. Did he really have hopes for her in the romantic sense? Glancing at him and receiving back a look of shining hope, she saw that Kenny had been right. Now what? If she refused his kind offer, she’d have to come up with a feasible excuse. And when Maureen discovered she had been denied this outing she’d kick up a tremendous fuss and demand to kn
ow why. How could she answer?

  There was only one way she could answer. Her eyes on the pillowcase she was folding, she said, ‘Yes, yes, she would. Thank you. It’s very kind of you.’

  She heard him expel a deep breath. ‘Splendid. Um, the thing is, well, I’m not sure if I can cope with four children on my own. The girls will need a lady to um… take them to the um… perhaps you’d like to come along yourself?’ Without looking at him, she knew he was blushing, and probably not because he was referring to the ladies convenience. ‘We always finish with a fish and chip supper. Make a good day of it. What do you say? Would you like to think about it?’

  Yes. Think about how she could get out of it! Oh, why was everything suddenly so complicated? She said, ‘Yes, I’ll think about it,’ for there was nothing else she could say.

  ‘Good. You can tell me what you decide later.’

  She had until lunch, when everyone would crowd in for a summer salad, to come up with a valid reason for her and Maureen not to go to the pictures. Moments later Maureen provided her with one, and because it was a serious matter, she left the house and went straight to the farm.

  Within the thick, whitewashed walls of the little office in the ancient Tremore farmhouse, Tristan was trying to wade through Ministry papers and fill in account books. ‘Damn and blast it!’ He threw down his fountain pen. Ink splashed on an important document and his shirt cuff, and while blotting it up, he resorted to some choice soldier’s language. He felt useless at being unable to soothe Faye in her distress. She’d phoned to say she’d arrived safely at Roskerne, that she hadn’t changed her mind about selling up, and that she’d appreciate it if she were not disturbed. Then he’d made a mess of things with Susan. He’d tried to be casual, but had come across like a bashful youth. And there had been something different about her today. She had been distant, ill at ease. He broke into a panic. Had she been on to his motives? He was hoping she would notice the extent of his interest in her at some point, but after… when… oh, he didn’t know when. Twice he had married, but romancing a woman had not been this difficult before.

  His wrist was stained with ink. His shirt should be soaked in cold water. He was hardly going to endear himself to Susan if he gave her extra laundry. Well, he’d just throw the damned shirt away. It was ruined anyway. She’d never know. Now he asked himself why was he being pessimistic. She hadn’t appeared horrified at him asking her to join him and the children at the pictures. She might like to go, to see the film herself. She might not have read anything into his invitation except a kind gesture. If Susan enjoyed the film, enjoyed being with all the children, and him, well… the next step might be easier. But had he put her in a spot? Well, even if he had, she still might enjoy the outing. And then…

  Susan knocked on the low office door, which was slightly ajar, an item in her hand digging into her palm for she was holding it so tightly.

  ‘Cyril?’ Tristan assumed it was Cyril Trewin, manager of the farm from Ben’s arrival at Tremore. ‘Come in.’

  Susan pushed the door open a couple of inches. ‘No, it’s me.’

  Tristan shot to his feet, his heart shocked into a fierce pounding as if he was suddenly thrown into a military charge. He was consumed with a crazed mix of hope and expectation. He was sure his face had gone as red as a turkey’s wattle. Coming round the desk he hid his arm behind his back to hide the soiled cuff. ‘Susan, come in. Is everything all right?’

  ‘I need to talk to you, Mr Tristan.’ Now she was here, on an errand of shame actually, rather than with a reason to decline his offer of a trip to the pictures, she reddened with equal brightness. A man as honest and full of integrity as he was might now see Maureen and herself in a different light.

  ‘Do have a seat.’ He pointed to a ragged armchair beside the little hearth. The scraps of furniture in the room were all charmingly abused by decades of farm workers. It lent a cozy, old-fashioned ambiance and here was one of Tristan's favourite places, where he lingered over a cigar and a glass of single malt from Ben’s secret hoard. ‘You look very serious. Has Faye telephoned? Told you anything?’

  She ignored the chair. She should remain standing for this. ‘No. Should there be something?’

  ‘Um, no.’ Tristan couldn’t reveal why Faye had left early for Roskerne, but it seemed wrong not to tell Susan, or Mark, the truth. ‘You go ahead.’

  ‘I’m very sorry—’

  ‘For what?’ he interrupted. ‘You’re not giving in your notice?’ Had his invitation offended her? Frightened her into taking flight?

  ‘No. But you might want me to after I show you this.’ She held out her hand and unwrapped a child’s hanky, to reveal inside a small round metal case and two pieces of broken glass.

  Tristan took the broken article. ‘It’s from my collection of stop watches. Did you break it while cleaning? Well, you mustn’t worry. It was an accident.’

  ‘I’m afraid it wasn’t.’ Susan wrung her hands together. ‘It was taken. By Maureen. I found it wrapped up in a cardigan of hers and left in Pearl’s room. She must have taken the stop watch to time a game and then broken it. I’m so sorry. I’m so ashamed that she would do something like that and then try to hide it. Can it be repaired? I’ll pay for it, of course.’

  ‘That won’t be necessary.’ Tristan examined the stop watch. ‘There’s no damage to anything except the glass. There’s a chap I use for repairs for items like this for my antique shop. He’ll easily find a new glass to fit the watch.’ She seemed so vulnerable and forlorn. He smiled at her, wanting to enfold her in his arms and tell her she need never worry about a thing. ‘I’m sure you’ll enjoy a visit to the shop while we’re at Roskerne. I’ve an excellent manager and assistant there. I sell a little furniture, it’s collectables mostly, from figurines to war memorabilia. Maureen will be fascinated, I’m sure, by some clockwork animal toys I’ve recently acquired.’ His most enjoyable work involved scouring for treasures for his shop, but these days he begrudged the time if it was during Susan’s working hours.

  Susan bypassed his enthusiasm. She didn’t want to think about how understanding he was. And he had other attractions. He was more than presentable. Handsome in the striking way he smiled. ‘It’s a relief to know the watch can be mended. The real crime is Maureen borrowing something that doesn’t belong to her and keeping the breakage a secret. I shall punish her, of course. I won’t allow her to go to the pictures tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh, please don’t do that!’ The disappointment made Tristan beg. ‘I mean, Pearl would be so disappointed. It would be letting her down. May I suggest you think of something else?’

  She had found a way out of a tricky situation. If she insisted on Maureen being punished her way, he wouldn’t continue to persuade her otherwise, he being such a reasonable man. And so kind, he wasn’t the least bit cross about Maureen’s misdemeanour. All she could think of was how kind he was. A thought shot into her mind. Would it be too awful to consider Kenny’s suggestion that she should consider him as a way to provide all her and Maureen’s needs? Did she owe Maureen a better way of life? Opportunities she’d otherwise be denied?

  She couldn’t look Tristan in the eye while giving place to such thoughts, and she stared down at the threadbare mat. Could she bear all the duties of a wife again, the bedroom duties in particular? She had to stop this. She was embarrassed and breathing raggedly. He would notice and wonder what was the matter. ‘Most people would be furious over what Maureen had done.’

  ‘All children get up to mischief. If it makes you feel any better, I could give Maureen a dressing down.’

  How could she refuse such consideration? ‘Yes, I’d be glad if you did that. She must be taught what’s right and wrong. My brother gave her chocolates and a doll yesterday. I’ll confiscate them for a while.’

  ‘He’s back, Susan?’ Tristan was jubilant the outing was going ahead. They would be seen all trooping on to the bus to Truro tomorrow. It was as good as announcing that he and Susan were stepping out toge
ther. ‘Another short visit?’

  ‘No such luck.’ She told him about Kenny’s intentions.

  ‘Are you worried about it?’

  ‘He seems to have softened a little, but he’s a con man, never to be trusted. He’s heartless. Maureen took to him immediately. In fact she was cross with me for not telling her she had an uncle. Kenny could be a bad influence on her.’ You can’t always protect her by yourself. It was as if a subconscious worry had spoken inside her head. If Tristan became Maureen’s stepfather, he would protect her. Susan couldn’t stand these self-seeking thoughts. She would not bring Maureen up believing money and position were all-important, that any action you took, even to be able to live to your full potential, could be justified. She had accepted her life, and she would teach Maureen to do the same. ‘I suppose I’d better get back. Oh, your shirt!’

  ‘Sorry, I was careless.’ He held out the offending sleeve.

  ‘That’s not like you.’

  There was a moment of silence. One of delight for him, for she had acknowledged that she knew his ways. She was comfortable in that moment, for it had felt natural to make such a remark. She had been alone here with him for some time, and suddenly she was in no hurry to scamper away. ‘You can’t stay like that.’

  ‘No, I’d better go home and change. Perhaps I could have my morning coffee at the house instead of here.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  Chatting with ease, they walked side by side to the house. A man met them at the gates. He lifted his tweed hat to Susan, revealing thick dark hair. He was in his mid-forties, hardy and distinguished-looking, with the air of a country gentleman. ‘Good morning.’

  ‘Good morning. Can I help you?’ Tristan said.

  ‘I’m looking for Miss Faye Harvey. This is where she lives?’

  ‘I’m her uncle, Tristan Harvey.’ Tristan peered at him closely. ‘May I know what business you have with her?’