Family Ties

by Family Ties (retail) (epub)

  To her horror, she felt the appalling laughter begin to bubble up inside her and managed to crush it with an enormous effort. And the saddest and most terrible thing of all, was that the one person she wanted to turn to and say how funny it all was, was Ben…

  People were shaking her hand and murmuring condolences, and she was answering them with the usual platitudes in use on these occasions, to be brought out and dusted and then put away until the next time. It was all meaningless. The only thing that counted was that Ben was dead and she was alone. Even among all these crowds, all wishing her well, their waves of sympathy almost smothering her, she was alone.

  She felt Walter’s hand reach for hers and heard his voice telling her it was time to come away from the graveside. His young, heartbroken voice… Morwen drew in a small breath.

  ‘Mother, we should get back to the house. The carriages have arrived, and the lawyer will be expecting us.’

  How did he manage to say such sensible words when all the pain in him was so obvious to her? But apparently his real pain was clear only to her. She heard someone say what a fine support the eldest Killigrew boy was going to be, so like his father… Walter heard it too, and she saw his jaw clench.

  They had had a bad time with Walter this last week, who still blamed himself totally for his father’s death. No matter how often Morwen told him the truth, that it was going to happen sooner rather than later, Walter blamed himself for hastening the end. She just prayed that time would lessen the unwarranted guilt he felt. Time, and love.

  Two hours later the family arranged themselves in a tableau for the reading of the will. They had invited no one back to the house, and when they were fortified with whatever they needed, the lawyer cleared his throat and broke the seal on the bulky envelope.

  He need hardly have bothered, Morwen thought later. Everything was clear-cut, exactly as she had explained it to Walter. There were no surprises. Everything was left to her, with no mention that her father was a partner in Killigrew Clay. Hal had always insisted on that. Not until he chose to reveal it, would that bit of truth come out. And the final statement said that on Morwen’s death, all that part of Cornwall known as Killigrew Clay should be shared equally between their five children, Walter Killigrew, Albert Killigrew, Primrose Killigrew, Justin Killigrew and Charlotte Killigrew. There were no special tributes, no tokens, everything was equal.

  The children were snuffling as the lawyer gathered up the papers with a slight feeling of disappointment. It would have been so much more dramatic if there had been some family histrionics, but Ben Killigrew had always been clear in his mind about his will. As he shook the hand of the lovely young widow, the lawyer thought dryly that it was probably the only thing he had been clear about in recent months.

  They all relaxed when the man had gone, but there was little left to say. Freddie and Venetia wanted to leave as soon as possible, and Walter was thankful to get away with them. It seemed as though he couldn’t bear to be in this house a moment longer than necessary.

  The others lingered, but were obviously anxious to get away as well. There was suddenly a great need to pull back the curtains, to let fresh air into houses that had been dark with mourning, to feel part of the world once more. Bess hugged her daughter as she and Hal got ready to depart.

  ‘I’ll come and see ’ee tomorrow, my lamb,’ Bess said.

  Morwen gave her a tight smile. ‘Yes. We must discuss the girls’ dresses for the wedding, Mammie. Time’s getting short, and Venetia will be anxious to have everything ready.’

  If Bess thought it odd for her daughter to be thinking ahead to a wedding when she had just buried her husband, she didn’t say so.

  They were all leaving. The younger boys begged to be allowed to go to the beach, and Morwen didn’t have the heart to refuse them. The girls wanted to play in the nursery, and Morwen knew so well that need to do normal, ordinary things, to allay the fear and horror of death. She let them all go, and finally there was only one person left with her.

  Ran took her in his arms, and they were the arms of a friend. They couldn’t have been otherwise at this time. He knew that she was as fragile as glass, that if he made the wrong approaches to her, she would splinter and break. And she had been so brave, so beautiful and brave through it all.

  She leaned her head against him, closing her eyes. She was so tired. She wasn’t sleeping properly, and it was comforting just to stand here like this, knowing that he was willing to give all that she needed and no more.

  ‘I want to make you an offer, Morwen,’ she heard his voice against her cheek, and her eyes opened like a startled fawn’s. He took her cold hands in his and led her to the sofa. Mrs Horn had lit a fire. Not because there was any chill in the May afternoon, but because spirits were low on such a day, and the warmth of a fire gave some kind of cheer.

  ‘Morwen, I’m well aware of the state of Ben’s finances,’ he said abruptly. ‘I know about his gambling disasters, and because Daniel Gorran and I became good friends, I persuaded him to let me see the Killigrew ledgers.’

  He saw her eyes flash with anger. Her pride was bruised at his words, and he was glad to see it. It was preferable to the awful blankness that had made him so afraid for her sanity.

  ‘It was none of your business—’

  ‘I made it my business. I did it because of my attachment to the family, and because of what you and I might one day become to one another.’

  He felt her flinch, and knew he must tread carefully.

  ‘I’m not speaking of such things now, Morwen. I know the time isn’t right—’

  ‘No, it’s not right,’ she whispered. ‘None of what we’ve done is right. Ben is dead, and I betrayed him, and now it’s too late to make amends. It’s too late for me to ever tell him again how much I once loved him—’

  Deep, racking sobs shook her whole body as he held her silently. He had seen grief before. He knew the guilt and self-condemnation of the bereaved. He knew it would pass, and that it was a transition period Morwen had to go through. He could only wait, and suffer with her.

  When the paroxysm had passed, he spoke unemotionally.

  ‘What I’m offering is financial help, Morwen. Not as a gift or a loan, or anything that will insult you. I want to buy into Killigrew Clay, to be your business partner. Prosper Barrows is living up to its name, and we could easily expand to include china-clay in our assets. Together you and I would own the biggest company in Cornwall.’

  His words dazzled her. She hadn’t expected this. Ran must have thought hard and carefully about it. It was so very tempting. His money would pay off all the debts, even give the clayworkers a small wage rise, perhaps. She had never been in charge of anything in her life, except five children… Her thoughts whirled. She knew that her father, too, was very uneasy with his new status. He had never wanted to be a boss, and now the position was thrust on him. With Ran, there would be another man to turn to…

  And there lay more problems. Ran assumed, like everyone else, that Ben’s widow was now the sole owner of Killigrew Clay. No one but a lawyer and a bank manager in Bodmin, knew that there was a silent partner. That Hal Tremayne, one-time clayworker, Pit Captain, and more lately Works Manager, was in reality now the equal partner of the new owner, Morwen Killigrew.

  She sat up slowly. Tears streaked her cheeks, but where she had been so pale, there was a flush of colour on her face.

  ‘I can’t make any such decision yet, Ran. I’ll have to think about it. But I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your offer.’

  He could see that she was nearly at breaking point. She needed a breathing-space, from business worries, from her family, from him. She was like a delicate flower, dormant after the winter, needing to be renewed by the summer. But it seemed he didn’t know her well enough yet…

  ‘I shall go to the works in a day or two,’ she said. ‘The men need to know that nothing will change because there’s a woman in control. I’m not the first woman clay boss in Cornwall, an
d I have to let them see that I’m not weak and flighty and about to let the business collapse. There are matters I must discuss with my father, and we both think it’s best to let the clayworkers know exactly what’s happening. It will be the new policy.’

  He nodded approvingly at her small show of determination. Anything that made her look to the future, whatever that future might be for Killigrew Clay, was better than wallowing in the past, and Ran greatly admired her strength of character. She saw a challange, and she met it head-on. He was just as determined. They were a match, and some day soon, she would come to him, and theirs would be a true and full partnership, in both the physical and the business sense of the word. But he was wise enough to say no more for the present. He loved her too much to risk her fragile hold on sanity. He had dangled the bait, and he was a patient man. He would wait until she was ready.

  * * *

  Morwen faced her father in the small house. Bess stayed silently in the background. Her daughter was stronger than she herself had ever been, even now, with her husband’s death so recent. Black suited Morwen, but Bess sensed that she wouldn’t stay in deep mourning for long. The conventions of the town wouldn’t trouble her one jot, and she would need to feel less oppressed by the bleak colour. She murmured something about bringing in tea and fruit cake, but the others hardly heard her as she escaped to the scullery.

  ‘Daddy, you have to let everyone know now,’ Morwen said passionately. ‘I’ll not take on this burden alone. ’Tis not fair of you to ask it of me—’

  ‘I still don’t see the need.’ He was as dogged, as stubborn as ever. ‘The men have a fondness for ’ee, Morwen, knowing of your roots, and they’ll be loyal to ’ee now that you’m the boss—’

  ‘But I don’t want to be the boss. I want the partnership to be out in the open! I’ve never cared for secrets—’

  She stopped, biting her lip as it wavered uncontrollably. Secrets! Suddenly it seemed that her whole life had been bound up with them. Seeking the help of a witch to see her true love… and again to help Celia be rid of a child… the guilt of burying the so-called ‘waste’ that had been the result of the abortion… the horror of Celia’s death and pretending that her friend had been so afraid of a growth that she drowned herself… her own dealings with Jude Pascoe… wicked secrets…

  ‘Morwen, love, don’t take on so. Do it really mean so much to ’ee?’ She heard her father’s troubled voice now, and realized that she was sobbing quietly. She, who never resorted to women’s tears, and she dashed them away angrily.

  ‘I respect your views, Daddy, and if you want to wait awhile before telling the men, then we’ll see how it goes. But I can’t wait for ever. And there’s another matter.’

  She took a deep breath. Bess came into the room in time to hear what she was saying.

  ‘Ran has offered to buy into Killigrew Clay. He knows nothing of your share in it, and merely thinks he’s doing me a favour. Or both of us. He says that if Prosper Barrows and Killigrew Clay combined, we’d be a powerful force in Cornwall.’

  ‘Ran suggested such a thing? When was this, our Morwen?’ Bess said sharply.

  Morwen gave a half-smile. She could read her mother’s thoughts at that moment.

  ‘It was all very proper, Mammie. It was after you had all left the house on the day of the funeral—’

  ‘I’m not sure I call that a proper time. Were the two of ’ee alone then?’

  Suddenly it all seemed too much bother to continue fencing. Morwen looked squarely into her mother’s eyes, and spoke with a mature dignity.

  ‘Mammie, Ran and I have had a fondness for one another for a long time. But no one could ever have accused that meeting of being anything but proper. Ran made the offer as a good friend, nothing more. If ever the attachment becomes more serious, ’twill be when time has softened the pain of these last months. I promise ’ee that.’

  She carefully avoided any reference to times past when she and Ran might have shared other moments, other pleasures.

  ‘’Tis not the point at issue now, Bess,’ Hal put in gently, ‘We’ll need to consider Ran’s offer, and obviously my thoughts must come into it, but our main concern now is to assure the clayworkers that nothing’s going to be changed because of the new ownership.’

  ‘That’s right. There are still debts to be paid, and wages to be kept low, and the disaster of losing a good proportion of the spring clay despatches,’ Morwen said bitterly.

  The breath caught in her throat for an instant. ‘I hadn’t really thought hard enough about it, Daddy, and my immediate reaction to Ran’s offer was to reject it and to think defiantly that we could manage perfectly well. But I’m not sure that we can. I’m not sure that we don’t need him desperately.’

  None of them spoke for a few minutes, and Morwen felt a cup of tea thrust into her hands. It was her mother’s panacea for all ailments, and obediently she drank deeply of the hot strong brew. For a fleeting moment she thought how idyllic it would be to be a child again, even a ragged child of the moors, running barefoot, and never having to rely on herself for anything. Slowly she put down the cup and looked at Hal; there was no going back.

  ‘Shall we go to the works today, Daddy?’ She kept her voice rock-still. ‘We can’t put it off, and I know the men will be getting anxious the longer we put it off.’

  ‘Aye, love, we’ll go today,’ he said heavily. ‘There’s always anxiety until they’re assured that things will continue the same as before. Though ’twon’t be easy to make ’em see it.’

  * * *

  They left Bess at the small house and rode up to Clay One together. Ironically to Morwen, it had never looked more beautiful than today in the May sunlight. Some might find the clayworks a scar on the moors. She had always found them beautiful. The milky-green claypools, with their mysterious depths, and the glittering sky-tips of waste, sparkling with mineral deposits, and the throb and hum of energy and power.

  That energy was all concentrated now in the mass of clayworkers awaiting them. Morwen knew of old that the kiddley-boys would have reported the first sighting of her and her father, and news of their arrival would have spread like flames from a grass-fire. The clayworkers stood ten-deep, arms crossed against their chests, like ancient stalwarts in their thigh-length boots and clay-dusted clobber.

  The bal maidens fussed around like white butterflies, their bonnets bobbing as they muttered between themselves, clearly wondering how Morwen Killigrew, lately Tremayne, was going to handle this new situation of being boss.

  The kiddley-boys drove everyone mad as usual, darting between the rest and bantering irreverently, despite the fact that their late boss, Ben Killigrew, was so recently buried. To them death was all part of life, and if today’s appearance by Morwen Killigrew meant a respite in the daily working, it was their lucky day.

  ‘You’ll know why we’ve come,’ Hal said loudly, when the raucous noise had died down. ‘’Tis not my place to speak for the new boss, but I’ll say my piece afore Morwen says hers. You all know my daughter. You’ve known her since she were knee-high to a sparrow, and you all know that she knows the workings of Killigrew Clay as well as any of ’ee. ’Tis not a bad thing for a boss to have worked with the clay, and I’ll ask ’ee to remember that when she talks to ’ee.’

  He stopped abruptly, more conscious of his own position with every word he said. He was describing himself, as well as Morwen, and he wasn’t sure what these simple folk might say if the truth were told. That their Works Manager, once their Pit Captain, had been part-owner for many years, and was still part-owner with his daughter. If you ignored the fact of a change of name through marriage, it was a twist of fate that Killigrew Clay was now in the control of the Tremaynes.

  Even years into the future, when Walter and Albert and Primmy, and Justin and Charlotte became owners, it would still be more Tremayne than Killigrew. It was a queer thought to a man.

  He was aware of a sudden hush among them all, and realized that Morwen was standing up i
n the trap now.

  They respected her. They knew her. Hal hoped to God it was going to be enough.

  He heard her soft, husky voice, not raised in anger or superiority, but strong all the same.

  ‘You’re all my friends here, as well as my husband’s employees,’ she said. ‘As my father just said, you know why we’ve come. This is a sad time for me and my family. But I know you’ll be concerned about the future of Killigrew Clay—’

  ‘As well we might be,’ a lone voice came from somewhere at the back of the crowd, and Hal gave a small sigh. It was too much to hope that this meeting would continue in this same dignified manner. It wasn’t the clayworkers’ way. If they had a grievance, it must come out, however bad the timing. He saw Morwen’s face flush.

  ‘You all knew my husband for a fair and just man.’ Her voice was raised higher now. ‘He was devoted to Killigrew Clay, just as all my family have always been. I trust none here will deny that!’ This was greeted by shuffling feet and mutters of agreement all around.

  ‘I want to assure you that everything will continue as before. I don’t mean to sell out, nor to change the name of Killigrew Clay. Our production will continue the same, and I hope we’ll all enjoy a good relationship for years to come.’

  ‘I ’ouldn’t mind a good relationship with ’ee, Morwen Tremayne,’ a voice sniggered from the middle of the crowd. ‘Tell us when ’ee be looking for a new husband—’

  ‘That’s enough of that kind of talk, you buggers!’ Hal roared out. ‘Mrs Killigrew’s here to reassure you all, not to invite comments from scum.’

  He knew his mistake before he’d finished speaking.

  ‘Scum, is it?’ The man’s workmate shouted back. ‘Billy Paddon’s given good service to Killigrew Clay all his life, and if scum is all ’ee think of ’un—’

  ‘And since when did we have to call Morwen Mrs Killigrew?’ One of the older bal maidens screeched. ‘Since when did she become so all-fired uppity?’