The Fleethaven Trilogy

by Margaret Dickinson

  Kate grinned at her mother and was rewarded by Esther Godfrey’s wonderful smile. ‘Eh, but it’s good to see you better, love. You’re still a bit thin and pale, though. I dun’t want you taking risks and getting another chill.’

  ‘I won’t, Mam. Just look how I’m muffled up in this coat and scarf – and a hat!’ she finished scathingly. Kate had never before worn a hat even when it snowed.

  ‘And don’t sit on the wet sand,’ her mother shouted after her as Kate went through the farm gate and across the lane. She turned back briefly, smiled and waved. She’d never known her mother fuss so much. But then, she realized, she had never been so ill before; always a robust youngster, she had shaken childhood illnesses off quickly.

  Kate climbed the dunes through the trees and at the top stood to look across the marsh towards the far dunes and the sea beyond. With a whoop of delight she ran down the slope and began to run across the marsh, delighting in the feel of the spongy turf beneath her feet, the sharp breeze on her cheeks bringing the colour back to them. To her surprise and disgust, her breathing soon became laboured and she was forced to slow down, even to stop for a few moments to regain her breath.

  She could no longer run.

  She pulled in deep breaths, but it was like trying to breathe in through a feather pillow and there was an ache in her chest. Slowly she threaded her way across the marsh, jumping the meandering streams but having to rest after each exertion. She came to the far dunes and found that she could only climb to the top in three stages, resting twice on the way. But when she gained the beach and saw the sea, it was worth all the effort.

  Would she ever run like she used to do? ‘Like the wind’, as Danny used to say with grudging admiration?

  Kate walked slowly along the beach. She even felt the cold more now. Hunched into her thick coat, the woollen scarf around her throat and mouth, she trudged miserably back across the marsh towards the cottages at the Point. She knocked on the Elands’ back door and when it opened she found herself enveloped in Beth Eland’s embrace, her face pressed against soft, plump breasts.

  ‘Oh lovey, it’s so good to see you. How I longed to come and visit you when I heard how ill you was! Ne’er mind, you’re here now. Come in near the fire and let me look at you.’

  She drew Kate into her warm kitchen and held her at arm’s length, her soft brown eyes searching Kate’s face. ‘Ya still look pale, Katie. Here, tek ya coat off else ya’ll not feel the benefit when you go out again. Sit down and have some of my scones, fresh out the oven.’

  In a moment, Kate was biting into a thickly buttered scone, the crumbs scattering down her pinafore while Beth stood smiling down at her.

  Kate looked up at her. ‘Where’s Danny? He’s not been to see me again. He came that once while I was in bed, but he didn’t come no more.’

  The smile on the woman’s face faltered a little. ‘Oh – er – well, yes. He’s at work. He – he dun’t get much time, Kate . . .’ her eyes flickered away and she fingered the hem of her apron nervously. Then Mrs Eland’s face brightened as, seeming to change the subject, she said, ‘You sit there, I’ll just nip next door and fetch Grannie Harris. She’ll want to see you . . .’

  ‘Oh, I see Grannie every day nearly when she comes for the milk and eggs for everyone at the Point.’ Kate took another bite, munched a few seconds, swallowed and then said, ‘You have ya milk and eggs from us, dun’t ya, Mrs Eland?’

  Beth’s gaze flickered away. ‘Um, well, yes.’

  Kate stared at her with candid eyes. ‘But you never come ya’sen to fetch them, d’ya?’

  Beth Eland shook her head, a kind of sadness in the movement.

  ‘Why?’ the girl persisted.

  ‘Dun’t ask me, Katie,’ she whispered. ‘Please – dun’t ask me.’

  It was the same strange reply her mother had once given to a similar question.

  There was something odd, Kate thought, realizing something she had always known but had never really thought about before; the fact that in such a small community her mother and Beth Eland never spoke to each other, although each of them was friendly with everyone else. Perhaps they had quarrelled years ago and they were both too proud to make the first step to reconciliation.

  Mrs Eland had turned away and was busying herself at the range, stirring something in a cooking pot. Kate jumped up from the stool and went to her, putting her arms around the woman’s plump waist and hugging her. She didn’t want to upset Danny’s mother. Kate liked her – loved her – and not just because she was Danny’s mother. Mrs Eland was always so kind and gentle towards her. The woman turned round, holding the girl close once more, her smile as warm as always.

  ‘I’d best get back,’ Kate said now. ‘It’s one of me grandad’s days for visiting. Will you tell Danny to call for me on Sunday after dinner?’

  The haunted look was back for a moment in the woman’s soft brown eyes. ‘Aye, all right. I’ll tell him,’ she promised, but now there was no smile.

  ‘Oh Katie, it’s so good to see you looking better.’ Bustling between pantry and the living-room table where they were to have dinner the moment Will Benson arrived on his carrier’s cart, Esther paused to give Kate a swift hug. As her mother disappeared into the pantry, Kate resumed laying the knives and forks on the table. Emerging once more, carrying a large oval dish for the beef which was still sizzling in the range oven, Esther said, ‘You’ll soon have to be thinking what you’re going to do, though. Do you want to go back to school here?’

  Kate shook her head and then glanced at her mother, trying to gauge how what she wanted to tell her might be received. The young girl paused and took a deep breath. ‘I’d – like to take a job in town – in the biggest shop there, if I could have a bicycle to get to and from work. And then when classes start at the Evening Institute next autumn, I thought I might learn dressmaking and tailoring. And after that . . .’ Her words came faster, tumbling over each other in her enthusiasm.

  ‘You seem to have got it all planned.’ Her mother’s face – usually so transparent in its expressions – gave no indication of her thoughts. ‘Seems eminently sensible to me.’ Her stepfather looked round from behind his newspaper and smiled benignly on them both. Esther glanced at him briefly but then her gaze came back to rest on her daughter. Kate felt Esther’s scrutiny, but met her mother’s gaze squarely. Kate had plans – ambitions. Modest as they might be, the planning of them gave her a thrill of excitement in the pit of her stomach. But she desperately wanted her mother to approve of them.

  Kate imagined herself sitting in a room very like Jonathan’s mother, Mrs Godfrey – in front of a sewing machine and creating beautiful garments for wealthy ladies. By working in a shop in town she would have the chance to handle and sell fine fabrics. At evening classes she could learn how to turn the fabric into lovely dresses and costumes.

  She could hardly wait to begin.

  She had now fully recovered from her illness and the terrible experience she had suffered. Her hair had grown a little but at least it was now expertly cut into a neat style and curled prettily around her face. Her complexion was still a little pale for the winter months had not allowed her to be out of doors as much after her illness as she would normally have been, but now her green eyes were shining with excitement at her plans.

  Then suddenly her mother was smiling. ‘I agree with yar dad. They are sensible plans. I’ll have a word with Miss Davenport who works at that big drapery shop, if ya like. She’s always been so helpful when I’ve gone in there.’

  ‘Oh Mam, would you really?’ Kate flung her arms about her mother’s waist and dragged her into a dance around the kitchen table. ‘Oh, thank you, thank you!’

  Kate’s happiness was complete. She was back home at Fleethaven Point. She knew her mam loved her even though baby Lilian took up so much of her attention, and, best of all, she was back with Danny.

  *

  ‘Danny, do you know why your mam and mine dun’t speak to each other?’

&
nbsp; ‘Haven’t a clue,’ he replied airily and grinned at her.

  ‘Danny – be serious a minute.’

  They were walking along the beach as they did now every Sunday afternoon.

  ‘Me – serious?’ He flung his arm around her shoulder. ‘How can I be serious when I’m that happy to see you looking better, I could burst.’

  ‘Stupid!’ She shoved him away, pleased yet shyly embarrassed by his display of affection.

  ‘Ya blushing, Katie Hilton. Ya blushing,’ he teased and then dodged out of her way as she aimed a playful cuff at him.

  She voiced her thoughts about the strangeness of two people in such a small community deliberately ignoring each other.

  Danny wrinkled his brow. ‘D’you know, I never thought about it afore. But now you come to mention it, it’s always been like that.’ His grin broadened. ‘Mebbe when they was young they fell out over some bloke.’

  Kate regarded him solemnly. Danny had said it as a joke, but Kate was not joking. ‘Well, there’s summat, an’ I’ll tell you summat else.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Whatever the reason is, no one’s telling. When I ask questions, they all clam up and say, “Dun’t ask, Katie, dun’t ask.”’

  ‘Well, ya’re such a nosey little blighter. If they dun’t want to tell ya, that’s their business. It’s got nowt to do with us and it’s not going to come between us.’

  He flung his arm around her shoulder again and they walked along in companionable silence.

  Somewhere in the universe, sadistic Fate laughed.

  Thirteen

  1930

  ‘Are ya coming out on me boat?’

  Kate skidded to a halt on her bicycle, sending a shower of small stones on to the grass verge. She looked up to see Danny standing on the bank at the side of the lane.

  ‘What? Now? Bit late at this time of day, isn’t it?’

  ‘It won’t be dark for a couple of hours yet. Oh, do come, Katie.’

  He leaped down from the bank into the road and came towards her. In the four years since she had started work in Lynthorpe, they had both altered. At eighteen, Danny was no longer a boy but a man with strong, sunburnt arms and a brown-skinned face that still seemed to be always grinning. He was not very tall, not much taller than Kate, yet his shoulders had broadened. He tried to slick back his hair, but the wind ruffled it into unruly black curls.

  Kate’s own hair had grown again, falling in waves and curls to her shoulders; and cycling into Lynthorpe every day, whatever the weather, kept her blossoming figure lithe and her skin glowing with health.

  Kate looked at Danny closely. There seemed to be an air of excitement about him. Then she remembered. Trying to hide a smile, she said, ‘I’m a bit tired for all that rowing . . .’

  Triumphantly, Danny interrupted, ‘Ya dun’t have to row any more.’

  Now the laughter was bubbling up inside her, but she quelled it, allowing Danny his moment of glory. ‘I’ve finished fitting the engine in it.’

  ‘Engine? Really?’ She could no longer prevent the smile twitching the corner of her mouth.

  He leaned closer. ‘You knew!’ he accused, but he too was laughing.

  ‘I’m sorry – I didn’t want to spoil your surprise, but Dad mentioned it.’

  Danny nodded. ‘Ya dad’s been very good helping us. He’s clever with motors – wish I was. Me dad ses we’ll keep the oars on board – just in case. Reckon he doesn’t trust my mechanical efforts yet.’ He paused then added, ‘Well, a’ ya comin’ or not? I’ve been waiting for you this past half an hour. You’re late, aren’t ya?’

  ‘Mr Reynolds called me into his office just as I was leaving.’

  ‘Oho – been a naughty girl, have ya?’

  “Course not . . .’ she began indignantly, then saw his teasing grin. She punched him lightly on his shoulder, feeling the hard muscle beneath her hand.

  ‘So what had you done to have old man Reynolds after ya?’ Danny asked her. ‘Left a bit of ribbon dangling out of a drawer again?’

  Kate giggled as Danny reminded her of the times she had been on the receiving end of one of Mr Reynolds’s lectures.

  Mr Reynolds was the owner of the drapery store where Kate now worked. He was a short man, always dressed in a black morning jacket with pin-striped trousers. His thin neck poked up out of a stiffly starched collar. His cold blue eyes peered at all his staff through steel-rimmed spectacles which enlarged his eyes and made his scrutiny appear even more critical than it was. He was a martinet; every morning he toured the store and not a thing missed his sharp glance.

  ‘No,’ Kate said, her eyes gleaming. ‘He’s going to promote me.’

  ‘Again? But it’s only a couple of months since he put you in charge of a department. Ya’ll be manageress of the whole shop soon,’ he teased, but he was smiling as he said it.

  ‘He wants me to go into the sewing room – as supervisor. Miss Poole’s retiring.’

  ‘But what about the other girls already there? Their noses’ll be out o’ joint if you’re put in over ’em?’

  Kate sniffed. ‘Quite likely,’ she said shortly.

  She felt Danny’s glance on her. ‘Ya’re a hard one, Kate Hilton, when it’s summat ya want.’

  She grinned at him, her eyes sparkling mischievously. ‘Me? Hard? I’m an old softy and you know it.’

  She didn’t confide – not even to Danny – that her unfortunate experience at the school in Lincoln had left her with a sliver of ice in her heart. Never again would she allow herself to be treated as she had been then. Whilst outwardly she was friendly with everyone she met, only with a very few people would she ever drop her guard completely; maybe only with Danny and Rosie Maine.

  ‘Will it mean more money?’ he was saying.

  ‘Danny Eland!’ She pretended indignation. ‘Is that all you can say? Here I am with news of a promotion and all you can think of is money!’

  During the four years at Reynolds’ Kate had been a quick and eager junior under Miss Davenport’s kindly tutelage. Now, at only seventeen, she was in charge of the haberdashery department with a young, gauche school-leaver under her wing. Kate still rode between work and home on her bicycle along the Point road and, just as she had planned, by attending evening classes in Lynthorpe, she was learning dressmaking and tailoring.

  It seemed that she possessed a natural talent and before long she had begun to bring home tiny garments for Lilian, and blouses and skirts for herself and her mother from her classes.

  ‘I can see I’ll soon be handing over me sewing machine to you,’ her mother had laughed, but there had been pride in her voice. Esther was a fine seamstress, but all her knowledge had come from the aunt who had brought her up. Now she watched with interest as Kate tried out all that she was learning from a professional tailoress. The front parlour at Brumbys’ Farm was becoming cluttered with paper patterns and pins and lengths of material.

  ‘Just like home,’ Jonathan would tease her fondly, and Kate was reminded once more that it had been the sight of Mrs Godfrey’s front room that had sown the seed of ambition in her.

  Now Danny was grinning at her, quite unabashed by her pique. ‘I was thinking of you being able to save for your bottom drawer.’

  ‘Me – me bottom drawer?’

  ‘Yeah – isn’t that what girls call it when they’re going to get married?’

  ‘Going to – to get – married?’

  He leaned towards her over the handle-bars of her bicycle. Gently he rubbed his nose against hers. ‘Well, we’ll be getting married one of these fine days, won’t we?’

  ‘Well, really!’ Kate said, feigning exasperation, but she could not prevent her generous mouth widening into a broad grin. ‘If that dun’t beat all for a romantic proposal, Danny Eland.’

  Suddenly his face was serious and there was a fleeting flash of passion in his dark brown eyes. He reached up and touched her face with strong fingers that were suddenly gentle. ‘I’ve always loved you, Katie Hilton, and
I always will. You must know that.’

  ‘Oh Danny,’ she breathed, knowing her own green eyes were glowing, mirroring his emotion with the same depth of love and longing.

  Their faces were inches apart, coming slowly towards each other, until they could each feel the other’s breath on their faces. Their lips met tentatively, trembling on the brink of the unknown; a soft, sweet kiss of innocence.

  ‘Danny – I do love you so,’ she murmured. As they drew back, they both heard the distant clip-clopping of a pony’s hooves.

  ‘Oh heck! That’s me mam coming along the Grange road. Where’s she been?’

  ‘It’s rent day.’

  ‘Oh – so it is.’

  ‘Quick – give us ya bike . . .’

  Danny seized hold of her bicycle and pushed it up the bank and down the other side. Kate scrambled up after him. They crouched down out of sight of her mother who drove past in the pony and trap. Giggling like a couple of children, they parted the grass and watched as she passed within a few feet of them.

  ‘So,’ he asked, as they walked down the lane hand-in-hand when Esther was safely out of sight, ‘do ya reckon they’ll let us get wed soon, or d’ya think we’ll have to wait till we’re twenty-one?’

  ‘I dun’t reckon my mam’ll ever agree to it,’ Kate said. ‘What about yours?’

  ‘Oh, she’ll be pleased as punch. She loves you.’

  ‘My mam is fond of you – at least she used to be when we were little, but . . .’

  ‘Aye – aye, she was.’

  There was silence between them, then they both spoke at once.

  ‘It’s this thing between them . . .’

  ‘I remember . . .’

  ‘Sorry – you go first.’

  ‘I was going to say,’ Danny said slowly, ‘I remember at ya dad’s funeral. It’s all a bit vague . . .’

  Kate nodded but did not interrupt.

  ‘I can remember sitting in the pew in church and watching the coffin in the front of the altar and then when the vicar had finished and ya ma and you and Will Benson came out of the front pew and down the aisle following the coffin as it was taken out . . .’