by Babs Horton
“She likes you, I can tell,” William Dally said. “Here get that tea down your neck, douse the fire in your face, you’re red as a bloody beetroot.”
“Did you know Benjamin Tregantle well?”
“In some ways I did and in others I didn’t,” William Dally said.
“That’s a funny answer.”
“He were a complicated character. Larger than life at times. Quiet at other times. He were twice the man, mind, of a lot of his contemporaries.”
Archie nodded. “What was he like when he was a little boy?”
“He were quite shy as a boy, thoughtful like. Fancy all his travelling made him come out of himself.”
“Did he play cricket?” Archie asked.
“No. He were sickly when he were a child. Bad chest. He used to love the game, though, never missed a match if he could help it.”
Archie couldn’t imagine Benjamin ever being sickly or quiet He’d always looked so healthy.
“He were great friends with young Thomas Greswode we was talking about the other day.”
Archie’s ears pricked up. “I didn’t know that,” he lied.
“Like Siamese twins they were, joined at the shoulder.”
“He must have been really sad when Thomas died.”
“Terrible cut up he was. Made himself quite ill over it at the time. He got over it in the end, though.”
Archie fell silent. It still made him feel funny thinking of Benjamin and Thomas being friends. Benjamin had never mentioned Thomas Greswode to him but perhaps it had still made him sad even after such a long time. Then he remembered that folk in the Skallies used to say that Benjamin would cross the road to avoid Old Mr Greswode.
“He didn’t get on with Charles Greswode, Thomas’ cousin, did he?”
“No. I fancy he didn’t.”
“Why was that?”
“I s’pose he blamed the Greswodes for the loss of his friend and of course there was trouble at Thomas’funeral”
“There was?”
“The Greswodes only invited family and friends. None of us locals were allowed in. As soon as they were all inside the old chapel the door was locked.”
“And Benjamin was angry?”
“Course he were angry. All the folks round here were, they wanted to pay their respects as was right and proper.”
Archie sat thoughtfully, trying to take all of this in as William Dally went on.
“That night, after the proper funeral, we got into the chapel in the dark and held our own little service for him. Devious little buggers we were and we weren’t being told what to do by Old Greswode!”
Archie stared at William Dally open-mouthed.
“How did you get inside the chapel if it was kept locked?”
“Well, Gwennie’s father who lived in the Grockles used to caretake the chapel. She pinched the key and let us in.”
“Blimey,” Archie said.
“Oh it got better. That Gwennie were a right girl and a half.”
Archie gulped, “You don’t mean mad Gwennie who lives in the Boathouse?”
“One and the same.”
“You knew her?”
“Course I did, grew up with her. She was a bit older than us and to tell the truth we was all a bit in love with her.”
Archie stared at William Dally in disgust. How could anyone be in love with mad Gwennie? She was ugly as guts and had no teeth.
“Don’t be looking at me like that, lad, she were a cracker when she were a young girl.”
Archie blew out through his mouth and tried not to laugh.
“I don’t want to hear all those soppy bits. Just tell me about getting into the chapel.”
“Like I said, Gwennie got the key and we had our own little funeral for Thomas. Damn, it’s queer thinking about that night after all this time. You’re a real touchstone for me, I can magic up the past like it was yesterday when you’re around.”
“Tell me the rest…” Archie urged impatiently.
“Well, we were only nippers really; Gwennie was that bit older, mind. We started to read out the funeral service from the prayer book as I remember but it was full of long words. So in the end we sang a couple of hymns and each said a few words.”
“How many of you were there?”
“Me, Benjamin Tregantle and Gwennie of course. There was a boy called Wilf Dennis whose father kept the Pilchard. Boor Wilf got killed in the war.”
“His mammy made wonderful pasties,” Archie mused.
“She did. How the hell do you know that?”
Archie bit his lip so as not to smile. “What hymns did you sing?”
“Oh Lord, you’re asking me now. It were bloody years ago. Let me see, ’Eternal Father Strong to Save’. That would have been my choice. And Benjamin would have picked…”
“I know!” Archie declared.
“You do?” said William Dally.
“He didn’t like hymns much but he told me once there was one he’d liked since he was little…he was always humming it. It was about Father Christmas’ cat”
William Dally shook his head, “No, it weren’t that one. I never heard no hymns about Father Christmas’ cat.”
Archie looked crestfallen.
“It was, oh, damn, it’s on the tip of my tongue…‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’, that were the one.”
He hummed a few bars of a tune for a few seconds and then burst into song, “All things bright and boooteefull…”
Archie put his hands over his ears and chuckled. William Dally had a worse voice than Benjamin.
“Please stop singing and tell me what happened next.”
“Well, we put some flowers we’d picked on the altar and then we went. The odd bit, though, was this…”
“Go on!” Archie was desperate to hear the rest of the story.
“Well, when we’d finished, Gwennie asked us to lock her in the chapel, said she knew a trick like Houdini. She was trying to cheer us up, I think, ‘cos we were all right down in the dumps.”
“I’ve heard of Houdini. He could escape from chains and things, couldn’t he?”
“That’s right. Well, we did what she asked. Wilf Dennis locked the door and snuck the key back into the porch at the Grockles.”
“Without her father knowing?”
“Yes. That was easy, he was always as drunk as a skunk.”
“And what next?”
“We climbed back down to the beach and the next thing up popped Gwennie from behind a rock and frightened us bloody witless! Funny, I’d forgotten all about that ‘til we started talking.”
Archie could barely contain himself. He knew how she’d done it all right!
“She must have had another key, I reckon. Can’t fathom out how else she could have done it,” William Dally mused, scratching his head.
Archie shivered with excitement. He was one of the few people then who knew about the secret way out of the wobbly chapel.
“You got any ideas on how she managed that?”
Archie shook his head solemnly and looked away.
“What happened next?”
“Next thing she was running back up through the dunes to Killivray House laughing her bloody head off!”
“Why was she going to Killivray House?” Archie asked.
“She worked there.”
“She did?”
“She were a maid for the Greswodes.”
Archie fell silent. Gwennie must have been the G that Thomas mentioned in his diary! And he’d said that she was pretty too. She was kind and bought him a cricket bat He’d like to talk to Gwennie about Thomas Greswode but he never would because she wasn’t right in the head and she was dangerous.
“She’s a mad woman, isn’t she?” Archie said.
“Maybe she is, maybe she isn’t and we are. She just likes to keep her own company these days, that’s all.”
“She fired a gun at us once,” Archie said. “We could have been killed.”
“Did she now? She wou
ldn’t have missed if she meant to hit you. She was a good shot, Gwennie. Her old man was a bit of a poacher round these parts, learned her art at his knee as it were.”
“Why did people stop using the wobbly chapel?”
“After the awful thing that happened in there. Haven’t you heard about that?”
“No,” Archie answered truthfully.
“There used to be a fellow lived up at Killivray, a black man who Mr Greswode had brought back with him from Africa.”
“Go on,” Archie urged.
“It ain’t a pretty story. He blew his brains out in the chapel one dark night.”
Archie folded his arms and flinched as a shiver shot up his backbone.
“Why did he do that?”
“He didn’t stop to explain himself, he was just found the following day.”
“That’s horrible.”
“It were. They used to say his ghost stalked Bloater Row.”
“They still do but I didn’t know he’d killed himself in the chapel.”
“Anyway, Mrs Greswode flatly refused to set foot in the chapel ever again and not long after Mr Greswode had it locked up and no one has been inside up to this day, as far as I know.”
Archie was sorely tempted to say that he’d been in there, that he had the key in his pocket, but he changed the subject quickly.
“And Gwennie, did she stay at Killivray?”
“No. She was away visiting a cousin up the line when it happened. She came back but not long after she upped and left. Went and joined the circus, some said. Other folk reckoned she had a little secret that went with her.”
“How do you mean?”
“I don’t know as it’s right to be talking to a youngster like yourself about such things. She were up the duff.”
Archie shrugged. He didn’t know what that meant.
“Benjamin Tregantie moved away too, didn’t he?”
“He went away to war like a lot of us, only most of us came back.”
“And he didn’t?” Archie asked.
“He didn’t come back to the Skallies for years.”
“Where did he live?”
“Don’t you ever stop askin’ questions?”
For a moment Archie looked crestfallen.
“I’m only pulling your leg; it’s good to ask questions. You keep on asking them, son. It’s how we learn. Far as I know, Benjamin worked abroad and then about ten years ago he came back to Hogwash House to spend his retirement in the place he were born.”
“He was real kind to me,” Archie said.
“Course he were, you’re a grand little fellow. He could see the potential in you.”
“What’s potential?”
“It’s something inside you, a bit like a dried-up old sea sponge. Dribble water on it and it gets bigger and bigger. Potential is like that. Feed a child who has potential with knowledge and there’s no knowing how far they’ll go in life.”
“Well, I think I understand. Is it a bit like the way plants grow?”
“Mayhap it is.”
“Like, you know, there’s a tiny little seed, looks like any other little seed and no one knows what it will become. But inside that seed there’s a miracle.”
“Go on.”
“Some seeds grow into daffodils, potatoes, poppies or tomatoes. There’s something inside them that can’t be stopped as long as they get what they need. Sunlight and water and looking after.”
“Well, bugger me. You’ve a hell of a brain on you, boy. I fancy you’re right.”
“Did Benjamin Tregantle come out here much?”
“Well, he used to walk out here a few evenings a week and have a drink with Miss Fanthorpe. Between me and you, I reckon she had a very soft spot for old Benjamin.” William Dally winked meaningfully.
Archie pulled a face.
“Anyhow, I’m just blathering on now. Come on, let’s get you over to the school. I got another of Miss Fanthorpe’s blooming letters to post and you don’t want to miss those apple muffins now, do you!”
Miss Fanthorpe offered Archie a second apple muffin and watched in delight as he ate it hungrily.
He sat self-consciously in Miss Fanthorpe’s study, balancing a plate on his knees and trying to eat daintily.
She noticed that he tried to tuck the leg with the calliper away under the chair and hide it from her.
“Did you know Benjamin Tregantle for a long time?” he asked eventually.
“Only since I’ve been back here at Nanskelly,” she replied.
“I’ve known him since I was little,” Archie said proudly.
“My goodness, you knew him pretty well then,” Miss Fanthorpe said with a grin.
“He was very kind to me.”
“He spoke very highly of you, Archie. Said what a bright boy you were, a very bright boy indeed, and that’s a great compliment from a man like Benjamin.”
“I don’t know about that, Miss Fanthorpe.”
“You mustn’t be so hard on yourself, young man. And stop hiding that leg away.”
Archie blushed with embarrassment.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Archie. Please don’t hide it. Keep it on show, let the sun get to it.”
“I’ve never seen you in the Skallies, Miss Fanthorpe. How did you know Benjamin?”
Miss Fanthorpe stood up and wandered across to the window before she spoke.
“He used to walk out to Nanskelly occasionally, like you have today.”
She didn’t look at Archie for a long time and there was something about her that made him think she was tearful.
When she turned back to face him, he knew he’d been right.
“He was quite a remarkable man in many ways and a very kind man,” she said, but her voice was quiet, barely audible.
After a while, she spoke again, changing the subject.
“Do you like school, Archie?”
He looked down at his feet and said, “No, Miss Fanthorpe, I hate it.”
“What do you hate?”
“Our teacher shouts all the time and I’m afraid to speak in case I get the answers wrong. And some of the boys beat me up.”
“How very sad. It’s a shame you couldn’t come here.”
“But it’s all girls, Miss Fanthorpe, I’d feel a ninny.”
Miss Fanthorpe threw back her head and laughed, “Why, so it is but it wasn’t always.”
“I know,” Archie said. “There used to be boys here in the old days. That was when your father was headmaster, wasn’t it?”
“There were, Archie, and it quite broke my father’s heart when the school was closed.”
“Why didn’t he open another one?”
“It wasn’t that easy, Archie. When Nanskelly was forced to shut it was a terrible time—he felt he’d let the boys down.”
“Couldn’t they just go somewhere else; I mean they were all rich, weren’t they?”
“A lot of them were but there were others here, scholarship boys, who had nowhere to go. That was the worst bit for my father.”
“Benjamin Tregantie nearly came here, didn’t he?”
“Yes he did. He was a fine pupil, I believe.”
Archie scratched his head. “I don’t think he did, Miss Fanthorpe, because Nanskelly closed before he could take the examination.”
“How silly of me, of course it did. Do you know, my memory plays tricks on me these days.”
Archie suppressed a smile; William had said her memory was bad and that she’d worn odd shoes one day.
“What did your father do after he left Nanskelly?”
“He was a broken man, Archie. He went abroad for many years; he scraped a living teaching here and there. He was a very good artist and he made some money painting portraits. Then, luckily, he met my mother late in life and had me.”
“And when you grew up you wanted to be a teacher just like him?”
“I wanted to carry on the tradition like him of giving a good education to those who were in need, those witho
ut the means. I have been lucky, Archie, in carrying on for so long but soon I fear Nanskelly may close again.”
“Oh,” Archie said with surprise. “Are there orphans here at Nanskelly now?”
“There are. Most of the girls are fee-paying and they help pay for the others who are not so fortunate.”
“Nanskelly dosed because of Mr Greswode, didn’t it?” Archie asked eagerly.
“How ever do you know that?”
“In my spare time I’m a detective,” he said innocently.
Miss Fanthorpe struggled to conceal her mirth.
“My father rented Nanskelly from Mr Greswode. After Thomas was drowned, my father and Mr Greswode had words, very angry words and Greswode took his revenge and made sure my father had to close the school.”
“That was a very spiteful thing to do.”
“According to my father, he was a very malicious man and his son took after him. You know, Archie, I never heard my father speak ill of anyone except the Greswodes and he hated them with a passion.”
“They don’t sound very nice.”
“He used to say that they were powerful people round these parts. I remember he said that even the local doctor would give the Greswodes a death certificate if they needed one.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Just that Old Greswode had a lot of people in his power. He could make people do him favours. My father always said that there were a lot of skeletons in the Greswode cupboard.”
Archie was puzzled. “What does that mean?”
“Well, it’s just a way of speaking. They didn’t really have skeletons in the cupboard but they had secrets that they wouldn’t have wanted anyone to know. I think, you know, my father knew more about the Greswodes than he ever let on.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Never mind, have another apple muffin.”
Nan locked the door to the Pilchard and began to clear up. She was exhausted but she felt happier than she had in a very long time. The bar was littered with empty glasses and bowls that she had served the seafood in; cockles and whelks and shrimps that the Paynes had caught. If things went on at this rate she’d have to get in some extra help. The Pilchard was turning out to be a little gold mine. Maybe she’d ask Martha Grimble to give her a hand and earn herself a few bob, God knows she needed it She could even pay Archie to do some odd jobs around the place.