by Gloria Cook
Two days of intense soul searching and anguished vacillation had led him to believe Louisa was probably right. She had come to him because she knew he would never have come to a decision on his own. One thing was certain, his career had lost much of its appeal. With some trepidation he had resigned his commission, but had quickly felt as if he had emerged from under a heavy shadow. He would give himself a month or two at home. He would take pictures all over Cornwall, submit some to local newspapers, the holiday industry and travel magazines and enter them into competitions, and see what came out of it. Whether he succeeded or failed he would travel the world.
Kate was eager to get away from him. ‘I’m all right, Squad—’
‘None of that. I’m plain old Jonny Harvey now, and I insist you don’t call me Mr Jonny. I hate that sort of thing. And if you call me Mr Harvey I shall call you Miss Viant, but I’d rather not have us do that because I want us to be friends.’
She didn’t know how to answer that. It would not be easy to be a friend to him. She had never had a friend at all until she’d met Jill. How should she treat him? She didn’t even think of Tom as a friend but as an elder, paternal and brotherly, worthy of respect. Jonny Harvey was smiling right into her and she couldn’t bear to stay here like this a moment longer. ‘I have to go in for lunch. Jill will be wondering where I am.’
Jonny strolled along with her, whistling gaily. ‘I’ll scrounge a bite to eat with you.’
Oh no, why couldn’t he just go away? They rounded the house, arrived at the door and wiped their feet on the bristle matting.
‘Kate! Oh, Kate, my handsome, I’ve found you at last!’
It sounded like her grandmother’s voice and Kate froze on the spot. Had the old woman come back from the dead to taunt her? It couldn’t be, anyway; Granny Moses had never been pleased to see her. She turned round and gasped in dread and disbelief, ‘Oh, no.’
Jonny positioned himself slightly in front of her. ‘Don’t worry, Kate. We won’t let her take you away.’ Jonny had never seen Biddy Viant but she was recognizable from her sharp, prune-skinned resemblance to her mother. ‘Mrs Viant, what brings you here?’
Biddy, in stout lace-up shoes, wool stockings, and her Sunday-best dark blue coat and felt hat, a slash of red lipstick on her drooping lips, waddled the last few yards towards them. The dogs formed a restless half circle behind her, ears pricked back in suspicion, glancing at Jonny as if hoping they’d be ordered to see this stranger off. Biddy was panting. For a woman who regarded exercise as anathema, it was a long walk from the village where the bus had stopped. She astonished Kate by exposing her yellow teeth in a horrible horsy smile. She clapped a gloved hand to her drooping bosom. ‘Phew, I’m out of breath. I’m here to see my daughter, young man… my little girl. When she wouldn’t come home with her brothers I was mortally upset.’ She turned her eyes on Kate. ‘I know I wasn’t much of a mother to you, Kate. I don’t blame you for wanting to start a new life, but me and your father couldn’t just leave it, not knowing if you was all right.’
Hearing voices outside Jill listened at the open window. Red-eyed from crying, distraught beyond measure over the loss of her baby and the dispute with Abbie, she feared she had visitors and was ready to disappear upstairs, but realizing who was there, she hurtled to the door and thrust it open. Biddy Viant’s declarations aroused in her the worst fury of her life. ‘How dare you come here!’ she screeched, marching at her, throwing her arms about wildly. ‘How dare you accuse Kate of not wanting to go home, you evil witch, when it was you who ordered your son to dump her! Not once in her entire life did you give her a moment of mother’s love. You can only be here now for your own ends. What do you want? To drag Kate back to be your slave again?’
Jonny tried in vain to take hold of Jill and calm her down. ‘Come along. Quiet now, Jill. You’re not well and you need to rest. We’ll send for the doctor.’
By this time Emilia and Perry had come rushing out of the house. ‘What’s going on?’ Emilia cried, although she had already guessed the situation from the evidence before her. Kate had backed up against the wall, small and hunched, and was staring at her mother with dread-filled eyes. While Perry went to her, Emilia turned on Biddy Viant like a tigress protecting her cubs. ‘What have you said to upset my daughter-in-law so badly? What have you done to Kate? If you’ve hurt her…’
Biddy had never shied away from a confrontation. She thrived on differences and enjoyed causing trouble. She had come prepared to lie and grovel until she left with what she wanted. Meeting this unexpected madness confused her and all she could do was stare from one to another with her mouth hanging open.
‘Mrs Viant arrived saying she was looking for Kate, Aunt Em,’ Jonny said, hating to have to admit it. ‘And that she didn’t throw her out. I don’t trust her, least of all with Kate so frightened of her, but I think we ought to listen to what she has to say.’ He was sure something must have happened to Jill before this to bring her to near hysterics and now to be sagging in his arms, and he was worried that Kate’s hideous reaction meant she had suffered some appalling secret abuse. He lifted Jill up in his arms and carried her inside, wishing he could comfort Kate too.
‘I’ll ring the doctor for Jill and get Tilda to sit with her. The rest of you had better come inside to my kitchen.’ Emilia spotted a farmhand striding into the yard. ‘Denny, go and fetch Tom. Tell him Jill’s not well.’
When all were assembled inside, Emilia set hard eyes on Biddy. ‘Right, let’s get to the bottom of this.’
Chapter Ten
Ushering Kate to the carver chair at the head of the table, Emilia stood beside her. She placed Biddy Viant at the foot and ignored her looks of longing at the teapot sitting under a crocheted cosy. Unless she became convinced the woman had told the truth about the reason for her arrival the only hospitality she would be offered was the chair she sat on. In view of Kate’s grim recoil she was almost certainly lying. Perry also remained on his feet, grave and alert, his arms crossed and hands placed on his upper arms to convey that he would suffer no nonsense. Jonny came through from Jill’s side of the house and stationed himself behind Kate. There was a tense silence. Everyone was waiting for Biddy Viant to give a full explanation.
‘What a lovely kitchen. I’ve never been in one so big.’ Biddy was at her most ingratiating but she was truly amazed and envious. Kate had obviously told these people how she had been treated, so it wasn’t unexpected she was at the receiving end of suspicion and hostility. The young woman who had screamed at her, though, must be mazed in the head. She leaned forward to get a better view of her daughter. Kate was well dressed and her hair was longer and wavy, and she was pretty, very pretty indeed. There had never been good looks in the family and this was something of a shock. Kate had also had a shock at seeing her, but why was she looking so scared? Despite the warm day – and Biddy was sweating and her throat was woefully dry – Kate was shivering, and the Bosweld woman had taken a lacy cardigan slung over the back of the chair and put it round her shoulders. ‘You’re looking well, Kate, my handsome, I’m glad to say. Do you work here?’
Kate was frozen in body and mind. Only her eyes were wide and alert, never straying from her mother. Despite receiving back little smiles she was wary of suddenly being verbally attacked. She saw the scene all around her but felt as if she wasn’t really a part of it. She was praying her mother wouldn’t insist on her going home. It was nearly another four years before she could legally do things without her parents’ consent. She was scared she’d be forced away from her wonderful new home and friends, but why was she almost scared out of her wits? She could barely keep her panic in check. Mrs Em nudged her and smilingly offered her a hand. She grasped it, clung to it, and somehow forced out a whisper of a voice. ‘Yes. I’m a dairymaid.’
‘Well, that’s good. After Sidney failed to find you I decided to come here myself and ask if you’d said where you were going when you handed in your gran’s keys. So you got a job here the very same da
y. Where do you live?’
‘Here,’ Kate murmured.
‘Didn’t you know Sidney came to Hennaford a few weeks ago? He asked the shopkeeper if she had any idea of your whereabouts and she said you’d got on the bus to Perranporth. He asked an old man too but he refused to offer one civil word. Your brother went all over Perranporth looking for you, he did. No wonder he didn’t find nothing. That woman shouldn’t have lied.’ Biddy was affronted and it showed.
It was this that made the inexplicable fear in Kate recede and rile her to indignant anger. ‘Sidney’s a liar! I didn’t refuse to go with him and Tony. Sidney said you lot didn’t want me any more. That he and Delia were getting married and Tony was to take over my room. I was dumped! Don’t deny it. If not for the good people here I could have ended up dead in a ditch and you wouldn’t care at all!’
Biddy had expected some sort of outburst and she was ready for it. She put on a shamed face. ‘Your father and me didn’t kick you out, Kate. If that was true we would have sent your things along.’ It was a good thing Sidney had forgotten to take them. ‘It must have been Sidney’s idea. P’raps he thought it would make things easier because Father and I were worried how we were to squeeze everyone in, and we were angry with Sidney because he’d got Delia into trouble. You’re going to be an aunty, Kate. I shouldn’t have believed him when he come back and said you wouldn’t get up on the cart no matter how much he argued with you. Tony backed him up, but you know Tony, he does whatever Sidney says. I’m sorry, Kate. Sorry you thought you’d been made deliberately homeless and sorry your brother behaved in such an unchristian manner.’
‘Do you want to take Kate back with you?’ Perry asked sternly, moving closer to Kate. ‘I’ll have you know that we are all appalled at the way you and the rest of your family have treated her. It’s unforgivable.’
Tom joined them, having seen the doctor out and left Jill asleep from a sedative, in Tilda’s care. He exuded enmity. ‘Your arrival here distressed my wife, who has not long suffered a traumatic event. Kate saved her life. Your daughter is brave and as honest as you are despicable. She has a permanent home with us and we won’t let her go without a fight.’
For a moment it looked as if Biddy wanted to spit in his eyes. She struggled to her feet and searched for a handkerchief in her handbag, then brought it up to her fleshy thread-veined nose and gave a sniff and a sob. ‘I can see the way things are. I wouldn’t dream of taking her away from where she’s happy. She can hardly be expected to dwell under the same roof as her brothers after what they’ve done. None of us will ever bother her again. But she’s still my daughter and before I go I’d like a private word with her alone.’
‘Kate might not want that,’ Jonny said gruffly.
‘I only want to say goodbye,’ Biddy wailed. Damn these people! She had to get the girl alone. She couldn’t ask for the shoe box with this lot acting like sentries. ‘Surely that’s not too much to ask.’
Emilia asked Kate, ‘Do you want to say goodbye to your mother alone?’
The relief that she was staying here rushed through Kate like a calming river. ‘No, Mrs Em.’ She stood up. ‘But there is something I want to say to her. Mother, is the reason you’ve come here the shoe box? I’ve peeked in it and there’s only old photos and receipts inside, but I don’t suppose you’d even want me to have them.’
Biddy could have smirked with triumph but she pulled on her gloves with a sanctimonious air, as if she was the one now being shunned. ‘If you never want to speak to me again, then so be it. I would like to have the photographs of my family. After all, they’re no use to you seeing as how you’re cutting yourself off from us. As I’m not welcome here I’ll wait outside.’
Perry opened the door for her. ‘I’m sure you don’t want to linger in Hennaford for the bus so I’m prepared to drive you back to Truro.’
Biddy wasn’t going to turn the offer down. With the money she was so sure was in the box, be it ten pounds or a hundred, she would have a wonderful time shopping for herself in the West End Stores. ‘As you please.’
Kate went up to her room and fetched the shoe box. Tom returned to Jill and the others went outside to witness the leavetaking. She advanced on her mother, whose grasping arms reached out for her treasure. ‘Here you are, Mother.’ The shoe box was seized from her hands. ‘You were right about me not wanting to be part of the family. I don’t want to see any of you again. I pity poor Delia. She doesn’t deserve to take my place.’
With a smug grin, Biddy looked her up and down. Before turning away, she said, ‘Bleddy girl.’
Half an hour later Biddy was sitting in a cafe in Cathedral Lane, slurping down tea and dolloping jam and cream on scones then stuffing them into her accommodating mouth. After glancing to either side to see if she was being watched, she took a jubilant breath and started the assault on the shoe box.
Bolting down the last of the scones and smoking a rollup, she sifted through the ancient photos and documents without interest. She wanted only the money – please let it be a tidy sum. A stack of keepsakes and paperwork built up at the side of the shoe box, threatening to tilt over and slip to the tiled floor. Biddy didn’t care, nor if the few other customers and the waitress disapproved of what she was doing. Bit by bit she searched inside yellowing envelopes, sniggering at her parents’ love letters. She wasn’t worried as the contents of the box grew less and less; any money was probably down at the bottom. She got to the last item. An old envelope, and it had her name on it. Bridget, her real name, and what her mother had always called her. She frowned and disappointment filled her stomach with acid. There seemed to be no hidden savings. Her mother had left her a letter; it wasn’t likely to be money. Biddy glared at the envelope, which could only contain her mother’s last wishes. If she had been buried in the wrong manner, too bad, served her right.
Biddy drained the last drop of tea out of the pot, wishing it were Guinness. She needed something stronger. Hold on a minute though. The envelope was stuffed with something. She picked it up and prodded and squeezed. It felt as if it could be a wad of money. Clenching her false teeth in hope she ripped open the envelope and shook the contents out into the box. What was this? Not money, not luscious pound notes. It was blank paper, old saffron-edged paper, folded over to the size of money. A hoax! ‘You old devil!’ Biddy cried.
She ignored a snort of outrage from a rotund, bespectacled man at a nearby table. There was another sheet of paper folded in half and this too had her name on it. It was several moments, while her anger and bitterness churned up more acid, before she lifted the sheet of paper out of the box. She had always been afraid of her mother and the fear returned. The old woman had always got the last word and no doubt this communication was precisely that. Her coarse thick fingers shaking, she opened the letter out into a full page, and read. ‘Bridget, I’m not daft. I know you have been waiting for me to die and hoping to get your greedy hands on my money. Ha ha. I spent it all, on what doesn’t concern you. You never were a good daughter to me and you deserve nothing for going off and leaving me alone. You made your bed and you can lie on it. Your neglected mother.’
Biddy could have screamed and screamed. She felt the walls crowding in on her. Her mother had never stopped accusing her of neglect and the saying about the bed was her favourite one. In her seething mind Biddy berated the malicious image of the first Bridget Moses. I married the first man who could take me far away from you, and no wonder, you vile old bitch! I hope you rot in hell.
She gulped down the last of her tea and motioned for the bill. She paid it without leaving a tip. She put on her gloves and headed for the door with just her handbag.
‘Madam, what about your box and papers?’ The waitress shot after her, appalled.
‘Do what you like with them,’ Biddy growled with bitterness. ‘I’ve no further use for them.’
Chapter Eleven
‘Hello, Aunt Em.’ Jonny put a holdall down on Emilia’s kitchen floor. She was making up Thermos flasks
and packing up the mid-morning crib for Tom and the rest of those out making hay. ‘Got room for a refugee?’
‘Who?’ she smiled. He was always in a jaunty mood nowadays, with the perpetual addition of a camera in hand. Jonny never took many minutes in sizing up a subject. He spent a lot of time in the darkroom and he was planning to submit his steadily growing collection for sale soon. Everyone agreed he showed a highly professional flair. His photographs showed emotion and fluidity, and stolen moments of time which aroused the imagination.
‘Me. The sprogs at Tremore have contracted the measles en masse. Father and Susan suggested I stay here until the worst is over. I offered to help out but they insisted they and the housekeeper could manage. They’ll ring if they need anything and I’ll drop it over.’
‘Are the children very poorly?’
‘No. Just a bit tetchy. The doctor’s not worried about any of them. I promise I won’t get under your feet, Aunt Em.’
‘I know that, Jonny. You’re always welcome here. You can have the room Abbie used.’ She glanced out of the window to check on Paul. He was tearing about on his tricycle, madly honking the horn at a straying hen which ran away squawking in alarm. He’d only been outside ten minutes but was already grimy and his thick black hair unruly. ‘That makes over half the village children are down with measles now, quite an epidemic. Mr Patterson said if that mark was reached he’d close the school and the play would have to be postponed. I hope Paul gets a mild dose and gets it over with. These diseases are so much harder if you get them as an adult. Complications are more likely then.’
Jonny went to the window. ‘Look at him out there. Paul’s as tough as any Harvey. Measles would just glance off him. Once I know I’m not needed as an errand boy at home I shall push off for a few days, perhaps to the Isles of Scilly. Should get some beautiful pics. Fantastic gardens there. I’m hoping to get commissions up and down the country. I’ll make sure I’m back for the play. Any news from Abbie?’