‘They say Ward Bridge were partly destroyed and all!’ Fanny gabbled on as she allowed Ling to strip off her clothes. ‘Bridges be broke all over the place, Peter Tavy, Harford, old wooden clams completely washed away. And half of Tavistock be under water, a man on a horse said. He were from the Gazette,’ she announced proudly. ‘Said he’d put it in the paper about Harry rescuing me.’
Ling sucked in her cheeks. Half of Tavistock submerged meant homes, businesses, lives destroyed. But Ling felt sick to the stomach for another reason. Harry Spence was the last person on earth she would have wished for as her gullible sister’s saviour!
Seventeen
Ling frowned at the clock as she stirred the stew once again. It was half past six, the evening was beginning to draw in and still there was no sign of Fanny. She had been there when Ling had come back after school was over. The kettle was on the go and Fanny had made her sister sit down with her feet up to drink the welcome cup of tea.
She had smiled gratefully at Fanny as she leant back on the settle and closed her eyes. The warm, crisp smell of fresh ironing soothed her nostrils as she slowly relaxed, only opening her eyes to sip at the scalding tea and then shutting them again as she lowered the cup back on to its saucer. She heard Fanny go out, but assumed it was for one of many reasons: to use the privy, check for hens’ eggs or take the vegetable peelings out to the pig. It wasn’t until a little time had passed that Ling realized Fanny had performed one of her disappearing tricks.
Ling sighed in weary exasperation. She herself had always liked to roam the moor at that age, and Fanny had completed all her tasks for the day. The difference was that Ling had always told her parents when and where she was going, she’d invariably taken Fanny with her for company and she had her head screwed on. Fanny, on the other hand, was so innocent and trusting, even though Ling had explained to her the dangers a young girl might face. Fanny had stared at her quite mystified, and Ling had repeated the lesson on numerous occasions, but she still wasn’t convinced her younger sister understood her warnings.
She was probably worrying unnecessarily, she told herself as she folded the freshly ironed laundry, placing Fanny’s underwear in the drawer. As she did so, her fingers touched something tucked away at the back. It wasn’t curiosity that made her investigate, just concern that Fanny had put something in there by mistake, which she would later be frantically searching for. But when Ling pulled out several items of jewellery, cheap, shiny things made of paste gems, but which would nevertheless enthral her sister, her chin dropped and she began to shake. For where had Fanny come by them?
She had everything spread out on the table when Fanny waltzed back in, her cheeks flushed. Ling saw her stop short for an instant when her eyes scanned the items, but then she gave that sweet, warm smile of hers, and Ling’s head reeled in confusion.
‘Mighty pretty, isn’t they?’ Fanny cooed. ‘You can borrow them if you wants.’
Ling bit her lip, caught part way between anger and dismay, and her overwhelming desire to protect this impressionable child she loved so much. ‘Where did you get them from?’ she asked casually while her heart pounded in her chest. ‘You didn’t steal them?’
‘What?’ Fanny’s eyes opened wide in horror. ‘No! I wouldn’t do a thing like that!’
Ling lifted her chin, her eyes hardening as they bore into Fanny’s face. ‘Then who gave them to you?’
The younger girl’s mouth tightened into a pout and she shrugged. ‘No one,’ she muttered, but her eyes shifted evasively.
‘It must have been someone, Fanny. And where have you been? It’s starting to get dark.’
‘Oh, there’s no need to worry about me, I promise. I wouldn’t stay out on the moor after dark. ’Tis too dangerous.’
Ling studied her earnest expression for a moment. Perhaps she was being overprotective. But there was still the question of the presents. ‘Who have you been with, then, Fanny?’ she pressed her. ‘You should always tell me where you’re going, for safety’s sake.’
Fanny’s eyes at once deepened to a defiant indigo. ‘I doesn’t have to tell you anything!’ she rounded on her sister, with a vehemence so uncharacteristic that Ling gasped with shock. ‘You’m not my guardian. You’ve not taken out any legal papers, have you?’ she said, nodding triumphantly. And then Ling’s heart ruptured as Fanny’s eyes filled with tears and she cried out, ‘You cas’n take Mother and Father’s place, try as you may. They’m dead, and all that talk of waiting for us in heaven be proper rubbish. We’ll never see them again, not ever!’
Ling’s courage was ripped into tatters. All this time, Fanny’s grief had been secretly fermenting, and Ling’s guilt over her parents’ deaths erupted inside her like a volcano. She opened her arms with desperate compassion and as Fanny stepped into them she gently soothed her. Fanny must be seeing someone. Someone who had talked about legal matters, for that wasn’t something Fanny had thought up herself. Perhaps official guardianship was something Ling should discuss with Seth Warrington. He would know what to do about it. But for now, Fanny needed comforting, not chastising.
‘You just be careful, whoever it is,’ she muttered into Fanny’s ear. She just prayed it wasn’t going to lead to trouble.
‘We’m playing euchre tonight, so I need some money,’ Barney announced after their meal.
Ling had replaced Fanny’s little treasures in the drawer. She needed to think deeply before she told Barney about it. Although she had refused to say who her admirer was, Fanny had promised not to wander off on her own again. She would keep near Foggintor, she had stated adamantly, and seemed so content with this compromise that Ling decided, with relief, it must be someone at the quarry. And since there was no young man there who she would disapprove of as a brother-in-law if it went that far, Ling felt reassured. She was still uneasy, though, and ready to bark at Barney’s request.
‘Euchre? Again?’ she snapped tersely. ‘You never used to play for money. And I hope you’re not asking me for cash! All mine’s gone on housekeeping, so I should be asking you for some.’
Barney’s mouth twisted with embarrassment. ‘Father didn’t have the money for the rent this week,’ he announced sheepishly. ‘Their vegetables are running out cuz o’ the storm and—’
‘Then Eleanor should’ve got off her backside and replanted like the rest of us did. She may be your sister, but she’s a lazy, good-for-nothing slut!’
‘Don’t call her that,’ Barney growled back. ‘Besides, Ed’s boots had been mended so often they was falling apart and his feet has grown so—’
‘And your father’s quite capable of earning as much as you! And he’d have a sight more money if he didn’t drink and gamble so much, and you’re rapidly going the same way!’
Their eyes locked across the room, Ling’s jaw set stubbornly while Barney ran his tongue over his top lip.
‘They’m still my family, Ling,’ he said quietly. ‘And we does have that money. I works hard for you, Ling, you knows that. You can relax with a book of an evening, but you knows I cas’n. Doesn’t I deserve a game of euchre and a glass of beer with my friends after a hard day’s work?’
Ling lowered her eyes. He was right, of course. She hated to argue and Barney knew nothing of the earlier event that had upset her. ‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled faintly.
‘And I’m sorry you cas’n have a babby,’ he whispered back, bending to kiss her tenderly on the lips. ‘I knows ’tis at the root of it all. But we’ll keep trying, eh? I’ll make you happy, Ling, I promise. I loves you so much, I’ll do anything, you knows that.’
Ling had to avert her gaze. Yes, she knew he would. But she didn’t feel she could ever be truly happy again.
‘Fanny!’ Ling leapt to her feet with a surge of anger as she prepared to give her sister the length of her tongue. Fanny had kept to her word for the past month or so, but today was Saturday. Ling had gone into Tavistock to catch the very last session at the swimming baths before it closed for the winter. Fanny had staye
d at home, declaring it was too cold, and, it being the end of October, she was probably right. Ling had almost had the pool to herself, and even the stalwart Mrs Penrith hadn’t been there. Ling had been so quick, she’d had time to visit the public library and borrow another book.
When she’d arrived home, Fanny was missing. The girl had eaten lunch with Barney after he had finished work, but he hadn’t seen her since. She wouldn’t have gone far, though, he’d said cheerily. But then he didn’t know about the little hoard of presents. Ling had kept it to herself since Fanny had been behaving, but as time ticked by she was becoming increasingly worried.
When Fanny appeared in the doorway, the tirade of disapprobation died on Ling’s lips. Fanny resembled a little waif, her shoulders drooping and her blue eyes, far too large for her pinched, heart-shaped face, red-rimmed with tears. Clearly something was horribly wrong, and deep compassion drove the anger from Ling’s breast.
‘What on earth’s the matter?’
She felt herself trembling as she stepped forward. Fanny was in a pitiable state, strands of hair that had come loose from the single plait down her back falling wild and unkempt about her face. Ling swallowed hard. Oh, no! Surely to God Fanny hadn’t . . . hadn’t been . . .?
‘You’ve not been attacked?’ she blurted out in horror.
Fanny at once reared away, her face taking on a shuttered look. ‘Oh, no. Nort like that.’ She pushed past Ling and sat down decisively on the settle.
Ling watched her, eyebrows knitted. The worst hadn’t happened, but something else had, and she felt sick with fear.
Fanny looked up again, this time with her chin tilted defiantly. ‘I were only doing the same as you,’ she said boldly. ‘Only, unlike Barney, he won’t marry me. I only wanted a home of my own. ’Tis not such a bad thing to want, is it?’
Ling rocked on her feet and staggered forward blindly, somehow finding a chair to sink on to before she collapsed with shock. Fanny was pregnant. Her sweet, innocent little sister was pregnant. Was she sure? Fanny’s monthlies weren’t monthly at all: they were few and far between, more irregular even than Ling’s own erratic cycle. But when Ling thought about it, the only rags to have been boiled up to remove the stains the entire summer had been her own. And she had noticed that Fanny had been putting on a little weight, growing more curvaceous, but Ling had put it down to maturity. Then she thought of the times Fanny had looked pasty first thing in the morning, though that had passed now. Good Lord! She must be, what, four months gone by now? Oh, the stupid little cow! But then Ling bent under the cruel weight of her own shame. She had been guilty of the very same sin, and Fanny had merely followed her example. Only, Fanny was too ignorant, too simple, to recognize the difference in their situations. She and Barney had been betrothed. In love. But then she supposed Fanny had believed herself to be in love and her seducer in love with her. It was clearly far from the truth!
‘What’s going on? I saw Fanny come back, running like the devil hissel’ were arter her.’
Ling’s eyes swivelled round to meet the anxiety on Barney’s face. She wanted to run into the comfort of his arms, but it wouldn’t change anything. What had happened couldn’t be undone. ‘Fanny’s having a baby,’ she murmured flatly, since she couldn’t think of any other way to say it.
She saw the blood drain from Barney’s weather-browned cheeks. ‘What!’
‘We shouldn’t be cross with her,’ Ling said defensively. ‘She was copying what . . . we did. She thought . . . you thought he loved you, didn’t you, Fanny?’ she prompted as Fanny’s wide, innocent eyes moved from one to the other of them, as if she was nothing to do with what they were discussing. ‘Only, he didn’t,’ Ling concluded briefly. ‘And now he won’t marry her.’
‘Oh, he won’t, won’t he? We’ll soon see about that! So, who was it, Fanny? Who be the father?’
Fanny was visibly cowed beneath Barney’s threatening attitude, and Ling caught his arm. ‘Don’t frighten her, Barney. She’s frightened enough already.’
But Barney shrugged off Ling’s hand. ‘Who was it, Fanny?’ he demanded.
‘He said I weren’t to tell,’ Fanny said, sniffling as her tears began afresh. ‘He said ’twas our little secret.’
‘I bet he bloody did!’ Barney cried in a fit of rage. ‘Well, there be only one person round yere I knows who be cowardly and devious enough to take advantage of Fanny being so . . . so naive, and that be Harry Spence! ’Twas him, weren’t it, Fanny?’
But Fanny merely buried her face in her hands.
‘Leave her be, Barney. We mustn’t blame her.’
‘I doesn’t. That bloody bastard would’ve led her on, the filthy varmint. But I’ll damned well make sure he pays for it, the low down scum!’ And, with that, he spun on his heel and thundered out of the door.
The silence in his wake was heavy and oppressive. Ling felt weak at the knees, the situation raking up all the guilt and pain her own unplanned pregnancy had caused. At least Fanny hadn’t been responsible for the tragic deaths of their parents!
Ling knelt down in front of Fanny and took her hands. ‘Don’t worry, little maid. It isn’t so bad. We’ll sort something out.’
Fanny lifted her tear-stained face. ‘I’m sorry, Ling. I really believed him. And I didn’t . . . I didn’t like doing . . . you knows. ’Tweren’t nice and it hurt. But he said ’twould show I loved ’en. And other than that, he were always so kind to me, and he gave me all those pretty things.’
Ling’s heart ached as she closed her arms about her sister. How could anyone be so callous as to trick a child like Fanny? She had never liked Harry Spence, for, like Barney, she was convinced he was the culprit. He’d always been mean and untrustworthy. It was because of his stupidity that she had nearly been crushed beneath the railway engine. He knew it and yet had always resented Barney telling the truth about it. And it was Barney who had aroused the suspicions about that stolen money. Ling had decided long ago that Harry was jealous of Barney. Was this his twisted way of getting back at him?
When Barney returned, he flung himself on to a chair, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing his hands over his face before looking up darkly. ‘He denies it, of course,’ he said, sighing dejectedly. ‘Had the gall to grin at me and say what should I expect with someone as dim-witted as Fanny? I laid him flat cuz o’ that, and he still denied it. Said he hadn’t seen Fanny since the day of the flood.’
‘I hardly think that’s true. But I reckon it had already happened by then. I don’t suppose she went to look at the river at all. She went to see him. I’ve no doubt it was brave of him to save her from the water, but it would have suited him too. Made him a hero in her eyes, and she’ll not betray him.’
A resentful grunt escaped Barney’s throat. He stood up again, and as she was arranging the table he turned Fanny round to face him, his hands on her shoulders. ‘Listen, Fanny. I’m not cross with you. But if you says who the father is, it may be possible to at least get him to take some responsibility for the child.’
Fanny stared up at him, her eyes watery pools. ‘I cas’n,’ she answered honestly. ‘He said he’d kill me.’
Ling watched Barney close his eyes. ‘’Tis all the answer I needed,’ he mumbled.
Ling came up behind him and rested her cheek on his shoulder. ‘I wouldn’t want Fanny married to a man like that, anyway. Would you? We can take care of her, can’t we, and the child? We can’t have one of our own, so maybe we should see this as a blessing.’
Barney turned round and encircled her in his strong arms. ‘If ’twill make you happy,’ he said and smiled with such ineffable love that she began to cry.
Eighteen
Ling’s eyelids flickered open. She had come home for their frugal lunch and had nodded off on the settle by the warmth of the range. She had been dreaming she was walking along some beautiful foreign shore, her bare feet sinking in golden, sun-drenched sand and lapped by gentle, lazy waves. She felt soothed and relaxed, and the reality of the sp
artan room and the angry wind that was beginning to tear at the little cottage struck her like a sledgehammer. She was unaware of the wistful sigh that whined from her lungs. She would never visit such exotic climes. That in itself did not bother her. But if she showed Barney photographs of such places in the books she borrowed from the library, describing how she envisaged the images in colour, the sun beating on her shoulders and the smell of the sea and hot sand, he would look at her as if she were crazed. He would shrug, kiss the top of her head, and announce that he was off to play euchre with his mates, taking another coin from their now sadly depleted nest-egg.
She sagged against the back of the settle, wanting to hold on to the comforting dream a little longer. Yet as she observed Fanny through half-shut eyes, it was already slipping away. From behind, her sister was as tiny and ethereal as ever, so when she turned round to reveal her jutting stomach it was still quite a shock. Once they had given up on trying to drag the father’s identity from her, Fanny had appeared to blossom. In her childlike world, she seemed ignorant of the stigma her illegitimate baby would cause. Here at Foggintor she was one of the fold; nearly everyone felt protective towards the simple creature they had known since she was a child herself, and who had been duped by some callous blackguard.
Ling’s lips moved into a bitter line. While Fanny was bearing a child she could well do without, Ling would never know the joys of motherhood herself, and her hopes had withered away, dragging her spirit with it. She would lavish all her love on Fanny’s child, but it wouldn’t be the same. Somehow she was beginning not to care any more. Everything was falling apart. Even Barney spent most of his spare time with his male companions nowadays. He worked hard on the orders that came to the quarry, but since the completion of the second Tavistock railway there was only call for smaller items. Gone were the days when the Dartmoor Quarries had supplied stone for far away London and such structures as Nelson’s Column or the Houses of Parliament. Trade trickled on, the quarrymen only just managing to earn an honest crust. Ling couldn’t begrudge Barney time relaxing with his friends. He never came home drunk as some husbands did, but she could see their savings rapidly dwindling, not helped by Barney constantly having to help his father pay his rent. But they were surviving while others in the county starved, so she should be thankful for that. And if her dreams and aspirations had been shattered, she had accepted that years ago.
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