Four
Singing brightly, Beth was in the hall getting ready to call on Evie. Evie had rung with the unexpected wonderful news that her father had relented and Beth was now able to enter under his roof. The sea was still choppy but the wind had blown itself out and the fleet would be preparing to recommence the pilchard hunt. The weather was what the locals called ‘misty wet’. In all likelihood Davey Vage would be helping to make ready Morenwyn. Beth was feeding her bobbed hair in under her favourite cloche hat. The grey hat had a front brim, and a pink lace art deco style motif on the side made by Evie who was a gifted lace maker. Beth was already in her one-buttoned crossover coat and leather ankle boots. She heard the squeaky, gravel-crunching sounds outside that heralded the arrival of the postwoman on her bicycle. She ran down the steps to meet the jolly, middle-aged war widow.
‘Good morning, Mrs Pauli, how are you?’
‘Right as a new ten bob note, thanks, Miss T.’ Mrs Pauli trilled. ‘Nice of ’ee to come out in the wet, though there was no need. Got a whole lot of letters for the house today. Cheerio.’
Back inside Beth dealt out the large handful of post into piles on the hall table. Six were for Christina. Beth guessed the four that weren’t official might be to do with the Grand Tea Party. Two for Kitty, one Beth recognized to be Louis and Martha’s joint writing, and the other was from her personal assistant. There were two for her. One was from Louis and Martha and she felt touched they had written to her too, probably to thank her for the use of Mor Penty. She felt ashamed for having virtually ignored the polite, well-behaved children since moving to Cornwall, sending them only birthday cards and postal orders to spend. The light wording on the second letter she recognized vaguely; from some former school friend or neighbour perhaps. Once certain people heard an acquaintance had moved to a popular holiday area they fished for somewhere to stay for a hopefully cut-price holiday.
Opening the children’s letter she had the urge to cry over the crayon pictures Louis and Martha had made for her. Both pictures were roughly the same, indicating that Martha had likely copied Louis’s, depicting a small beach with a few people and two dogs, probably Grace and Chaplin, dotted about the bright yellow sand. On the blue and green sea was a sailing ship and high in the sky was a huge yellow sun, with streaming beams. Perhaps the children believed hot summer weather could always be found at the seaside. At the bottom of each piece of paper were the words thank you and each child’s name. Beth laid the pictures out on the hall table for the rest of the household to delight in. She pushed the other letter into her wide coat pocket to read under her umbrella on the walk down to the cove.
The telephone near Beth suddenly rang and she made a face. Could she creep out on her way and avoid answering it? No, she had not said goodbye to Christina yet, who was in the kitchen with Mrs Reseigh. She reluctantly picked up the receiver, for since Kitty had arrived Stuart had rung often and so far Beth had avoided speaking to him. Crossing her fingers, she hoped she was about to speak to anyone but Stuart.
She gave the house number.
‘Just putting you through caller,’ she heard the telephonist advising the person on the other end of the line.
‘Beth, hello! It – it’s lovely to hear your voice again, um after… all this time. Um, are you um, are you well?’
Beth’s every emotion was shot to pieces and she felt her shoulders sag. The voice she had hoped to never hear again sounded like that of an insecure boy’s, not strong and confident as it once was. From knowing Stuart intimately, she could see him clearly as he probably was right now, one hand in his trouser pocket and jiggling on his feet, red-necked and blinking in discomfiture. He had always had a little boyish shyness about him, something that had once endeared him to her. He would be humiliated too, for he had come begging in a way to her. She couldn’t see there was any reason for him to want to come down to Cornwall other than he was finding it hard to manage without Kitty with him. He must be feeling totally lost.
‘Beth, a-are you still there?’
She had to clear her throat. ‘Yes, I’m here, Stuart. I’m afraid you’ve not long missed Kitty. She’s out with my brother, walking the dogs along the cliff. Perhaps if you try again in an hour or so she’ll be back by then.’
‘Well, if it’s all right, may I tell you what I wanted to say? I… I don’t want to be a nuisance to… you in particular.’
Beth could imagine him tugging on his collar; his voice was so small, hesitant and choked. His plight was tugging at her. She felt torn in every direction. She had loved him, adored him once. Despite their hurtful parting she could never despise him or wish him ill. ‘Of course, go ahead, Stuart.’
‘Thank you, Beth, thank you so much.’
His mighty sigh of relief was blown down the long distance into her ear, making her flinch.
‘The thing is, Beth, things haven’t been too good with Louis. He’s not well. He mopes and gets into the most terrible moods. I think he blames me for… for his mother walking out on us. Martha seems to be coping better, but Louis just can’t seem to come to terms with it. The thing is I’ve taken compassionate leave for the next three months and the children’s schools have agreed that I can teach them at home. It was my suggestion that Kitty spend a lot more time than usual with you, and Louis is furious with me. He relies rather too much on Kitty, I’m afraid. I’ve told him he can ring his Aunt Kitty at any time but he just shouts, “What’s the point.” Then he clams up and refuses to speak for hours. He barely eats. He’s so insecure. I don’t want to put an extra burden on you, Beth, but I’m so worried about Louis. I was wondering, if it doesn’t put you out too much… I was wondering, if… if… oh dear, this is going to seem a terrible cheek.’
‘If you can come down to Cornwall early, is that what you’re trying to say?’ Beth wasn’t pleased at the idea but she couldn’t help feeling compelled to help Stuart out. And Louis didn’t deserve to suffer over what his mother had done, or his father’s failings. ‘That will be fine. Could you give Kitty and I a couple of days to get my cottage ready for you all?’
‘Yes, oh yes! Oh, thank you so much, Beth. We won’t be any bother, I promise, I swear. Louis will buck up a bit, I’m sure, as soon as I tell him he’ll shortly be seeing his Aunt Kitty again. He and Martha love hearing her tell how wonderful the beach and cliffs are down there.’
‘I dare say you could do with spending some time alone,’ Beth said blandly, pleased with herself for the good idea. ‘The children must spend lots of time here with Kitty. My mother will be pleased to have them here at any time, there’s plenty of room in the house and grounds.’
‘Thank you so much, Beth. Um, I’m really pleased that everything has worked out so well for you concerning your mother. I remember how upset you were in the past.’
Stuart’s tone sounded ingratiating, to Beth’s mind. ‘Thank you, but please don’t mention it again. I really have to go. Goodbye, Stuart.’
* * *
Rather than getting their boat ready for the night’s fishing, the crew of Our Lily were gathered at Lofty (Linford senior) Praed’s home. Wildflower Cottage was a perfect description for the homely large place standing alone in its own long strip of ground, near the bottom of the long winding Portcowl Hill that led down into the fishing cove. Normally when members of the extended family got together, a regular occurrence for meals, birthdays, Easter and Christmas, it was a very happy occasion. Today, Lofty and his sons, Linford junior, Douglas, and the twins Barry and Andy, and his nephew Rob, were sat solemnly round the table that dominated the cosy cavernous kitchen. Cigarette smoke filled the air, masking the pleasanter lingering smells of cooked breakfasts.
Mugs of tea, the vast teapot replenished and on a huge tin tray, with a large jug of milk and glass bowl of sugar, and numerous spoons, had been placed in the middle of the table by Posy Praed. Then the matriarch of the family had retreated with two-and-a-half-year-old Rowella Reseigh, her precious granddaughter by her late daughter, to the next room. A
serious meeting like the one about to get under way was the men’s business. Posy, a motherly, lumpy shape in a full print apron, her short greying hair pinned under a hairnet, was deeply worried. As in every family there had been squabbles and arguments, but until now they had always been quickly forgotten. The incident, in which Posy had nearly lost her eldest, married son, had been blamed firmly on Rob but he had furiously denied it. Now there was a simmering atmosphere of great hurt and anger that had never been known before. Was the family about to be ripped asunder for the first time after generations of Praeds fishing from Portcowl? And so soon after the elation of last month’s announcement that Linford’s wife of six months was expecting a baby? Grandma Praed had died last Christmas. At least she was spared this, she would have despaired that the incident had come this far.
The younger men waited for Lofty to utter the first word. The brothers had their heads down and were fidgeting, those who were smoking nervously tapping ash off their cigarettes, for Rob was chain-smoking and he was fuming. Barry and Andy, either side of him, had intimated to each other by wrinkling their noses, their wish to move away from Rob because his bandaged arm smelled horridly overripe. They wouldn’t dare do that, Rob would be offended and he wasn’t in any sort of forgiving mood.
‘We all know why we’re here,’ Lofty began gravely. ‘Linford is lucky to be alive. If he was dragged into the water by the nets he’d have been mangled and drowned. Rob denies letting go suddenly while heaving in, upsetting the balance, and says the first he knew something was wrong was when his arm was raked over by the falling nets and he was brought down on deck. I bawled him out over it, but,’ Lofty slowly tapped his middle finger on the table and homed in hawklike on his three younger sons, ‘I was in the wheelhouse and didn’t see what happened. So, was I unfair to Rob over another’s guilt? Linford couldn’t be responsible because of where he was. In Rob’s defence, I’ve never known him to lie about anything important. It’s not as if he’s afraid of anyone. So, therefore,’ he stared in turn at Douglas, Barry and Andy. ‘Has anyone got something that needs saying?’
Rob bore his eyes at Douglas and the twins, his hardy features sharp and hostile.
Lofty was praying one of his younger sons would do the right thing and own up. He didn’t believe that Rob was responsible for the grossly negligent act that had injured him and could have cost Linford so dear, and he was remorseful that he had blamed Rob in the heat of the moment. Rob was scrupulous about safety on the boat. If Rob were forced to continue to shoulder the blame he would do as he had threatened to, go to the bank and borrow the funds to buy his own lugger and start up his own crew. Rob had mastered every job on the boat while many fishermen only excelled at one or two. He was quick-minded and had a sense for shoals of fish that evaded many of his peers. He would make a natural skipper, most young fisherman’s dream, and earn more, but until now he had been content to work alongside his family. Rob would never forgive the family if he were permanently made out to be a wanton liar.
An acute silence reigned round the table and the tension grew to suffocating levels. Knowing Rob was about to explode in fury, Lofty spoke quickly. ‘Linford, you say you don’t know what happened exactly?’
‘No, Dad,’ Linford shook his head, emitting an overwrought sigh, darting an uneasy look at Rob, for he shared his father’s belief. ‘It was dark and I was concentrating on counting in the nets as I hauled away. Then I felt everything lurch away and was pitched forward. Instinct told me to let go the nets and throw myself sideways and grab the gunwale, and then I heard Rob yelling in pain.’
‘Do you believe I did it?’ Rob’s eyes glittered at him in challenge.
Linford knew everyone’s eyes were on him. He shook his head again. ‘To be honest I don’t. I could never believe that you’d lie about something like this, Rob.’
‘Thank God one of you can see sense,’ Rob barked, aiming his angry sight from Douglas and then either side of him at Barry and Andy. ‘Well, is the guilty party still willing to keep my head on the block?’
The twins gulped at each other then the mouths in their fresh open faces gaped open. It seemed to Rob they had swapped looks of horrified innocence. Douglas had been nearest to Rob on the boat at the time. It was Douglas who Rob believed was the despicable culprit, lying by keeping his shallow mouth shut about his flagrant carelessness.
Eyeing Douglas harsh enough to freeze him to the bone, Rob muttered dangerously, but also speaking to the twins – he believed they were sure of the truth. ‘This is your last chance. If I walk out of the house I’ll never step inside it again. I don’t want to shun the innocent in my family, but I couldn’t mix with a Praed who is a –’ Rob checked himself to forestall a profane swear word – ‘filthy lying bastard.’
Lofty sighed in dismay as silence again spat out the culprit’s cowardice and increased the flesh-tightening pressure. He was ashamed of his guilty son, whoever it happened to be. He was wilfully heading the rest of them to live with suspicion and causing even deeper bad feelings to eat away and defile his once happy family.
Snatching up his cigarette packet and matches, Rob pushed back his chair with a horrible accusing scrape of its legs. ‘That’s it then.’ He felt light-headed and sick.
‘It was me!’ Douglas squealed, hiding his face in his hands.
‘About bleddy time!’ Rob raged. A wave of nausea washed over him. This rotten affair had affected him more than he could have imagined.
Douglas began to sob, his shoulders shaking. ‘I’m sorry…’
‘Lift your head up and face your cousin like a man!’ Lofty snapped, banging his fist on the table. He got up and leaned towards his wretched son. ‘Apologize to him face to face. I’m ashamed of you, Douglas Praed. You’ve shamed, disgraced and hurt Rob in one of the worst manners a man could do to another, and you’ve made the rest of us look bloody stupid fools all round the cove. You deserve a bloody good thrashing. Apologize to Rob, and then to your poor mother, and then get out of the house! Don’t come back until the rest of us are out at sea. You’ll have to work damned hard for all of us to forgive you over this. If Rob doesn’t want you back on Our Lily then you’ll have forfeited your place on it and it’ll serve you right.’
Lofty turned to Rob with both hands stretched out, and tears of shame stinging his pale eyes. ‘I can only offer you my sincere apologies, Rob. You’ve been ill served and by your own flesh and blood, and I’m mortified by it. I’ll never be able to hold up my head again after these last three days. Will you shake my hand?’
Rob’s head was spinning. He felt as if his strength was seeping out of him. Mutely, he accepted his uncle’s rough brawny hand, then Linford’s, and then the twins’. He glared at Douglas, now up and quivering and wiping his tears away with the back of a trembling hand. Douglas’s lips opened. ‘Save it,’ Rob growled. ‘I need some fresh air.’ He had never needed to get out of a house more than he did now. Grabbing his coat and woollen hat he half-stumbled out of the room. He had to move hand over hand down the passage wall before pitching himself outside.
* * *
On her way down to Evie, Beth frowned in disgust to see, several yards ahead of her, Rob Praed staggering drunkenly out through his uncle’s gateway. He was so inebriated he needed to grab at the wet wild hedgerow to keep his feet. Lofty Praed was a sober upright man and doubtless had ordered his self-seeking nephew on his way. Rob Praed should be ashamed of himself to be so drunk this early in the day. Not wanting to be near a man whose present condition might make him capable of improper behaviour, she slowed her steps, watching as he lurched on, leaving Wildflower Cottage a little behind.
She was appalled as he reeled and lunged face down into a ditch. Well, he could stay there, and if he got soaked in the cold muddy water it served him right. His place was in a ditch. He treated women as playthings. He was whining that he was innocent of his inexcusable disregard of his own family crewmen’s safety. She looked away as he lifted his head and started to retch and was violent
ly ill. Could this man make a worst spectacle of himself? It was a pity Evie had to live next door to such a common individual. Evie was misled to feel sympathy for him. Rob had bewildered Evie by some rubbish story that, last year, he’d had a ploy to get round her father’s opposition to him forming a romance with her, and that recently Rob had seen through a ruse of Davey’s to prevent such a happening.
Her gloved hand across her face, Beth speeded up and strode past him. She stopped. She couldn’t leave Rob where he was; the water in the ditch was deep enough to drown in. He was a danger to himself. She must alert his family in the cottage – poor things. Actually, it was poor Mrs Praed and herself. The men, of course, would be tending their boat, so it would mean she and Mrs Praed having to drag the drunk out of the ditch to safety. Wretched man! She had the urge to kick him.
He was trying to lift his head. Beth was sure he sensed someone was close by and she hoped he wouldn’t find the strength to reach out and grab her. ‘H-help me,’ he gasped.
Beth bit her lip. It wasn’t the usual response of a drunken man – invariably they were past realizing any danger. She edged up to him. As well as his disgrace there was the dreadful stench of something rotting. She saw blood and stuff seeping down from his right arm and over his hand. It had to be from his wound. It was badly infected and he was very ill. ‘Oh my God.’
Heaving and puffing she managed to drag him out of the ditch, he yelling in pain. She placed him on his side then pushed her scarf under his head. ‘Stay still, Rob, don’t try to move. I’ll get help.’
Five
Kitty was holding her little niece’s hand and her other arm was round her nephew’s shoulders. ‘Well, didn’t I promise you it was a lovely beach? Few people come here so you’ve practically got it as your own private playground. There are so many things you can do. Daddy and I can trust you to be careful, can’t we?’
Reflections Page 4