White Rivers

by White Rivers (retail) (epub)

  ‘Well, the saints preserve us, if it ain’t our Nick. There’s nought wrong wi’ your Ma or Pa, is there?’ she said anxiously, giving him just the lead he needed. He shook his head, smiling as he asked if she was going to let him in, or if he had to stand on the doorstep all day, courting gossip between a mysterious stranger and a well-set-up widow-woman. Dorcas chuckled at once.

  ‘None of your nonsense, now! There’s none around here who’d look twice at me, and nor would I want them to. Since my Jed died, I’ve no use for anything in trousers. But come in and have a brew of tea, and tell me how the family in St Austell fares. I heard about your Adam’s wedding, o’ course, but I’m not one for attending such things nowadays. They didn’t take no offence, I hope?’

  ‘Of course not, Dorcas. My father wouldn’t go, so Mother felt she should stay home with him. But I know she’d like to have seen you on the day, and it all went well for Adam and his bride. I tried to persuade Mother to come with me today, but she doesn’t get out much now. They’re both getting old.’

  As his cousin bustled about preparing the tea, she gave him a shrewd look. She might be a countrywoman, but she didn’t lack anything upstairs, Nick thought.

  ‘And you think mebbe a visit from me might give ’em a bit of interest in life, is that it?’

  ‘It’s not a bad idea,’ he said carefully.

  She laughed again, pushing a plate of home-made biscuits towards him, then speaking more sharply. ‘Now why don’t you tell me what’s really going on in that devious lawyer’s mind o’ yourn? You ain’t come all this way just to take a cup of tea wi’ me, have you?’

  He grinned, taking a long drink before he spoke again. ‘And I thought I was being clever,’ he said, boosting her sense of intuition. ‘So let me tell you what I’ve been thinking about these past few days, and then you can tell me if I’m taking too much for granted, and kick me out if you feel like it. It’s only an idea, mind, and you’re the only one to hear of it so far.’

  She listened patiently, and she didn’t say anything for what seemed like an endless few minutes.

  ‘So you ain’t even asked your Ma and Pa what they think about all this?’ she ventured at last.

  ‘No. I told you. You needed to think about it first.’

  ‘Well, you just go back and ask ’em, and if they agree, I’d be more’n willing to give up this draughty old place and come and care for them in their old age,’ she said, her eyes suddenly filling up. ‘It holds no special memories for me, after all this time. But you’d best be sure that young Ethan won’t take umbrage at having a bossy widow-woman moving into his house.’

  Nick gave her a hug that had her tut-tutting at such soppy behaviour. But he was jubilant. All he had to do now was to sort out the rest of them. And not for one minute did he consider himself a manipulator, while relieving himself of any obligations other than monetary. It just seemed like the best solution all round. Any vague thoughts he’d had of returning to Cornwall himself, except for occasional visits, could simply be forgotten. Better still, all thoughts of Skye Norwood could be relegated where they belonged.

  * * *

  Once Wenna had had her fill of making her pot on the previous day, Skye took the girls for a walk across the moors, partly to give them some exercise, and partly to try and rid her mind of the outrageous things Nick Pengelly had said to her. Even Philip had never been so outspoken on such short acquaintance, but she reminded herself that Philip had already been engaged when they met, while Nick, presumably, was totally unattached.

  But was he? She knew very little about him, except that he was Adam and Ethan’s brother, and he was a lawyer in Plymouth. And as Celia shouted at her to “come on before the old woman reached them”, she realised with annoyance that far from getting him out of her thoughts, he was very definitely taking up a large part of them.

  ‘What old woman?’ she asked, but of course, she should have known. The bent figure stumbling towards them at a rate that surely defied her age, could only be one person. Helza.

  ‘Let’s go back to the car,’ Skye said quickly. ‘We’ve gathered enough flowers for pressing now, so we’ll take a drive down to the sea and look for shells and fossils.’

  ‘Who is she, Mommy?’ Wenna whispered, drawing nearer to Skye and half hiding her face in her skirt.

  ‘I know who she is,’ Celia declared importantly. ‘Sebby told me about her. She’s a witchwoman, and when I grow up I’m going to ask her to tell me my fortune.’

  ‘No, you are not,’ Skye snapped. ‘And if I hear you talking such nonsense again, I shall slap you hard.’

  Both girls looked at her in astonishment. She didn’t believe in slapping, and if she ever scolded them physically, it was only in the mildest way. But as Helza reached them as if the distance between them didn’t exist, Skye cursed Sebby Tremayne for putting such ideas into Celia’s receptive head.

  ‘So you’ve brought your pretty maids to see me today, have ’ee, lady?’ Helza wheezed.

  ‘Not at all. We’re just out walking, and now we’re going to the seaside, so good day to you,’ Skye said swiftly.

  Even here, with no more than a soft breeze blowing, the stench of the old woman’s herbs and her insanitary hovel was strong and pungent about her. Celia pinched her nose, while Wenna was too dumbstruck to do anything but widen her vivid Tremayne eyes at the apparition. Helza cackled.

  ‘You’ve a fine pair of sprogs there, missus. I’ll wager that just like t’other two, one will be lucky in love, while t’other – well, who knows what will happen to t’other un? And I ain’t in the mood for telling!’

  She turned and hobbled away, still cackling, while Skye felt her nerves tingle with an unreasoning fear.

  ‘Who was she talking about?’ Celia demanded, still full of bravado now that Helza had gone. ‘What other two did she mean, Mommy?’

  ‘Nobody. Nobody at all. She tries to frighten people, but sensible ones take no notice.’

  ‘Do you know her, Mommy?’ whispered Wenna.

  ‘No, of course not. She’s out and about on the moors for much of the time, but it’s best to keep away from such folk. Now then, who can race me back to the car?’

  It took their minds off the disreputable figure for the time being, but Skye might have known that the outspoken Celia couldn’t resist telling Philip of the encounter when he returned home from college later that day.

  ‘You surely didn’t take the girls to see her, or let them speak with her?’ he said explosively.

  ‘Of course I didn’t! But the moors are free to anyone, and I could hardly stop her approaching us.’

  ‘Then I forbid you to go anywhere near that part of the moors again,’ he snapped.

  ‘You forbid me?’ Skye said sarcastically. ‘I’ve never had anyone forbid me do anything in my life before—’ She gasped as he gripped her arm, trying to keep cool as she saw how scared Wenna suddenly looked, and even Celia was silenced at this verbal attack which was in danger of turning into a physical one.

  ‘I seem to recall you promising to love, honour and obey me – or do your marriage vows mean nothing to you any more?’

  ‘You know they do,’ she whispered, her eyes smarting at the way his fingernails were digging into her flesh. ‘Mean something.’

  ‘Only something? I thought they were supposed to be more important than that.’

  ‘Don’t twist what I say, Philip. I know that cleverness with words is your stock-in-trade, but you can’t deny that I’ve always been a loving wife to you, even when—’

  Skye bit her lip. There had never been any recriminations on her part for the times when he had been less than a man to her. She had understood the ravages that wartime experiences could have on a man, the frustration, the fears, the impotency… but in time all those things had been overcome.

  She knew the extent of his head injuries and how it affected him: the violent moods, the burning pains, and the risk to his long-term health. But the last thing she wanted to do was to ma
ke a martyr of herself because of it.

  Philip suddenly let her go, and Wenna gasped at the ugly red weals on her mother’s arm. She glared at her father.

  ‘You hurt Mommy,’ the child said shrilly. ‘I hate you!’

  He looked at her contemptuously, seeing the telltale trickle of urine run down her small legs, as it sometimes did when she was frightened and upset.

  ‘See to your disgusting daughter,’ Philip said coldly. ‘The other one can come with me, since I’ve something to show her in the study.’

  Celia followed him with barely a glance at her mother and sister, and Skye felt cold inside. They were becoming a divided family, she thought in some hysteria, and through nobody’s fault. But in times of crisis, large or small, it seemed as though each girl sided with one parent, and always made the same choice. Only Oliver, at two years old, threw his allegiance towards whoever was available at the time and was offering comfort. A little like a neutral country throwing in their lot with whichever invader was the most profitable at the time… To Skye, it wasn’t the most comforting of allegories.

  ‘Mommy, I’m wet,’ she heard a thin, plaintive voice say. ‘But I’m not ’gusting, am I?’

  Skye swept Wenna up into her arms, ignoring her tackiness against her fine linen skirt. A soiled bit of linen was a small price to pay for the love and security of a child, she thought indignantly. Philip never seemed to realise that.

  ‘Of course not, honey,’ she said swiftly. ‘Five minutes from now we’ll have you sweet and dry again, so don’t take any notice of what Daddy said.’

  ‘But he’s always cross with me,’ Wenna persisted, her blue eyes huge and drowned with tears. ‘Does he love Celia better’n me?’

  ‘What a thing to say! Parents love all their children the same, though they don’t always show it. Why, when I was small, my Mommy spent more time with me than my brother, because we liked doing the same things. But she loved us both the same!’

  She spoke briskly as she took Wenna upstairs to wash her and put her into fresh clothes. But she didn’t altogether believe her own words. Primmy had lavished all her love on her daughter, while the moodier Sinclair was always out in the cold, even if it was by his own choice most of the time.

  Right there and then she resolved to write to her brother, realising guiltily how she had been neglecting such a duty lately. And she the writer too…

  For a moment she felt a real sense of nostalgia for the heady days of journalism. Words had always been her stock-in-trade too… even those she had written at the wartime hospital in France, when she had insisted on reporting the true facts from a woman’s point of view for The Informer to print. But as Wenna asked in a small voice if they could play a game, she pushed away all thoughts of being nostalgic for wartime days. It was wicked to even think such things.

  * * *

  Theo stormed into New World a week later, abrupt as ever.

  ‘The honeymooners are back, and I’ve ordered Adam Pengelly back to work on Monday morning. I’ve also hired another experienced potter to start getting this German order into production. I trust this meets with your approval, cuz?’

  ‘And good afternoon to you as well, Theo,’ Skye said shortly. The man was an oaf, and it was hardly surprising that young Sebby followed in his ungainly footsteps. She was thankful that Philip wasn’t around to add his sneering comments to her own thoughts. There weren’t many of her family that Philip tolerated, let alone liked, she reflected. He had adored her grandmother, but apart from her…

  ‘Well?’ Theo said disagreeably. His dislike of having to have business dealings with a woman was patently obvious, as always, and Skye stared him out blandly, knowing how this irritated him. But she couldn’t stay bland forever, not while she seethed at his high-handed remarks.

  ‘I hope you didn’t order Adam to return to work. For pity’s sake, Theo, the man’s a craftsman, and he’s one of the family now.’

  ‘No outsider’s one of the family as far as I’m concerned,’ he snapped. ‘Just because he married Charlotte’s daughter don’t make him one of us.’

  ‘You’re a pig, Theo. I’ve always thought so, and how Betsy’s put up with you all these years, what with your ill manners and your—’

  ‘My what?’ he said, his eyes narrowed.

  Skye shrugged. The children were with their governess, Oliver was alseep, and there was no one else around to hear. It was high time someone told Theo what they thought of him. Morwen would have done so.

  ‘Your dalliances, for want of a better word,’ Skye replied. ‘Do you think folk don’t know of them? They either snigger behind your back, or are scandalised by it all. And what does that do for the proud name of Tremayne?’

  ‘Whatever I do is no bloody business of yours,’ he shouted, his face scarlet with rage. ‘You should look to your own folk before you go criticising others. Your mother and dear old Albie for a start.’

  Skye gasped, and before she could stop herself, her arm had lashed out, catching Theo a stinging blow on his cheek. He grasped her hand viciously, making her cry out.

  ‘You bitch,’ he snarled. ‘You can deny it all you like, but you should be thankful there were no little bastards coming out of that liaison.’

  ‘Get out!’ she screamed at him. ‘You disgust me.’

  ‘Oh ah? You think yourself so high-and-mighty pure, don’t you? I saw the way you and that Pengelly lawyer looked at each other at the wedding. There’s plenty of hot Tremayne blood in you, my girl, and your man should be thankful the lawyer fellow’s gone back where he belongs.’

  ‘Has he?’ Skye said in a choked voice. ‘And why should I care about that? He’s nothing to me.’

  Theo gave an ugly laugh. ‘So you say, but everything about you gives you away, cuz. Your eyes and your mouth, your voice, and all the other luscious parts of your anatomy.’

  Insultingly, his gaze wandered over her taut figure, to where her breasts had peaked in anger. It infuriated her to know it, and to see that Theo was well aware of it. The straightness of the current fashion did nothing to hide the womanly shape inside it, and Skye felt a violent urge to press her hands across her chest to flatten the telltale nipples. But even as she drew breath to scream at him again, Theo turned on his heel and left her with a crude comment.

  ‘You’d best calm down your heated cheeks and your fiery blood, unless you aim to give your man the benefit of it all.’

  She just managed to resist the childish urge to hurl something at the door after him; but one glance at her face in a mirror told her he was right about one thing. She had the look of a wanton, and it wouldn’t do for Philip to come home and see her in this state. She drew a shuddering sigh at the thought, and all the fire in her was subdued. Because there had been a time when all her feelings would have been for Philip, and he would have recognised the longing in her eyes, and swept her up in his arms with a matching desire. Now, it seemed as though she trod on egg shells as she waited to see what mood he was in. And that was no way to conduct a marriage.

  As she splashed cold water on her face, Theo’s words suddenly filled her head. Nick Pengelly had gone back to Plymouth. He hadn’t tried to contact her again – and why would he? She knew that he definitely shouldn’t… but she felt an unreasoning sense of resentment that he hadn’t. So much for an instant attraction that was mutual – and dangerous.

  * * *

  Skye called on Vera on Monday, with no ulterior motive other than to see the modest new house she and Adam now occupied, and to welcome her home after the honeymoon.

  ‘Well, there’s no need to ask if you had an enjoyable week,’ she told Vera archly, as she saw her cousin’s glowing eyes and pink cheeks. ‘Marriage obviously suits you, honey.’

  Vera laughed. ‘I should hope it does, after just one week! You’re our second caller, as a matter of fact, but Theo was in a blazing hurry as always, so I can give you the leisurely guided tour of the house, and then we’ll have tea.’

  ‘I can guess you weren’
t too pleased to see Theo,’ Skye remarked, when she had duly admired everything, and was treated to Vera’s attempt at aptly-named rock cakes.

  Vera pulled a face. ‘Oh well, if he thought he could upset Adam and me, he had another thought coming. We’re too happy to let anything bother us, and Adam told him he’d report for work when he was due, and not a minute before. I was proud of him. Oh – and did you know he’s hired another potter?’

  ‘Yes,’ Skye said, when her cousin paused for breath.

  ‘Adam’s glad. He couldn’t possibly cope with all the extra orders on his own, and Ethan’s not up to scratch for the finishing work yet. Adam said Nick used to be good with his hands, so it’s a pity he wasn’t interested in following the same trade, instead of lawyering, or whatever you call it. It would have been a real family concern then, but Adam knows the new man, and says he’s a first-class craftsman.’

  Vera seemed too wound up and excited to stop talking, mentioning the name of her beloved at every opportunity. Skye drank her tea to try to soften the rock cake, as the unbidden imagery of what Nick Pengelly could do with his hands threatened to overwhelm her. She suddenly heard Vera giggle.

  ‘Oh go on, throw the blessed thing away. I’m no cook, but I’ll learn, and Adam seems prepared to eat anything.’

  From the newly-wed aura surrounding her, Skye would have been surprised if he’d noticed anything he ate.

  ‘You know Nick’s already gone back to Plymouth, I suppose? It’s a pity. Adam wished he could have stayed longer, but everything happened in an all-fired hurry, I gather.’

  ‘What do you mean? What happened?’

  ‘We called on Adam’s folks as soon as we got back, and Nick was just preparing to leave. He’s moved in some female cousin from down Penzance way to look after his parents, and Nick is paying all the expenses. It’s relieved Adam quite a bit, I can tell you, and Ethan’s happy, since this Dorcas is a wonderful cook and he’s getting proper meals now. I’m thinking of asking her for some lessons,’ she added with a grin.