Kilgarthen

by Kilgarthen (retail) (epub)

  ‘Oh no,’ Laura gasped. ‘Vicki, I… I…’ She wrenched herself away from Spencer and he went to Vicki and picked her up.

  ‘Why are you fighting?’ Vicki asked in a trembly whisper. ‘You frightened me.’

  Spencer looked at Laura. His anger was gone, replaced by distress and shock.

  ‘I-I’m sorry, Vicki,’ Laura blurted out, her hands to her face in horror.

  She ran out of the room and past Ince on the doorstep as he was coming in to find out what the shouting was about. ‘Laura…’

  She pushed him aside and ran to her bike. She scrabbled with the handlebars and became nearly hysterical when Barney started barking and jumping at her. She got her feet in the pedals and screamed when she was pulled round.

  ‘It’s all right, Laura. It’s Ince. I’ve told the dog to go away.’

  ‘No, get away from me. I want to get out of here.’

  ‘I’m going to help you do that. You’re in no fit state to ride home. Let me take you on the cart.’

  Laura felt her last bit of strength seep out through her legs and she fell against Ince. Holding her up he walked her to the cart and lifted her up on the seat then got up beside her. Laura stared straight ahead as they bumped down the rough track and Ince put his arm round her to keep her steady. He drove towards Kilgarthen but when they came to a wide gateway he pulled the horse into it. He turned to her.

  Laura didn’t see the cattle grazing in the field, only the fear and incomprehension on Vicki’s face. How could you do that to that little girl? She asked herself viciously.

  Ince put his hand under her chin and pulled her face round to him. With his other hand he pressed on her shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, Laura.’

  Her eyes filled with hot, scalding tears. He pulled her towards him and she flung herself into his arms. She wound her arms round his body under his coat and put her face against his neck so she could feel his warmth. Then she sobbed her heart out. Her emotions spilled out in an ever growing stream. All the bitterness, coldness, numbness, uselessness, all the things Bill had made her feel, all the things he had taken from her. She wept with grief for all the wasted years, for her father’s death and the ruin of his company, and the acute feeling of loss at having no children.

  She would get over all that. She knew when her tears were ended it wouldn’t matter so much any more. But there was a new pain in her heart. She cried over the terrible experience that had caused her to upset the sweet innocence of little Vicki. She’d never forgive herself for that, but somehow she vowed she would make it up to her.

  Ince held her close and stroked her back and caressed her hair. He didn’t speak, it wasn’t necessary. All she needed for now was his closeness.

  Chapter 12

  Lower down the hill from Little Cot Ada Prisk was knocking on Mrs Sparnock’s door. Mrs Sparnock answered it with her hair covered in a scarf wound tightly like a turban and a long-handled cobweb duster in her hand. She held back a sigh.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Prisk, but I’m very busy,’ she said, trying to sound determined.

  ‘Oh, I don’t want to come in,’ Ada said, but narrowed her face coldly. ‘I’m just on my way to see Mrs Jennings. I made too much apple crumble for my tea last night. I thought she might like to finish it off. Probably doesn’t know how to cook good plain food.’

  ‘I’m sure she’ll appreciate that,’ Mrs Sparnock replied dubiously.

  Ada came to the real reason why she’d called. She moved closer to the other woman and her advantageous height put her thin lips next to Mrs Sparnock’s ear. ‘I see that solicitor chap’s in there again with her.’

  ‘Is he?’ Mrs Sparnock bent her head so she could see round the door. ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I saw him go in, of course. Didn’t give her time to have her breakfast decently. It’s as I expected.’ Ada raised her nose disapprovingly. ‘She’s a widow. Got an attractive face and figure. Her father may have squandered his money but I bet Bill left her quite a bit. We’ll see all manner of men knocking on her door.’ Ada looked all round to make sure they weren’t being observed. ‘These city people are loose with their morals, you know. Wouldn’t know respectability if it jumped up and smacked them in the face.’

  ‘She seems a nice woman though,’ Mrs Sparnock returned in hushed, slightly shocked tones.

  ‘We’ll see,’ Ada said sharply. She straightened herself up and turned to face the home of her quarry. ‘Well, I haven’t got time to spend chatting to you all day. Good morning, Mrs Sparnock.’

  Mrs Sparnock returned the pleasantry and watched the tall figure hastening up the hill. She decided against cleaning away the cobwebs; she would clean the outside of her windows instead.

  * * *

  Laura was getting fed up with the sympathetic looks Andrew kept casting in her direction. ‘I’ve told you a dozen times, Andrew, I’ll be all right. If you want to go over to Tregorlan Farm, then go. I’ve got plenty to do and you’re under my feet. I’ve got my housework then I’m going down to see if I can do anything for Joy Miller, then later today old Johnny Prouse is coming out of hospital and I’m going to call on him with Aunty Daisy.’

  ‘But I don’t like leaving you alone,’ Andrew said stubbornly.

  ‘Andrew!’ Laura moved briskly to the broom cupboard and took out a long-handled brush. ‘I’ll sweep you out of the door.’

  Andrew jumped back and the head of the brush narrowly missed his toes. ‘But you were so upset yesterday, that chap had to bring you home. Goodness knows how you would have arrived here if it wasn’t for him. You looked terrible. I’ve never seen you like that before. Look, why don’t you come to Tregorlan Farm with me? It’ll be good for you, meeting new people.’

  ‘No, thank you.’ Laura tightened her facial muscles. ‘I’ve had enough of farmers for the time being.’

  ‘Except for the one who brought you home?’ Andrew challenged her, standing his ground with his hands on his hips. ‘I noticed you and he were rather matey.’

  ‘Ince is different,’ Laura retorted, colouring up in his defence. ‘Don’t read anything wrong into his kindness. He’s warm and gentle, he’s comforting to be with.’

  ‘But not exactly like a big brother in the way that I am to you?’

  ‘If you don’t get over to Tregorlan Farm soon the Daveys will be out on the moor and you won’t be able to find them,’ Laura said angrily. ‘I think they let their cattle graze the common pasture land as well as their fields.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ Andrew was amazed.

  ‘I know a lot about what goes on around here already. Village people are very chatty. Well, are you going now or are you going to risk giving me a nervous breakdown from sheer exasperation?’

  ‘All right, I’m going.’ He held up his hands in submission. ‘I suppose you’ll be okay. Your Aunty Daisy is just up the road.’

  Reassured that Laura was unlikely to lapse into one of the crying fits she’d suffered frequently since Ince Polkinghorne had helped her into Little Cot the previous morning, Andrew made eagerly for the door. A sharp rat-a-tat-tat on the other side startled him.

  ‘Oh, who’s that?’ Laura said, vexed. She was even more vexed when Andrew opened the door and she saw who it was. Seizing her chance, Ada Prisk pushed past Andrew into the room and held out the dish in her hands to Laura.

  ‘It’s half of an apple crumble, Mrs Jennings,’ she said in a sugary voice. ‘I thought you might like it.’ She lifted off the tea towel it was covered with. ‘Apple crumble is something of a speciality of mine. You only need to put it into the oven and warm it up for about half an hour.’

  The old woman was only here to slake her curiosity, Laura was sure and she took the offering with a curt, ‘Thank you, Mrs Prisk.’

  Ada’s shrewish eyes were peering into every corner of the room. They washed over Andrew and seemed to sum him up in one penetrating perusal. He stepped back a couple of paces, a look of alarm on his face. It was like being given an intimate examination in full pub
lic view.

  ‘So you’re Mr Macarthur. Must be nice for Mrs Jennings to have a familiar face around. So these are electric lamps. Pretty shades. I’ve heard that electricity is dangerous. Wouldn’t have it myself. Lovely silver, but then you must be used to having valuables of every kind. Are you going to decorate for Christmas? S’pose you don’t feel up to it with Bill just laid in his grave, and it wouldn’t be proper anyway. Still, never mind, there’s always next year. Or won’t you be here next year? Lovely photograph of Bill. None of you, I see. I bet Bill would have loved to have photographs of children on the mantelpiece. Didn’t you want any children? Thought they’d tie you down, I expect.’

  ‘How could you possibly know anything about me?’ Laura snapped, angrily bringing the old woman’s monologue to an end.

  ‘Well, I—’

  A sudden cold draught of air made Ada whirl round. Andrew was holding the door open. ‘If you don’t mind,’ he said in his coolest professional voice, ‘Mrs Jennings and I are very busy.’

  The flesh on Ada’s hawk-like face rose upwards as she bristled with indignation. ‘Well, I’ll be going now,’ she said acidly.

  ‘You might as well take your dish with you,’ Laura said. ‘I don’t like sweet food.’ With an insincere smile she added after a deliberate pause, ‘But thank you for the thought.’

  Ada wanted to say a great many things but the couple had been polite and she had breached many points of etiquette. Her comments would be best left said to others. With head down like a charging bull, she swept out of the room.

  Andrew closed the door quickly and leaned his back against it. ‘What a dreadful woman. I hope there aren’t too many like her.’ On a sudden thought, he opened the door and looked up and down the hill. He saw Ada Prisk talking to another woman who was cleaning her windows. ‘She’s already spreading her gossip.’

  ‘Ohhhh, I could do something wicked to that woman,’ Laura uttered with great feeling, clenching her fists.

  ‘I’ll make you a cup of tea,’ Andrew said.

  ‘You will not,’ Laura asserted herself. ‘The old dear’s given me back some fighting spirit. Off you go to Tregorlan Farm now!’

  * * *

  The two gossiping women had disappeared when Andrew tied the box of groceries onto the back of Bill’s bicycle, which he was going to use to ride to Tregorlan Farm. He was annoyed when Sam Beatty came up to him.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Beatty,’ he said politely, but coolly. He hoped the other man wasn’t angling for an invitation to come with him.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Macarthur,’ Sam Beatty replied, smiling broadly and rubbing his woollen-gloved hands together. ‘I’m sorry I missed you at breakfast. I don’t get up very early. Are you off for the day?’

  ‘I thought I’d take the opportunity to roam across the moor.’ That should do the trick, Andrew thought gleefully. A convalescent wouldn’t be able to undertake anything arduous.

  ‘I bid you good luck with it,’ Sam Beatty said. ‘I only wish I was up to it myself but I find a slow walk along the lanes beneficial, although of course I have to be careful in damp atmospheres. But we have the sun out this morning, should be a lovely day. Perhaps you’d like to tell me about your excursion over a drink tonight. I trust Mrs Jennings is quite well?’

  ‘Why shouldn’t she be?’ Andrew asked suspiciously. After what Laura had said of her doubts about this man, Andrew also distrusted him.

  ‘Oh, no reason,’ Sam Beatty said lightly, but his thick eyebrows rose up to his hairline. ‘Just exchanging pleasantries. I’ll let you get on, Mr Macarthur. Goodbye.’

  Andrew rode off, unsure whether he ought to regret his moment of rudeness. The man was probably only trying to be friendly.

  He had been worried he’d have difficulty finding Tregorlan Farm again but when he saw its signpost in the hedge he shouted, ‘Yes!’ excitedly.

  In the clear daylight he saw that there was a way over the track which would give passage to a wide vehicle without too much difficulty, but he walked the bicycle up to the farmhouse so the groceries wouldn’t be jolted about. Daisy had packed up the box for him but had begged him not to risk upsetting the Daveys with what she had finally called an insensitive gesture, but Andrew had a cover story worked out.

  He tramped up to the side door of the farmhouse. He had come prepared for farm conditions today. He had already intended to walk the moor while he was here and he had brought old clothes and his hiking boots from his university days when he and some friends had walked the Pennines. Even so, he looked smarter than the average Cornish labourer.

  He knocked loudly on the door and Joan Davey answered him almost at once.

  ‘Mr Macarthur,’ she said nervously. ‘Fancy seeing you again so soon. Would you like to come in?’

  ‘Good morning, Miss Davey,’ Andrew said, putting the box down and pulling off his boots.

  Joan peered down into the box as she went on, ‘You’ll have to excuse the state of the kitchen. I’ve just started some ironing. I’d come out to the back-house to fetch the washing basket.’

  They went into the kitchen carrying their burdens. Joan had spread sheets over one half of the table to do the ironing on and Andrew put his box down on the other half. Joan put the washing basket down on the floor, her nose still over the contents of the box.

  ‘Can I get ’ee a cup of tea, Mr Macarthur?’ She picked up a cloth and her hand hovered over a black flat iron heating up on the range.

  ‘No, thank you,’ Andrew replied, eager to get on. ‘I thought I’d take Jacka up on his offer and go out in the fields with him. Looks like I’ve missed him. If you point me in the right direction, perhaps I can catch up with him.’

  ‘Jacka went out over an hour ago but Tressa should still be about the place. She’ll take you to Jacka.’

  ‘Right, I’ll go and find her then, before I miss her too. I wanted to drop this off first.’ He pointed to the box and went on unashamedly, ‘Where I come from it’s the custom to repay the hospitality shown to distressed travellers. It’s only a little something. I hope you’ll except it with my good wishes. You were all very kind to me yesterday morning. I was very appreciative of your help in finally getting me to Kilgarthen.’

  Joan dropped the cloth and rubbed her rough hands down her apron. She smiled shyly. ‘Well, I… I’m sure it’s very kind of you. There was no need for you to do this. Jacka won’t know what to say.’ She lifted up a packet of tea and Andrew watched the childish delight spreading across her rugged face; he was reminded of his young nephews on Christmas Day.

  ‘Tinned peaches,’ she said, lifting the items out and putting them on the table. ‘Cracker biscuits and, good heavens, a bar of chocolate! Tressa loves chocolate. I don’t know what to say, Mr Macarthur.’

  ‘You don’t need to say anything. Just enjoy it. Now I’ll be off to find Tressa.’

  To save Joan any more embarrassment, and because he was desperate not to miss Tressa leaving the farmyard, Andrew rushed to the door. He put his boots back on rapidly, then went to track down his real reason for being here.

  He rounded the house and saw Tressa, with Meg, several hundred yards away as she headed off for the fields. She was wearing the same chunky clothes, the same spotted scarf tied back her hair at the nape of her neck.

  ‘Hey! Tressa!’

  She turned round and waited for him. As he got closer, half running, she seemed to be staring right through him. When her eyes alighted on his smiling face, her wide full mouth stayed clamped in a straight line. The smile drained from Andrew’s face and he felt a fool; he couldn’t think of one single word to say to her. Meg ignored him.

  ‘Lost again, are you?’ Tressa asked in a wary tone.

  ‘No! No, I… I’ve come to take up your father’s offer, to look over the farm.’ Now he was talking, his words were coming out thick and fast. ‘I’ve just been speaking to your aunt. She told me you’re heading his way. Can I walk with you?’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  She
made Andrew feel he was a major irritation to her but he didn’t care. This country girl would soon fall for his charm. He’d only have to get her talking. She turned round and walked on. He kept beside her, his hands casually inside his coat pockets.

  ‘It’s a lovely day,’ he said.

  There was a short silence before she replied, ‘Yes, it is.’

  ‘I suppose you’re so used to the weather you can always tell what mood it’s going to be in.’

  Again, a pause. ‘Not always.’

  ‘Meg is quiet today. She didn’t jump all over me.’

  There was that hesitation again before she spoke. ‘She does what I tell her.’

  Andrew became quiet. Her remark had sounded something like a warning. Had she commanded the dog to jump up at him with its big muddy paws the day before?

  They tramped on through two hayfields then through a field where the herbage had been eaten down to the roots and liberally manured. In the next field were four cows in calf, feeding on a supplement of hay.

  ‘They’re fine-looking animals,’ Andrew said, hoping some flattery about the livestock would bring the girl to a friendlier frame of mind. ‘What breed are they?’

  Tressa took her time looking them over. Andrew had to ask his question again. Eventually she answered, ‘Moor cross-breeds. A bit of South Devons with Ayrshire.’

  ‘Are all the moorland cattle that breed?’