The occasion that caused the biggest stir was the sudden departure of Sam Beatty. As the days had gone by he had kept a low profile and Laura had almost forgotten his existence until he’d knocked on her door and bid her goodbye two days ago. His recuperation was complete and he left looking healthy and energetic. Daisy was certain he would show his face in Kilgarthen again.
Laura realised that every dwelling in Kilgarthen was decorated for Christmas and, rebelling against Ada Prisk’s comments that as a widow she shouldn’t decorate the cottage, she asked Daisy to order a fir tree for her. It was delivered that afternoon and she bought holly, ivy and mistletoe from children selling it at the door. Bill had spent time here over Christmas so she reckoned he’d have some decorations somewhere. She fetched a stepladder and lifted the hatch to the attic in one of the spare rooms. Using a torch, she saw various boxes just inside the hatch and right in front of her eyes was one labelled Christmas decorations. She decorated the front room lavishly, using all the pretty sparkly things Bill had bought, then looked for some more drawing pins to hang up strings for cards. Bill had pushed a lot of odds and ends in a drawer of the wardrobe in the main bedroom and Laura tried there.
At the back of the drawer she came across a cloth bag and tipped out its contents. It contained a set of diaries dating back over several years. She looked inside the front cover of some of them and there was Bill’s handwriting, the older the diary, the more childish the writing. She froze. She’d been trying to glean information about Bill from the villagers in an effort to understand his cruel behaviour towards her, and here in her hands was what could well tell her everything she wanted to know and more. She stared at the diaries. Suddenly she dropped them as if they were burning her hands. She couldn’t bring herself to look at them now. She was feeling happy. She might learn things that would upset her terribly. She wanted to enjoy every moment of the festive season. Perhaps in the new year… She gathered up the diaries and took them to the spare room. She tossed them on top of the wardrobe. Up there she wouldn’t be tempted to read them.
Laura slept uneasily that night. In her dreams she read evidence in Bill’s diaries that suggested he was everything from Attila the Hun to Adolf Hitler.
Ince had invited her to Rosemerryn Farm the next day to help put up the Christmas decorations there and she was glad to get out of the cottage. She proudly took a cake tin of yeast buns which she had learned to bake herself. Ince let her in and she was instantly disappointed.
‘Where’s Vicki? I’ve brought some sugar-candy canes for her to put on the tree.’
‘Spencer’s taken her shopping in Bodmin,’ Ince said, automatically making a pot of tea. The people of Kilgarthen drank gallons of it.
‘That’s further away than Callington or Launceston.’ Laura was most annoyed. ‘Contrived to stay out until I’ve gone, presumably.’
‘No,’ Ince said, carrying a box of decorations to the table. ‘It’s something of a tradition for Spencer and Vicki to go shopping together just before Christmas. You don’t mind, do you? About being here with me?’
‘No,’ Laura replied truthfully. She trusted Ince.
‘Right then.’ Ince rubbed his big hands together, his dark eyes twinkling. ‘Let’s get started. I’ll climb the stepladder, you can pass me the decorations and put up the lower ones. We must make sure we leave some things for Spencer and Vicki to put up, including putting the crib together.’
Laura passed drawing pins to Ince as he hung paper streamers from beam to beam across the low ceiling. They put some tinsel and baubles on the gigantic fir tree Spencer had bought from the Trebartha plantation, leaving a few more and the crowning star for Vicki and Spencer.
‘We’ll let them drape the pictures and mantelpiece with tinsel,’ Laura said as she made a table display with holly, ivy and a tall red candle. ‘I wouldn’t want to upset his lordship.’
‘Eh?’ Ince said, twisting his head round from the spot by the stairs door where he was securing a huge spray of holly. His face was red with the effort and Laura laughed.
‘I think you need a break. It’s my turn to make the tea. You are going to try one of my yeast buns, aren’t you?’
‘Of course.’ Ince got down from the stepladder and pushed it aside. He moved to Laura and glanced up at the sprig of mistletoe over their heads. Not entirely on impulse, he bent his head and kissed her cheek.
He hadn’t touched her or tried to hold her but Laura backed away, her eyes blinking rapidly with shock.
‘I’m sorry,’ Ince said, his voice low and grave. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you.’
Only then did Laura realise they had been standing under the mistletoe. Her heart sank that she had shrunk away from such an innocent gesture. Ince wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. ‘You didn’t offend me, Ince,’ she said, ‘you just took me by surprise.’
The hurt in his dark eyes faded and he smiled, that gentle understanding smile, and Laura felt so reassured and comfortable she moved up close to him and placed her head on his chest. Ince sighed with relief and put his arms round her and held her closely against him.
Laura raised her face and looked into his eyes. ‘You are a most considerate man, Ince.’ She thought, if only Bill had been more like you. Then she kissed his cheek.
Ince kissed her forehead and they separated, feeling content to be in each other’s company alone.
They were sitting at the table eating and drinking when there was a terrific crash outside in the yard.
‘What was that?’ Laura said anxiously.
Ince was already on his feet. ‘Sounds like the wind’s blown something down. You stay here in the warm. I’ll try not to be long.’
‘Come back if I can do anything to help.’
Moments later the kitchen door was opened but it wasn’t Ince coming back. Spencer came in carrying Vicki and two bulging shopping bags.
‘Ince invited me here,’ Laura explained hastily. She was disturbed by how easily this man could unsettle her and make her feel guilty.
‘Fine,’ Spencer said. He didn’t look vexed to see her there. ‘We came back early. Vicki’s got a headache and she’s feeling hot. I think she’s getting a cold.’
‘Oh, are you feeling poorly, darling?’ Laura said, going to them and taking off Vicki’s hat and stroking her hair.
Vicki lifted her head off her father’s shoulder and nodded mournfully.
‘Could you take these?’ Spencer said, referring to the shopping bags. ‘They’re heavy and cutting into my hands.’
Laura took the bags which were filled with Christmas food and items that were obviously presents. She watched as Spencer put Vicki down on her feet and took off her gloves, scarf and coat. He kissed her and felt her forehead. He looked worried.
‘What do you think?’ he asked Laura. ‘Do you think I ought to get the doctor for her?’
Laura looked critically at Vicki and felt her forehead too. She looked sleepy and her cheeks were a pretty pink. Laura frowned as she thought about it. ‘Well, she’s not burning hot and her cheeks aren’t a bright red. Perhaps if she was given half an aspirin crushed with a little sugar and put to bed with a hot water bottle… It’s what my mother used to do for me.’
‘I think that’s a good idea,’ Spencer said, lifting Vicki up. ‘Where’s Ince?’
‘He’s out in the yard. Something blew down and he’s gone to investigate,’ Laura said, keeping her eyes rooted on Vicki, she felt an overwhelming longing to take care of the little girl. ‘Can I help you with Vicki? Whatever fell down, it sounded serious.’
Spencer looked from Laura to his daughter as if he was in two minds about what to do.
‘I can manage,’ Laura reassured him. ‘If you just tell me where to find the aspirin and hot water bottle.’
A fierce gust of wind rattled down the chimney and helped Laura’s cause.
‘Well, if you’re sure you can manage. You’ll find everything you need in the cupboard next to the fireplace.’ Somewhat hesitantly, Spencer
relinquished Vicki into Laura’s care and went upstairs to change his clothes.
Laura sat Vicki in her father’s armchair and gave her the aspirin and sugar, then quickly filled a hot water bottle covered in a knitted case in the shape of a smiling clown. She carried Vicki upstairs, undressed her and put on her nightie which she found under her pillows. Vicki was nearly asleep. Laura sat on the bed and stroked her forehead and softly sang a nursery rhyme until the little girl closed her eyes. When she was fast asleep, Laura caressed the golden hair that was splayed on the pillow.
Half an hour later she heard a heavy step on the stairs and Spencer came into the room. ‘How is she?’ he whispered.
‘She went to sleep almost at once,’ Laura whispered back.
‘Thank you for staying with her,’ he said, stroking Vicki’s face and bending to plant a tender kiss on her cheek. ‘She’s quite cool now. Will probably be bursting with energy again tomorrow. Come down and have a cup of tea with me and Ince.’
They left the bedroom door open in case Vicki became restless or called out. Down in the kitchen Ince was washing his hands at the huge cloam sink.
‘Did you manage to repair the damage outside, Ince?’ Laura asked.
He turned and smiled at her and Spencer did not miss the special warmth in their communication. ‘It was a large sheet of galvanised roofing that had fallen off the old trap house,’ Spencer said from behind her. ‘We nailed it back in place.’
‘That’s good,’ Laura said, and without thinking she made the tea and was surprised at how natural it felt. Before today she would have been worried about upsetting Spencer.
‘These are nice,’ Spencer said, biting into a yeast bun. ‘One of Daisy’s?’
‘Laura’s,’ Ince told him.
Spencer raised his fair brows. ‘Really?’
‘Only three days until the concert,’ Laura said conversationally. ‘I’m really looking forward to it and my first Christmas in Kilgarthen.’
‘You must have a meal with us over Christmas, mustn’t she, Spencer?’ Ince said, looking at his friend as if he was daring him to say no.
Spencer’s clear grey eyes were narrowed as he looked from Ince to Laura. She waited with bated breath for his answer. ‘Of course,’ he said, and he actually smiled at her.
It took her by surprise, not just that he gave it but, once again, how handsome he was. Bill was dead and here she was, a few weeks later, in the company of two very good-looking, available men. Only their characters, although very different, prevented the local unmarried females beating a determined path to their door. Laura thought herself fortunate; one man had a gentle, pleasing disposition which had stopped her from sinking into a lonely bitterness, the other man had a beautiful daughter whom she loved being with.
* * *
Andrew Macarthur was at home listening to similar weather to that beating against Kilgarthen’s dwellings, but only momentarily. He cast aside the book he was reading. He crossed the lounge of his flat and poured himself a Scotch but didn’t drink it. He wished he’d gone out with the friends who had asked him to a party, then he was glad he didn’t. He had been restless and like a bear with a sore head since he’d got back to London. His two partners had started to raise disapproving eyebrows at him; today he had turned down the second lucrative case he’d been asked to represent that week. He was junior partner in the office and Mr Walmesley and Mr Britton would soon be having words with him.
He had brought some work home with him and he went to the table where he had tossed it. He sat down, picked up his fountain pen but shut the first file the instant he opened it. He wasn’t interested in its contents. It wasn’t a challenging case and he hated this sort of thing anyway, a divorce petition by a pampered, rich woman who was bitterly intent on stinging her adulterous husband for every penny she could get out of him. A lot of these cases were coming his way; since the war had ended, the divorce rate had increased fivefold. One of the juniors in the office could just as easily deal with this one before it got to court. His other work was important but not vital. He could leave instructions for it and nothing would need his attention or signature for a few weeks. He had looked carefully into Laura’s situation and he had a few papers for her to sign, then nothing was likely to happen for several months while the bureaucratic wheels slowly turned.
He threw his pen down on the table. He was bored. None of his girl friends, either career women or social butterflies, provided interesting company these days. Nothing in his life was challenging any more. Nothing seemed worthwhile. What on earth was the matter with him? Before he’d taken that trip down to Cornwall, his lifestyle had been to his total satisfaction.
The doodles he’d been making on a notepad on top of the files caught his weary eye. Tressa. TRESSA. Tressa. Tressa Davey. He knew she was the reason for his discontent. He could hardly believe the effect she’d had on him. He drew a large heart round one of her names and put an arrow through it. But the arrow that he felt in his own heart was not Cupid’s. Tressa Davey had mercilessly driven a hundred barbs through it and he’d been suffering ever since.
Was Tressa merciless? No, she wasn’t deliberately merciless – well, just a little. She was immature. She was what one could call a child of nature. She was innocent, ordinary and absolutely beautiful. She had misunderstood his intentions. He wasn’t another Harry Lean. But did she really understand what he was like anyway?
Just before he left the office his secretary had asked him if he wanted to put a personal letter in with the papers for Laura. He’d said he would and brought it home with him. He would write to her now. Perhaps that would take his mind off his misery for a while.
‘Or you could deliver the papers personally,’ he mumbled. It took a few moments for his brain to catch up with his voice. Then he jumped to his feet and shouted at the top of his voice, ‘Why don’t I go down to Cornwall and deliver the papers personally?’ It wasn’t Laura he was picturing in his mind, however, it was Tressa Davey. ‘I’m not going to let you get away from me, you gorgeous creature. I’m going to fight to get you until the bitter end.’
* * *
On the day of the concert Laura spent the morning with Roslyn Farrow going over the arrangements and putting chairs in the hall. When Laura left, she took a quick bath and washed her hair. She was heating up some soup for lunch when there was a knock at the door.
‘Oh damn,’ she breathed in extreme annoyance. She was in her dressing gown, a towel was wrapped round her hair. She’d have to dash upstairs and get dressed.
The knocking became more insistent, and fearing that Johnny Prouse had become ill, she gingerly opened her front door. She was shocked to see Spencer on the other side.
‘Spencer! What’s the matter? Is Vicki ill?’
‘No,’ he replied, ‘but it’s Vicki I’ve come to see you about.’
Laura knew the gossips would have a field day if they knew she’d let a man into the cottage while wearing next to nothing, but she was afraid that if she asked Spencer to wait while she got dressed he’d take umbrage and go away. Holding the silk dressing gown tightly round herself, she let him in.
Spencer swept his eyes over her as he took off his hat. ‘Sorry if I’ve come at an awkward moment.’
‘I won’t have much time to get ready tonight,’ Laura explained self-consciously. ‘There’s nothing wrong, is there?’
‘No, no, not at all.’ He took his time answering her. He was admiring her tall figure, its distinctly feminine curves accentuated in the most interesting places where she was clutching the silk gown to her. It was a long time since he’d set his eyes on a near naked female form and he took a great deal of pleasure in doing so now. ‘I’ve come to ask you a favour.’
‘About Vicki?’ Laura felt hope rising inside her. She’d do anything to get closer to Vicki Jeffries.
‘Yes, it’s about the concert tonight.’ It was Spencer’s turn to become self-conscious and now he looked all round the room rather than at her. He turned his hat i
n his fingers. ‘Well, I… The thing is, when I took Vicki to the rehearsal, all the other children had their mothers there. They’ll be there tonight behind the scenes getting their children ready, putting on their costumes and so on. Vicki will be the only one with her father. I’d feel silly and I’m afraid she’ll feel different from the others. Daisy will be busy with her act and she’s old enough to be Vicki’s grandmother. I, um, was hoping that you wouldn’t mind getting Vicki ready for her act.’
‘I’d be delighted to, Spencer.’ Laura meant it with her all heart. There was nothing she’d like more.
‘You would? Oh, good. We’ll see you there then.’ Now that bit of business was out of the way he looked at her again, the colour of his eyes turning warm and smoky.
He made no move to go but Laura felt she couldn’t invite him to stay and have a cup of coffee while she was wearing only her dressing gown. And then she realised he was looking at her closely, appreciatively, in precisely the same way she would expect from Harry Lean. The hat became still in his hands. His eyes were lingering on her most intimate places.
‘Spencer, do you mind?’ The words came out thickly.
He misread her, and even then took several moments before he tore his eyes away. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, you want to get on. I’ll see you tonight.’
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