Kilgarthen

by Kilgarthen (retail) (epub)

  Andrew stroked the back of his neck and shook his head. He didn’t understand Tressa’s reasoning but felt he had made a little progress with her. He was hoping he’d be offered a cup of tea now but was met again with brutal frankness.

  ‘You’ll have to go now. I’ve got work to do.’

  ‘Oh,’ he sighed. ‘Well, in that case I’ll wish you a very happy Christmas, Tressa.’

  He had no choice but to leave, but on the way through the kitchen he left the toiletries on the table. Tressa could either throw them away or let her aunty have them.

  Tressa came through to the kitchen to get herself something to eat before she took a long walk with Meg; she had no work to do. As she washed her hands at the sink, she wrinkled her nose at the strong chemical smell of the soap on her skin then sniffed the pleasant exotic odour of the talcum powder on her wrist. When she dried her hands, she saw the present on the table where Andrew had left it. She threw down the worn rough towel, and before her father or aunt could come home and ask her about the toiletries, she picked them up and ran upstairs to hide them in a drawer in her bedroom.

  * * *

  Ince was thinking about Laura as he walked back along the lanes to Rosemerryn Farm. How beautiful she was, what a good woman she was, how she hadn’t been left bitter and twisted by her tormented years as Bill Jennings’ wife. He was remembering how wonderful it had felt to kiss her cheek and then hold her under the mistletoe. He was calculating what would be a decent length of time to wait before he could ask her as a widow out to dinner with him. He thought he stood a chance with her; he knew he didn’t have a great deal in common with her but nor did the other men in Kilgarthen.

  He was walking past a stretch of open moorland when he heard a sound that chilled him to the marrow. Loud and shrill, it sounded like a soul in eternal agony.

  He spun round in all directions, peering through the starlit darkness, trying to locate the source of the terrible wailings. His heart almost stopped when the figure of a woman flew across the moor several yards away from him. The woman fell, uttering a scream of rage and swearing foully. She crawled forward on hands and knees, crying and cursing.

  Coming to his senses, Ince plunged after her, his shoes sinking into the soggy growth. ‘Stop! You’re heading for the stream. It’s deep in there!’

  The woman ignored him and kept to her perilous course. The narrow stream that ran through this part of the moor was swollen with the rain and was deep enough for someone to drown in. The woman didn’t stop but plunged straight into the freezing water and threw her head down under the rushing torrent.

  Ince was at the stream in a couple of minutes and jumped in beside the woman. He grabbed her long hair and pulled her head out of the water. She shrieked and tried to wrench herself away, raking her long nails down his hands and beating on his chest, muttering wildly in the foulest of language.

  Ince dragged her up onto the bank of the stream, then forcing her arms behind her back he gathered her to his chest. She kept up a desperate struggle. ‘Stop it! I’m trying to help you.’

  ‘You should have left me,’ she wailed. ‘I wanted to die.’

  He recognised her voice. ‘Marianne! How on earth did you end up like this?’

  She collapsed against him and he lifted her up in his arms.

  ‘You should have let me die, Ince Polkinghorne,’ she cried.

  Holding her as best he could, Ince wriggled out of his coat and wrapped it round her. He had to get her warm and dry as quickly as possible. The village was nearer than Rosemerryn Farm. Marianne was a light weight; he picked her up and headed for School House.

  There was no one about as he went down the hill through the village with his burden hiding her face in his chest. His steps slowed as he neared Little Cot. He’d been wondering why a young woman who was blessed with as many privileges in life as Marianne Roach would want to take her own life. He knew her timid mother would be distraught to see them turn up on her doorstep like this and her father so furious that neither would be any help to the poor girl. Ince stopped outside Laura’s home. He would ask her for help.

  ‘I’ll get some towels and blankets and something for her to wear,’ Laura said, pushing Ince, who was still holding the dripping wet girl, towards the fire. ‘We must get her out of those wet clothes as quickly as possible.’

  ‘Thank God you were home, Laura,’ Ince said. ‘I couldn’t let her parents see her like this.’

  Ince retreated to the kitchen to make the inevitable tea while Laura helped the limp and now docile Marianne out of her wet clothes. A cursory look showed a couple of light bruises on her stomach which she could have received in a fall but no signs of a beating on her body; Laura was convinced Cecil Roach was a cruel man. She got Marianne into dry clothes then wrapped a towel round her head. Pulling an armchair up to the fire, Laura wrapped her in blankets.

  ‘Marianne,’ Laura said firmly, lifting the girl’s chin and making her look at her. ‘Have you fallen foul of Harry Lean? I had another girl not many days ago sitting in the same chair who very nearly did.’

  ‘No, not him,’ croaked Marianne.

  ‘It is a man then?’

  ‘What else?’ Marianne shrieked bitterly, showering Laura with spittle. ‘Can’t you guess what’s wrong with me? Why I felt that it would be best if I put an end to it all?’

  Hiding her shock at the sudden display of venom, Laura said gently, ‘Are you pregnant?’

  ‘Yes,’ Marianne spat at her. ‘Guess who by.’

  Laura didn’t need to guess. The spite on the girl’s face told her. She felt all her new-found confidence and happiness that even new financial worries hadn’t spoiled evaporating, leaving acute emptiness in its place. Bill had found another, more lasting way, to get back at her.

  Ashen-faced, Laura slumped down in a chair and Ince rushed to her, forgetting Marianne. ‘What is it, Laura? Are you ill?’

  ‘It’s my fault,’ Marianne admitted, her voice trembling, as Laura clutched Ince’s hand. They were both looking at her for an explanation. ‘I told her I’m pregnant but I was cruel in telling her that it’s Bill’s baby. I’m really sorry, Mrs Jennings.’

  ‘I didn’t think Bill brought girls here,’ Laura gasped helplessly.

  ‘He didn’t,’ Marianne said. ‘We met… in other places.’

  ‘How long did it go on for?’ Laura demanded.

  ‘Ever since my sixteenth birthday.’

  ‘What? For two years?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sorry.’

  Laura gulped at the thought of Bill seducing the girl when she had been little more than a child, but she still felt bitter. ‘I suppose I can hardly blame you. You were only a child when it started. I suppose you were dazzled by Bill’s bigshot reputation.’

  Marianne started to cry but Laura couldn’t bring herself to comfort her.

  ‘He… he said you were going to divorce him… and he’d marry me, and we’d have a blessing in the church and then he’d take me to London.’

  ‘It was all lies,’ Laura said harshly.

  ‘Yes,’ Marianne squeaked. ‘What am I going to do?’

  ‘First you’re going to get dried out thoroughly and then we’ll both take you home,’ Ince said, taking charge of the situation. ‘We’ll make up some story about you getting wet through and having to borrow some of Laura’s clothes. You’ll have to tell your parents about the baby, you can’t keep it a secret much longer. Bill was last down here over three months ago, you’ll be showing soon. Perhaps you should wait until after Christmas, when things are quieter.’

  Marianne looked at Ince goggle-eyed then shifted her gaze to Laura. ‘I… I know I’ve got a cheek asking, Mrs Jennings, but… but would you come to the house when I tell my mother? I’m not brave enough to tell her on my own.’

  The thought of Bill’s baby conceived and growing inside Marianne’s belly when he had always denied her a child of her own was unbearable to Laura. She could hardly bring herself to speak. ‘Why don’t we wait un
til after Christmas. Come and ask me again then.’

  Chapter 21

  Laura was invited to tea and supper at Rosemerryn Farm the day after Boxing Day. Vicki rushed to her the moment she was inside the door.

  ‘Laura, come and see my presents. Did you have a nice Christmas? I wish you’d been here on Christmas Day so I could see you opening your presents. Did you have lots of things? Will you read me a story from my new fairytale book?’ Vicki was jumping up and down and helped Laura to take off her coat and put down a shopping bag she had brought with her.

  Laura hugged and kissed her and delightedly answered all her questions, taking her hand and exclaiming at all her many gifts.

  ‘You’re a lucky little girl. I received a bottle of perfume from my friend, Mr Macarthur, and a lovely headscarf from Aunt Daisy. Bunty Buzza gave me a box of hankies and your Uncle Ince gave me a pair of gloves. I’ll read you a story after tea, shall I?’

  Spencer raised his eyebrows at Ince from his chair by the fire where he was enjoying a quiet drink.

  Ince kept his head down over a thank you letter he was writing at the table. He wasn’t sure where he stood with Laura. She had been rather aloof since Marianne Roach’s revelation about her pregnancy.

  ‘Now I’ve seen your presents,’ Laura said to Vicki, ‘I’ve got a little something for you in the bag I brought with me. Would you like to see it?’ Laura had waited until now to give Vicki her Christmas present because she’d wanted to see her open it herself

  ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘Would you run and fetch the bag?’

  ‘All right.’

  Vicki carried the bag to Laura who took out a fat parcel wrapped in Christmas paper with Father Christmases all over it. Watched by the two men in her life, Vicki unwrapped the parcel in great excitement. It contained two complete outfits for her baby doll.

  ‘I hope you like them. Aunty Daisy taught me how to knit.’

  ‘Oh, thank you, Laura,’ Vicki squealed, wrapping her arms round Laura’s neck and hugging her so tightly she was nearly choked. ‘It’s the best present I’ve ever had. Lizzie can wear the nightdress, bonnet and bootees tonight and I’ll put the pram suit on tomorrow. Can I come to your house tomorrow? I’ll bring the pram Father Christmas brought down the chimbley for me. We can push Lizzie round the village and show everyone how pretty she looks.’

  Laura felt her gut tighten with excitement at the thought of having Vicki to herself for the day. ‘Of course you can come to my house, if it’s all right with your daddy. I’ll cook us something special for lunch and bring you home in time for tea. We could ask Benjy to come and play as well.’

  Laura and Vicki looked at Spencer for permission. He and Ince had been feeling forgotten. By the determined look on Vicki’s face, there was no doubt that if Spencer said no she would throw a rare tantrum. Laura was hopeful, he had agreed that Vicki could mix with other children.

  ‘You can go, pipkin,’ Spencer said a dry voice. He knew he had agreed that Vicki could leave the farm and play with other children but he wasn’t pleased with the notion. ‘Thank, you for the present, Laura. It was very good of you.’

  ‘Good, I’ll come and fetch you at ten o’clock,’ Laura told Vicki. ‘We’ll have a lovely day together.’

  ‘I like you, Laura. I wish you lived here all the time.’ Vicki picked up Lizzie and rocked the doll in her arms. ‘What I really want is a mummy. When can I have a new mummy, Daddy?’

  Spencer gagged on his drink and looked as if the foundations of his soul had been shaken. He looked at Ince in desperation for help. ‘It’s time to get tea, isn’t it?’

  Ince got up from the table and made a fuss of clearing away his writing materials.

  Realising that somehow she’d upset her father, Vicki became quiet and put her doll glumly back in its cot, but she soon started chattering again as they ate. Then Laura offered to do the washing up.

  ‘You are a grown-up little girl,’ Laura smiled down on Vicki as she passed her the dried dishes to put away on the dresser. ‘You can help me bake a cake tomorrow.’ Then she looked purposefully at Spencer. ‘It’s for Mrs Lean. She’s poorly. I’m hoping it will cheer her up.’

  ‘You’re not taking Vicki to Hawksmoor House!’ Spencer snapped, springing up from his chair.

  Ignoring Ince’s warning look, Laura played the innocent. ‘I wouldn’t dream of taking Vicki anywhere without your permission, Spencer.’

  ‘I’d rather you just stayed in the village,’ Spencer said gruffly.

  Vicki took Laura’s hand and they went back to her Christmas toys. ‘Story time now.’

  When the story was over, Vicki wanted Laura to play Snakes and Ladders with her, and she, wouldn’t allow her father or Ince to join in with them. She insisted Laura play with her until she was almost sleeping on her feet.

  ‘Come on, pipkin,’ Spencer said firmly. ‘It’s time for bed.’

  ‘I want Laura to put me to bed,’ Vicki murmured sleepily, rubbing her eyes.

  Spencer swept Vicki up in his arms. ‘Laura’s done enough for you since she’s been here. You’ve almost worn her out.’

  ‘No, no.’ Vicki struggled and pushed on her father’s broad shoulders. She was tired and fretful. ‘I want Laura to put me to bed. I want Laura!’

  ‘Vicki!’ Spencer was extremely annoyed.

  ‘Why don’t you let me put her to bed, Spencer?’ Laura asked, holding out her arms towards Vicki. ‘Then you can come up and kiss her goodnight.’

  Spencer let Vicki go reluctantly.

  ‘It won’t hurt for one night,’ Ince said, after Laura had carried Vicki upstairs.

  ‘I’m not jealous,’ Spencer said edgily. ‘It’s just strange that she prefers someone else doing something for her than me or you.’

  ‘I suppose Vicki will need a woman’s influence as she grows up,’ Ince remarked thoughtfully, more to himself than to Spencer.

  ‘Not if I can help it,’ muttered Spencer. ‘When I’ve been up to say goodnight to Vicki, I’m going out for a breath of fresh air. I’m feeling claustrophobic in my own house. That woman had better not start interfering in my life.’

  ‘Where’s Spencer?’ Laura asked when she finally came downstairs. Vicki had insisted she stay a while longer after Spencer had kissed her goodnight.

  ‘Gone outside for a walk. He likes the occasional cigarette but doesn’t smoke in the house for Vicki’s sake. Can I get you a glass of sherry before supper, Laura?’

  ‘Sherry would be nice but I don’t think I could eat another bite. I’ve eaten far too much over this Christmas period.’

  ‘Have you missed the things you usually did in London?’

  ‘Only the things I did with my parents. I’ve some family but no one close. My friends will be busy socialising and I’m not in the mood for parties.’

  ‘Can I ask you something, Laura?’ Ince passed her the sherry and stood close. ‘What is your friend Andrew Macarthur doing down here? The whole village is agog with speculation. Those who don’t think too deeply reckon he’s after you.’

  ‘If Andrew gets his wish, hopefully it will soon become apparent. What do you think?’

  ‘I think from the way he went for Harry Lean on the night of the concert he’s after Tressa Davey.’

  ‘You’re right, Ince, but you won’t tell anyone, will you? She’s not the easiest girl in the world for a man to catch and it would only complicate things if she found out people were talking about her.’

  ‘I was interested in her once,’ Ince said, smiling at the memories of his failure. ‘But I didn’t get anywhere at all. I might as well have been a bulrush growing in a bog. Her idea of going out for a drink is supping crystal clear water from a moorland stream. She is lovely, though. Andrew Macarthur seems a decent sort of man. I hope he’s successful, although I can’t see how it would work out. There’s no way she’d go and live a domesticated life up in London.’

  Laura sipped her sherry and watched the light from the fire dancing through the
glass. ‘If Andrew is successful, I’m sure he’ll think of something.’

  Ince asked his next question carefully. ‘Have you made up your mind about Marianne Roach yet? Whether you’ll be there when she breaks the news to her mother?’

  ‘No, and I’d rather not think about that when I’m enjoying myself?

  ‘Are you enjoying yourself in my company?’

  She looked at him fully. ‘Yes.’

  Less sure of himself than when he’d last been alone with her here, Ince put a gentle arm round her shoulders. Laura rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes. It was comforting to be close to him.

  He wanted to kiss her but was afraid she’d object and end their slowly forming relationship. Laura was content to stay like this. Being with Vicki had made her forget some of the emptiness Marianne Roach had scored inside her. Ince filled in some more of the spaces.

  ‘We’d better sit down and have our drinks,’ Ince said, his voice low and husky. ‘I don’t want Spencer to come in and see us like this.’

  * * *

  Laura had a wonderful time with Vicki the next day. Vicki brought her doll’s pram and a bagful of toys and they drew pictures and coloured them in, read through the whole fairytale book and made the cake for Vicki’s rejected grandmother. Laura laughed as she showed Vicki over the cottage and the little girl sat at her dressing table and made a mess of her face putting on her lipstick. When her face was washed, they had a lunch of chicken pie and ice cream then roasted a few chestnuts over the open fire in the front room.

  Laura supervised the play when Benjy joined them for the afternoon and then they walked him, with the doll’s pram, back home. Laura had packed a paper bag with more gingerbread men for Vicki and was buttoning up her coat to take her home when Spencer turned up.

  ‘Ohhh, I wanted to walk back with Laura,’ Vicki said grumpily, stamping her foot.

  ‘I had to get some things in the shop,’ Spencer said in a no-nonsense voice. ‘Aunty Daisy is wondering why you haven’t been there to show her your doll’s pram. I’ll take you up the hill now.’