Kilgarthen

by Kilgarthen (retail) (epub)

  * * *

  Andrew asked Mike Penhaligon’s advice about what he should wear for the dance and Mike told him that most of the men would wear their suits. Andrew changed into his, a Mayfair creation, far superior in cloth and style to those he would mingle with tonight. He put on a plain grey tie to tone it down.

  He joined Mike in the bar for a drink. ‘Phew, you smell like some foreign sheik, boy,’ Mike exclaimed heartily at his expensive aftershave, pushing a small Scotch at him. The landlord winked and rubbed furiously at the thatch on his chin. ‘After the maids tonight, are ’ee? If so, you’d better cheer up a bit. You look ruddy miserable.’

  ‘Not miserable, Mike,’ Andrew corrected him. ‘Serious. I’m seriously trying to work out a plan so that one maid in particular will finally take notice of me and fall head over heels in love with me.’

  Mike bashed him playfully on the arm. ‘One maid in particular, eh? Let me see now. You turn up here again out of the blue five minutes after leaving for London. You can’t wait to get out your bed every morning and are off and out. You’re hardly here at all, in fact. Your hands are getting grimed up and tough from hard outdoor work.’

  Andrew grinned. Mike was going to wring every drop he could out of the situation.

  ‘You always head off in one direction and come back from the same way. Jacka Davey’s got no complaints about all the extra unpaid help he’s been receiving and Joan is delighted her cream teas are so well appreciated. Let me see. Someone else lives on that farm, I b’lieve. A dear little maid, as pretty as a primrose. Couldn’t be she, could it? It couldn’t be young Tressa Davey who’s caught your fancy, eh?’

  Andrew lifted the Scotch towards his lips to disguise his growing discomfort but Mike clutched his shoulder, half dragged him over the bar top and whispered in his ear, ‘How’re you getting on with her?’

  ‘Not very well,’ Andrew admitted, feeling foolish. He related the tale of the jasmine toiletries and how Tressa had been looking at him rather than listening to Laura’s gramophone not so long ago. ‘I think I might be getting somewhere at last, Mike, but it’s very slow work.’

  Mike looked around the bar as if the two men were conspirators in some crime they were about to commit. Pat was wiping a glass and looking at them curiously but he ignored her. ‘Too eager,’ he told Andrew like a deliberating judge. ‘That’s your trouble, boy. You’ve been showing that maid just how eager you are. Now, take my advice, and ignore her a bit. When you get to the dance tonight, don’t throw yourself all over her, just stand back and ignore her. Get her guessing. She knows you’re interested in her all right. She’s playing hard to get. Sometimes at the dances we get one or two pretty young maids from outside the village. Dance with they. Dance with anyone, but don’t fall over yourself to dance with her. She won’t like that. She must be used to being the centre of your attention by now. I can guarantee she’ll come running to you like a dog after a rabbit if she thinks you’ve got fed up and are looking elsewhere.’

  Andrew shook his head. His heart was full of doubt. ‘I don’t know, Mike. It’s too risky. She might not give me another chance.’

  ‘I didn’t say ignore her like she don’t exist, just play hard to get for a while. Get her puzzled. Get her thinking. I reckon Laura’s hard at work for you anyway. If she’s got the maid over her place getting her all dolled up, well, it isn’t for my benefit, is it, boy?’ Mike tapped his large nose. ‘Tactics, boy, tactics. ’Tis what gets things done in the end.’

  * * *

  Laura was looking forward to the dance. Although she still felt sore from Spencer’s rage, at least her preoccupation with their violent quarrel as she’d gone over every word time and time again had made her forget all about Bill and her life with him. She felt she could rise above this too. And there was always the hope she would see Vicki again. Spencer still took her to visit Daisy and she would probably see her in the shop one day soon.

  She walked down to the village hall with Tressa beside her, proud of the way she had helped turn the girl out. She had cut Tressa’s hair to one straight length and persuaded her to let a pretty mother-of-pearl encrusted slide sweep it back from her face. A belt with a diamanté buckle from one of Laura’s evening dresses had made her blue dress look more fashionable and enhanced her enviable slim figure. Laura had been worried about her shoes, those horrible brown clumpy things Tressa usually wore would have spoiled the whole effect. She had nothing that would fit the girl’s feet and was delightfully surprised when Tressa took a pair of strappy high-heeled shoes out of her bag.

  ‘These belong to Aunty Joan,’ she explained. ‘She used to dance a lot in her younger days and luckily we’re the same size.’

  ‘Can you dance, Tressa?’

  ‘Yes,’ the girl answered. ‘I didn’t want to learn but Aunty Joan was so keen on teaching me I didn’t have the heart to refuse.’

  ‘Jacka and Joan not coming tonight?’

  ‘No, they usually do but they said they were too tired. Dad isn’t very well these days. He gets a lot of indigestion.’

  ‘What a shame,’ Laura said. Were the older Daveys making a deliberate withdrawal tonight in the hope Tressa would meet a nice young man? Joan had told her of Jacka’s wishes for his daughter. Laura could only marvel that they couldn’t see what Andrew’s motives were for being so often at the farm. The match was unlikely in many ways and she supposed they could see no further than the ends of their noses. She hoped they wouldn’t object if the day ever came when Tressa returned Andrew’s love.

  The camel coat doesn’t matter, Laura thought, looking Tressa up and down one last time as they entered the communal building that was already buzzing with voices and echoing to the strains of ‘In The Mood’ from the local band. Tressa would be taking the dowdy thing off. There was no doubt that Andrew would notice just how lovely the girl he adored was looking tonight. Laura hoped that the difference in her appearance would make Tressa feel grown-up and feminine and would lead to a change in her feelings towards him. She hoped there wouldn’t be any Harry Leans here tonight to spoil things.

  The two women were surprised to find Andrew wasn’t there waiting for them. Laura expected him to rush forward and press a soft drink into their hands and ask Tressa to dance with him. She didn’t have time to ponder on it, Ince claimed her immediately for the next dance and she left Tressa with Roslyn Farrow.

  ‘You look lovely, Tressa,’ Roslyn said with a glint in her mischievous eyes. ‘Your father might regret staying at home and not keeping an eye on the admirers you’ll draw tonight.’

  Tressa smiled ruefully as she held Andrew’s cigarette lighter – he’d left it in Little Cot. She was searching through the faces in the crowd. ‘There’s quite a few people here already.’

  ‘Yes, we should raise a goodly sum towards the church and school funds. There are a few faces missing. Only Mr Roach has come tonight. I’m afraid both Marianne and Mrs Roach are poorly with colds. It’s lovely to have Johnny Prouse with us although I’ll have to watch that he doesn’t dance too much and tire himself out.’

  ‘Who’s this young lady you’re talking to, my dear?’ Kinsley Farrow enthused jovially as he drew near to them. ‘Good Lord! Tressa! You look a real treat, doesn’t she, dear?’

  ‘She does, my love, I was just telling her,’ Roslyn smiled, scanning the people and looking for the same man she hoped Tressa was looking for. Thanks to Mike Penhaligon, it was all round Kilgarthen that Andrew Macarthur, that quite nice up-country bloke, was chasing after the almost unapproachable Tressa Davey. Was Tressa all dressed up tonight for him? She had never taken any trouble with her appearance before and she was certainly looking for someone.

  It was an hour later when Andrew turned up laughing uproariously with Mike Penhaligon. ‘Where have you been?’ Laura hissed, tugging on his arm and trying to disengage him from the noisy landlord. ‘There’s plenty of young men here, some have come from North Hill, Lewannick and all over, and Tressa has been dancing with every one of them
.’

  Andrew groaned and made to go to Tressa who was being ardently chatted to by a tall good-looking youth in army uniform next to the stage, but Mike yanked him back. ‘Leave her guessing, boy. Don’t show you’re too eager, remember?’

  ‘Mind your own business, Mike,’ Laura snapped scornfully, pulling Andrew away from him.

  She was outraged the next moment when Mike lifted her hand off Andrew’s arm. ‘Leave this to us men, m’dear,’ he said, winking slyly. ‘We know what we’re doing.’

  ‘Well, of all the…’ Her protests were lost in the hubbub as Ince whisked her away for another dance.

  ‘Just a few minutes,’ Andrew insisted to his unasked-for love counsellor. ‘The opposition looks too good to risk more than that.’

  ‘That’ll be enough to show her, I reckon,’ Mike laughed. They were soon joined by a group of men eager to listen to Mike’s side-splitting jokes.

  Tressa wasn’t much interested in the soldier and this time when she looked round the room she spotted Andrew. Their eyes met but instead of leaving the other men and coming over to her, he simply nodded and looked away. She was puzzled and disappointed. This was strange. He was usually so attentive. She had taken his presence on the farm for granted since Christmas and it hadn’t been until earlier this evening in Little Cot that she had considered how she felt about having him around her. She didn’t find him strange any more. She realised she enjoyed his company. This feeling of disappointment was completely new to her.

  She’d been silent for so long, trying to sort out her thoughts, that the soldier got the message and left her standing there alone.

  Andrew was heartened to see Tressa was still looking at him. He’d had enough of this ‘ignore her’ nonsense. He’d go over to her and ask her to dance with him. A sudden surge towards the entrance of the hall by the men around him carried him along with them and the moment was lost. Someone had entered and they were all eager to greet the newcomer. Andrew found himself shaking hands with Sam Beatty.

  ‘I see we’re both back in this neck of the woods, Mr Macarthur,’ Beatty said, his grin seeming to stretch his horsy face to twice its length. Beatty scanned the gathering. ‘I see the charming Mrs Jennings is here. I trust you are both keeping well?’

  ‘We are, thank you, Mr Beatty,’ Andrew said a trifle impatiently. ‘Would you please excuse me? I’ve promised this dance to someone special.’ Escaping from the group of men and the women now pressing round Sam Beatty, Andrew dodged Ada Prisk who, because she couldn’t get close enough to the newcomer, was about to ask him why the other Londoner was back among them.

  He was finally at Tressa’s side. He didn’t care about Mike’s advice and blurted out. ‘You look absolutely beautiful, Tressa. Would you like to dance with me? I promise you that I dance better than I can push a wheelbarrow.’

  * * *

  Andrew drove back to Kilgarthen from Tregorlan Farm thinking the evening could not have worked out better. He wasn’t sure if Mike’s ploy had worked but Tressa had agreed to dance with him and she had felt soft, warm and pliable in his arms. She had even looked into his eyes for a moment and made a mild compliment on how he looked in his suit. He was grateful to Joan for teaching her to dance but he was surprised she could also jitterbug. If the villagers thought he was a show-off as he gyrated round the floor with her, he couldn’t have cared less.

  It had been arranged that Ince Polkinghorne would drive Tressa home, but knowing he would probably want to spend more time with Laura, Andrew had artfully offered to do the job for him; Mike had said he could use his car. When he fetched Tressa’s coat, Mike had grinned broadly and given him the ‘thumbs up’.

  Tressa didn’t talk much on the drive home and insisted he did not get out of the car to see her to the door. How he would love to have kissed her goodnight. ‘Would you like to come to the pictures with me one evening next week, Tressa?’ he asked boldly.

  She made him wait for an answer as she picked up the bag containing her other clothes and a pair of shoes which were lying at her feet. ‘What’s on?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ll find out and let you know tomorrow. Does that mean you’ll come?’

  She looked straight ahead out of the car windscreen rather than at him. ‘If it’s all right with Dad.’

  ‘Oh good.’ He hadn’t felt so boyishly excited since his school days. As soon as he got back to the pub he’d dig out a local newspaper and see what was being shown at the nearest cinemas. He wouldn’t be able to sleep. He’d be back at Tregorlan Farm at the crack of dawn. He’d help with the work then he’d go to church with the family to make a good impression on Jacka.

  He turned off the Tregorlan track into the lane and almost immediately was dazzled by a flashing fight. He slowed down. He saw a man holding a torch, standing astride in the middle of the road flagging him down. ‘What’s going on here?’ Bringing the car to a halt he wound his window down and stuck his head out. ‘Are you in trouble?’ he called as the man closed in on him.

  ‘Fanks fer stopping, mate,’ the man said in a deep throaty voice. Andrew recognised a Cockney accent. ‘Me van’s skidded into the ditch. Would’ya mind helping me push it out?’

  Andrew was mindful of his suit and good shoes but in the mood he was in, he would have walked to the moon for anyone. ‘I’d be glad to,’ he said, getting out of the car.

  ‘Good on yer, mate. Blimey, yer all togged up. Been out fer a fancy meal, have yer?’

  ‘No, a village dance,’ Andrew said, his memories still keeping him warm despite the biting cold night air.

  ‘This won’t take long. Me mate’s behind the wheel. Wiv a bit of extra muscle, we’ll have the van back on the road in a jiffy.’

  Andrew strode up to the back of the van and put his hands on the door on the side furthest away from the ditch.

  ‘That’s the ticket, Mr Macarfur. Hold it right there.’

  How did the man know his name? The next moment Andrew felt something hard being pushed into his back. He turned round and found a gun being shoved into his gut. ‘What the…?’

  ‘Nice ’n easy now, Mr Macarfur,’ the man said, his voice now taunting and crisped with a menacing edge. ‘Be a good bloke and get into the back of the van.’

  Andrew was frightened but peered through the darkness to get a good look at his assailant. He was large-framed and wearing a long dark overcoat and a woollen hat pulled down over his ears and forehead. It was difficult to get a good view of his face in the shadows, all he could see were two black slitted eyes and a big nose, but Andrew had a good idea who he was. ‘Why?’ he forced his voice to sound calm. ‘What are you going to do with me?’

  ‘That’s my business,’ the Cockney rasped, lifting the gun higher until it was level with Andrew’s eyes. ‘Now don’t get me angry. Just do as yer told.’

  His aggressor opened the van doors and Andrew was bundled inside.

  Chapter 25

  Spencer stood on the shore of Polzeath beach on the north coast with his hands rammed in his pockets, staring across the hostile grey surge of the raging Atlantic Ocean. Out in the waters lay the dreaded Doom Bar, the graveyard of many a sailing ship as it had entered the Camel Estuary for Padstow. The harsh east wind and salty air stung his face and he was forced to screw up his eyes to be able to see. He didn’t feel the cold which reddened his nose, his tight mouth and the tips of his ears.

  He hadn’t been here for over five years; in the fifth month of Natalie’s pregnancy, they had stood on this spot together, warmed by the hot sun, happily thinking of names for their baby. They had made plans for all their futures together. Natalie had loved this beach, she’d loved the wild rugged coastline with its striking headlands that had withstood the worst of the elements for centuries. She had enjoyed their day out, the last time she’d ever come here.

  He could still hardly bring himself to believe that Natalie was dead, gone for ever. Oh, why hadn’t she told him the pregnancy could put her life in danger? Why had she left him? Moisture s
eeped from Spencer’s eyes but it had nothing to do with the fierceness of the elements he was facing.

  He’d never intended to come here again, but today he’d felt he had to get away from the farm and had ended up here. Was he searching for that long-lost happiness? He’d wanted to get away from Ince’s obvious happiness at having a close and growing relationship with the beautiful widow. The beautiful widow, that was how he referred to Laura Jennings in his mind. He couldn’t say her last name, it belonged to the repugnant man who had once hurt his beloved wife so much. Worst of all, he’d had to get away from the little girl who was the only reason he kept going. He couldn’t face the questions on her sweet face, knowing he couldn’t answer them. Why was he so grumpy with her? Why was he being horrible at times to Uncle Ince? Why couldn’t she see Laura and Benjy? He’d asked Ince to look after Vicki for the day and take her to the Methodist chapel with him then go on to Daisy’s for dinner. Being the good friend he was, Ince had complied without asking questions and Spencer had told him he had no idea when he’d be back.

  He hadn’t invited Barney to come with him but the dog had leaped into the car and he couldn’t be bothered to order him out. Barney liked it here. He was racing hither and thither across the beach, enjoying the different environment, stopping every now and again to sniff at a piece of driftwood or seaweed or the remains of a gull. As if he sensed his master’s melancholy, every now and then he glanced anxiously at him. Spencer found his devotion and carefree spirit a comfort.

  The tide was rolling in, surging forward on long gigantic breakers, thundering and tossing up white lacy spray, getting closer and closer to his feet. He watched the sea without feeling, and for one terrible moment he wanted to stay here and let it wash over him, to let the waves get higher and deeper and sweep him out to sea. He wanted to end it all. Blot out the pain, blot out his terrible aching loss.