‘He’ll find it hard,’ Ada Prisk said, coming up behind Laura. Ada always seemed to be behind her in any queue.
‘What?’ Laura turned round. ‘I mean pardon, Mrs Prisk.’
‘Spencer Jeffries.’ Ada nodded after the car. ‘Seeing your child off to school on its first day is an emotional time for any parent, but when it’s your one and only and you’re as possessive as he is…’
‘Joy Miller will be feeling much the same way about Benjy, her youngest child,’ Laura murmured thoughtfully.
‘Course they never got on, you know.’
Laura frowned, puzzled. ‘Benjy and Vicki?’
‘No, your late husband and Spencer Jeffries. They didn’t just dislike one another, hate would be a better word for it.’
There were just the two of them left now. Laura was having Andrew to lunch and she asked the fishman for some cod, then stepped back closer to Ada. ‘Do you know why they fell out, Mrs Prisk?’ Maybe the village oracle would answer the question nobody else seemed willing to.
Ada was delighted that at last she had been able to engage the newcomer in a serious chat. ‘I don’t know what was said exactly,’ she told Laura, ‘but they had a terrible row over Natalie, Spencer’s poor late wife. You’d have liked Natalie, you have a lot in common being beautiful and sophisticated. Well, Spencer knocked on the door of Little Cot in the middle of the night and threatened to break Bill’s back. They were shouting at the tops of their voices and woke up the whole village. A scuffle started in the road and Mike Penhaligon and the vicar had to prise them apart or it would have got much worse. Lucky for them Constable Geach wasn’t involved.’
‘Really?’ Laura said, her brain ticking over. Why hadn’t anybody mentioned this to her before? Presumably they didn’t want to say anything detrimental about their benefactor. ‘And you have no idea what the row was about?’
‘None, other than that Natalie’s name was mentioned a lot.’
Laura paid for her fish and the two women changed places. Laura continued with her questioning. ‘When was this? I mean when did it happen?’
The fishman looked at Ada impatiently for her order; he had a package to deliver to School House. Cecil Roach had written to him telling him to leave it on the table and he would find his money inside the bread bin. Mr Roach had said there would be no one about; his wife was in bed with the flu. People would think he was only delivering fish but the fishman liked to get his other merchandise out of his van as soon as possible.
‘’Twas about a couple of weeks before the little maid was born.’ Ada replied, ignoring the Ashman’s twitching face. ‘I remember Bill was down for the weekend and he went home for Christmas. Why don’t you come back to my house for a cup of tea, Mrs Jennings?’
‘No, thank you,’ Laura said hastily; she didn’t relish warding off the stringent attempts Ada would no doubt make to drag all her innermost secrets out of her. ‘Perhaps some other time, Mrs Prisk.’
Laura hurried across the road, dumped the fish on the kitchen table then ran upstairs to root out Bill’s diaries from where she had thrown them on top of the wardrobe of the spare room. She had forgotten all about them with so many things happening. Perhaps he’d written his secrets in his diaries and she would learn what the violent row with Spencer had been about. Anything that would clear the air between her and Spencer would be helpful in reestablishing her relationship with Vicki. With Andrew safe, it was what was most important to her now. She intended to just happen to be outside the school this afternoon when the children went home.
She took Bill’s diaries out of the cloth bag and sat on the bed to read them. They started several years before he had left the village to seek his fortune. She put aside the earlier volumes. She flicked through some of the pages and read his triumphant gloating when he had bought Little Cot from Harry Lean: ‘Paid over the odds but the old man wouldn’t have sold the cottage to me at any price. Out from under Big Mouth’s thumb.’ Big Mouth was presumably Harry. She didn’t want to read any more of his spite and moved on to the diary dated 1943. She flicked through the pages until she came to the end of the year. She read the entries for the week leading up to Christmas. It revealed what he’d been planning to buy her as a present – an ugly cut-glass punch bowl which she’d hated – and his plans for her father’s company in the new year, all of which he had achieved mainly by underhand means.
The entry for Sunday, 20 December, was brief: ‘Had a set-to with S.J. The swine woke me up. Stupid cow shouldn’t have told him.’
The stupid cow probably referred to Natalie. What shouldn’t she have told Spencer? There were no more clues on the next pages. She was none the wiser about what the quarrel was about.
* * *
In the middle of the afternoon Laura made her way to Johnny Prouse’s cottage. She found him in his back garden contentedly watching his new bantam hens which Bert Miller had bought from Launceston market for him. He hadn’t had the heart to get another dog after Admiral died.
‘Afternoon to ’ee, m’dear.’ Johnny doffed his flat cap and grinned from ear to ear. ‘Come and have a look at my new arrivals. What do you think of ’em?’
‘They’re beautiful, Johnny,’ she said, studying the red and brown birds as they pecked and scratched for the corn Johnny had just thrown to them. ‘I particularly like the speckled one.’
‘That’s Patmos,’ the old man said proudly.
‘Patmos? You’ve named them all, Johnny?’
‘Ais, they’re all named after places I’ve seen or visited on board ship. I was in the merchant navy as well as the Royal Navy, you know. I’ve told you I’ve been all round the world, haven’t I?’ He pointed to the little bobbing hens in turn. ‘That’s Milan, that’s Morocco, that’s Sicily, that’s Brittany and that big bugger there, he’s the rooster, that’s Nelson, not named after a place but it speaks for itself, don’t it?’
‘It does,’ Laura agreed, pleased to see him so cheerful. ‘Their names make them all rather exotic.’
‘Do ’ee think so? When I have some chicks, how about I call one Laura?’
‘I’d be very honoured. Now, you’re not getting cold out here, are you?’
‘Bless your heart,’ Johnny laughed. ‘You’re a good maid. Don’t worry. I shall be going in drekkly.’
Laura took a handful of corn from the small sack in Johnny’s hands and scattered it through the wire netting for the hens. He noticed that she was looking serious. ‘You got something on your mind, m’dear?’
She flushed a little because she was about to lie. ‘I’ve just been reading some diaries of Bill’s. I was astonished to find out why he’d fallen out with Spencer Jeffries.’
‘I’m very sorry about that but if you mean to tell me, Laura, I’d rather not know. It must be very personal.’ Johnny had gone serious now and Laura was sorry for dampening his spirits.
‘You’re right,’ Laura said. It seemed that only a few people knew why Bill and Spencer had quarrelled. There was Ince, Daisy and Bunty but they weren’t telling. ‘The past is better left in the past. When do you expect the hens to start laying?’
‘As soon as they’re settled. You ever had a bantam’s egg? ’Tis delicious. You’ll have two from my first batch. I promise ’ee that.’
When she moved on towards her final destination, the school, Laura saw Ma Noon coming along the road with her pony and jingle. Laura waved to her. The cloaked and bonneted old woman pulled on the reins and brought the good-natured tawny pony to a halt. ‘Good afternoon, Mrs Noon,’ Laura said quickly. ‘I’m Laura Jennings. I’ve seen you in the village a few times and I just wanted to introduce myself. How did you manage in the snow earlier this week?’
‘It’s very kind of you to ask. I managed like I always have done, perfectly well, thank you, Mrs Jennings,’ Ma Noon replied and Laura was taken aback to be addressed by a cultured voice. She had expected the old woman’s accent to be as Cornish as Johnny’s or Daisy’s. Under the bonnet her hair was snowy white and pile
d on top of her head, held fast by tortoiseshell combs. Although Laura had been told she must be nearing seventy years old, her skin was smooth and virtually wrinkle-free in her fat face; jewel-clear green eyes studied her.
Laura felt foolish. She had hoped Ma Noon would be more talkative and perhaps throw some light on Bill’s quarrel with Spencer. Laura stepped out of the jingle’s way, and taking this to mean that was all she had wanted to say, Ma Noon touched the pony’s shoulder with the reins and journeyed on. Laura was now as curious to learn something about Ma Noon as she was to find out about Bill and Spencer’s fight. People rarely spoke of Ma Noon, except to say she was mazed and one should stay away from her; the label ‘Ma’ didn’t suit her and Laura realised it was meant disparagingly.
It was about twenty minutes before the schoolchildren were due to leave for home and Laura made her way to the Millers’ house. She found Joy sitting dejectedly in her pinny in the kitchen, the room untidy, a basket of ironing unattended to, the floor not swept, the sink full of dishes.
‘Are you feeling poorly, Joy?’ she asked, taking in the neglected scene.
‘Oh, I’m fine, Laura,’ she replied as if she was extremely tired. ‘I’ve done everything upstairs but lost heart when I got down here. It’s been so horribly quiet without Benjy running about chattering all day. Even though all four of them came home for dinner, I’ve still missed him.’
‘Why didn’t you come up to me rather than sit here like this?’
Joy raised and lowered a heavy arm. ‘I couldn’t be bothered. Don’t look so worried, Laura. I’ll be fine tomorrow. I’m just mourning the end of an era, that’s all. By the time the brats have their half-term I’ll be tearing my hair out wanting them all back at school. I’ve been considering asking my old man if we can have another baby but we can’t afford another mouth to feed. Oh well, I’ll put the kettle on. We’ve just got time for a quick cuppa before I go and fetch Benjy. He won’t like it. He’ll want his brother and sisters to see him home but I’m darned if I’ll miss his first day. I hope he got on all right but having the others there meant he wasn’t very nervous.’ She heaved her flabby body out of the chair. ‘Heard any more news about that kidnapping business?’
‘No, and I hope I won’t.’ The incident was well and truly over as far as Laura was concerned. ‘I wonder how Vicki got on at school. She’s not used to being away from the farm.’
‘Aw, she’ll be all right. She’s a friendly little mite and she’s got Benjy in her class. They went in this morning holding hands.’
‘Did they?’ Laura smiled, wishing she’d seen it. ‘What was Spencer like?’
‘Like a fish out of water, what else? But I don’t think he noticed that he was in among a lot of women when he took off her coat and helped her change her shoes in the cloakroom. He gave her dinner money to Miss Knight then gave her thr’pence for tuck. He kept kissing her and I thought he was going to cry when he had to leave. Miss Knight had to keep reassuring him. He would have liked to pick her up and take her home for dinner but it wouldn’t be practical with him and Ince working on the farm. At least with dinners being provided at school now he or Ince won’t have to make a pasty every day for her.’ As Joy handed Laura a mug of tea, she said meaningfully, ‘Ince is picking her up. You seen much of him lately?’
‘Ince is just a friend,’ Laura said, her mind elsewhere. ‘I’ll walk with you to the school and ask Vicki how she enjoyed her first day. Spencer said I can talk to her now. I haven’t been over to the farm yet because I didn’t want to push my luck. I’ve bought her a birthday present for last Wednesday but I’m biding my time before I give it to her.’
‘You’ve got very fond of Vicki, haven’t you?’
‘Yes.’ Laura’s face glowed. ‘I first saw her on my second day here. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more beautiful child and when you get to know her, you realise she has a character to match.’
‘I don’t think Spencer will let you share her.’
‘I don’t want him to,’ Laura said sharply, but she couldn’t lie. ‘Well, just a bit.’
When the women reached the school, they found Ince waiting with the horse and cart. He was leaning against the school wall with his hands in his pockets. He straightened up and said hello but didn’t smile or move towards them. Laura knew he must be feeling hurt because she had made no attempt to contact him since the night of the dance; she’d turned her face away from him when he’d bent his head to kiss her goodnight. She was very fond of him, she had enjoyed their intimacy, but she was too wary to fall in love again, even with a man who was gentler and more sympathetic than most. If things had unfolded in the same way much later in their relationship, it might have been a different story. She excused herself to Joy and went over to him.
‘Have you been waiting long?’ she asked to break the ice.
‘No.’ He kept his eyes on the door the children would spill out of in about five minutes’ time.
‘I’m, um, sorry I haven’t seen much of you late, Ince.’
‘You needn’t explain, Laura. I was there when you needed someone and now your feelings have moved on.’ He looked at her briefly and his voice was soft and tender but pain was evident in his face.
She knew he was right. ‘It seems you knew more about me than I did myself. I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you, Ince.’ He kept his eyes rooted on the school door. ‘You’ve got nothing to be sorry about. Your world was turned upside down before you came here and has been tossed and hurled about ever since. I shouldn’t have expected you to fall in love with me. How could you in those circumstances? I should have stepped back and not put my own feelings on the line.’
Laura sighed, her heart sinking down to her boots where it had lived for so much of her adult life. ‘I feel terrible, Ince. I don’t regret what happened between us. I hope we can still be friends.’
He looked at her fully then and his smile was warm. ‘Of course we’ll still be friends. I just need a little time to adjust to thinking of us as only that.’
Neither of them could think of anything else to say so they looked back at the school and saw Cecil Roach opening the door. He positioned himself there as the children came filing out, their heads up and shoulders back, conscious of his stern gaze on them.
‘Here she comes,’ Ince said, taking Laura’s arm and propelling her towards the children who had started a stampede towards the gate, Vicki among them with her golden hair flying behind her as she ran. ‘The one you really care about.’
Chapter 29
The next morning Tressa was walking along Rosemerryn Lane. She was pulling a small cart behind her, taking two milk churns down to the platform to await collection from the milk company. The cylindrical churns, one marked with a capital E, half-filled with last evening’s milk, and the other marked M for this morning’s, clattered and banged together despite being lashed down with a rope, their ill-fitting lids threatening to fall off. She hoisted the churns up next to those of Rosemerryn Farm then loaded the two empty ones scored with the name Tregorlan on them.
She turned the cart round and began the journey home, paying no heed to the whirling and clashing of the empty churns which worsened when she turned off on to the farm track. She was thinking of the first time she had met Andrew. Here was the very spot where he had fallen over. She stopped and relived every moment of it; he was rarely out of her mind these days.
When she’d first encountered him here she had thought him an irritating idiot. When she had deliberately made him walk through the boggy patch on the moor, she had thought him a nuisance and was eager to get rid of him. When he’d gone back to London she’d felt strangely sorry for her unkind and offhand behaviour towards him, and when he’d unexpectedly come back and seemed always to be around her, she had eventually got used to him. It had been a bit like having a brother again. His declaration that he adored her in Reddacoombe’s farmhouse had shocked her.
When she and Spencer had got him safely back to Tregorlan Farm, she’d had time to
think about what he had said. Her feelings were new, raw and quite frightening, but she had enjoyed exploring them. She had liked the feeling of holding him in her arms when she’d helped him to sit up in her brother’s bed. He had spoken of making love and when, lying in her narrow bed, she had tried to imagine what it would be like with him, it had excited and alarmed her. At every opportunity she had slipped into his bedroom and gazed at him as he’d slept, taken up his meals and fetched him books when he was awake. She had allowed him to win at a game of draughts and her heart had thumped loudly in her ears when he’d laughed gleefully at his triumph and his face had shone with happiness. She liked to look at all the moods displayed on his handsome face. She liked being with him.
Three days after she had found him, the snow started to thaw and the doctor, satisfied with his progress, had driven Andrew back to the pub. She had wanted to visit him there, but Jacka always seemed to have urgent jobs for her on the farm. Andrew had sent word via Laura that he was strong enough to come to the farm today and Tressa was looking forward to seeing him again. She didn’t want him to go back to London.
She was still in the same spot when the sounds of a squeaky bicycle told her the postwoman was bumping up behind her. Tressa went to meet her.
‘’Tis a treat meeting you down here,’ the cheery middle-aged postwoman said as she sorted through a handful of mail. ‘You’ll save me a bit of a journey and a muddy pawing from your dog. Here you are, my luvver, a letter for your father.’
Jacka was already sitting at the kitchen table waiting for his breakfast when she got there. It had begun to pour with rain and she shook her mane of wet hair. She took off her dripping coat, scarf and overalls and washed her hands at the sink, then encircling her father’s broad neck with her arms, she kissed his ruddy cheek. ‘You all right, Dad?’
‘Yes, my handsome,’ he replied, breathing heavily. ‘Did ’ee get the milk down to the platform all right?’
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