Kilgarthen

by Kilgarthen (retail) (epub)

  ‘Yes. The yield was up again this morning.’ She hoped the good news would soften him. ‘Andrew’s coming over later.’

  ‘He won’t be strong enough to help about the place yet,’ Joan said, turning over rashers of bacon sizzling in the huge black frying pan.

  Jacka very carefully said nothing.

  ‘You don’t mind him coming over here, do you, Dad?’ Tressa asked, watching her father from the corner of her dark eyes as she laid the table with the oddments of cutlery.

  ‘’Tis all the same to me what he does,’ Jacka muttered grumpily, studying his fingernails on outstretched hands. ‘Must be about time he went back to London. Be nice to see un again before he goes, I s’pose.’

  ‘Andrew told me he might not be going back to London,’ Tressa said, still watching Jacka’s face.

  ‘Why ever not!’ Jacka exclaimed accusingly, banging his fist on the table and making his knife and fork jump. ‘There’s nothing for he down here.’

  ‘What have you got against Andrew?’ Tressa demanded defiantly, putting her rough hands on her slender hips. ‘I don’t understand you, Dad. He’s been really good to us. It’s not like you to be so ungrateful.’

  ‘Don’t you talk to me like that!’ Jacka shouted, jumping to his feet and slapping a hand to his head because the quick movement had made him feel dizzy. His heart started thudding uncomfortably, as it often did, and he broke into a sweat. ‘You’re getting bloody cheeky, my girl, and I won’t have it, do you hear? I’ll smack ’ee one round the bleddy ear.’

  ‘Calm down, Jacka,’ Joan said worriedly, pulling on his arm to try to get him back on his chair. Tressa’s got a point. Andrew’s a good man. You’ve said so often enough to me yourself. Ever since the vicar mentioned he had a fancy for Tressa you’ve turned against un. I thought you’d be pleased. After all, it was you who’s been telling the maid to look for a husband. Now as soon as a man’s interested in her, you’ve gone like this. It don’t add up. It isn’t as if she’s thrown herself into his arms. You know Tressa’s not like that.’

  His face white, his large body trembling, Jacka sat down. He took the tea towel lying over Joan’s shoulder and used it to mop his hot wet brow. Through tight lips he mumbled, ‘I just don’t want to see her hurt, that’s all.’

  ‘Whatever Andrew does, he would never hurt me,’ Tressa said quietly. Jacka grunted and she and Joan exchanged worried looks. He didn’t look at all well and these episodes of bad temper followed by physical debility were getting more frequent.

  ‘Why don’t we just wait and see what happens,’ Joan said wisely, returning to the frying pan. ‘If you ask me, Jacka, you’re jealous of another man showing he cares for your daughter, despite your wishes for her future.’

  The family ate their breakfast in an uncomfortable silence. Jacka got up first from the table. ‘I s’pose you want to stay in the yard this morning then?’ he muttered at Tressa. ‘You can stack that hay that’s fallen down in the barn.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad,’ she replied, wanting to hug him and make him feel better. She remembered the letter and got up from the table and pulled it out of her coat pocket. ‘I forgot all about this. It’s for you, Dad. It looks official.’

  ‘Must be from the bank, your receipt for the mortgage money you sent off, Jacka,’ Joan said, her eyes on the long buff envelope. She and Tressa watched Jacka open it; letters were rare on Tregorlan Farm and they always stirred eager interest.

  Jacka unfolded the white piece of paper inside and read its contents. Suddenly he gasped and gurgled, making a horrible long rattling noise, and clutched at his chest. ‘It’s not right… I sent it, I—’ The next moment he thumped down on the floor, the letter grasped in his fist as a spasm of pain gripped his heart.

  ‘Dad!’ Tressa rushed and knelt over him. ‘What’s the matter? Get up!’

  Joan grabbed Tressa’s shoulder. ‘He’s very ill, Tressa. Run and call for the doctor. Quick! Hurry!’ She pulled Tressa to her feet and shoved her towards the door. ‘Run, Tressa!’

  Tressa was stunned. She stood there watching her father moaning and writhing in agony. Her brain couldn’t take in what was happening.

  ‘Run, Tressa! For goodness sake!’ Joan screamed at her as she pulled open Jacka’s shirt buttons.

  Tressa sprang back to life and tore out of the door. She pulled on her boots. Out in the yard she shouted at Meg to stay put then ran at full pelt down the muddy track. The rain was heavy and she hadn’t stopped to get her coat; she was soaked through to the skin in moments and splashed nearly all the way up her legs with mud. All she could think of was her father’s face, masked in pain and despair, his life in obvious danger.

  As she ran, she gasped in mouthfuls of air. Very soon her lungs felt that they would burst but she didn’t slow down. Suddenly she was falling. She hit the tarmaced lane and bounced and skidded along, ripping her trousers and bruising her knees, skinning her arms, knocking the last little bit of breath out of her. She pulled herself to a sitting position, her knees raised, her upper body hunched over them. She panted to regain some strength, cursing herself for falling.

  Moments later she was up on her feet again. She couldn’t run as fast and limped from the pain in her knees. She made several yards then a stitch attacked her side but she ran on despite the agony. She stopped once to take in some deep breaths and to push the wet hair out of her eyes. The rain was coming down so fiercely it was pummelling her head, running through her hair and dripping off her nose and chin. Her despair at her father’s situation was growing and she held back the need to burst into tears. She was off once more, ignoring the pain in her knees and the rawness in her chest, running as fast as she could.

  She made the top of the village hill and rather than looking at the shop or the public telephone, her eyes homed in on the pub.

  Andrew was sitting with Pat and Mike round the kitchen table. Mike took several local and national newspapers every week and they were all reading as they finished their breakfast of toast and dark thick-cut marmalade and a second cup of tea.

  Andrew turned the page of a local paper he was reading gingerly – his hands were still sore and didn’t have a good grip. He searched the columns of Situations Vacant then his eyes were drawn to a boxed advertisement for the position of a partner in a law practice in Bodmin. He made a mental note of the telephone number. It wouldn’t hurt to speak to the partners. He hadn’t given up on Tressa, in fact she was getting quite friendly, and Jacka’s change in attitude had done nothing to put him off. He was hopeful he could persuade Jacka he was not a cad only after her maidenly virtue.

  There was a terrific crash on the outside pub doors, which had already been unlocked.

  Mike rose to his feet.

  ‘Don’t say, there’s been another accident,’ Pat gasped, clutching the corner of the table.

  Andrew threw the paper down and joined Mike. They could hear someone running down the passage. Before either of them could reach the kitchen door, it flew open and a very dishevelled Tressa spilled through it.

  Andrew beat Mike to her by pushing the burly landlord out of the way. He grabbed her by the shoulders and her hands flew up to grip his shirt. ‘What is it, darling? What’s happened?’

  Her eyes were bulging, her breath came in ragged noisy gasps, her mouth was gaping open and it was several moments before speech would come. ‘Dad… collapsed… doctor,’ she implored him. Then her strength left her, her knees buckled and she passed out. Andrew gathered her up in his arms.

  ‘I’ll phone for the doctor,’ Mike said, taking charge. ‘Andrew, take her through to our sitting room. Pat, get blankets and dry clothes.’

  Tressa came to moments later to find herself being carried in Andrew’s arms. ‘Andrew…’ she moaned.

  ‘It’s all right, Tressa,’ he said tenderly. ‘Mike’s phoned for the doctor. Just relax and you’ll feel better in a moment. Pat’s getting you some dry clothes.’ He was holding her closely against his body and his shirt was wet from her sopp
ing clothes and hair.

  ‘No!’ Tressa struggled as she came fully too. ‘Must get back to Dad. He needs me. Will you take me back? Please, Andrew.’ He looked helplessly at Pat.

  ‘You’d better do as she wants or she’s going to work herself up into a frenzy. Here, take this.’ Pat threw a blanket round her. ‘I’ll get the car keys.’

  The Penhaligons’ car had been found abandoned in a lane. Andrew put Tressa in the front passenger seat then took his coat from Pat who was standing with it under an umbrella.

  When they sped off, Tressa huddled down in the blanket and wiped her wet face with it. She stared out of the window, willing the car to take wings and fly. ‘Thanks, Andrew. Drive as fast as you can.’ Her voice came out in a whimper and she was shivering with cold.

  ‘What happened to Jacka?’ he asked softly.

  She told him in slow sentences. ‘You know he hasn’t been well for ages. He got a bit bothered at the breakfast table and just before he left to go back to work I remembered he got a letter. When he read it he shouted out something and then fell to the floor. He’s in terrible pain and was clutching his chest. Oh, please hurry.’

  Andrew took the next bend at a faster speed than was wise and the car lurched across the road before righting itself. He swore under his breath and slowed down; better to arrive a little later than not at all. It sounded like Jacka had suffered a heart attack but he didn’t mention it. Tressa was very upset already.

  He pulled up sharply in front of the farmhouse door and before he could help Tressa out of the car, she had opened the door and was running inside with the blanket dragging in the dirt. She charged into the kitchen with Andrew on her heels. Jacka was lying unconscious on his back where he had fallen in front of the dresser. The sound of his laboured breathing filled the room, his chest was rising and falling harshly. His face was a sickly grey colour. Joan had put a cushion under his head and covered him with coats. She was kneeling beside him, crooning to him that everything was going to be all right and he must hold on.

  ‘Dad,’ Tressa called loudly, hoping for a response. ‘Dad. I’m back. The doctor is coming.’

  ‘You can’t do anything for him, Tressa, but you must take care of yourself,’ Andrew said firmly, taking hold of her gently and pushing her in front of the range. ‘You won’t be any good to Jacka if you get pneumonia.’ He took a dry towel off the washing line that hung across the kitchen from beam to beam and rubbed at her hair. Tressa let him do it but she turned her back to him so she wouldn’t have to take her eyes off her father.

  ‘It would be better if you turned him over on his side, Joan,’ Andrew said, remembering some rules of first aid.

  Joan did so and Jacka groaned feebly.

  ‘Where’s the doctor?’ Tressa wailed despairingly after a couple more minutes. ‘Why isn’t he here yet?’

  ‘I’m sure he’s coming as fast as he can, darling,’ Andrew said, trying to reassure her. Satisfied that her hair wouldn’t drip, he put the towel on her shoulders and wrapped his arms round her. She didn’t object, she was glad of the warmth and comfort.

  Joan eyed them but said nothing about it. ‘Tressa, I think we should get your father upstairs before the doctor gets here,’ she said. ‘We can manage between the three of us but we’ll have to be careful. Then I want you to dry yourself and change your clothes.’

  ‘But I want to stay with him, Aunty Joan,’ Tressa protested, pulling herself free from Andrew’s embrace.

  ‘Now listen to me, Tressa,’ Joan went on in the same no-nonsense tone, getting to her feet. ‘If Jacka comes round and sees you like that he’ll take poorly again. If we’re going to get through this we must all be sensible.’

  They carried Jacka upstairs and laid him in his bed. Tressa knelt down and kissed her father’s brow. When she stood up, Andrew put his arm round her. ‘He’ll be all right, Tressa.’

  ‘I hope so, oh, I do hope so.’

  She jumped when a car pulled up in a spin then raced downstairs to let Dr Palmer in.

  ‘What’s the matter with him?’ she asked when the doctor had made a preliminary examination.

  ‘Looks like a mild coronary, a heart attack, but I’ll know more when I’ve had a closer look.’ He smiled encouragingly.

  Her aunt gave her a pointed look and Tressa left the room reluctantly to change. Joan pushed something into Andrew’s hand. ‘Show her this when she’s ready.’

  Andrew joined her in the kitchen. She was sniffing back tears. He noticed a pile of ironing on a chair, shirts draped over the back. ‘Come on now. Change into something clean and dry and you’ll feel much better.’

  She stood in front of the range, her small face puckered up as she tried not to cry. She knew he was right; she had to be strong for her father and aunt’s sake. She raised her arms to the top button of her shirt.

  Andrew put the kettle on to boil and was about to leave the room when Tressa cried out in pain. ‘What is it?’ he said anxiously.

  ‘My arms.’ She whistled through her teeth as her grazed flesh stung like thousands of bee stings. ‘I fell over. I forgot all about it. My knees are hurting too.’

  There were no buttons on her shirt sleeves and he gently rolled them up. The skin had been skimmed off from wrist nearly to elbow in a narrow patch on both arms. It was wonderful to tend to her, to be comforting her, and he had an overwhelming desire to kiss her arms better. ‘Poor love, they’ll need bathing. You get changed and we’ll see what you’ve done to your knees.’ Again he made to leave the room.

  Tressa was trembling with shock and cold which seemed to be gnawing its way into her bones. Her fingers were clumsy and she couldn’t get the buttons of her shirt undone. ‘Andrew,’ she groaned, ‘I can’t do it, my fingers won’t work.’

  He came back to her. ‘Do you want me to help you?’

  ‘I can’t ask Aunty Joan at the moment and I can’t stay like this. I trust you to behave.’ She felt almost too weary to care but she did feel safe with him.

  ‘I’m glad you trust me, Tressa,’ he smiled, feeling rather shy that he was actually going to help undress her.

  The buttons were tight in the wet cloth and with his sore fingers he had to tug on each one until they were free. He tugged the shirt out of her trousers and pulled each sleeve down carefully over her arms. She was saving the bra Laura had given her for best and was wearing a man’s flannel vest.

  ‘It’s warmer,’ she said, in case he thought it odd. Although he would have seen more bare flesh, she wished she was wearing the bra; she wanted him to find her feminine.

  She might think the vest was plain and unflattering but with the wet flannel plastered against her small, firm breasts, her nipples standing out prominently, it was a sight that was certainly feminine. Andrew tore his eyes away. He had a lot of difficulty with the knotted tie at her waist, which held up her baggy trousers. He helped her get her boots off then pulled the trousers down carefully over her knees. She held on to his arms and stepped out of them.

  ‘You’ve got bruises and scratches and your left knee is swollen a little,’ he said, running his eyes up her perfect legs. The vest covered her knickers and rested wetly on her thighs. He could see how tiny she was but her figure was perfectly proportioned. ‘You had better hurry up and get off your feet then your knees won’t hurt so much.’ His hands hovered about her hips for a moment, then he gave way to temptation. He gripped the end of her vest in both hands. ‘Ready?’ His voice had dropped to a husky whisper.

  She put her hands over his. Their eyes met and clashed and she prevailed – as much over herself as over him because she had been tempted to allow him to remove the vest. ‘I can manage,’ she said softly. ‘Get me some clothes from that chair, will you, please?’

  He let go of the vest at once; he’d never do anything to hurt or offend her. He did as he was bidden and when he turned round with an armful of clothes for her to sift through, she had her back to him and had pulled the wet vest off. He had a glimpse of her smooth wet back
before she wrapped a towel round herself. ‘I’ll put them on the table,’ he said, not wanting to embarrass her or compromise her trust in him. ‘I’ll make the tea.’

  He kept his back to her until the rustling of clothes being discarded and others put on was over. He turned to find her dressed in a shirt, her knees bare so they could be bathed. She was staring at him.

  ‘I would have left the room,’ he pointed out.

  She gave a little shake of her head. ‘I’m so glad you’re here, Andrew.’

  ‘I’ll be here as long as you need me.’ He held out his arms to her.

  She remained where she was for a moment, then running on her bare feet she threw herself into his arms. He gathered her in and held her tightly. She buried her face deep against his chest and sobbed her heart out. He was elated. He had waited so long to hold her soft small body to his and it didn’t matter that she only wanted comfort from him.

  He stroked her hair. He caressed her back and neck. He planted a kiss on top of her head.

  Tressa moved her head and looked up at him, hot tears falling down her face. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve cried all over your shirt.’

  ‘I don’t mind, darling.’ It was so natural to call her darling and she didn’t seem to mind.

  ‘I’m so frightened, Andrew. I had words with Dad this morning. I’ve been making him angry lately. If anything happens to him I’ll never forgive myself.’

  ‘It isn’t your fault, Tressa. You could never hurt Jacka.’

  Her eyes glittered with fresh tears as she gazed up at him. He smoothed strands of hair away from her face. He smiled and she smiled back. His longing to kiss her was so strong it was almost tangible. She kept looking back into his eyes. He moved his face closer to hers. Their lips were very close. Then she closed her eyes. It was several seconds before he realised she wanted him to kiss her. He pressed his lips tenderly on hers. This was her first kiss. She didn’t move her lips at first, wanting to feel his tenderness and strength, then she responded tentatively to this new experience which she wanted as much as he did. It was a long kiss in which they gave each other all their warmth.