Tamsyn moved her head very slightly to the side, as if she was thinking. Ira Jenkins tapped her arm; she wasn’t sure the lady would stand for much more cheek.
‘If you like,’ Tamsyn said, but most of the fire stayed in her eyes.
Abigail thought she ought to put her hand out to the child but couldn’t bring herself to do it. She noticed what looked like clouds of white at the side of the cottage and saw it was washing billowing on Ira Jenkins’ washing line. She pointed to it. ‘How pretty.’
‘’Tis for my niece, Margaret. She’s getting married in a fortnight’s time to Archie Magor, the grocery shop assistant. Be at Kea church, All Hallows, even though her man is chapel. It was my mother-in-law Jenny’s wedding dress and veil. Lilian, her daughter, wore it and so did I when I married her brother Matt. Now Lilian’s daughter Margaret wants to carry on with the tradition.’
‘How absolutely wonderful,’ Abigail said. ‘In two weeks’ time, you said? I must meet the bride and do something for her.’
‘I’m sure that will be very kind of you, Mrs Fiennes,’ Ira said and formally introduced herself.
The two women, having nothing in common but eager to be on good terms for the future good of the estate, chatted amiably for several minutes about the forthcoming wedding, while Tamsyn, who was planning to be difficult with Stephen if he really did say he was sorry to her, grew fidgety.
‘Now then, Tamsyn,’ Abigail said at last, ‘shall we go and see that son of mine?’
Chapter 9
While his sister-in-law was trying to charm Tamsyn, Alex rode to Verrian Farm, the nearest one to Trevallion and the largest on the estate, consisting of about one hundred acres. Frank Kellow and his sons Leslie and Clifford grew cereal crops and kept a flock of fifty sheep. Alex hitched Polonius to a gatepost and Frank, who had been saddling his own horse, came over to him, scattering his hens.
‘Major Fiennes, how good of you to call. Pleased to meet you, sir. I’m afraid you’ve come at a rather hectic time. District nurse is here. My boy Leslie’s wife is about to give birth to our first grandchild. My wife’s a bit busy but I’ll make ’ee a cup of tea if you’d like to come inside.’
Alex smiled, just a little, which lessened the dark circles under his eyes. ‘No tea for me, Kellow, and I think it would be best to leave the farmhouse to the women at the moment. I hope there will be some good news before I go.’
‘Might take a bit of time, these things do. But the good Lord willing, ’twill be all over afore the day’s out. The first one ’tis reckoned t’take a bit of time. We’re hoping it will be a boy and we’d like to name him after Captain Miles.’ Frank looked at Alex as if for his permission.
‘My cousin would have been very proud.’
Frank Kellow looked proud. He was also nervous for his son and daughter-in-law and was glad to have the new owner of Trevallion here to take his mind off his coming grandchild. He was stout of build like his wife and stout of heart, honest and religious, a man well liked in the community.
‘If it’s not inconvenient, I’d like to look round the farm,’ Alex said.
The two men spent most of the morning riding round the farm, looking over the crops and sheep. They rolled up their sleeves and let the sun tan their skin. The fresh clean air helped to shift Alex’s headache, the dull throbbing ache of a hangover. They stopped at the top of a sloping field that looked down over the River Fal, sharing it with some sheep. They watched the pleasure steamer River Princess on its way to Falmouth and a smaller craft going in the opposite direction to Truro.
‘I’m going to take a trip on the river this afternoon with Jossy Jenkins and his sons,’ Alex said. ‘It’s years since I’ve been out on a yacht. I want to see Malpas and Roundwood, Flushing and Mylor, all the places Captain Trevallion used to talk about.’
‘You want to sail down to St Just-in-Roseland,’ Frank replied. ‘’Tis some pretty there. Has the most beautiful church and churchyard in the world, ’tis full of tropical plants and full of history.’
‘How’s life been treating you, Frank?’ Alex asked, sincerely wanting to know.
‘Aw, well enough, sir. Lost a boy in France backalong… the missus don’t like t’talk about it. But the farm’s jogging along all right, got nothing to grumble over and we farmers have kept our prices down while most other things have doubled.’
They got down off their horses and Frank took his crib bag off his saddle and offered Alex the open box full of thick-cut ham and pickle sandwiches.
‘Go on, sir. I’ve got plenty.’ He patted his wide girth and grinned. ‘The missus is afraid I’ll waste away.’
Alex realised he was ravenously hungry and gratefully took one of the sandwiches. He tapped his lean chest. ‘I suppose I could do with putting on a bit more weight. I always seem to forget to eat.’
‘Good country fare’s what you need. Will set you up proper.’
‘Loveday Wright is a good cook,’ Alex said, having just realised it. He made a mental note to compliment her on it.
‘I don’t doubt that.’ Frank looked at the Major meaningfully. ‘There’s some good people on the estate. Folk who’ve lived here for generations.’
‘I don’t doubt that, Frank,’ Alex replied at once, returning the look. He wiped an insect off his cheek and grimaced at a spot that stung.
‘Cut yourself shaving, did ’ee?’ Frank said, eyeing the sore spot and bandaged hand as he bit into a giant slab of saffron cake.
Alex touched the cut gingerly. ‘Yes, my hand wasn’t too steady this morning.’
Frank nodded and ate his cake; he knew how to mind his own business.
Alex liked being in the company of another man who wasn’t quick to make judgements. ‘Had a drop too much,’ he explained.
‘Took us all ways,’ Frank said, and they knew they were in rapport over wartime experiences. It gave Frank the courage to ask a personal question. ‘I was wonderin’. Left your business to come down here, have ’ee?’
Alex nodded over a mouthful of sandwich. ‘My family’s been in banking and manufacturing for years. The managers didn’t seem to miss me during the war so I just left them to get on with it again. I haven’t been able to settle since the war, Frank. It’s not what I want, sitting in an office in a dark suit and stiff collar all day long. I get restless, impatient.’ He grinned at the peaceful river below them. ‘They were probably glad to see the back of me.’
‘Some men aren’t meant to be indoors,’ Frank said simply. When they got back to the farmyard Clifford Kellow took the horses and Frank had a quiet word with his other son, Leslie, who was pacing up and down the yard with the farm collie following on his heels.
‘Be better if ’ee got on with a bit of work, boy,’ Frank said knowledgeably. ‘I didn’t hang about here when you and your brother were coming into the world.’
‘I left the haymaking to check on things, Father,’ Leslie said in a nervous voice. ‘I was going back but things have speeded up a bit.’
Frank elbowed his son in the side and inclined his head towards Alex. Leslie stopped dead and stared at him.
‘I’m sorry, sir. Me head’s been so filled with Gwen and the baby coming I didn’t see you there.’
Frank formally introduced Alex to his two sons then he and Leslie went to the front door of the farmhouse to listen. Clifford joined them and Alex was touched at the family picture, envying their closeness and the coming child who meant the family had a future as well as a past.
‘I heard something,’ shouted Leslie. ‘Gwen! Are you all right?’
‘Shush!’ Frank ordered.
Alex found himself coming up behind the other men. ‘What’s happening?’
Frank looked at him but his ear was straining for sounds. They heard Gwen groan and then there was silence. Leslie moaned and walked into the yard. Alex put his hands in his trouser pockets hoping to find a stray cigarette. He smoked occasionally and knew expectant fathers were helped through their ordeal by a cigarette. He came up empty-handed and Frank, kn
owing what he was looking for, shook his head. It would have been an unwanted gift anyway.
‘Have you enough help here now that my sister-in-law has commandeered Miss Allen?’ Alex asked, to break the tension. He knew the farm had taken on another farmhand but the conversation would help pass the time. He didn’t want to leave before he knew the outcome of the birth.
The four men talked about the farm, the creek and the weather as they paced about, one or other of them stopping abruptly every now and then because they thought they’d heard a baby’s cry.
Leslie kept taking off his cap and scratching his head and putting it back on again. Clifford chewed on a piece of straw. Frank patted the dog’s head. Alex rubbed his sweaty palms down his trousers and wished he could think of something new to say. He had exhausted all the things he’d said to the men in the trenches when they’d received word from home that there was to be an addition to the family, or when the birth was imminent and there was no way of knowing what was happening at home.
The women upstairs, Gwen, her sister Doris who had come for the confinement, Mrs Kellow and the district nurse didn’t know Alex was out in the yard and seemed to have forgotten the men altogether. No one appeared to tell them lunch was ready and with the birth apparently so close Frank Kellow was too nervous to step over the threshold and make a pot of tea in his own kitchen. The waiting went on.
It was nearly two o’clock when Leslie jerked his head to the bedroom window. A baby’s cry was heard across the length and breadth of the yard. The men let out a cheer and Mrs Kellow put her head out of the window.
‘’Tis a boy, Les! She’s done ’ee proud.’
Leslie Kellow, his face abeam, eyes streaming tears of joy, went round his father and brother and Alex pumping their hands. The collie barked, joining in the commotion.
‘The next generation,’ Frank Kellow said, wiping a tear from his own eye. ‘Praise the Lord.’
A few minutes later the men were allowed in the house. Leslie rushed up the stairs to see his wife and son. Mrs Kellow and Gwen’s sister were thrown into a flap to see Alex there.
‘Here all the time, Major, and I never knew it,’ Mrs Kellow said, sending Doris to fetch things from the larder. ‘What must you think? Father, why didn’t you invite the Major in and offer him a drop of that port we got left from Gran’s funeral?’
‘Don’t pay any special attention to me, Mrs Kellow,’ Alex said, leaning back comfortably in the chair he’d been seen to. ‘It’s me who’s overstayed my welcome, but I wanted to stay on to find out about the baby.’
‘You’re welcome here any time, Major.’ Mrs Kellow was taking a good look at him as she talked, and she didn’t stop working. In minutes she and Doris had a meal of pies, cheeses, crusty bread and fresh salad vegetables from the garden on the table. ‘You will stop for a bite, Major?’
‘I’d love to,’ Alex said with relish. Glancing at his watch he saw there was a whole hour before he and Jossy were to launch the Iseult. He ate more that day than he had in a whole week for the last eleven years, tucking in, relaxed, perfectly at home with this family.
Leslie came downstairs proudly displaying his baby son, wrapped up cosily in a lacy shawl that had been wrapped round generations of Kellows.
‘He’s grand, isn’t he, Mother?’
‘Aye, he certainly is, and a Kellow to the last bit of un.’
The proud grandfather and uncle had a good look then Leslie presented his son to Alex. ‘’Twas an honour to have you here with us this day, Major.’
‘I feel honoured to have been here and part of such an intimate and wonderful family occasion,’ Alex said.
‘We’d like to name him Miles if you have no objections, sir.’
‘Of course not. As I’ve told your father, Captain Trevallion would have been very proud.’
‘The missus, Gwen, she was wondering, if you don’t mind, sir. Would you choose a name for him?’
Alex thought about it. A lump came to his throat as he said, ‘George. After someone I knew.’
Mrs Kellow clapped her hands. ‘The King’s name. A fine solid name. Thank you, Major.’
‘Miles George Kellow,’ Alex said. Now that a little bit of life seemed to have returned to Georgie Gilbert, he felt he could hold the baby, something he had never done or wanted to do before, not even Stephen. He held out his arms. ‘May I?’
Leslie Kellow looked fit to burst with pride to see his son, his firstborn, held so firmly and lovingly by the estate’s new owner.
The district nurse came down the stairs and tut-tutted. She was only impressed with the aspects of her job at that moment. ‘This will never do,’ she said chidingly, taking Miles George from Alex’s arms. ‘Back to mother at once for you, young man.’
Mrs Kellow and Doris went upstairs and, as Alex was about to leave, the nurse returned with her bag. ‘Just a minute, Major Fiennes,’ she said in a professional voice. ‘I want to take a look at your hand. That bandage is filthy!’
‘It’s nothing,’ Alex said firmly, making for the door.
‘Then it won’t hurt to let me look at it, will it?’
Alex’s face closed over. ‘I’m going now,’ he said stubbornly.
Maisie Uren was trained in midwifery and had been a general district nurse for eight years; she had passed all her examinations with high marks and had a certificate from the General Midwives Board to prove it. She had nursed patients of every age, social standing and temperament. She was a single-minded woman dedicated to her career and the parish and no one would put her off when she was about her business. She was tall, slim, firm-figured, had no-nonsense features that could overcome the hardest opposition, eyebrows that could dismiss a misfit with one decisive lift. Her uniform was immaculate, her brown hair tied up in a simple bun with not one hair out of place. Nurse Uren stood, her back erect, hands clasped with thumbs on top, waiting for Alexander Fiennes to obey her.
Frank Kellow was so sure that he would he put a chair out for him to sit down for the examination.
‘Can I fetch ’ee anything, nurse?’ Clifford asked.
But these people had not met Alex Fiennes before. In a cold voice, he said, ‘When and if I want my hand looked at, Miss Uren, I’ll send for you. The estate has paid its master’s subscriptions over the years and I will decide when I will make use of the medical treatment it entitles me to. Good afternoon to you all.’
* * *
Alex recalled the shock on Nurse Uren’s face, with wry amusement. Robert Drayton had mentioned her in his letters, saying she was good and efficient at her job, and worked tirelessly to better the lot of the folk on her patch, but was something of a battleaxe. Alex wasn’t worried about her sort.
He still felt something of the Kellow family’s closeness, the sharing in a special event. But as he trotted along and got closer to the estate the old familiar loneliness of his later years assailed him again. He had come down here to wind up Miles’s affairs, not a hard task as Miles had always worked methodically and the trustees had done an excellent job since his incapacitation. Trevallion was beautiful, but it still belonged to Miles.
As he turned into the driveway he met Rebecca coming out on her bicycle.
‘Good afternoon, Major,’ she said, stopping with a foot resting on the top pedal. ‘Have you had a good look round?’
She was still wearing her riding breeches from the morning and her hair was free. She was in a happy mood. It was good to be in her comfortable old clothes again and she’d had the chance to be close to Joe. Alex dismounted, moving close to her.
‘I’ve been to Verrian Farm,’ he said.
‘That’s where I’m going now. Young Mrs Kellow, that’s Matt and Ira Jenkins’ daughter Gwen from the creek, is expecting a baby any day now and Mrs Fiennes has given me permission to go and see how she is. Mrs Fiennes, by the way, has gone out to lunch with the vicar’s wife and is spending the afternoon at the Ladies’ Guild. The invitation came this morning.’
So that explained th
e return to her usual clothes. Alex admired people who weren’t afraid to be themselves, who didn’t put on airs and graces, as Rebecca might have done given the amount of clothes Abigail kept giving her and embarrassing her with.
He said, ‘Mrs Kellow gave birth to a son about an hour ago.’
Rebecca’s face lit up at the news. ‘That’s wonderful! Leslie and Mr Kellow had their heart set on it being a boy to keep the family name going. I’ll still go, they won’t mind me popping in for five minutes.’
Alex could see the feeling of continuity and caring among these people who worked on the estate. He tried to capture some of it, to help shake off the feeling of coldness and loneliness that seemed to be his lot.
‘Becca, I want to thank you.’
‘Oh?’
He gave her a rare and quiet smile. ‘For last night. Clearing up the room. Not saying anything to Mrs Fiennes.’ Rebecca was glad he seemed to trust her. He had called her Becca, like her father and those closest to her did. She didn’t mention his clumsily bandaged hand. He was a grown man, in charge of her life now as well as his own and didn’t need to be badgered over something he would see to himself if it was needed.
She smiled and nodded. ‘I’ll be getting along then. I’ll be back to help Loveday with the dinner.’
Alex smiled back and watched her ride away to share in the Kellows’ joy. ‘We must ride together one morning,’ he called after her.
Chapter 10
Stephen and Tamsyn were standing outside Trevallion. It was dusk and they had just seen Percy Gummoe lock up and leave.
Stephen looked at Tamsyn. ‘How do we get in?’
‘Why ask me?’ she replied gruffly.
She had been difficult with Stephen all day. She had accepted his apology but only after she’d made him say it twice. Then she had smirked as his mother had given him a dressing-down in front of her. Stephen wished there were boys of his own age in the creek, he felt embarrassed to be seen about with a little girl. He was exasperated with Tamsyn now but determined not to show it. In fact he had made up his mind to tolerate her by pretending she was a boy. He called her simply Tam. He’d once had a male Scottish terrier called Tam. The girl seemed quite tough, he didn’t think she’d cry every time he got rough with her, so it wasn’t difficult to think of her as a boy.
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