Trevallion

by Trevallion (retail) (epub)

‘Yes, of course,’ and she smiled again to reassure him.

  ‘Don’t she look a picture today, Major Fiennes?’ Jenny Jenkins said mischievously as she approached them. ‘Be a bride herself soon if she would only let the young men notice her, if she smiled a bit more like that. There’s many who would have her.’

  Rebecca made a protesting noise but Alex suddenly paled. The feeling of security that had been with him since he’d stood on Perranporth’s cliffs was slipping away. ‘I… I’m sure there are, Mrs Jenkins.’

  The wedding party was leaving the churchyard and the guests surged after them. Rebecca walked away with Mrs Kellow and Alex was left behind, standing alone and worried. If Rebecca married, what would he do without her? He only felt able to face the future with hope and confidence knowing that she would be near him. He’d even considered taking her back to Berkshire if that was what he decided to do.

  A harsh young voice broke through his reverie. ‘Come on, Uncle Alex! Mother’s waiting for you in the car. All the good food will be eaten up by the time we get to the reception.’

  ‘All right, Stephen,’ he said angrily. ‘I’m coming.’

  Stephen looked curiously at his uncle. Alex had made more fuss about having to attend this wedding than he had himself and now the ceremony was over that old film of worried emptiness had settled back on his face.

  ‘You weren’t lagging behind to have a pee, were you?’ Stephen sniggered.

  ‘Of course not,’ Alex snapped.

  Poor Uncle Alex, the boy thought with contempt. You’re so dead inside that you can’t even cuff me round the ear for being rude.

  Rebecca had gone on one of the horsedrawn carts that were taking the party to the reception in an upstairs room of the Oystercatcher pub. Trease was acting as chauffeur to the bridal couple today in the Spyker, and Alex brought up the rear in the Mercedes. As he drove along the narrow twisting lanes, Abigail looked ahead and said very little. At least that was one good thing to come out of her proposition to him the other night, Alex mused spitefully. The resulting embarrassment kept her silly mouth shut.

  He stayed for only a short time in the noisy room where Jacky Jenkins played his fiddle while the guests ate from packed buffet tables, then made his way down to the main bar room. He liked it in here, a long dark room with small- paned windows, solid dark furniture, horse brasses above a huge open fireplace, a stone-flagged floor, and the friendly masculine smells of beer and tobacco. He knew that the male Kennickers who had been unable to attend the ceremony because of work commitments had come the half- mile up the river by boat. He would do that himself on most nights in the future; it would provide a welcome respite from Abigail over the dinner table and give him the opportunity to get to know the local men better.

  Rebecca watched Trease from an upstairs window. She was feeling proud of him today. He was standing guard over the two cars, letting none of the excited children playing about go near them. Every few moments he gave one of the cars a polish. He had kept off the drink since the day he had hurt her and had even refused to step inside the pub to toast the bride and groom. Alex appeared from the large projecting porch below carrying two pints of beer. He gave one to Trease and they began to chat – about the cars, by their looks and gestures.

  Trease had shown he was truly sorry to Rebecca for hitting her. He worked hard, kept out of arguments and tried to keep their cottage clean and tidy. He was even quite affectionate towards her on occasions and Rebecca wished she did not have to sleep in the gatehouse but could go home.

  Tamsyn was running about the room and Rebecca’s attention was drawn from the window by Loveday’s voice imploring her daughter to sit still and not to get her dress dirty. Rebecca looked at Loveday who darted her eyes quickly away. Rebecca felt guilty at being so unforgiving. She may have accepted Loveday’s apology but she had not been friendly. Loveday had taken her in when her mother had deserted her and had been her friend much longer than Alexander Fiennes. What was making her behave so irrationally?

  Rebecca took a fresh cup of tea over to Loveday. ‘Here, you look like you could do with this.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Loveday replied uncertainly. ‘It’s quite an effort trying to stop my child tearing her lovely dress.’

  Rebecca smiled at Tamsyn who was about to throw a piece of cake at a cheeky-looking small boy from Archie’s family. Mrs Kellow wagged a stern finger at her and Tamsyn immediately dropped the cake onto the nearest plate. Big Mrs Kellow in her flowery best dress and huge feathered hat was enough to make her sit quietly.

  ‘Look at that,’ Loveday said, amazed. ‘The little tyke wouldn’t do that for me.’

  ‘Well, children often ignore what their mothers tell them, don’t they, Loveday?’ Rebecca smiled, sitting down beside her.

  ‘You’re right there. You look… um, brighter today.’

  ‘I’m sorry I’ve been so moody.’

  ‘I suppose I asked to have my head bitten off, but it took me by surprise, seeing the Major putting his arm around you. I didn’t know what to think then but I know I took it the wrong way. I am sorry, Becca.’

  Archie’s younger sister, a precocious-looking creature of about thirteen who had the audacity to be wearing lipstick, came up to them. ‘You’re Rebecca Allen, aren’t you?’ She twirled about in her bridesmaid’s dress, a bigger version of Tamsyn’s.

  ‘Yes,’ Rebecca replied. ‘And you are Madeline Magor. It’s been an exciting day for you.’

  ‘Yeah,’ the girl said lazily, sitting herself down on the opposite side of the table. ‘Mother was beginning to think she’d never get rid of Archie. They’ve got a little house in Fairmantle Street. It’ll be nice having a brother in Truro, be somewhere to go when I’m waiting to catch the bus home. Wish I lived there meself. Life’s dull in Feock.’

  ‘I’ve always thought it was a pretty little place,’ Loveday said tartly.

  Madeline’s pale eyes suddenly grew in size and she leaned forward and giggled. ‘That Major’s some good-looking, isn’t he? Like something out of the moving pictures.’ She added dramatically, in a tone copied from something she’d heard at the cinema, ‘I thought I’d simply die when I saw him in the church when I walked up the aisle behind Margaret. I’ve never seen anyone so gorgeous in my life. And you’re his servants. Oh, you lucky creatures!’

  Loveday sipped her tea then pursed her lips. She looked over the head of the young madam to show her disapproval. Madeline didn’t care. She turned to Rebecca.

  ‘I’ve heard he likes you. I’d simply die if someone like him took an interest in me. What’s it like being alone with him? Has he kissed you? Are you his mistress?’

  Rebecca gasped. ‘Don’t be ridiculous! If you can’t talk sensibly then I suggest you go somewhere else.’

  Loveday’s teacup shook in her hand. She wanted to put that hand round this outrageous young miss’s face.

  Madeline wasn’t going to go until she’d had all her say. ‘I would be his mistress if I were you.’

  ‘If you were Rebecca you would be decent and respectable, my girl. Now go away before I tell your mother what you’ve said.’ Loveday was boiling mad. ‘I blame these modern films for these young girls’ fancies,’ she sniffed when the girl had gone. ‘Romantic they call them. I call them filth!’

  Rebecca suddenly wanted to laugh. Alex Fiennes’ mistress? Well, if that’s what people were likely to construe from their friendship they could go ahead and good luck to them.

  ‘She probably doesn’t know what a mistress is in that sense. Madeline’s just a young girl trying to grow up.’

  ‘Well, I hope my Tamsyn won’t turn out like that. And you certainly didn’t, Rebecca.’

  ‘Don’t I know it,’ she replied with a feeling of regret.

  * * *

  Loveday was in Truro, taking Tamsyn’s bridesmaid’s dress to the steam laundry to have it professionally cleaned. Despite her watchful eye and exhortations, Tamsyn had managed to get a mixture of chocolate and motor oil on the dress. Her next
stop was Louise’s Drapery to pick up a dress Mrs Fiennes had ordered. Loveday was shown the finished creation and thought it too racy; but then her mistress liked to show off as much flesh as she could. Loveday thought it a scandal that the woman was buying yet more clothes, spending a good deal of the Major’s money, when her wardrobe was already bursting at the seams. With the box held stoutly under her arm, she walked up the hill of Lemon Street on the last of her errands to hand in a letter from the Major to the offices of Drayton, Handley and Faull, Solicitors.

  With that done, she started down the hill again. A small stone got into her shoe and she stopped by the railings outside St John’s Church to eject it.

  ‘Oh, my dear Mrs Wright,’ came the voice of Mr Drayton, who was coming up the hill. ‘What has happened to you? Have you twisted your ankle?’

  ‘Mr Drayton!’ she exclaimed, her face colouring as she straightened up and explained what she’d been doing.

  ‘I’m so glad to hear you did not take a fall. I was thinking hard as I climbed the hill and did not realise it was you coming towards me until you stopped.’ He picked up the dress box leaning against the railings. ‘May I see you to somewhere?’

  ‘I’ve just come from your office. I delivered a letter there for Major Fiennes. I said I would as I was coming into town, to save him having to post it.’

  ‘How kind of you. I haven’t seen Major Fiennes since he arrived. I’m afraid he’s rather elusive. Um, where are you going now, if I may ask?’

  ‘I’ve got an hour and a half before my bus home. I was thinking of having a cup of tea somewhere.’

  Mr Drayton’s face turned bright red. ‘I… I… have some spare time. Would you care to take tea with me, Mrs Wright?’

  Loveday looked down shyly at the ground. The invitation was totally unexpected. She hadn’t gone anywhere with a man since Stanley’s last leave. In fact Stanley had been the only man she had ever gone anywhere with. She’d met him at school and back then he’d been the only boy she’d felt comfortable with. As a youth he was cheerful but not noisy or over-enthusiastic. He didn’t wolf-whistle at women or make crude remarks about them. She had accepted Stanley’s courtship and his quick proposal of marriage because, in the only way that Loveday could consciously put it, there had been something about him that ‘felt right’. She still missed him about the house; folk would be amazed to learn she missed him in the bedroom too. Stanley had been kind, gentle and understanding. She looked up at Mr Drayton. Did he ‘feel right’? She was sure he shared the same attributes as Stanley had been blessed with. She’d always felt comfortable in his presence. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to have tea with him. She said, with a little surge of enthusiasm, ‘I would be delighted, Mr Drayton.’

  On the way to the tea shop Loveday told herself that she had accepted his invitation because it might give her the chance to find out if the Major had said anything about his plans. She told herself that his reason for inviting her was to return her kindness in making him tea and sandwiches that day at the gatehouse. That was all there was to it.

  * * *

  Meanwhile, in Falmouth, Susannah Bosanko opened a local newspaper and a picture on the third page gave her a start. It was a report about a wedding which had taken place at the weekend, but the accompanying picture was of Alexander with a young dark-haired woman. He was holding her by the arm and looking into her eyes. The caption underneath read:

  ‘Major Alexander Fiennes talking to his employee Miss Rebecca Allen outside the church.’

  Of course the heir to Trevallion was more newsworthy than the bride and groom whose picture would be somewhere near the middle of the newspaper. Susannah cut the picture out then rang for her maid to go and buy another paper. Picking up the scissors again, she cut off the half of the picture showing Rebecca and snipped it into tiny pieces.

  Chapter 22

  Neville Faull picked up Rebecca from her uncle and aunt’s home in St Austell Street. She was waiting outside for him, wearing the outfit she had bought for the wedding. He had dressed with restrained elegance, a red carnation in the buttonhole of his dark suit. He gave her a carnation wrapped in tiny feathery ferns.

  ‘You look beautiful, Rebecca,’ he said. She knew he had not missed a detail of how she looked and she was glad she had taken more trouble than usual with her appearance. ‘Let me help you with the carnation.’

  She sniffed the flower’s strong scent and declined his offer, asking suspiciously, ‘Where’s your Aunt Mildred?’

  ‘I thought I’d come for you first and then we could collect her together,’ he smiled. He handed Rebecca a pin and when the carnation was secure under her suit collar, he offered her his arm.

  ‘I didn’t bring the car. We haven’t got far to go and I thought, like Aunt Mildred, you’d prefer to walk on such a lovely warm evening.’

  Rebecca was glad of this. It would have caused a lot of public interest if she’d alighted from his flashy car outside the Palace Cinema. If they walked quietly up to the queue with Neville’s Aunt Mildred, people wouldn’t be able to make as much of that. She thought he’d try to keep his meeting with her discreet, with him being on the rural council and she being of no consequence, but he walked proudly through the town with her as if he was showing her off.

  When they got to one of the elegant Georgian terraced houses of Walsingham Place, a maid showed them inside. Mrs Mildred Cummings was laid out dramatically across a chaise longue and warning bells began to ring in Rebecca’s head.

  ‘Oh, my dears,’ said Mildred Cummings in a faint voice. ‘I’m so very sorry. I was out shopping this afternoon and was overcome by a dizzy spell and my head is still spinning. I won’t be able to go out tonight and I was so looking forward to seeing The Sheikh. I’m afraid I’ve quite spoiled your evening. I do hope you will forgive me.’

  ‘Well, we’d better leave you to rest, Auntie dear,’ Neville said softly, going to her and kissing her hushed cheek. ‘I’ll escort Miss Allen back to her uncle’s house.’

  ‘I hope we will have another opportunity to meet soon, Miss Allen,’ Mildred Cummings sighed softly.

  ‘I hope you will soon feel better, Mrs Cummings,’ Rebecca said.

  Back outside in the wide curved street, Rebecca turned to Neville. ‘I suppose you’re going to say it’s a shame to waste the evening and wouldn’t I like to go to the cinema anyway?’

  ‘Honestly, Rebecca,’ he said, putting his hand over his heart, ‘I fully intended to get rid of Aunt Mildred later in the evening but I didn’t plan that dizzy spell. Poor old duck. She can’t get enough of Rudolph Valentino. I’ve never seen her looking so poorly before. Well, what would you like to do? It’s up to you.’

  ‘You’re a brazen man, Neville Faull.’

  ‘I’ve never pretended to be otherwise.’

  His beautiful blue eyes were sparkling, exuding playful wickedness. Rebecca smiled ironically. ‘Oh, all right. It can’t do any harm in broad daylight, but I’m warning you, I can look after myself.’

  ‘Never thought for a moment you couldn’t, my dear.’ Inside the Palace Cinema, she knew he was looking at her more than he was the film. The couple in front of him were snuggled up but Neville didn’t try to be familiar. He stood smartly to attention when the National Anthem was being played and she wondered what he had done during the war. With such a straight stance, shoulders proudly back, he must have served in one of His Majesty’s armed forces.

  When the last note had died away, Neville led her carefully out of the cinema, shielding her from the dispersing crowd. Outside in the gaslight from a nearby street lamp she saw his face smiling down gently at her. ‘A bit of supper, Rebecca? The Treleaven Restaurant? It serves excellent fare.’

  She was surprised he was asking her if she wanted to go on for supper with him. She thought it was already taken for granted. He wasn’t being as pushy as she’d thought he would be, but it could be a ploy. She didn’t want to go to a popular place like the Treleaven Restaurant, however, and hoped Neville would no
t press it.

  ‘I’d rather go to Opie’s Dining Rooms. I’d feel more comfortable.’

  ‘Certainly, anything you say.’

  ‘Thank you for taking me to the cinema, Neville,’ Rebecca said as they strolled across the town to Kenwyn Street. She had not called him Neville before but it seemed silly to call him Mr Faull now.

  ‘You make delightful company.’ He lifted the chiffon scarf she wore round her neck and held it against the lower half of her face. ‘Do you see yourself as a film actress like Miss Agnes Ayres? I must say I’d like to have you in my harem.’

  She knew Neville was teasing her and answered him in the same vein. ‘I don’t see myself as any man’s slave.’

  ‘Nor do I. That’s why I’m so attracted to you. I see you more as a Miss Mary Pickford, the cinema’s sweetheart.’

  Rebecca felt a flush of pleasure but she made a wry face. She mustn’t drop her guard tonight or she could end up as another of this man’s conquests. Looking into his beguiling eyes, she could see why so many women were rumoured to have succumbed to him. Neville Faull had more than charm. He had more than clean-cut good looks. He seemed thoughtful and good-humoured too and Rebecca found herself liking him.

  ‘I haven’t seen any pictures with Mary Pickford in.’

  ‘You haven’t been to the cinema much before then?’

  ‘Only twice. Each time with my cousin Raymon. Die first time we saw the Keystone Cops and then a Charlie Chaplin film.’

  ‘But wouldn’t you rather see those dark intense Valentino eyes looking back at you from the screen?’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘Well, if you like comedy films, there’s an Oliver Hardy film next week.’ He left the sentence hanging and they walked on to the restaurant, reaching it by ascending a short flight of stairs over a haberdashery.

  It was quiet inside, with just two other couples taking supper. Red velvety curtains were drawn across the wide windows, giving the room a warm rosy glow in the gaslight. The service was quick, friendly and efficient. They sat in a secluded corner and ate a light meal of asparagus soup and grilled plaice followed by a delicious lemon souffle. Neville ordered just one bottle of white wine and didn’t insist Rebecca drink more than the one glass she wanted. He paid the bill so discreetly Rebecca didn’t even notice.