‘Except for your wife, sir. She’s a gentle soul and loved her grandfather, for all his bad ways,’ Ted sighed. ‘I’m sorry for her sake. I thank you all the same for keeping your peace.’
‘I only wish I could do something for you, Ted. I feel partly responsible for Davey’s death myself.’
Oliver recalled often the harsh statement from Clem Trenchard on the clifftop on the night of the tragedy. ‘It’s your fault the boy’s dead.’ It hurt every time it entered his mind, even more so standing beside Davey’s grieving brother. It was also partly true, if he had not agreed with Old Tom’s terms over this insignificant cove below them, there would never have been a landing there.
‘No need for you to feel any blame, sir. It was me who let young Davey come along that night. It’s for me, and me alone, to have to live with it.’
‘If there is anything I can do for you at any time, Ted,’ Oliver said, pressing his hand on the miner’s shoulder for a moment. ‘When you can no longer go down the mine, I hope on that day you will come and see me. There will be work for you and a cottage for your family then, or whenever you may wish to have it, on my estate.’
‘That’s very civil of you, sir.’
Sensing that Ted only wished to be alone, Oliver left him, and made his way down into the cove.
Ted Trembath remained still for several minutes. With tears pricking his eyes he moved to the edge of the cliff and let the kerchief fall from his fingers. He watched it flutter down to be finally swallowed up by the lashing white spray.
‘Goodbye, Davey boy,’ he whispered, then turned to head for home.
* * *
Clem settled his back comfortably against a wheel of the haywain in the middle of the field. His face was heavily streaked where he had wiped away sweat and dust, his upper body itching from the bits of chaff trapped inside his shirt and rubbing at his skin. Alice came and knelt beside him and handed him a pasty and mug of water, her body providing welcome shade from the scorching sun.
‘Father says you’re to have a proper rest,’ she said, ‘or you’ll wear yourself out.’
‘Huh,’ Clem grunted, after gulping down the contents of the mug. ‘There’s not enough wheat in this field to wear out an old man of ninety. Tis no higher than a hare’s back. You brought a dish for Charity?’
Alice took a large shallow bowl out of the basket she had with her and filled it with water from a flask. Taking the dish from his wife Clem put it down in front of his dog. He ruffled her dusty black ears as she noisily lapped up the water.
‘It’s the lack of rain, isn’t it, Clem?’ Alice said. ‘The reason for the poor harvest.’
‘Aye, but we’re better off than some of the other farms. At least we have a deep well in the yard and can water our garden vegetables, and the river at the bottom of the valley hasn’t quite left its banks yet.’
‘What will happen, Clem? Is there any need for us to be anxious?’
‘Well, it will mean the price of grain going up… tithes, rates and rents will be harder to find for all the farmers.’
Straightening her white muslin bonnet, Alice settled herself closer to him. ‘There’s such a lot to learn about farming,’ she said, smiling at him and hoping he would approve of her interest, ‘and I want to learn it all. I wish I could do more now. It don’t seem right to see Mother, Rosie, and even Gran, working in the fields and there’s me doing nothing much.’
‘Nothing much?’ Clem said, with an irritable sigh. ‘You’ve learned how to make butter, cream and cheese, and how to milk the goats.’ He went on, tapping a finger on the palm of his other hand, ‘You help Mother in the farmhouse… Gran in the garden… you keep Kenver company so the others can get on with other things… you do most of the family’s sewing. Stop selling yourself short, Alice.’
Her face looked stricken. Clem’s temper had been getting shorter and shorter of late, and he seemed to look for opportunities to be quarrelsome. She said nothing about it to him, making excuses to herself for his unreasonable behaviour; he was still getting used to the added responsibility of a wife and coming child; he was worried about the poor state of the harvest; or he was simply over tired. She dared not give even one single thought to the real reason behind his uncaring attitude towards her; that he still loved Kerensa Pengarron and resented Alice for trapping him into marrying her.
‘I’ll be getting back to the farmhouse then,’ she said, her voice tight and controlled as she used the side of the haywain to help her to her feet. ‘I promised Rosie I’d finish the hem of her new dress for her birthday tomorrow.’
‘I won’t be home till late,’ he told her, without looking up as he fed Charity his pastry crust.
The word ‘birthday’ ran through his head as Clem picked up his sickle to return to his work. It was another girl’s birthday the same day. The twenty-second day of August. Rosie’s thirteenth birthday… Kerensa’s eighteenth. If they had married they would now be happily working side by side in the fields. He would have planned something special for her birthday. A present would have been bought secretly in Marazion and placed proudly on her pillow beside his in the morning. He would have picked an armful of her favourite wild flowers. They would have strolled hand in hand through the meadows and he would have made dozens of daisy chains to crown her rich auburn hair. Later they would have laughed and laughed as he teased her and playfully chased her round the field, Charity running beside them and barking excitedly to join in. Then he would have gathered her up in his arms and carried her to the haywain, and laying her gently down on the soft, sweet-smelling hay they would have made love again and again…
‘You all right, boy?’
‘What!’ Clem snapped, angry at having his daydream disturbed.
‘You were miles away,’ his father said, ‘been standing here, still as a statue, these past ten minutes.’
‘I was just thinking,’ he said moodily. ‘Better get on with the reaping.’ He stalked off, leaving Morley to stare after him, shaking his head.
Clem stayed much longer in the field than his father and the womenfolk of his family, piling dried sheaves on the haywain and lingering long enough for cooling breezes to soothe the skin on his face and arms burnt by the heat of the sun. By the time he had driven the haywain, pulled slowly along by the family’s ageing carthorse, into the farmyard, he had worked off most of his bad temper and was feeling sorry at the way he had deliberately deflated Alice.
She was trying so hard to fit in with her new life and his family, to be a good wife to him. If only she didn’t try so hard! If she would just take her time getting used to everything and give him a little breathing space to get used to her. It wasn’t easy for her, he knew, the change from bal-maiden to farmer’s wife. And she couldn’t talk about the few months she had spent living at the Manor because he didn’t like her talking about Kerensa, or more particularly Sir Oliver Pengarron.
‘Poor Alice,’ he told Charity, sitting up beside him with her long pink tongue hanging out in anticipation of her meal, as they pulled up in the farmyard. ‘Nothing of what happened is her fault.’
Giving Charity a large bowlful of scraps and fresh water, he sought Alice out by the pigsty where she was giving the grunting animal a trough of skimmed milk.
‘Hello,’ he said, making an effort to sound genuinely friendly. ‘Need any help?’
‘I’ve finished here,’ Alice said, looking up warily at him. Barring the sty’s gate, she walked off.
Clem walked beside her. ‘Where are you going with that?’ he asked, peering into the pail she carried. ‘You’ve still got skimmed milk in there.’
‘It’s for the cats.’
‘Let me take it for you,’ he said, reaching for the pail’s handle.
‘It’s not heavy,’ she said, rather defensively.
‘Come on, Alice,’ he gave a short laugh. ‘Don’t be so independent.’
She obediently handed over the pail, putting down the old chipped crocks one at a time for the cats as Clem
filled them.
‘You’re as bad as Gran is with them,’ he said, as they stood back and watched the motley creatures appear from different directions to lap up the skimmed milk greedily. Some had large knots of fur in their matted coats but the cats were far too spiteful to be groomed by human hands. ‘They’re vicious brutes, every one of them,’ he continued, ‘but I suppose they earn their keep. We hardly ever see a rat or mouse.’
‘I’ve never had an animal of my own,’ Alice said quietly, putting her head on one side as she watched the cats.
‘You’ll never make a pet out of one of these, Alice. Be careful not to touch any of them… a scratch could give you blood poisoning.’
‘I had a rabbit once,’ she went on sadly, ‘but after two weeks it ended up in a stew.’
Clem put an arm round her shoulders. ‘Tell you what, these cats deliver their litters all over the place. The next time I come across one, what say we take a kitten into the house and try to tame it?’
‘Could we, Clem?’ She was instantly cheered. ‘That would be lovely. I saw you limping a bit when you came into the yard. Have you hurt your leg?’
‘Oh, it’s nothing. I got carried away and knocked it with the rulling hook.’
‘Rulling hook?’
‘What we use for pulling the sheaves together.’
‘Is it bleeding?’
‘Just a bit. After supper, will you bathe it for me?’
‘Of course I will,’ she said, happy now Clem’s mood was a pleasant one and he’d asked her to do something for him, instead of asking his mother, grandmother or sister as he usually did. ‘Come and see Rosie’s new dress. I’ve got it hidden in the lean-to. She should have a nice birthday tomorrow.’
‘Yes, she should,’ Clem agreed, staying quiet for a minute now he felt he had done enough to make things up to his wife. ‘Let’s go inside for supper.’
Chapter 21
On the day of her birthday Kerensa was out riding alone. She called first on the Richards with fresh fruit, bacon and bread, saddened to find despite her and Polly’s efforts to help the family to a cleaner, healthier way of life, the inside of the farmhouse dirty and smelling of humans and animals both. All six of the children had the flux.
Kerensa stayed to help Moriah Richards change the children’s bedsheets; the linen she had made for Clem and herself had been gratefully received here but now the sheets were so soiled it was unlikely they would be returned to their former condition. After giving the children cooled boiled water with added sugar and a pinch of salt, she left. She promised to take over the next day some of Beatrice’s strong camomile tea to settle the children’s stomachs, and bunches of lavender to hang up to discourage the plague of flies that abounded everywhere you turned inside the insanitary building.
Kerensa was relieved to leave the dusty cluttered farmyard and breathe fresh clean air into her lungs. She rode at a canter with the intention of going straight to Ker-an-Mor Farm to help Jenna Tregurtha prepare food and ale for Oliver, Adam Renfree, and the labourers in the fields. Instead, she found herself trotting along the side of the hedgerow that divided the greater part of Trecath-en from Ker-an-Mor, and when the hedgerow came to an end at the top of Trecath-en’s valley, she allowed Kernick to wander over on to Trecath-en soil.
She rode slowly down to the river at the bottom of the valley where the water was progressively vanishing in the summer’s prolonged heat. Dismounting and tossing her straw hat aside to land among a mass of stinging nettles, she left it where it fell and looked across the river where on the other side a small flock of skinny sheep were grazing at a distance from the elm tree with its summer finery of wavy leaves and fuzz of small twigs.
For a while she walked beside the water, listening to its subdued singing and gurgling over the stone-covered bottom. Then on impulse she pulled off her shoes, and hitching up her skirts she slipped off the bank into the water. It was not refreshingly cold, but warm. She paddled awkwardly over the freely shifting stones that stubbed and hurt her feet, but she was enjoying the experience with the heedlessness of a child. She was singing cheerfully and splashing water over her arms and face when someone spoke to her from the same side of the bank she had lowered herself in.
‘I did not expect to find a waif and stray here.’
Kerensa looked up guiltily, her hands falling to her sides, water dripping from her fingertips.
‘Clem! I’m afraid you’ve caught me trespassing.’
‘Mmmm. Perhaps I should pull you out of there and keep you locked up somewhere secretly for the rest of your life. What do you think?’
His expression was serious and Kerensa was for the first time ever unsure of what he might be thinking or feeling. He gazed at her steadily and she felt herself blushing.
‘There’s not so much water in the river as last year,’ she said, rubbing her wet hands in the folds of her skirt. ‘Do you think it will get much lower than this?’
‘No, whatever happens this river has never been known to dry up,’ he replied, then closed his lips in a tight line.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘at least that’s good news.’
‘I suppose it is,’ he said, non-committally. ‘We don’t get droughts in Cornwall like other parts of the country.’
‘That’s what Oliver said last night.’ Kerensa tried a small smile on Clem but he did not return it and made no further comment. It was easy to see he had not liked her mentioning her husband. Perhaps he was annoyed at finding her uninvited on his father’s land? She waded towards the bank, stumbling over the stones to stop in front of him. Before leaving the water she decided to test his mood again.
‘Um… where’s Charity? It’s unusual to see you without her.’
‘She caught her paw in the barn door. I left her back in the yard.’
‘Poor Charity. How’s Alice? I enjoy her visits to the Manor.’
‘Alice is all right. She was out in the yard spinning a short time ago… I think she enjoys visiting you.’
‘Does she tell you about her visits, Clem?’
‘No.’ This was said sharply. ‘I don’t want to hear anything about your life… with him.’
Her face flushed, Kerensa looked down into the water. ‘I’d better get out of here,’ she muttered, ‘my feet are going numb.’
‘Take my hand,’ Clem ordered her. He stooped until their eyes were on the same level, his face wearing the serious expression it had to begin with.
Kerensa held out her hand to his, but as their fingers touched she stumbled. ‘Ouch! My toes!’
Clem hauled her out beside him and Kerensa gripped his arms, hopping about on one foot.
‘Sit yourself down,’ he said, ‘we’ll look at what you’ve done to your toes.’
He did not sound sympathetic. Lifting her foot he inspected the damage inflicted by the shifting stones on the river bed.
‘Oh, it hurts,’ Kerensa complained, trying to push his hands away so she could see for herself.
‘Keep still,’ Clem said gruffly, ‘and don’t be such a baby.’
‘What?’
Ignoring the puzzled look on her face, he said. ‘You’ve cut three of your toes. Nothing serious, but they’ll be sore for a few days.’
Forgetting her toes Kerensa caught a fistful of Clem’s shirt at his shoulder. ‘Will you please tell me why you’re such a crosspatch today, Clem? I haven’t had one civil word from you so far.’
He didn’t answer at once, but placing her foot gently on the ground as she released her grip, sat close beside her.
‘I’m sorry, Kerensa. It’s just that I’ve had so much on my mind today, with it being Rosie’s birthday. I couldn’t forget it’s yours too. I really missed you today, more than any other day, and seeing you there enjoying yourself in the river in the same way we did together last year… oh, I don’t know.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘For some reason it made me angry rather than pleased to see you.’
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here. I had no right
.’
Kerensa made to rise but Clem put a restraining hand on her arm. ‘No, don’t go. I’m glad you did. I’m glad you’re here.’
Settling back down again, she said earnestly, ‘I’d hate it if I thought you were no longer my friend, Clem.’
‘Friends.’ He sighed heavily. ‘I suppose I’ll have to settle for that. Why did you come here today, Kerensa?’
‘I don’t know. I had nothing to do and was just out riding and wandered across the boundary at the top of the valley,’ she told him with a smile.
‘I see. Do you ever think of me?’ he asked abruptly, his face still serious.
‘Yes, of course,’ she replied, meeting his direct look.
The hand he had placed on her arm to stop her leaving moved to take hold of hers tightly. ‘I think of you all the time, Kerensa. Never stop. I didn’t know I could hurt this way. All the plans I had for our future together are gone, and nothing seems worth the bother any more.’
‘Oh, Clem, I’m sorry. I wish… Are you so unhappy, even with Alice?’
‘Alice, poor Alice,’ he said, taking in the pained look of Kerensa’s face. He ran a finger along the contour of her chin. ‘I’m not making much of a job of making her happy. I think she’s lonely… she was on about having a pet animal of her own yesterday. I’ve promised to try taming a kitten from one of those mangy cats for her.’
Kerensa put her other hand over Clem’s and said in a serious tone, ‘You must not feel sorry for yourself, and you must make the best of the situation you’re in.’
‘Hark at you,’ he said. ‘Trying to talk like a matron but still looking no more than a child.’
‘If you’re going to go on like this,’ she said crossly, pulling both hands away, ‘I’m going to leave right now.’
Rising quickly to his knees, Clem put his hands on her shoulders. ‘Still the same as ever,’ he said, ‘sticking out your precious little chin when you get angry.’
‘You’ve given me good reason to be angry with you, Clem Trenchard!’
‘Then I might as well add to my sins.’
Pengarron Land Page 37
