Too Close to the Sun

by Jess Foley

  Her father replied that he had gone to spend the day helping a neighbouring farmer, Mr Timmins, with his work. Billy was always happy to be out on the land, and to be invited to spend the day with the farmer and his two sons was like a gift from heaven to him.

  Grace sighed.

  ‘What was that for?’ her father asked.

  ‘I was just thinking about getting another position. Now that I’ve finished with the Marren boys, I really shall have to find something. And if I get another post locally where I can work from home I can help out here too.’

  ‘Well, let’s hope you can. If you go off to stay, it’ll be just Billy and me.’ He picked up his cup, drank from it and replaced it in the saucer. ‘Though of course it might be the best thing for you – to get a position away from home.’

  ‘Why d’you say that?’

  ‘Well, as much as I’d like you to remain, it wouldn’t be a good thing for you to stay as some kind of unpaid housekeeper. I’ve seen it happen in other families. The girl gets stuck at home to look after her father or brothers and stays on for years, never really having a life of her own. Then over time the situation changes and she becomes redundant, or else she’s out on her ear, or both.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I can’t see that happening to me.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it. Though wherever you go you mustn’t stray too far away. You’d need to be near in case a certain person comes looking for you.’

  ‘A certain person?’ She couldn’t help but be amused at his lack of subtlety. ‘What do you mean?’ His smile was catching, and she found herself smiling back.

  ‘You know very well what. Your Mr Stephen.’

  ‘My Mr Stephen?’

  ‘Well, whoever’s.’ He paused. ‘Aren’t you curious to know what he has to say?’

  ‘Stephen? You mean there’s a letter from him?’

  ‘It’s in the hall.’

  She gave a little gasp of excitement. ‘Oh, Pappy, why didn’t you say?’

  ‘I just did,’ he said, but she did not hear; she was already out of her chair and starting across the room.

  The letter was lying on the front hall table, and quickly she took it up, opened it and read it. Minutes later she was back in the kitchen, the letter in her hand.

  ‘So?’ her father said. ‘What does he have to say?’

  ‘Oh – he’s well, very well. And sends you his best wishes.’

  ‘That’s nice of him. Where was he writing from?’

  ‘From Kingston, Jamaica.’ She looked at the date. ‘He wrote it almost six weeks ago. He says his ship was just about to set out for New York with a cargo of sugar, after which he’ll be returning to England.’

  Mr Harper nodded. ‘Well, that’s good news.’

  ‘Oh, yes. His mother will be so pleased to see him.’

  ‘His mother? And what about you?’

  ‘Me? Oh – well, I shall be pleased to see him as well. Of course.’

  ‘No doubt you will. And he should be back in a fortnight or so, weather permitting.’

  Up in her room, Grace sat and thought over the news that Stephen was soon to return.

  They had first met in the village one Saturday afternoon of the previous summer while he was home on shore leave, and afterwards he had come to the house, asking permission of her father to take her out for a drive. The arrangement had been made and he had called at the appointed time the following day and they had driven out together in his parents’ carriage that he had borrowed for the occasion. The sojourn had been so very pleasant and, as it had turned out, had been the first of several. Grace had enjoyed his company, and they had laughed together, sharing a good humour, and she had been happy in the obvious warmth of his affecton. After his departure to rejoin his ship, he and Grace had corresponded as well as they could. But the very nature of his occupation had denied any means of regular and reliable contact. Still, they had met on the occasion of each of his leaves, and with each departure she had found herself missing him more.

  And now he was due back, soon she would be seeing him again.

  By the time Grace was up the next morning Billy had been gone an hour, hurrying off to join Mr Timmins on his weekly visit to the Corster market. Grace was also going to Corster, but she would be travelling later, and making her own way.

  Before her departure, Grace and her father stood together in his workshop. Wearing her hat and second-best dress, Grace was ready to leave.

  From his pocket Samuel Harper took his purse and counted out money which he handed to Grace. ‘There’s enough here to buy Billy’s shirt and the other odds and ends and also to pay for any refreshments you’ll want during the day.’

  Grace thanked him and looked at the coins in her palm. ‘I don’t need anything for refreshments. I’ve got money for that.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  He paused. ‘I wish things could be different. But one day things’ll pick up again.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure they will.’

  ‘I’ve been wondering – perhaps we should put off Mrs Tanner. We could save a bit there.’

  ‘Oh, but such a little bit, Pappy. And while I’m around it would be all right, but I shall be working again soon, and then who would clean and cook and wash for you? No, you need her. The little she costs we’ll have to manage.’

  As she put the coins into her purse her father raised his hand, looked at his thumb and briefly put it in his mouth.

  ‘Is your thumb bothering you?’ Grace said.

  ‘It’s a little sore, but that’ll go away.’

  ‘I’ll bring some more iodine from town, shall I?’

  Soon after, just after 8.30, Grace set out. The morning was fine and sunny, the few clouds that had gathered at dawn now disappearing beyond the horizon. Seeking the shortest route, she cut across the fields, walking along the footpaths and beside the hedgerows, and then at last, after an hour, reached Liddiston. There she emerged onto the Corster road – which was unusually busy – as befitted a Corster market day. In ten minutes she had attracted the goodwill of the driver of a pony and trap driving to market with his wife. Not missing the enquiring looks of the young woman at the roadside, he brought the cob to a halt and asked Grace if she would like a ride into Corster. Indeed she would, Grace replied, and in no time was climbing up into the trap.

  Grace thought the faces of the man and woman were somewhat familiar and was not surprised to learn that they were from Coleshill, the next village to Green Shipton. Sitting on the seat behind the pair, Grace kept up a desultory conversation with them until at last they reached the town.

  It was after eleven when the man pulled up outside a public house in the town centre, and Grace got down and gave her thanks and said her goodbyes.

  When the man and his wife had driven on, Grace set off meandering through the streets, stopping here and there to look in shop windows. Her first project was to buy Billy’s shirt, and when this was accomplished she set off for the market square.

  The bustle of the streets was as nothing compared to that of the market square. It was like a different world. There were so many people coming and going, and the noise at times was almost overwhelming. There was not only the loud hum of people’s voices as they went about their shopping, but also the yelling of the stallholders as they shouted out information about their goods. For some time Grace wandered among the stalls, looking at the huge variety of goods displayed for sale. Everything was there, from pigs’ trotters to silk ribbons, and she took it all in, along with the excitement that went with the bustle of the place. At one particular stall, one selling medicines and other curatives, Grace bought a small bottle of iodine.

  Beyond the general market square was the cattle market, and there Grace went next, being met not only by the general sounds coming from the live animals there, the squawks and bleats and lowing from the chickens and sheep and cattle, but also the smell. There could be no mistaking where she was.

  Grace stood to o
ne side, standing well out of the way of the various livestock-holders and dealers who went back and forth through the manure- and urine-tainted straw, while Grace looked around and eventually spied Mr Timmins some yards away beside a pen over by the right near the wall. Billy was with him. Grace lifted her skirts out of the way of the dirt and picked her way through the straw.

  Mr Timmins was standing beside a pen in conversation with another man. Nearby Billy leaned over the side of a pen and scratched the back of one of the two small heifers within it. He looked up as his sister drew near, and as soon as she got to his side he said to her, ‘I’m stayin’ here, Grace.’

  ‘Well, of course you are,’ Grace replied. ‘Did you think I’d come to take you away with me? Good heavens, no. What would you want with traipsing round the shops with your sister for? You’re much better off here.’

  At that moment Mr Timmins’s companion moved away and Mr Timmins turned and saw Grace there. He came towards her. ‘Morning, Miss Grace. You’ve come to give me an’ and with my livestock,’ ave you?’

  Grace laughed. ‘Oh, I’m sure I could help you a lot, Mr Timmins, I don’t think. No, I just came to say hello to Billy, and see that he’s all right.’

  ‘Oh, I should think he is. Is that right, young Bill?’

  Billy nodded, smiling. ‘Of course.’

  Mr Timmins said to Grace, ‘Are you here on your own?’

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘How are you getting back?’

  ‘I’ll probably get the train to Liddiston and walk from there.’

  ‘Well, we shall be leaving at four, so if you’d care to wait till then we can give you a ride. Long as you don’t mind roughing it a bit among the churns and chicken coops. Though we’ll make you as comfortable as we can. And I’ll put down some cloths so as you don’t get dirty.’

  Grace thanked him but declined his kind offer, saying that she would be setting off home well before four. So, saying her goodbyes, she wandered on again, until she came upon a bookshop where she stopped to linger, shading the glass in order to peer in. She would so like to buy a book, she thought. After a few moments she pushed open the shop door and went inside.

  She felt she could have spent so long browsing in the bookshop, and so much money, too. But whereas she had plenty of time, she had no great supply of money. She would have liked to buy a copy of Thomas Hardy’s The Woodlanders, and although she stood for a moment with the book in her hand, she decided that it was an expense that she could ill afford. After all, there was no knowing when she would next have employment and be able to earn money. Carefully she laid the book back on the shelf, then went from the shop.

  Outside in the street again she made her way to the Golden Hart, though on arrival she had to wait a few minutes in order to find a seat. The place was so busy; with it being a market day it was as if the world and his wife had come in to eat and drink. At last, however, she got a seat on a bench near a window where she relaxed in the hubbub. From the serving maid she ordered a slice of cold game pie, and lemonade to drink.

  When she had finished eating, she set off to do the remainder of her shopping, buying from the haberdasher a length of cotton which she intended to make up into a nightdress. And at last her errands were done and it was time to go home.

  She caught the train to Liddiston, and from the station there set out to walk the remaining distance to Green Shipton. She kept to the right-hand side of the road, facing the thin trickle of traffic. The sun still shone but there was a pleasant breeze coming over the hills. Of those few cart- and carriage-drivers who came up behind in the same direction on their left, Grace had hopes one would take pity and offer her a lift. But the time stretched out, and although a few vehicles came by, no offers came. The nearest to such a happening was when a cart came along with a group of farmhands on board. As it approached Grace from behind and to her left, there came a voice from the vehicle, calling out, ‘’Ello, there, sweet’eart,’ in a jovial manner, and Grace turned and looked up. A row of young male faces grinned at her over the side of the cart – which now perceptibly slowed slightly. ‘Hoyup there, Jake!’ one of them called to the driver, a man just a little older, ‘ – passenger on the starboard side.’ The cart slowed further so that for a few moments it just about kept pace with Grace’s stride. ‘You want a lift, my darlin’?’ called the young man. ‘There’s room for you up ’ere along of us.’ ‘Ah, that there is,’ shouted another. Their words were delivered in a good-natured tone, their laughter ringing out in the warm early evening air.

  Grace looked away and slowed her pace.

  ‘Oh, Miss Hoity-Toity,’ yelled another young man. ‘Too grand to get up ’ere are we?’ ‘Yeh,’ yelled another, ‘ – ‘fraid of catchin’ summat, are we? Nothin’ to be afraid of ’ere, darlin’.’

  ‘No, there certainly ain’t,’ said the first young man. ‘And there’s plenty of room – ’specially if you sits on my lap.’

  Another half minute of calls from the young men, then the driver called over his shoulder to them, ‘Looks like yer out of luck, lads; some folks don’t know a good thing when they sees it,’ and clicked his tongue and called to the horse. In a few seconds the vehicle was picking up speed and moving on again.

  In spite of the good-natured tone of the words from the young men, it was with relief that Grace watched the cart move on ahead.

  Three more vehicles passed her during the next ten minutes, but then came a fourth, and Grace’s fortune took a turn.

  Hearing yet another vehicle approaching behind her, Grace turned and saw a pony and trap coming over the brow of the hill, and in her brief glimpse made out two men sitting in the driver’s seat. She had turned back to face ahead once more when she now heard a voice from the trap as it drew close up behind:

  ‘Well, I declare – it’s Miss Harper, out for a walk.’

  Hearing the words, Grace at once turned, and saw there Mr Spencer sitting up holding the cob’s reins, an unfamiliar man sitting at his side. Calling out, ‘Whoo-ah, Clarrie,’ Mr Spencer brought the trap to a halt beside Grace, and lifted his hat.

  ‘Miss Grace,’ he said, ‘to what do I owe such a pleasure? Have you been to the market?’

  ‘Yes, I have,’ Grace replied. Of all the people she might have wished to meet, Mr Spencer was not one of them. Nevertheless she turned and smiled at him.

  ‘And now on your way home, I assume,’ he said to her.

  Then before she could answer, he added, ‘I’m forgetting my manners here. Rhind, this is Miss Harper. Miss Harper, this is Mr Rhind, my groom and valet and all things good to me.’

  Grace murmured a few polite words and the man nodded to her, the trace of a smile touching his mouth. ‘Miss …’ he murmured.

  ‘And this is my cue to offer my help,’ Mr Spencer said to Grace, ‘ – and my great pleasure. If I can offer you a ride back to Green Shipton, I shall be very happy to do so.’

  ‘But it’ll mean going out of your way,’ Grace said.

  ‘Not by so much,’ Mr Spencer replied. ‘And Clarrie here likes a worthwhile walk.’ He smiled at her. ‘So, shall it be yes?’

  Without waiting for a reply, Mr Spencer was jumping down to help Grace up into the trap, as he did so saying to Rhind, ‘Say, Rhind, old chap, it’d be as well if you sit in the back, all right?’ and to Grace: ‘And you, Miss Harper, perhaps you’d care to sit up in the front along with me. I have to say you’ll be prettier company than Rhind.’

  To her annoyance Grace found herself blushing slightly at his words. She watched as Rhind moved into the back and then she got up and took a seat beside Mr Spencer. Then Mr Spencer called out to the cob and the trap moved off again.

  Mr Spencer did most of the talking as they drove, most of the conversation comprising questions and answers between him and Grace. He asked about her visit to Corster. Throughout the ride the man Rhind said barely a single word. He sat facing the moving scenery, never acknowledging Grace’s presence with more than a glance, and barely more than the
odd word, and this only when he was drawn into the conversation by his employer. He was a man of less than average height, wiry in his build, and about forty-five years of age, with black, tightly wavy hair, hair which without restraint curled in spite of its Macassar dressing. The darkness of his hair was also seen in the bluish tint of his shaven chin and cheeks, and in the thick moustache and brows. His eyes, fringed with thick lashes, were almost as dark as his hair. His mouth, with narrow upper lip, and full lower, was set and unsmiling, and Grace, glancing back over her shoulder at him, could only conclude that he was resentful of her company – though why he should be, she could not imagine.

  And then at last Green Shipton came in view, and they were soon entering the boundaries of the village.

  Mr Spencer pulled up the trap outside Bramble House then jumped down and reached up for Grace’s hand. As he did so, Rhind stood up in the back, ready to step down and resume his earlier position in the front. As his head came within a foot of Grace’s, he leaned over a little closer and said, very softly:

  ‘You might fool some people, but not me. I can see through you – like glass.’

  Then, the next second, as if he had not spoken, he smiled and jumped down out of the trap.

  Chapter Four

  The following week, on Saturday, soon after breakfast Grace set about preparing her things to pack in her box, for the following morning she was due to leave for Remmer Ridge to stay for a week with her Aunt Edie, her father’s elder sister. Grace had made the trip on several occasions over the past few years, and now that her aunt was widowed felt that her company was even more welcome. This particular sojourn had been decided upon three weeks earlier, planned to coincide with Grace’s employment with the Marrens coming to an end. Grace was looking forward to the break; it would be good to have no responsibilities for a while, and though Aunt Edie could be a little exacting at times, nevertheless her heart was in the right place, and she had a fine, irreverent sense of humour. All in all, Grace’s stays with her had generally proved to be fun and entertaining.