Too Close to the Sun

by Jess Foley

And he still held her hand, and now he leaned across the space between, closer, and through the thin cotton of her gloves she could feel the warmth of his skin.

  ‘You appear to me to be a most kind, considerate, and deserving young lady,’ he said. ‘And I’m sure you were a credit to your late father. Indeed, I should think that any man would be glad to have you for a daughter.’ Then without warning, his right hand moved up to her face, touching at the softness of her cheek. Gently he brushed his fingertips over her skin. ‘Any man,’ he said.

  Grace drew back a little, stiffening in the chair, but he still held her hand.

  ‘And if you needed to stay on in the house for longer,’ he went on, ‘I can’t see any reason you should not. And I’ll be happy to call in and make sure that you’re – comfortable.’

  Before Grace could make a move to stop him, his hand had moved to the back of her neck and pulled her head forward. In the same moment he leaned closer and planted a wide, moist kiss on her mouth. His breath smelled of parma violets and tobacco. Quickly, without hesitating for a moment, she leapt to her feet, brushing his hands aside. Breathing heavily, she wiped the back of her gloved hand across her mouth. At the same time tears of shame sprang to her eyes.

  ‘Mr Grennell …’ Again she wiped her mouth with her hand. ‘Mr Grennell, you’ve made a great mistake.’

  He had looked a little taken aback by her violent response, but now he affected a rather casual air. ‘Well,’ he said, getting to his feet, ‘I wouldn’t go so far as to say a great mistake. If indeed I’ve made a mistake at all.’

  ‘Well, you’ve made a mistake in me,’ Grace said. Her hat had gone slightly askew in the movement of the kiss, and she put up a hand and adjusted it. ‘I don’t know where you might have got the notion, but I’m not the kind of person who can be bought for a month’s rent.’

  ‘Calm down, calm down,’ he said, looking not greatly moved as Grace stood there with her breast heaving, glowering at him. ‘You said earlier that you have pride.’ He nodded. ‘Well, yes, I can see that. But I do think it’s a bit misplaced.’ Raising one eyebrow, he added a little sardonically, ‘For one thing, I’m wondering if you can afford such pride. I always bear in mind that every man has his price – and that goes for every woman too.’

  Grace opened her mouth to speak in protest, but no words would come. In another moment she was turning and moving towards the door. Grennell remained where he was, his expression showing no measure of distress as she opened the door.

  ‘Don’t forget, then,’ Mr Grennell said, ‘be ready with the house keys. I’ll expect to receive them from you when I call round.’

  Grace, about to close the door, turned on the spot and looked at him.

  ‘But you said – you said I could stay on for a further month.’

  ‘I don’t recall saying any such thing,’ he said.

  ‘But – we shook hands on it.’

  ‘My dear young lady,’ he said, ‘you have a powerful imagination. You must be careful with it, lest it get you into trouble.’

  Grace stood staring at him. ‘Mr Grennell, how can you do this? How can you be so unkind?’

  ‘Unkind, my dear?’ he said, gazing back at her with wide eyes. ‘Kindness doesn’t come into this. I’ve no time for sentiment; I’m a businessman.’ He moved around to stand behind his desk. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘I’m also a busy man, so if there’s nothing else for the present …?’ He gestured towards her with a little motion of his hand. ‘And please be careful not to slam the door when you close it.’

  The sun was shining brightly out of a sky that was clear apart from odd wisps of cloud on the horizon as Grace alighted from the train at Liddiston. She could see that the walk in front of her to Green Shipton was to be a warm affair. Nevertheless it had to be done. She could not give in to her desires and hire a cab. There simply was not the money. If she had learned to be frugal in the recent past, she must make even greater efforts now.

  Less than two weeks, she said to herself, as she walked. Less than two weeks. The phrase went through her brain. She could scarcely believe it. She had set out to see the landlord with such strong feelings of hope, and she had thought the meeting was going well. But then suddenly everything had fallen apart. How could I have been so naïve? she asked herself. She was not a child. Should she not have seen it coming? But she had allowed herself to be swept along, believing in the man’s good nature. Less than two weeks – and she and Billy would have to be out of the house.

  But what was she going to do? There would not now be time for the goods to be auctioned off. Therefore she would have to find some other way of disposing of everything. Which would probably mean getting in touch with a house clearer. Losing the sale of their possessions through auction would mean that she would lose so much of their value, for a dealer would take everything, lock, stock and barrel, regardless of the value of individual items. And she needed to get as much money as possible. All she had was her wages from Mr Marren and the little that her father had left in cash. All told, it amounted to not very much – certainly not enough to keep her and Billy in food and clothes and shelter for very long.

  Even so, she and Billy would very quickly have to search around and find lodgings somewhere. She had expected to have to do such a thing in any case, but now there was very little time. She had been casting her eyes about, and asking questions of neighbours, in the hope of learning about available rooms for rent, somewhere, but there were so few available. One thing she had come to realize was that she and Billy would probably have to move to Corster or some other town.

  At last Grace reached Green Shipton and headed along the lane towards Bramble House. As she reached the house and turned into the yard she saw a pony and trap standing there. It took her just a few seconds to recognize that it belonged to Mr Spencer.

  As she stopped beside it she heard the scrape of footsteps on the cobbles, and turned to see Edward Spencer coming round the side of the house. He smiled broadly when he saw her. ‘Ah, Miss Grace, you’re here.’

  Grace smiled in reply. ‘Hello, Mr Spencer.’

  ‘I’ve just seen young Billy,’ he said, gesturing towards the house. ‘He said you’d gone off out on business.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I’ve been into Corster.’

  She did not say more on the subject, and after a moment’s pause he said, ‘I came round for the bureau.’

  ‘The bureau – oh, yes, of course.’ She had forgotten about the Spencers’ bureau. The payment for it could not have come at a better time.

  ‘I didn’t want to come round immediately after the funeral,’ he said. ‘Perhaps I should have written first – to see whether it’s convenient.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ she said. ‘It’s fine.’

  Turning, she stepped away across the yard. ‘It’s in my father’s workshop. He left it all ready to be transported. He would have delivered it to you if he hadn’t fallen sick.’

  The man followed her. ‘I’ve no doubt he would,’ he said.

  It was the first time she had been inside the workshop since her father had taken to his bed. Now, without his presence, and without the knowledge that his presence would soon again be there, the place had a forlorn air. The tools and everything else were just as he had left them, everything neatly in its place, the piece, unfinished, that he had been working on still lying on the bench.

  The bureau, wrapped in pieces of cloth for protection, was standing to one side. Grace carefully pulled aside some of the covering and exposed the polished cabinet beneath.

  ‘It looks beautiful,’ Mr Spencer said. ‘Just beautiful. Mrs Spencer will love it.’

  When the bureau had been stowed safely in the trap he took out his purse and took money from it. Then into her hand he counted out coins.

  Grace looked at the money in her palm and said, ‘You’ve given me too much by a shilling.’

  ‘No matter,’ he said. ‘I’m well pleased with the bargain.’

  ‘No, please,’ she said,
‘you struck the deal with my father, and a deal’s a deal. I know how much it was for; he wrote everything down.’

  ‘No, honestly –’

  He began to protest again, but Grace cut in, holding out the coin. ‘Mr Spencer, please take it. We must stick to what is right, what was agreed.’

  ‘Very well, if you insist.’ He took the shilling from her and put it back in his purse.

  ‘I’ll write you out a receipt.’ She turned, about to move to the workshop again, but he waved a hand to halt her.

  ‘That’s not necessary.’

  ‘Very well.’ She dropped the coins he had given her into her bag. She expected him then to climb up into the trap and be away, but he remained there, for a moment silent, then he said:

  ‘How are you now? Are things getting a little easier?’

  ‘Well – there’s certainly a good deal to do. Though perhaps in some ways that’s all to the good. It takes one’s mind off things. There’s not much time for dwelling on unhappiness.’

  ‘I’m sure there isn’t.’ He paused. ‘You do seem rather – preoccupied at the moment. Though it’s hardly to be wondered at.’

  She nodded. ‘I suppose I am. I haven’t had the most successful morning.’

  ‘Is it anything that I could help with?’

  ‘No – but thank you, anyway.’

  ‘Would you care to tell me what it is?’ Then he smiled. ‘Or do tell me to mind my own affairs, if you wish.’

  She shrugged. ‘Well, there’s no harm in telling you. I’ve been to see the landlord in Corster – to ask if he could let us stay on for a further month. I’m afraid he ended up refusing.’ She would say nothing of the events that had led to his reneging on their agreement; it would serve no purpose, added to which it was an embarrassment she wanted to put behind her.

  ‘Well, that’s an unfriendly thing to do, I must say,’ Mr Spencer said. ‘Surely he can’t have someone already waiting to move in. It’ll take him a while to let the place anyway, I should think. Who is this man, by the way?’

  ‘His name is Grennell.’

  ‘I think I’ve heard of him.’ Mr Spencer nodded. ‘Did he give any reason for his refusal?’

  ‘Oh, Mr Spencer,’ Grace said, ‘I’d really rather not talk about it, truly. I need to put my mind to dealing with the situation we’re in. We have to be out of here by the tenth of next month.’

  He looked at her a little more closely at this, and she, feeling his eyes upon her, felt as if he could read her thoughts, read the shame she felt at the experience at Grennell’s hands.

  ‘Well, it certainly doesn’t give you much time, that’s for sure,’ he said, stroking his chin. ‘What do you plan to do with all your possessions?’

  ‘I wish I had the answer to that. I had planned to bring in the auctioneers, but now there won’t be time. It looks as if I shall have to find a dealer who will just take everything off my hands. I can’t see any other course.’

  ‘I think that might be the only thing. I do know one or two dealers. If you like, I could get in touch with them and see what their situation is. Would you like me to do that?’

  The offer was so welcome. How could she refuse? ‘Well,’ she said, ‘I have to say that I think that is most kind of you. I honestly don’t quite know where to begin.’

  And all at once the events of the past weeks, her father’s illness and death, and then that morning’s encounter with Mr Grennell and all that it entailed, seemed to push her beyond the edge of her control. Like a cup being overfilled, she was suddenly incapable of containing herself, and tears welled into her eyes and threatened to spill over.

  She spoke no word, but just stood on the cobbles, one hand clenched at her mouth, fighting to keep the tears at bay.

  ‘Oh, Grace – Miss Grace.’ Mr Spencer started to reach out to her, but then drew back his hand. ‘Please – I can’t stand to see you cry. Tell me what it is. I’m sure it can all be sorted out.’

  When she said nothing, he gestured towards the house behind her. ‘Shall we go inside? I think you should sit down. We’ll have some tea and perhaps you’ll tell me what it is. Please?’

  She took a breath and brought herself more nearly under control. ‘Billy’s indoors,’ she said. ‘I don’t want him to see me upset. His world’s all topsy turvy as it is.’

  She stepped away, moving across the yard, purposeless, directionless, coming to a halt beside the well. Mr Spencer hesitated a moment then moved to stand facing her again.

  ‘So you have to be out of here in less than a fortnight?’ he said.

  ‘According to Mr Grennell, yes.’ She shrugged. ‘Of course, he’s acting perfectly within the law, so I can’t challenge him in any way. I’ve just got to find somewhere else to live, and that’s that. And find a place soon.’

  ‘D’you have anything in mind?’

  ‘I shall go out tomorrow and start looking. I bought a copy of the local paper when I was in Corster this morning, so perhaps there’ll be something advertised in it. I have to find a new post too. It’s not enough just to find a place to live, I also have to find some means of paying for it.’

  He stood in silence for a few moments, then said, ‘I’ll make some enquiries in the area. Perhaps someone will know of some available, suitable rooms. Do you mind where you go? Within reason?’

  ‘No, I don’t mind. So long as it’s not the ends of the earth. I just need to find a decent place for the two of us – and where Billy can go to school. Perhaps I should find a position first – wherever it might be – and then concentrate on finding somewhere to live. The trouble is, there’s so little time.’

  He nodded. ‘Well, let’s see what we can do. In the meantime, don’t worry about finding a dealer to take your things. I’ll go and see one now and try to arrange for him to come and see you.’

  ‘Oh, that would be so kind of you,’ she said.

  ‘Well, you won’t get a lot for it, one never does in that kind of transaction, but at least it will be off your hands and you’ll have a little something.’

  He drew some water for the pony, and watched as it drank its fill. Then he said goodbye and climbed up into the driver’s seat of the trap.

  Grace watched as the vehicle turned out of the yard and into the lane, then she went round the rear of the yard and into the house. There was no time to dwell on her problems. She must try to get them sorted out. In the meantime Billy would be wanting his dinner.

  That evening, Billy said his goodnights to Grace preparatory to going up to the little room in which he now slept alone. ‘Are you coming up to see me?’ he asked as he took up the lighted candle, and Grace replied, ‘Of course. When do I not?’ Their mother had always gone up to see him safe in bed, and since her death it had fallen upon Grace or their father to give this particular little comfort. Now with their father gone, it was down to Grace alone.

  She continued with her mending for five more minutes, then put it aside and went up the stairs. A tap on Billy’s door, followed by a called ‘Come in,’ and she opened the door and went inside.

  In the light of the bedside candle Billy lay with his eyes open, the sheet drawn up to his chin. As she moved to the bed he slid over under the covers to allow her space to sit. She patted his knees. ‘Are you all right?’ she said as she sat down.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you have a good day today at the farm?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Is it all going well? – Mr Timmins’s harvest?’

  ‘Yes. I heard Mr Timmins say they’ll start with the barley tomorrow.’

  ‘And will you be going back there to help?’

  ‘Yes, if it’s all right.’ There was a slightly anxious note in his voice, as if he feared being forbidden.

  ‘Of course it’s all right. Just so long as you’re wanted there, and that you don’t get given too much to do.’

  ‘No, I can do it.’

  ‘I’m sure you can.’

  His hand came out from under the covers and brief
ly brushed at her wrist. ‘Do we still have to leave, Grace?’

  ‘I’m afraid so. And there’s something I haven’t told you. We have to leave earlier than I’d anticipated. We have to be gone from here in less than two weeks.’

  In the dim light she could see the look of consternation that flashed into his eyes and settled. ‘But the harvest won’t be in by that time.’

  Grace shrugged. ‘Well – I’m sorry about that. But we don’t have any choice.’

  ‘Everything’s changing again,’ he said.

  ‘I know. I’m sorry.’

  A little silence fell in the room. In the quiet Grace could here the singing of the blackbird in the cherry tree beyond the window. Then Billy said:

  ‘Grace …?’

  ‘Yes? What is it?’

  ‘Pappy used to look after us, Grace, didn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, he did, and very well too.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Yes, indeed.’

  ‘Who’s going to do it now? Who’s going to look after us now?’

  ‘I am,’ Grace said. ‘I am.’

  Chapter Seven

  ‘No, I agree it isn’t a large room,’ the woman said in response to Grace’s comment, ‘but it’s a pleasant room. And the outlook is very nice.’

  Mrs Packerman was in her late forties, with greying hair, a large chin, and a heavy bosom. She wore an apron and a little heart-shaped lace cap, and, right now, an expression of jolliness and good humour. She was the landlady of a lodging house situated just off one of the main streets in Corster, and Grace was there because she had seen in the window the sign saying Rooms to Rent.

  Grace stood in the middle of the room – or as close to the middle as it was possible to get, what with the bed, the wardrobe, a chest of drawers and a washstand and sundry other items taking up so much space.

  ‘Really,’ Grace said, ‘I was hoping to find a larger room – with two beds in it. To have a bed for my little brother …’

  ‘Well, that could come expensive, dear,’ Mrs Packerman said. ‘How old’s your brother, anyway?’

  ‘He’s eight.’

  The woman gave the hint of a snort and a little chuckle. ‘Eight – and expects a bed of his own? Whatever next. Oh, he sounds a very grand young man. Perhaps he’ll be too grand for the likes of us.’