A Stranger Light

by Gloria Cook

  ‘Yes, we are,’ Bob said, eyeing her with disapproval. ‘And you’d better behave yourself. We don’t want you ruining it for the rest of us.’

  ‘Maureen wouldn’t do that.’ Pearl skipped along merrily.

  ‘She might. She’s too naughty at times,’ Bob said darkly. He was jealous that Maureen was more daring and outspoken than he was. She was cheeky to grownups, and even to the teachers at school. It sometimes brought gasps from the other children. He was jealous he couldn’t deliver shock and horror or invoke admiration from his peers in the same way. ‘Maureen, stop swinging the basket. You’ll lose the lot and get us all into trouble.’

  The words were hardly out of his mouth before all the eggs came tumbling out as Maureen gave the basket an extra wide swing. Every one cracked, and a yellow and gooey mess splattered and spread on the hard ground. All the children got sticky splashes on their legs, socks and sandals. ‘Oh heck.’ Maureen stared down at the mess.

  ‘Oh heck! Is that all you can say?’ Bob pushed on her hard, wrenching the basket out of her hand. ‘People are going without enough to eat because food is short and you’ve just wasted all that good protein. You’re a useless little sod.’ He pushed her again and Maureen slipped on the eggs and fell on to her bottom, her skirt becoming horribly wet.

  ‘You beast!’ she screamed, scrabbling to her feet. ‘I’ll get you for that.’ She launched herself at Bob and hit him in the face.

  He yelled and hit her back. She shrieked in fury and balled a fist and thumped him in the chest. Next instant they were scrapping in a full fight.

  Len tried to pull them apart. ‘Back off, both of you!’

  Pearl shouted at them to stop. ‘I’ll get Uncle Tris!’

  Bob yanked on strands of Maureen’s hair until he’d pulled it out. She screamed with pain and swore at him, a very bad word. ‘I’ll kill you! You dare to hurt me like that.’

  Pearl was frightened by the fierce fighting and was crying. She tore off to the farmhouse. ‘Uncle Tris! Uncle Tris!’ He was in the office with Cyril Trewin, the farm foreman.

  Tristan had heard the shouts, but as the children were always noisy he’d taken no notice. Hearing Pearl crying and screaming, he came out to see what the commotion was about. Cyril, stocky and swarthy, followed him, and the longest-serving farm worker, Eliza Shore, came out of the dairy. ‘What’s going on, sweetheart?’ Tristan stooped to Pearl. ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘You’ve got to stop them, Uncle Tris!’ Pearl pointed towards the washhouse. ‘Bob and Maureen are fighting. They’re killing each other.’

  ‘Take care of her, Eliza,’ Tristan ordered the old, mannish woman. ‘And fetch Mrs Dowling.’

  Moments later he reached the sparring children. They had ended their fight, but he was shocked to find them both crying and nursing bruises and scratches that were bleeding. They had been slipping and sliding over the broken eggs and their clothes and hair were coated with the thick mess and farmyard dirt. Len was gawping at them, bewildered, and like Pearl, he was scared. He wasn’t wrong in assuming there was going to be big trouble over this.

  ‘Little Pearl weren’t wrong about it, Mr Tristan,’ Cyril gasped. ‘They must have been behaving like a pair of hell cats.’

  ‘She started it!’ Bob sobbed, pointing an indignant finger at Maureen. The evidence showed he had come off worse in the fight and he was furious and embarrassed. ‘She’s nothing but trouble. I hate her! I don’t want her playing with us no more.’

  ‘Snivelling cowardy-cat,’ Maureen mocked, despite the pain where he had kicked her in the shin. She leapt towards him, eyes ablaze, fists up like a prize fighter. ‘Want some more?’

  Tristan grabbed her, and it was necessary for Cyril to take hold of Bob to prevent him executing a counter launch. ‘Now that’s enough, the pair of you!’ Tristan used the harshest tone. ‘There will be a loss of pocket money and treats for a very long time over this. I’m angry with you, Maureen. Your poor mother is going to be most upset that you have behaved like a little savage. Bob, I’m ashamed of you for fighting with a girl and one who’s four years younger. Go to the house, get cleaned up and go to your room. I shall speak to you again later.’

  Before Bob could react, Maureen struggled within Tristan’s grasp. ‘Let me go! I only dropped the eggs, it was an accident, and he went for me, called me names. I won’t have it!’ She started to scream and scream.

  ‘Stop it, Maureen!’ Tristan pleaded.

  ‘Here! What the bleeding hell’s going on? Get your hands off my niece or I swear I’ll rip your guts out!’ Caught unsuspecting, as everyone else was by the newcomer, Tristan didn’t see Kenny Locke hurtling towards him. Kenny punched him on the jaw. Tristan was sent crashing to the egg-slimed ground. He wasn’t given the chance to scrabble to his feet. Kenny kicked him in the ribs, once, twice, three times. Tristan groaned in pain, and as he put his hands up to ward off further blows, Kenny kicked him again and again on the forearms. ‘Think you got the right to bully my niece, do you? Just because you’re some bloody toff? Go near her again and I’ll finish you off.’

  ‘Stand back!’ The strident command came from Mark, who had just returned from his ride and had thrown himself off the hunter. He didn’t stop to bandy words with Kenny Locke, but he landed a hefty punch in the softest part of the man’s belly. Kenny doubled over on to his knees, yelling in agony.

  Susan arrived on swift feet with Eliza and Pearl, who had filled her in about Maureen’s latest misdemeanour. She had witnessed Kenny laying into Tristan and Mark thumping Kenny. She could hardly believe her eyes. Bob was hurt and distressed. Her daughter was the same, and white with shock as she stared down at the two fallen men. Blood was trickling from a gash on Tristan’s chin. ‘Oh, my God, what’s this all about? Don’t just stand there,’ she shouted at Mark and Cyril. ‘Get Mr Tristan up. Kenny, why on earth did you hurt him?’

  Kenny got up with a struggle. ‘Your swine of a boss was pulling Maureen around and shouting at her, making her scream with fright. You and the maid are coming with me to my new house. I came here to tell you all about it. You’re coming with me now to get your things packed. If you’re owed any wages I’ll make sure you get ’em.’

  ‘He’s lying,’ Len cried indignantly. ‘Uncle Tris was only trying to get Maureen to calm down. She’d made trouble again. She’s always causing trouble.’

  ‘I don’t need anyone to explain, Kenny,’ Susan advanced on him. ‘Mr Harvey would never hurt Maureen. He wouldn’t hurt anyone at all.’

  ‘Whatever the truth of it is, you’re not staying here, that’s for sure,’ Kenny snapped. He glanced from Susan to Tristan, who was now on his feet, supported either side by the two other men, then back to Susan. ‘Just because he’s sweet on you doesn’t give him the right to send your daughter into hysterics. I encouraged you before to win him over, to get yourself hitched to him so you could live like a lady. Not any more. You wouldn’t have much of a life with him. He’s a sissy, didn’t put up any sort of a fight. We’re leaving, me, you and the girl, now.’

  Susan was mortified, but she faced her brother in fury. ‘We’re going nowhere with you. What gives you the right to come here and throw your weight about, to hurt the kindest, most decent man anyone could ever possibly know? He didn’t deserve what you did to him. You’re a brute, Kenny. You used to beat me. Remember? You’re trouble and you always will be. Get away from here! I never want to see you again.’

  ‘Turn me away, Susan, and I swear that even if you were to end up in the gutter I’d never lift a finger to help you or the girl.’ Kenny’s features were a hard twisted mask of intimidation and warning.

  Susan wasn’t moved. Neither was she afraid. She was disgusted by him and appalled. ‘I’ve never needed you before. I never will. Now go!’

  ‘You heard her, Locke,’ Mark said sternly. ‘Leave this instant or you’ll be escorted off the property. By my dog.’

  Kenny saw Addi, standing rigid and alert near his master, mouth open and showing
his teeth. ‘You might regret this one day,’ he snarled at Susan. Then at the rest of the company, ‘You all might!’ Picking up his fallen trilby, he banged on it to dislodge dirt and stalked off, head up, muttering under his breath.

  Susan went forward to Tristan. She wished she could speak to him without an audience. ‘I’m so sorry. This is all Maureen’s and my brother’s fault.’

  The pain in his ribs was making Tristan sag between Mark and Cyril. His emotional pain was a thousand times worse. The truth of how he loved Susan was out. Everything was ruined, brought down to a squalid level. He nodded at her. Then, unable to face her any more, he turned away.

  Susan went to Maureen and took her hand. ‘We’d better go home.’

  Later, Mark called at Little Dell to see if she and Maureen were all right. He found them in a state of gloom. For once Maureen was quiet, scrunched up on a stool at the kitchen hearth. ‘We’re only concerned about Mr Tristan,’ Susan said. ‘How he is?’

  ‘I managed to get him to agree to allow the doctor to call,’ Mark replied. ‘He’s strapped up Tristan’s cracked ribs. Eliza and Cyril are keeping the children at the farm until bedtime to give him some time to himself.’

  ‘Everything’s gone wrong,’ Susan wrung her hands. ‘Things were said… Mark, would you stay with Maureen while I go to the house?’

  ‘Of course. Take as much time as you need.’

  She hurried off, still wearing the pinny she had been working in when Eliza and Pearl had roused her. She had to speak to Tristan. Not least, she had to find out what her position at the house was now. He had probably telephoned Faye. They might consider that Maureen was a bad influence on the Smith children and wouldn’t tolerate her presence again. Kenny had added complications. He had made Tristan look a fool. He had belittled the hope Tristan had been carrying for her. It was going to be doubly difficult for her to face Tristan because of it. Their relationship had grown a little closer lately. They had been at ease with each other. She had actually found herself thinking about him in unexpected moments, and occasionally deliberately so. And she had enjoyed these thoughts. Tristan was much more than a kind person. He had a smile that dazzled, and he was fun. His tall lean physique and dark grey eyes made him attractive. Lurking not far under his careful gentlemanly exterior, she felt there was an earthy passion. Now, if she ever wanted to show a personal interest in him, thanks to Kenny’s spitefulness, it would be impossible.

  She crept into the house, through the ominously empty kitchen, into the corridor, and listened for Tristan. He might be lying down in his room. She heard the click of a cigarette lighter from the direction of the library. The door was open. He was in the room where they had shared their first cosy conversation and become friendly. She tiptoed there. Tristan was behind the desk, smoking, the chair swivelled round and facing the window.

  She went as close to him as she dared. He seemed to be staring into space. He had clean clothes on and his chest was bulkier because of the bandages. He sighed deeply, brought a hand up to an eye and sniffed. He might be crying. She hoped he wasn’t as devastated as that. Her insides, already a mass of knots, jarred and squirmed. Her face and neck grew hot with anxiety. If he was crying, and if he knew that she was there and saw him, it would escalate his humiliation. She should have knocked on the door and alerted him to her presence. It would have been the correct thing to do.

  Wearily exhaling smoke, Tristan suddenly got the eerie feeling someone was watching him. He shot his head round. His eyes widened to see the woman who was never out of his mind. He stood up and stubbed out his cigarette.

  Susan leapt back in guilt, blinking. Her heart went out to him. His eyes were red-rimmed as if he had been weeping. ‘H – Hello. Sorry, I should have… I had to see you… we should talk.’

  ‘You don’t have to say anything,’ he murmured, dropping his gaze. He couldn’t look at her. He had never backed down from facing anyone before, but he couldn’t look the lovely young woman he loved so much in the eye. She was speaking softly, but she was probably horrified at having thrust at her the fact that he, a man so much older than her, had designs on her. She likely saw him as an old fool, or worse, a lecher who had been playing clever and biding his time to snare her. True, she had stressed some nice things about him to her brother, but that might have been to save face. To give her a reason to rid herself of Kenny Locke, whom she loathed. ‘I think you should go.’

  ‘Go? You’re sacking me?’ It took an effort for her not to wail.

  ‘Not exactly.’ Her sudden presence had set his emotions whirling. He felt shaky and sick and had to clear his throat to go on. He had longed to say wonderful, loving things to her, but now he was clearing her out of his life, treating her as if she was nothing more than an employee. But he couldn’t talk to her about the terrible event in the farmyard. It was too painful. He couldn’t let her carry on working here. He couldn’t bear to have her about the house. How would he operate around her? It was impossible. As his life was going to be from now on. ‘I’ll see that you have a generous severance. Plenty to tide you over until you find something else. And a good reference. I think it’s best… in all the circumstances. Mark will be taking over Rose Dew after the visit to Roskerne. I’m sure he’d be glad to have you keep house for him.’ He thought he would choke on the bile rising in his throat as he said the dreaded words. ‘Goodbye, Susan.’

  Susan said nothing. She was too numb. At the beginning of the year her life had changed dramatically for the better, and now all the good things had crumbled away. Things would never be the same again – a new job, even if she got to work for Mark, wouldn’t fix that. For the first time she had experienced proper family life, belonged to a group of people who had cared for and admired her. Now she was an outsider, and Maureen was too. Facing her across the massive desk and the chasm of their differences, she was hit by the realization that while she’d miss the family and this lovely house, she would miss him most. Her heart had received a mortal blow.

  Somehow she had to make her legs move and leave. Somehow she must leave with dignity and not upset him further. Wetting her lips, she managed to mutter, ‘Please tell Faye how sorry I am about Maureen’s behaviour. I’ll keep her off Tremore property. Goodbye, Mr Harvey.’

  He listened to each of her slight steps as she went. When the final closing of the back door came it was as if everything vital had been cut off from his heart. He fell down in the chair and lowering his head, wept as he’d never wept before.

  He wasn’t sure if he could live here at Tremore any longer with Susan living just along the lanes. Perhaps Faye should sell up to Lottie after all, and he and the Smith children go away and start a new life with her and Simon – that was if Faye turned down Fergus Blair’s marriage proposal. If not, then he could move away to be near to Jonny. Whatever happened, he was facing the bleakest and loneliest future.

  * * *

  Susan didn’t remember walking along the lanes and reaching home. She felt unreal, as if a stranger to herself. She saw Tristan in a different light now, but it was too late. She had lost something more than her job. If not for the distrust she had refused to let go of and the guard she had put on her heart, she could have lived and loved with a man who would have filled every part of her being. The corner of her eye caught sight of a man standing further up the track. Instinctively she knew it wasn’t Mark or any man belonging to this world. It was Jude Keast. Was he still looking for his lost loved ones? Since that terrible day they had vanished, he must have lived out the rest of his life breathing loneliness. Now, although having Maureen until she grew up, she must live that way too.

  ‘Jude,’ she whispered in despair, ‘I’m as lost and as lonely as you are.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  The tide was coming in, gradually licking over the soft golden-white sand, an unstoppable force and a consuming entity. Yesterday there had been bright sunshine and a gorgeous blue, cloudless sky. Last night the wind had changed to the south-west, bringing with it sho
wers of chilly rain. Early this morning, the cliff top house of Roskerne and every horizon had been drenched in a heavy mist, then it had cleared by breakfast, allowing a weak sun to show its face. Now the sky was clouding over with grey clouds that were growing ever heavier and darker. The weather mocked Faye’s fluctuating thoughts. After another restless night, she was strolling along the beach alone. Once again mulling over the choice she should make for the future.

  A final decision was almost impossible. ‘It won’t be as easy to leave as I’d thought when I got upset,’ she’d told Fergus when he’d pressed her for her answer to his proposal prior to his return to Glenladen. They had taken a few moments to be alone in the summerhouse. ‘The Smith children are every bit as much my responsibility as they are my uncle’s. You’ve seen how they are. They witnessed my uncle being attacked, and then Mark punching the man who did it. This was supposed to be a happy holiday for them, but they’re so miserable. Pearl is missing her little friend, Maureen. There was no choice but to punish Bob for what he did. But it’s awful for a child to think he can’t have an ice cream or join in late evening picnics on the beach for a whole week when he’s on holiday. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw the state of him, all scratched and bruised. If I’d been there things might not have got out of hand.’

  ‘But you don’t know that for sure, Faye.’ Fergus had tried to take her hand, but she’d moved away from his reach. ‘If you decide to marry me, it wouldn’t have to be straight away. We could get engaged and allow the children time to get used to the idea. They’re a nice bunch. They don’t seem to hate me.’

  ‘The children are confused.’ So was she. When Fergus was stressing his promise of a good life for her and Simon she longed for the security and was drawn again to him, but she was not really in the position to reach for this easy option. ‘They’ve had a stable life at Tremore with me and Uncle Tris since their parents died in the war; now it stands out that they’re anxious and feel their security is under threat. How can I leave them? And how can I leave Uncle Tris? He’s putting on a brave face for the children’s sakes but he’s distraught, he’s heartbroken. I don’t think he’ll ever get over Susan.’