by Gloria Cook
‘I can understand that. When I saw her that one time I thought her a striking woman. They looked right together. It’s a pity things have gone wrong. But Faye, you have to consider Simon and yourself.’
‘Simon, yes. I’m not so concerned about myself. I’ve been selfish in the way I’ve let Susan down. I’d intended to make a close friend of her, but I all but ignored her when I left Tremore.’
‘Why? Had she annoyed you? Been slack in her work?’
‘No, I was just moody.’ She couldn’t tell Fergus about her feelings for Mark, that she’d been jealous he had seemed closer to Susan than to herself. ‘And now I feel I’ve completely deserted her. She must be feeling wretched, and little Maureen too.’
‘There is one answer to the whole situation. I had a chat with Tristan over drinks last night and he’d voiced the very thing.’
‘What’s that?’ Faye had frowned. A magic wand couldn’t be waved over the sorry mess.
‘He’s thinking of making a new start, moving away with Pearl and the twins. I don’t think he’ll be able to stand living with Susan Dowling close by. You could all come to Scotland. I’ll find a suitable house for Tristan and the children on the shores of the loch. The estate is just as much a beautiful and peaceful place for the children to grow up as here in Cornwall.’
It had been a tempting offer, and she had nearly said yes to it there and then. It seemed the right thing to do. Marriage to Fergus, to be wife of the laird, with Simon growing up in his father’s home, accepted by his half-brothers and half-sister, and with Uncle Tris and the Smiths living close by, all of them mixing with the kindly people found there, seemed the perfect solution. Life with Fergus would be good. She liked him a lot. He made her smile. She had enjoyed him being here with her and Simon; building sandcastles, fishing in the rock pools, taking picnics on the sand and up on the cliffs. She had dined with Fergus at the hotel. She had taken comfort in his presence and the reminiscences of the time she’d spent on his estate. He had stayed at Roskerne for supper. Once he had stayed so late he had slept over. He would have slept with her if she’d allowed him to. He’d flirted with her all the time, reminded her, with silky looks and sultry tones, of the times they had made love. ‘It had been wonderful, hadn’t it, Faye? Darling?’ He had smiled and smiled into her eyes. She had admitted he was right. She had lain in the next room and had nearly gone to him. Fergus was sensuous and could all too easily fill her with desire. The feel of his arms around her, to cling to his body through one lonely night, was a need she had nearly capitulated to. But she had stayed strong, not wanting to make more complications in her already difficult life.
Life at Glenladen for all her extended family beckoned strongly. But there was Mark, although it was silly to think about him. She had denied to herself that she loved him, yet when she had seen him again on his arrival, those old feelings had refused to stay buried. In the days apart he had become stronger and more vital, gaining a healthy colour. He had been cautious with her – probably wondering if she was going to be as cool with him as the day she’d suddenly left Tremore. He had taken her hand and kissed her on the cheek, the salute of a friend but nothing more. He didn’t say much. He was just a quiet presence, a friend to everyone, there to give support to whoever needed him.
Sometimes she allowed herself a little hope with Mark. He was different with her. He’d gaze at her and each time he caught her eye he smiled a sad sort of smile, as if he was trying to convey something to her. Did he care for her? Had he missed her during her absence? Then she’d chide herself for being stupid. He would probably like to talk to her about someone who was a forbidden subject at Roskerne. Susan. She sensed he felt guilty for leaving Susan alone with her misery. The first thing he had done on arriving was to write to her, either to encourage her, or… perhaps he had feelings for her. One thing was certain: she couldn’t stay put and see Mark fall in love with someone else. He hadn’t looked to phone or write to Justine, it seemed he was finally able to begin leaving her in the past.
Here on the north coast, the waves of the ocean often breached the shores as gigantic rollers, crashing their way inland and scattering loose shells and shingle, thundering against the granite rocks. Faye liked the sea to be wild, indomitable and brazen, with the tang of salt water sharp in her nose. She watched the soaring, foam-peaked waves curling up and up and then come roaring down, breaking up and splashing with gusto as they hit the rocks just feet away from her. They filled the pools and made wondrous music, gurgling and slapping, as if praising their Creator as they shifted the tiny pebbles. She was wetted with a wonderful bracing spray. She must go back before she was cut off and would have to climb the cliffs to safety. There were only a couple of places near this spot where it could be done, and even then it was a tricky operation.
She watched one more wave do its triumphant business and withdraw, the undertow, always a potential danger, drawing back the grey-green waters and forming retreating rivulets between the weather worn shapes of the hard dark rock and on the silvery sand. The sea didn’t struggle. It just got on with what it had done for millions of years. She was here for just a blink of an eye in time and she was struggling to make the right decision for those she loved, except for Mark. Fergus had said he would return as soon as he could, and she would try to have a decision for him then.
‘Faye!’ It was Mark. He was hurrying towards her, waving his arms, clearly worried she was putting herself in danger.
She wasn’t far from it. The sea never formed a straight line as the tide advanced, and water further along the sand was at least waist-deep. She knew this place and knew she had time enough to get off the beach without making a swim for it, but to ease Mark’s concern she ran on her bare feet to meet him. What she would give to see his arms outstretched to her in love and to run into them, to be held fast by him. There was no use in dreaming. Even from a distance, she saw he felt no more for her than concern. And why should he feel more? His marriage had not long ended and it was too soon for him to consider anyone new in his life.
‘You had me worried there for a minute,’ he said, his hands now casually stuffed in his pockets. ‘But I suppose you know what you’re doing. The weather’s changing again.’ The run had made her complexion glow and he was admiring her gorgeous figure in a simple cotton sundress. She had Rita Hayworth hair and Betty Grable legs, but she was so much more than a glamour girl. Faye had an appealing fragility about her. She had a need to be loved and to give love, and she would give love in full measure, loyalty and passion to the right man. It was altogether a matchless combination. He admired her so much. He would have been willing to let that admiration bud and grow into love and desire if not for Fergus Blair’s appearance. He had nothing against Blair. He seemed a competent, witty, genuine man, offering Faye an ideal life. There was a connection between them, a mutual respect. For himself, he had lost out on what might have been. He couldn’t promise Faye anything. He wasn’t ready for a new relationship yet.
Faye gazed at him. They had not had the chance to talk alone yet. What would he say? Had he sought her out, or had he simply been coming this way?
‘There will be rain soon,’ Faye said, breaking the silence. ‘I’ll have to think of something to amuse the children with indoors. Is Simon all right with Mrs Loze?’ They headed towards the steps that would take them up to the house.
‘He’s in the kitchen with her now. I’ve had him out in the garden. He tried to eat the rose petals. One or two wouldn’t have hurt him. It’s surprising how many different leaves and herbs and even flowers we can eat safely.’
‘I suppose you had to resort to eating all sorts of awful things to stay alive.’ She regretted saying that. Mark would hate to have his POW experiences brought up.
‘Yes, I did.’ He was thoughtful for a moment but not upset. The sea and fresh air had a cleansing effect on his mind. He lifted some sand with his toes. Once, sand was all he’d had to try to clean his ravaged body with. And he wouldn’t mind the rain
when it came. Chilly, ruin-a-fine-day English rain. It was bliss after suffering the hell of the monsoons, bringing with it poor vision and tortuous stifling heat, treacherous insects and blistering skin diseases.
‘It’s unusual to see you without Addi.’
‘Occasionally he wanders off by himself. You were so still down on the shore. Were you thinking? Deeply, I mean?’
She stared at him. It was the first time Mark had asked her a personal question. ‘Yes, about a lot of things.’
He strolled along silently for a moment, then said carefully, ‘About anyone or anything particular, if I may ask?’
‘Yes. Susan.’ She thought it was probably Susan he wanted to talk about and not anyone else. ‘I’m worried about her, actually. I think I should return to Hennaford for a few hours tomorrow and see her. It’s cutting Uncle Tris up, letting her go like that. Goodness knows what she’s going through. I was her employer too. I owe her my support. Have you heard from her?’
‘Just a brief note through the post this morning thanking me for getting in touch. Faye, I hope you don’t mind me mentioning this, I hope you consider me a close enough friend to get involved. Tristan has mentioned that he’s thinking of moving away, perhaps with you and Simon up to Scotland. Have you made up your mind about Fergus Blair?’
What exactly made him ask this? Friendly interest, or something deeper? Must she always be tossed between hope and doubt like a scrap of driftwood on a mighty wave? ‘No,’ she replied, although she was veering towards accepting Fergus’s proposal and the possibility of everyone moving up to Scotland.
‘Faye, I know you must be thinking hard about it. I could see for myself that you and Blair had a connection, other than Simon, I mean. But please think very hard about what you should do. I’d hate to think you’d make the worst decision of your life. Please be sure he’d make you happy. And that you would rather be all those miles away than at Hennaford with your branch of the family.’
‘Thank you for caring.’ It must be all that it was to him.
‘I care very much about you, Faye. You took me into your home and nursed me back to health. You’re allowing me to live in one of your properties. I shall be eternally grateful to you.’
But not eternally in love, she thought sadly. ‘It’s been a pleasure.’ A gust of wind suddenly tugged at her hair and a few spits of rain started to fall. ‘Gosh, we’d better hurry back before we get soaked. The rain usually pelts down much quicker here on the coast.’
* * *
In the middle of the night a pair of tiny feet pattered across the few feet of landing at Little Dell and entered the second bedroom. ‘Mummy…’
Susan was spending another sleepless night too. ‘Come in here, my love.’ She pushed back the bed covers and Maureen climbed in with her rag doll. They cuddled up tightly, as if all they had in the world was each other, which was more or less how it was.
They had not left home since the day of Maureen’s scrap with Bob and Susan’s dismissal by Tristan. Mark had called and offered to stay behind from Roskerne. ‘No, you go,’ Susan had stressed. ‘We’ll be fine.’
‘But will you though? I’m surprised Tristan let you go so readily. You must be devastated.’
‘Not really,’ she lied, ‘but he was. You know why. Please, Mark, I don’t want to talk about it. After a few days, Maureen and I will go on as before.’ No they wouldn’t. Not when they had known a happier life and had found more than just good friends. In Susan’s case something wonderful, the best thing likely to ever happen in her life, had been within her grasp and she had let it slip away.
‘I miss Pearl,’ Maureen whimpered through the dark, clutching Susan’s nightdress.
‘I know, sweetheart.’ Susan stroked her hair, tangled on her pillow as she’d tossed about.
‘And Mr Tris.’
After a moment, Susan said, ‘Me too.’ She would have cried over it when alone if not for feeling so numb.
‘Sorry Mummy. I lost you your job. You were happy at Tremore. You won’t be happy again now, will you?’
‘I’m happy as long as I’ve got you, Maureen.’ She squeezed her daughter tight. If she ever lost her… She put on a bright voice. ‘Anyway, I shall be cleaning and cooking for Mr Fuller when he moves in above us. It will be nice having him and Addi close by.’
‘Mr Fuller’s nice, but Mr Tris was special. Wasn’t he?’
‘Yes, Maureen.’ If only she had realized earlier just how special.
‘Will he ignore us when he gets back?’
‘He’d never do something like that.’
‘I miss him.’
‘Yes Maureen, you’ve already said that.’ Please don’t say it again, it’s killing me.
‘I was so looking forward to going to the beach and paddling in the sea and playing rounders on the sand. I wonder if Pearl’s having a good time.’
‘I shouldn’t think she’s having as much fun without you.’ Susan knew she had made a mistake with that remark.
Maureen started to sob, her little body shaking miserably. ‘I’ve let everybody down.’
‘Don’t cry, sweetheart.’ Susan wiped Maureen’s tears away with the hem of the sheet. ‘I’ll make it all right.’ She had to do something for her precious daughter. Maureen had lost her friends and her uncle, albeit Kenny was a nasty rogue, all in one day.
Maureen went quiet for a few seconds. ‘How?’
‘How what?’
‘How will you make it all right, Mummy?’
‘I…’
‘Yes?’
The note of eagerness in Maureen’s voice made Susan pluck something out of the air. ‘I’ll take you out to the beach tomorrow. We mustn’t hide ourselves away at home. I’ll pack up a picnic and we’ll take the bus to Perranporth. It might rain again but we’ll have to hope it will be mostly dry. I’ll buy you a bucket and spade and a kite.’
Maureen hugged her. Then, ‘Will it be as nice as Roskerne?’
‘I’m sure it will be.’ Susan felt a dreadful pull on her heart. If things hadn’t gone wrong they would be at Roskerne now, enjoying their first holiday. Tristan would have been as attentive as always, and away from her usual restraints, by the romance of the sea she probably would have felt able to return his feelings. The chance was lost, gone forever. She sighed heavily.
Maureen entered another thoughtful silence. ‘Are you wishing it was Roskerne instead, Mummy?’
‘Yes.’ Yes, with all my heart.
‘Sorry.’ Maureen’s voice was small and crestfallen.
‘It’s not your fault, sweetheart.’ If Tristan hadn’t been humiliated in front of her he wouldn’t have dismissed her over the matter of Maureen’s behaviour. A trip to Perranporth wouldn’t put things right as she’d promise. But just for once why didn’t she do something out of character, something courageous? It was something she needed to do. After her horrible experiences with Lance, she had never thought she’d fall in love, properly in love. But she had, with Tristan, and she had to give that love a chance. She sat forward suddenly, taking Maureen with her. ‘I’ve got a better idea. We’re not going to sleep now so we’ll get up and dress and have an early breakfast. Then first thing we’ll go down to the farm and ask Cyril Trewin if we can use the telephone. I’ll call for a taxi. We can afford it with the generous wages Mr Tristan gave me. We’ll go to Roskerne and hope they will agree to see us. You must apologize to Bob and to Miss Faye. I’ll talk to Mr Tristan to… well, I’ll just talk to him. All we can do is to see what will happen.’
Maureen wriggled out of bed, dancing about with her rag doll. ‘Oh, Mummy, that’s wonderful! At least we’ll get a look at the sea.’
Chapter Sixteen
At mid-morning Faye went to the hall to ring for a taxi to take her to Susan. It was a shock to see Susan and Maureen emerging from one themselves, the private car that the local bus company near Hennaford used to convey paying passengers. She hastened outside to meet them. ‘I can’t believe it! I was coming to see you today. I
’ve been feeling guilty for not getting in touch.’
While Maureen’s face was shining as brightly as the sun presently was, Susan was embarrassed and on edge. Susan was wearing her best summer frock, a pair of sandals kept for best occasions, she had pinned up her hair and arranged curls on the top, and had applied lipstick. ‘I hope th – this is all right,’ she stammered. ‘Maureen wants to make things up to Bob, and to see Pearl and Len. I, um, want to talk to Mr Tristan. How is he?’
Faye thought that Susan had come carefully dressed to plead for her job back, but was elated to realize the truth. ‘The children are down on the beach with Mark. Uncle Tris is taking a walk along the cliff. He goes out every day on his own.’ She whispered for Susan’s ears alone, ‘I’m so glad you’ve come. He really needs you.’ Then in her usual tone, ‘Come through the house. I’ll take Maureen to join the others. Susan, you only have to go down over the terrace at the back and the lawn and follow the cliff path to find my uncle. He’s gone up coast today, he doesn’t usually go far. There’s a natural grassy dip in the ground safely back from the edge. It’s a nice private spot hidden by a high bank of grass. You can’t miss it. There’s a huge boulder at the side of the path and the dip is below it. He’s probably gone there to linger and think.’
Hoping Pearl would be just as happy to see her, Maureen was glancing from woman to woman as they went through the house. They were passing secret messages to each other. She knew what it was all about. Her mother was studying her reflection in every mirror they came to, and she heard her ask Miss Faye, ‘Do I look all right?’
‘You look lovely,’ Miss Faye said. ‘Good luck, but I’m sure you won’t need it.’
