A Stranger Light

by Gloria Cook

  The quickness with which the major had given in offered Nate hope that he was actually welcome here. When they got to the front room, he saw that Violet had been sitting in with her knitting. The wireless was on and she and the major had been listening to Tommy Trinder cracking jokes. The old boy was lonely enough to seek the company of his housekeeper, a young woman he had nothing in common with. Violet set up the chessboard, the pieces carved from ivory as Chinese peasant figures. She grinned at Nate before withdrawing, whispering, ‘Don’t worry, the gun wasn’t loaded. It would be too dangerous to let him charge about with it like that.’

  ‘Before we get down to a game…’ the major eyed the chessboard with relish – he obviously had not been challenged to a game for some time. Then he looked at Nate squarely, although Nate was sure he also saw a hint of fear in his watery old eyes. ‘Why have you come back? Let’s get that out of the way first. I’m not selling up! You might as well accept it. I’m not up to another move. If that means you’ll bugger off and I’ll never see you again, so be it.’

  Nate returned with a smile. Part of him wanted to give the major a son-to-father type embrace. It was amazing how fond he’d got of the old boy. ‘First let me say I consider you a friend, Major. I hope you feel the same. I’ve come up with an offer I hope you won’t find offensive or patronizing. I want this farm, another wouldn’t do. The thing is, to coin a British phrase, I see you as part of the set-up here, you, Violet and all the hands. I’d very much like to buy the farm with you in residence. It wouldn’t be the same without you. I’d like to update and enlarge the house, of course, but although it would mean some inconvenience for you, you would end up with your own private rooms. You’d be welcome to join my family as much as you’d like.’

  The major looked shocked beyond words. His proud shoulders sagged and all the blustering energy seemed to have deserted him. Bent over, he trudged to the club chair and flopped down in it. ‘I – I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘You’d like time to think about it, of course.’ Nate went close to him, his eye on the gin bottle in case he needed a stiffener.

  ‘It’s not that.’ The major looked up with tears falling unashamedly down his face. ‘It’s to think someone actually wants me with them, even to include me in their family life. I know I can be difficult and too regimental…’

  ‘But you’re also great fun and you’re kind when you let your guard down. Violet sees that in you.’

  ‘It’s a tempting offer, Nate. To have someone around me as I slip into my dotage, and to watch kiddies growing up. Believe it or not, I like the sound of children running about. I wouldn’t have to worry about the responsibilities of the farm and the staff. But what will your wife think about it? Lottie might not care to have a doddering old fool cluttering up the place.’

  ‘I’ve a hunch Lottie will adore you. She’s used to having lots of people around her, an extended family. You’re a character, and so is she when she’s got her fighting spirit, although she hasn’t had much of that lately. She had her heart set on this place before. I’m confident that you agreeing to sell Coose-Craze to us will bring her spirit back. I can just picture her here, preparing for the birth of our second child, making plans, enjoying her life. So is it a deal, Major? Do you want to think about it?’

  The major proffered a hand shaking with emotion. ‘Think? No. I feel I’ve just won some sort of battle. Call me Randolph, no one’s called me that in years. A deal it is.’

  Nate held on to his worn old hand for a long time. They celebrated with a drink, then Randolph said, ‘Nate, would you mind if I retired? I haven’t slept well for years nor had an early night. I’m pleasantly tired for a change and would relish lying in my bed early tonight. Your wife’s with her family, you say? You’re welcome to stay. Rooms are a bit basic but I’m sure Violet could sort you out a bed. You’re a former soldier, used to roughing it. Will you tell your wife first thing in the morning?’

  ‘I sure will. Why don’t you come with me, Randolph? I’m sure she’d love to meet you.’

  ‘Thanks, old chap, but it’s not my place. Why not bring her and your boy here, spring a pleasant surprise on her.’ Nate pictured Lottie being introduced to Randolph, looking about the farm for a brief time, puzzled why he had brought her here, and then he telling her it was theirs. He could see her jumping up and down in elation, back to the same precious vivacious Lottie. ‘I’ll do just that.’

  Violet tapped and peeped round the door. ‘’Scuse me for butting in. Is everything all right? It’s so quiet.’

  ‘Ah, Violet, dear.’ For the first time in years the major’s raddled face broke into an affectionate smile. ‘Nate will tell you. I’m off to bed. See you both at breakfast. Goodnight to you.’

  Violet’s mouth gaped open for some time after Randolph had left. ‘What’s going on? What did you say to him?’ Nate explained.

  ‘That’s marvellous!’ She ran to Nate and took his hand. ‘You deserve a medal for that. You’re a very wonderful man to keep the major on. He can die happy now. Howard and the others will be so pleased you’re to be our new boss.’

  She didn’t take her hand away and he didn’t let it go. ‘I hope you’ll continue working here, Vi. Are you planning to get married soon and becoming a housewife?’

  ‘Howard and I are happy plodding along as we are.’ She gazed up into Nate’s eyes. ‘And I’ll never be the housewife type.’

  ‘Good. Good.’ He stared down on her.

  ‘So you’re sleeping here. I’d better air you a bed then.’ He nodded, and although he knew it was wrong and foolish, he reached for her other hand. Then worried about complicating and perhaps destroying his married life, which was about to finally begin properly, he backed away. ‘Sorry. I had no right to get familiar. I think I should leave.’ He couldn’t stop himself from saying, ‘I love my wife, but I like you very much, Vi. Goodnight.’

  She went after him. ‘I’m glad you love your wife, Nate. It’s not love I’m after. I’m quite content being Howard’s intended and one day to marry him.’ Her face turned to fire and she swallowed hard. ‘It’s excitement I want. I’ve spent almost every minute of my life on the farm and in Taldrea. I want to do something bold and daring for once. I want to taste forbidden fruit. It makes me wicked, but just once I want to know what being really wicked feels like. I want you, Nate. I know it’s bad and cheap of me, but I want you. Am I making a fool of myself?’

  ‘You’re not cheap, Vi, or a fool.’ The way she was gazing at her, with desire and pleas, made her irresistible. He wanted to taste wickedness too. His eyes fell on her parted full lips. She was feline and raw and he wanted to taste every unrefined part of her. ‘I don’t want to wreck anything for either of us, but I want you too, Vi. It’s a long time since I’ve had any excitement. But if we spend the night together, just once, could we live and work together successfully afterward? We might give it away and bring our lives and those we love crashing down.’

  ‘I’ve only lived in since the major came here. He demanded it, said he wanted someone at his beck and call, but I think he was too scared to stay here on his own. I’ll move out as soon as you and your family move in. I prefer being at home with my family and having Howard only next door.’ She was watching Nate’s mouth. Wondering what it would be like to be kissed by another man, and this man, coming from another country, smart and sleek and more sophisticated than the men she knew, held a powerful attraction. Howard satisfied her when they made love, but she longed to know if there was more to experience. The forbidden aspect alone was a powerful aphrodisiac. Her womanly regions were crying out for pleasure. She couldn’t stop herself touching Nate. ‘We’ll put it behind us tomorrow. Carry on as boss and employee. It’ll be easy if we try.’

  He had gone without sex a long time and there was no passion promised for several months. Violet was too mesmerizing for him to hold out. The need in his loins, that had been growing for her all day, flamed into lust. He grabbed her, hauling her against his body and
used his mouth and tongue on hers. Violet kissed him back with a sort of madness. She clung to him, clawed him, and made herself familiar with his arousal, then letting him go, she tugged off her cardigan and pulled open the buttons down the front of her frock. They separated long enough for him to throw off his jacket and for them to pull up clothes and push others down. With frantic hands on each other they fell down on the day bed, and soon Nate was pushing inside her. They made love as if fighting a war, but already knowing they would emerge as victors. It was delicious and exquisite and utterly wicked. Every sense in them was heightened to intense pain and ecstasy. Nate held on to the furniture and pummeled and pounded away at her. Violet moved with him like a crazed athlete. They were shouting and crying out. He climaxed first but managed to hang on for Violet. Panting like old dogs as he lay on top her, they both laughed hysterically. It was some time before the madness left them and their breathing settled down.

  ‘Was that wicked enough for you, Vi?’ He put a gentle peck on her fiercely burning cheek.

  She teased a lock of his thick sandy hair. ‘Totally. For you too?’

  He kissed her breasts, the heat coming back in force. ‘Too right. Let’s go upstairs. I want to do more.’

  They snatched up their clothes and went up the creaking old stairs hand in hand. ‘Heck,’ Violet giggled on the worn linoleum on the landing. ‘I forgot about the major. Do you think he heard?’ She was too far in a state of bliss to be worried about it.

  They listened. From behind the door next to them came sounds of snuffly, contented snoring. ‘Guess he didn’t. Where’s your room?’

  ‘Down the end. We can be as noisy as we like in there.’

  The wickedness was on Nate again. He pulled Violet’s clothes from her grasp and, with his own, threw them on the floor. He eased her back against the wall. ‘Let’s start here.’

  ‘Outside the major’s room?’ Violet shuddered with the thrill of possible discovery and with renewed hunger for him. She grabbed him, hooking her leg up around his body, demanding more and more excitement.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Faye helped Simon pull on his Wellington boots to go outside and play with the other children. The air was brisk, the sun was shining weakly and the ground was wet and leaf-strewn. The Smiths and Maureen wanted to be outside in all but the most extreme weather, and Simon now fussed to go with them. The girls had promised to look after him and ensure he stayed in the garden. Faye eyed the twins, who were tossing a football between them. ‘Don’t play too roughly for Simon, boys.’

  ‘Auntie Faye,’ Bob said, and with his twin synchronized a pained face. ‘He’ll grow up to be a sissy if he doesn’t go through a bit of rough and tumble.’

  ‘We’ll be careful not to hurt him,’ Len muttered, shaking his head. ‘Come on, Simon. Never mind the girls. If you go with them you’ll have to play mothers and fathers and you’ll definitely end up a sissy.’

  Faye was amused at the twins’ scathing sagacity and matter-of-factness. They were growing up fast now they had started at the grammar school in Truro. ‘I’ll call you in when it’s time for milk and biscuits.’ Moments later she was watching them from the window. Simon had the Harvey height and was striding along between the brothers, nearly keeping up with their longer stride. She laughed when he treated the girls, who were playing hopscotch on the terrace, to a scornful look. ‘What’s the best thing for me to do for you, my son? If I take you away from here you’ll miss your playmates.’ If only something easy and obvious would happen to help her in her dilemma. Fergus had been patient and understanding. He was travelling down on the overnight train and would be here fairly soon, and she couldn’t really allow him go back home again without an answer. She spent little time thinking about what she wanted. She couldn’t have Mark, so it didn’t really matter.

  The telephone rang. ‘I’ll get it, Uncle Tris!’ Tristan was in the kitchen, taking his morning coffee with Susan. A new housekeeper wasn’t going to be engaged until Faye had decided what to do about the future, and she and Susan were sharing the housework.

  ‘Hello, is that Faye? This is Justine Fuller,’ said the voice at the other end of the line.

  ‘Oh. Hello Justine. How are you?’ Faye frowned. The exuberance she was used to hearing from Justine was missing.

  ‘Faye, can I ask how Mark is? Is he quite settled now he’s in his own little place?’

  ‘Yes. He seems fine there with his dog.’ Faye raised her brows over the question. Justine was speaking with emotion and unease. ‘We’re keeping an eye on him. As far as we know, he hasn’t had a flashback or gone into a trance for weeks. A new farm worker and his family have moved into the cottage below him, so he’s not isolated. The wife cleans for him twice a week. He comes here once or twice a week, and for lunch on Sundays. Is everything all right, Justine? You sound anxious.’

  ‘Faye, I need to ask you a great favour. I need to see Mark, but I need you to be there. Can you fetch him to your house, please?’

  ‘You mean now? Are you in Cornwall?’

  ‘Yes. Truro railway station. I won’t say why I’ve come. It’s terribly complicated. You’ll see for yourself when I arrive. It might be best if you kept the children out of the way.’

  ‘Very well, it all sounds very mysterious and worrying but I’ll do as you request. I’ll ask my uncle to take the children over to the farm. Have you been in touch with Mark lately?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So he’s no idea what this is about?’

  ‘No, none. This is pretty serious, Faye. Mark’s in for a shock. I’ll appreciate it if you are there to support him. Look, I’ve got to go. I’m about to jump into a taxi. See you in about half an hour.’

  Justine rang off before Faye could ask anything more. Sighing, rubbing her brow, she set about doing what Justine wanted. What on earth could be a shock for Mark, she pondered while hurrying along the lane. Could it be something to do with the divorce? That was supposed to be over and done with next year. Justine could have become penniless. Perhaps she’d had to sell her house and wanted to come to live with Mark. But that would hardly give him a shock. If she had realized she still loved him and wanted him back, she wouldn’t need to be this dramatic. The only other thing Faye could think of was illness. Justine could have developed a dreadful condition or be terminally ill; that would be an awful shock to Mark.

  He speculated over all the same things as they walked back along the wintry lanes, with Addi, as ever, his faithful shadow. ‘Thanks for coming to fetch me, Faye. You do so much for me.’ He would like to do a lot for her, but that would be impossible unless Fergus Blair was pushed out of the picture. ‘I hope Justine isn’t ill. I can’t think of anything else that would bring her down in the state you described.’

  ‘It won’t be long until you find out.’ Faye wanted to tell him that whatever the reason was behind Justine’s unexpected arrival, she would be there for him, but she couldn’t actually promise that. Mark seemed content living on his own with Addi, and he was now considering what to do to earn a living. There had been mention, because he had enjoyed rebuilding Rose Dew, of him setting up a business along those lines. The nation was in the throes of constructing much-needed new homes, so there was plenty of opportunity. She hoped his confidence and good health weren’t about to be knocked down. Witnessing Mark becoming unnerved now made her see how restless she was herself over her own future, and how those at Tremore wouldn’t be able to live at ease until she made up her mind if she was staying or leaving. Her decision was simple: it was what was best for Simon, and she had known the answer to that for some time.

  With Addi shut in the kitchen, they waited in the porch for Justine’s taxi to pull up. Susan was with them. Faye had asked her to join them. Mark had needed the support of them both on the day they had first confronted him, and he might need them again. Long minutes ticked by. Tense, silent minutes in which the three were lost in private speculation. Susan, so happy and secure in her new life and the constancy of Tris
tan’s adoring love and eager arms, thought it most probable that Justine had some sort of bad news. They all started, as if coming alive from stone statues, as a taxi crunched over the drive and they went out into the cold air. They watched quietly as Justine and another, older woman, thick-bodied in a grey utility suit and high-crowned felt hat and carrying a large hand woollen muff, got out.

  ‘Wait here, please. We won’t be staying long,’ Justine said to the driver, in a tone that lacked energy.

  ‘You’re off almost straight away, Justine?’ Mark said. He didn’t offer her a kiss on the cheek, for her stance was remote. He received an unpleasant shock. She was pale and thin, and looked tired. Illness it was, then. She had come with a friend because she was too weak to travel alone.

  Faye and Susan exchanged glances over Justine’s haggard appearance. ‘You’d both better come inside,’ Faye said.

  The group made their way to the drawing room. Mark ushered Justine to the fireside chair so she could warm up beside the crackling logs. Justine motioned for her friend to sit there instead, and stayed on her feet. The others did also.

  ‘What is it, Justine? What’s wrong? You’re clearly not well,’ Mark said. Faye noticed his face was creased with concern, but the old affection he’d showered Justine with before was largely gone.

  Justine was distant and clearly uncomfortable. She licked her lips, swallowed, and cleared her throat. ‘This lady is a colleague of mine from the hospital, Maudie Oliver. She kindly offered to accompany me today. I don’t think any of you have noticed what she’s holding in her arms.’

  Faye, Mark and Susan all peered at the object Maudie Oliver had. She carefully tilted her light burden, not a muff, and they distinguished the face of a baby. It was a tiny baby, swaddled in a white shawl. Obviously not Maudie Oliver’s child: she was past childbearing age.

  ‘You’ve brought a baby with you, Justine?’ Mark asked, shrugging his shoulders in perplexity. ‘Why? What’s this all about?’