To Turn Full Circle

by Linda Mitchelmore

  ‘Oh, Seth. Maybe we could go to other places one day. Nicer places.’

  ‘I like to think we will, Emma.’

  ‘But not now,’ Emma said. ‘We can’t let other people’s small minds force us from the place that’s always been our home.’

  ‘No,’ Seth said. ‘Anyway – time we went. I’ve got a boat due in soon and crew to pay off. Fish to get on ice and ready for market.’

  Emma slid her hand from Seth’s shoulder, started to stand. But Seth leapt to his feet and pulled her up. Pulled her towards him. Then he kissed her on the lips. Just a gentle kiss.

  A comforting warmth, like the first warm rays of a summer sun, spread through Emma. But the heat was soon shot through with a spear-like shiver of fear. She didn’t think Seth would want to take advantage of her, but …

  ‘What’s the matter, Emma? Didn’t you like me kissing you?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Then can I kiss you again?’

  For answer Emma lifted her face to his.

  But before he kissed her Seth said, ‘You’ll be sixteen at the end of the month. Old enough to marry.’

  Marry? Was Seth asking her to marry him? And if he was, was that what she wanted? In time, perhaps, but did she want that now? If she were to marry Seth she could be certain of a roof over her head, and good food in her belly, nice clothes.

  ‘I don’t know that I want to marry you, Seth. Not yet. I’m too young …’

  ‘I don’t remember asking you to,’ Seth said.

  His voice had resumed its sharpness of earlier. Emma backed away from him slightly.

  ‘But …’

  ‘I’m trying to warn you, Emma. I’m not saying that I wouldn’t want to marry you, but I’m not the only man who might want to.’

  Seth turned and began to walk towards the steps that led up from the cove.

  ‘Are we back to talking about Mr Smythe again?’ Emma said, hurrying after him.

  ‘Yes!’ Seth shouted, striding forward, not bothering to turn around to look Emma in the face as he spoke. ‘He’s a widower with three children. A good catch. He’ll be wanting a wife again, and soon. And one who speaks French, as you do, would be a considerable advantage to him. Think about it.’

  He took the steps two at a time. At the top he turned to wait for Emma to catch up with him.

  ‘I don’t want to be Mr Smythe’s wife,’ Emma said, struggling for breath after her quick ascent of the very steep steps.

  ‘Any other girl in this town would be glad enough to marry him.’ Seth stuck his hands down hard into the pockets of his trousers, turned on his heel and rushed off.

  ‘Seth!’ Emma yelled. ‘I’m not any other girl. I’m me. Come back. What’s happening to you? To us? I thought we were friends? Seth, come back!’

  But Seth didn’t come back. And Emma didn’t get her second kiss. She thought she might die from the longing for it.

  ‘Do you think five years is too big a gap between a man and a woman, Mrs Drew?’

  ‘And who might we be talking about? If it’s you and Emma, I’ve told you once and I’ll tell you again, Seth Jago, she’s been through a lot. Let her spread her wings for a while. She’ll find out which side her bread’s buttered best by herself. And you’ve got enough on your plate to be worrying about, too, what with all those men with families to support to be kept in jobs. You haven’t got time to lope about the place like a lovesick swain from the story books.’

  ‘Perhaps you’re right.’

  He knew he’d been too sharp with Emma because of everything that was happening with his pa and his brothers, and trying to do his best by the boat crews – and now he was beginning to regret his sharpness.

  ‘Now if that’s all you want me for, I’ve got the dining-room to sweep and polish. I’ve got a roast in the oven and …’

  ‘You’re not regretting moving here, I hope,’ Seth said, smiling.

  Just weeks after his pa and brothers were arrested, Mrs Drew – along with her son, Edward – had come to live in at Hilltop when her husband had been killed in an accident at the quarry where he’d worked.

  ‘’Course not, you daft ’apporth. But I want to get it all done because the solicitor’s coming. You haven’t forgotten?’

  ‘No, no,’ Seth said quickly.

  But he had forgotten. Being with Emma made him forget time and responsibilities. He put his fingers to his lips – he could still feel the softness of her lips when he’d kissed them.

  He’d make it up to her for rushing off so childishly. He was a man, for goodness’ sake. He should have stopped and talked things through with her. He would write her a note and apologise the minute the business with the solicitor was over – he had a Will to make now he was a man of property.

  It would be Emma’s birthday soon. When the solicitor left he’d go into town and look for something special for her. Surprise her. Mend the rift he’d so stupidly created between them.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘There’s a man wanting you down in the foyer, Emma.’ Ruby burst into the room, eyes wide, a huge grin on her face that Emma had a gentleman caller.

  Emma struggled to fix a smile on her own face and hoped her irritation at the interruption didn’t show. Sidney and Archie had just left the schoolroom, where she’d been testing them on their times-tables in French. Isabelle was asleep in the nursery. And Emma had thought to write again to Seth now that she had a few minutes to spare.

  He had written to her to apologise for his bad manners down in Crystal Cove, and Emma had replied to say his apology was accepted – she understood how things must be for him over his father and his brothers.

  ‘A man?’

  Seth knew the date of her birthday. Had he come to surprise her with a present? Flowers, perhaps?

  ‘Didn’t I just say, Emma Le Goff?’

  ‘Do you know who it is? Has he got black hair?’

  ‘No and no.’

  ‘What colour, then?’

  ‘I’m not saying. You’ll have to go and find out.’

  Emma almost didn’t want to go downstairs, even though she thought Ruby might be teasing her. She didn’t want to find out that her visitor wasn’t Seth with a present for her. She wasn’t likely to get one from any other source, although Mr Smythe would know it was her birthday today if he looked at his staff records. And she hadn’t told Ruby because it might look as though she was asking for a present, and she knew Ruby didn’t have a spare halfpenny piece to buy anything.

  What would her mama and papa have bought her for her birthday had they been alive, she wondered.

  ‘I’ve seen him here before a time or two,’ Ruby said, ‘and that’s all I’m saying. But I don’t know his name. And neither will you if you don’t go down and see what he wants, because he’ll get bored of waiting.’

  ‘Bossy boots,’ Emma said, smiling.

  She gave Ruby a playful punch on the shoulder. She liked the girl – she was her only friend in the whole wide world at the moment. All the girls she’d known at school still shunned her when they saw her in the town – jealous, perhaps, at her good fortune in living at Nase Head House, albeit as an employee. And some of them had their own – wrong in this case – opinions on what exactly had gone on when Emma had lived under the same roof as Matthew Caunter. Well, she didn’t think she wanted to know any of them any more, anyway, if they were that small-minded. But to have only one friend?

  Isabelle began to cry then.

  ‘Oh, no,’ Emma said. ‘I can’t go now. Mr Smythe hates it when the baby cries. He says it upsets the guests. They come here for peace and quiet and they don’t want a bawling baby.’

  ‘I’ll see to the baby,’ Ruby said. ‘I’ve seen to babies often enough with the half-dozen my ma had after me.’

  ‘Would you?’


  ‘Didn’t I just say? You’re a one for not believing things folk tell you, Emma Le Goff. Eve Grainger will ’ave to help me out today for a change and do a room or two for me while I’m with little Belle, seeing as I’m always doing ’er job for ’er when she goes sick. Now run a brush through your hair and go down and see what the tall, handsome man in the foyer wants of you.’

  And with that Ruby marched off towards the crying Isabelle and Emma was left with no alternative but to go down to the foyer.

  ‘Matthew?’ she said, surprised that it was him.

  ‘The very same,’ Matthew said, grinning at her

  Emma hurried towards him. ‘How did you know I was still here?’

  ‘I have my ways of knowing.’ Matthew laughed. ‘But to answer your question – and without giving away all my secrets – let’s just say that I’ve needed to contact Mr Smythe from time to time. I suggested to him you could be useful here and he assures me you are.’

  ‘Oh,’ Emma said. ‘He’s never said.’

  ‘And make that pretty little head of yours bigger?’ Matthew teased.

  Emma wished he wouldn’t. He looked so different now from the man who had pretended to be a rough fisherman, always in clothes that stank of the sea and stale saltwater, barely taking time to shave or wash his hair. How smart he looked today, with a cravat at his neck and a handkerchief in the top pocket of his jacket.

  She stopped in front of him, unsure as to what to do next. Shake hands? What was the form with married men one had once shared a home with? – even if she hadn’t known he was married when she’d first moved in with him.

  Matthew had a broad grin on his face, his delight in seeing her obvious. ‘Give me a smile,’ he said. ‘Anyone would think you’re not pleased to see me.’

  ‘Oh, I am. I am,’ Emma said.

  ‘Good.’ Matthew clasped both her hands in his, then raised them to his lips, before letting go again.

  ‘This life is suiting you, Emma,’ he said. ‘You’ve filled out. You look well. Your hair shines.’

  ‘It does and it doesn’t suit.’

  ‘No one to dance with around this highly polished floor?’

  ‘Not since you, no,’ Emma said. She kept her voice as low as she could. Some guests were booking out at the desk with Mr Bell. Other guests were leaving the dining-room after breakfast, and Stephen Bailey hurried across the foyer to clear the tables. ‘But I didn’t mean the dancing. I meant it was suiting me fine until Mrs Smythe died. Now I’m looking after Isabelle until Mr Smythe can hire a nanny, but no one seems to want the position. And I hardly get any time to cook now.’

  ‘And you miss it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And I don’t suppose anyone here knows it’s your birthday today?’

  ‘No. No one. I’m surprised you remembered.’

  ‘I’m paid to remember things, Emma,’ Matthew said. ‘You did say when I asked how old you were that you’d be sixteen come Michaelmas and it’s Michaelmas today – 29th September.’

  ‘You’ve got a good memory.’

  ‘Got to have. It’s why I’m good at the job I do.’

  ‘Putting the Jagos behind bars. Seth told me they’ve been sentenced.’

  ‘Yes. It’s why I’m back. There are a few things to be cleared up …’

  ‘Nothing to do with coming to see me on my birthday, then?’ Emma said, trying to make a joke of it, desperate to get off the subject of the Jagos.

  ‘Shall I go back out and come in again? Maybe you’ll be pleased to see me a second time, seeing as I’m here bearing gifts and no one else seems to be?’

  ‘I’m sorry. It’s just …’

  ‘I’m not the man you’d hoped to see?’

  ‘I’m glad to see you, of course I am.’

  ‘But I’m not Seth Jago?’

  ‘How did … oh.’ Emma stopped speaking as Matthew tapped the side of his nose. He was still working undercover, wasn’t he? Perhaps he’d even seen her and Seth going down to Crystal Cove? Seen them kiss?

  ‘Seth Jago’s got a lot on his plate and on his mind at the moment. Be patient, Emma,’ Matthew said. ‘Not your finest virtue, I know …’

  ‘Have you come here to insult me?’ Emma said, suddenly bridling.

  Matthew laughed. ‘You’ve not lost your spark, I see. But no, I didn’t come here to insult you. I’ve brought you something.’

  He walked over to the desk, on which sat a small parcel wrapped in red paper all tied up with a wide silver ribbon.

  He picked it up and held it out towards Emma. ‘Happy birthday.’

  Emma took the parcel and hurriedly tore off the wrapping. Inside was a small wooden box, the lid exquisitely carved with a spray of roses and tiny leaves. In one corner was the letter E.

  ‘You made this?’ Emma asked. She knew Matthew was clever with his hands. But to have made something just for her.

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Does there have to be a reason?’

  ‘I think so,’ Emma said. ‘Married men shouldn’t be making things for young girls.’

  Matthew shrugged. ‘I’ve got a lot to thank you for,’ he said. ‘You walked into my life like a whirlwind and I thought my cover would be blown as a Customs Officer, but it was quite the opposite. The immediate neighbours and the Jago crews were far more interested in what I might have been getting up to with you in Shingle Cottage than they were in wondering what exactly I was doing here.’

  ‘We were mutually useful,’ Emma said. ‘Even though I didn’t realise that at the time.’

  ‘So you understand?’

  ‘I do now,’ Emma said. She hugged the box to her. ‘Thank you for this.’

  ‘Aren’t you going to open it?’

  ‘There’s something else?’

  Slowly Emma opened the box. She felt her throat close over and tears sprang to her eyes. Her mama’s necklace. Her mama’s amethyst necklace. The one that had been taken from around the neck of poor dead Sophie Ellison and which had been dangling in the cleavage of Reuben Jago’s floosie not so long ago. But still she was thrilled to have it.

  Carefully, Emma took it from the box, let the fine chain slip through her fingers until only the amethyst was in the palm of her hand, hard and cool and precious against her skin. ‘How did you get it back?’

  ‘Let’s just say I called in a few favours with various legal bodies,’ Matthew said.

  ‘Then I’m glad you did,’ Emma said. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘My pleasure. And now perhaps you could get your coat and anything else you might need because we are going out.’

  ‘Out?’ Emma said.

  ‘Still doubting what people tell you, I see,’ Matthew said, smiling, his eyes holding hers, challenging. ‘But yes, out. I’m treating you to lunch – for your birthday. We’ll be out for most of the day.’

  ‘Oh, but I can’t. There’s baby Isabelle. I’ve left her with Ruby and …’

  Matthew’s gaze had strayed from Emma’s. He raised a hand in greeting, and Emma turned and saw that it was Mr Smythe coming down the west staircase.

  Emma had run out of words now. Mr Smythe was never going to let her just go out for the day when there was his daughter to care for.

  ‘Matthew,’ Mr Smythe said. He hurried down the last few steps and strode across the tiled floor. The two men shook hands.

  ‘Thank you for my present, Matthew,’ Emma said. ‘Really. It’s the best present I could ever have.’ She turned to Mr Smythe. ‘I’ll get back to Isabelle now. I’ve left her with Ruby.’

  ‘Then she can stay with Ruby,’ Mr Smythe said. ‘Now go and spend your birthday with Matthew as we’ve arranged.’

  ‘Arranged?’ Emma said.

  ‘Why else do you thi
nk he is here?’ Mr Smythe asked.

  Emma didn’t know what to say. She looked to Matthew for guidance, but he said nothing. The kindness in his eyes was almost more than Emma could bear – she guessed now that he had arranged this, her first birthday without her parents and Johnnie, especially so she would feel their loss a little less.

  Mr Smythe put a hand inside the jacket of his suit and pulled out a leather wallet; dark leather the colour of ebony almost, but with ginger tints in it. It seemed to be bulging with notes. Emma had never seen leather like it – she wondered what it might be, but now wasn’t the time to ask.

  Mr Smythe took out two white £5 notes and held them out towards Emma. ‘A thank you for stepping into the breach, caring for Isabelle, keeping the boys up to scratch with their French …’

  His voice trailed away. He sounded and looked so sad. Broken almost. It was on the tip of Emma’s tongue to say she couldn’t possibly accept all that money, and she knew Matthew had read her mind because he put a finger to his lips – don’t say a word, Emma, the gesture said.

  ‘Take it,’ Mr Smythe said. He waggled the notes at Emma.

  She did as she was told.

  ‘Thank you. I’ll look for something nice and bring you the change,’ she said. How crisp and new the notes felt between her fingers.

  ‘You won’t,’ Mr Smythe said, looking up. ‘You will spend it all. I know I’ve been sharp with you when I shouldn’t have been and I apologise for that …’

  ‘You don’t have to,’ Emma said. She looked into Mr Smythe’s handsome but tired face, and saw that his eyes were glistening with tears. ‘I understand. I know what it’s like to be sharp when you don’t mean to because you’re so sad and …’

  ‘Emma,’ Matthew interrupted. ‘Your coat. And anything else you need. Mr Smythe knew I was coming and it’s all agreed.’

  ‘Someone might …’ Emma began.

  She was going to say ‘have told me’ but thought better of it. Hadn’t Dr Shaw told her that we can’t always plan things for ourselves and have hopes and dreams, and that sometimes it’s better to make the best of the situations we find ourselves in? She had two £5 notes in her hand, and Matthew – who she liked very much – wanting to spoil her on her birthday. And a few hours without a squalling and often very smelly baby to look after would be bliss.