‘I didn’t want to be anything more than Pit Captain, ever,’ Hal bellowed back. ‘’Twas you and your fancy talking who talked me into being Works Manager and setting clayworkers against me I’d known for years, until they calmed down and saw that nobody was changing Hal Tremayne. ’Twas you who persuaded me into being a partner, when all I wanted for me and my Bess was to live quietly—’
‘And it was your Matt’s money that bought you in, so don’t forget that. You Tremaynes have entwined yourselves around Killigrew Clay as surely as if you’d chained yourselves to it. You can’t escape that easily.’
Hal wasn’t too sure where this conversation was going, but now he saw everything with sudden clarity.
‘Our Matt got you out of a hole once before, and now ’tis my turn. ’Tis my duty, so don’t you dare refuse me.’
‘What in God’s name are you talking about?’ Ben said irritably. Pennies would do nothing to help his fortunes.
Hal strode across to a small bureau and drew out a large envelope. Inside were various papers and documents, and a slim official-looking book. He handed it to Ben without a word.
‘Go on. Take it. ’Tis yours, and I’ll be glad to be rid of the millstone it’s been round my neck. The children would get it when I’m gone, so you might as well make use of it now.’
Ben opened up the book, a banking account from a bank in Bodmin. He remembered advising Hal to put his dividends into an out of town bank for added security, since Hal was so adamant about his partnership being kept a secret. Ben glanced at the entries in the book, and the figures danced before his eyes. Christ, but the man was worth a fortune and didn’t seem to realize it.
‘Haven’t you spent any of the money that was due to you?’ he said hoarsely.
‘Of course, but only what we needed. Our needs are small. Bess and me don’t aspire to anything grand. ’Tis not our way.’
God, but it was tempting. Ben realized he could clear everything in a single swoop. The money was here. It was his for the taking. He could rob this simple man of everything, including his pride, and leave him with nothing. Nothing for his children and grandchildren after he was gone. And someday the truth of the partnership would come out. Someday when both Ben and Hal were dead. How would it look then, to the rest of them? How would they ever cope with the shame of it all, knowing Ben had used all his partner’s money to pay off gambling debts? He couldn’t do it, not even for Killigrew Clay. He snapped the book shut and handed it back to Hal.
‘This is yours. I won’t touch it, but I thank you from my heart for offering it. I’ll thank you even more never to mention it again.’
Their eyes clashed, and what Hal saw in Ben’s made him put the book back in the envelope and close the bureau.
‘What will you do?’ he grunted.
‘Pay off a bit at a time, as best I can. And Hal – this is our business, and nobody else’s.’
‘Just so long as you go easy on Morwen and the children,’ Hal bargained with him. ‘’Tis you who has to pay. Don’t make all of them pay as well.’
‘I’ll do my best. But it’s not always easy for a dying man to cope with the trivia of daily life. My father discovered that,’ Ben said, the lightness of his voice betraying how deeply affected he really was by his condition.
‘If ever you need somebody to confide in, come to me, Ben. ’Tis not only women who can use a strong shoulder.’
Whatever Ben would have said to that was lost, as Bess came in through the door, bringing a sting of light rain with her. She smiled in pleased surprise at the sight of the two men, apparently jawing over a jug or two of ale in front of the fire. Ben rarely called in for a casual visit.
‘Ben, I’m so glad to see you! It gives me a chance to ask about the welcome home party for Matt. If you want any extra help at the house, I’d be only too happy to help Mrs Horn. Will ’ee tell her so?’
He looked at her round, beaming face, and the incongruous thought flashed through his mind that Hal Tremayne was a lucky man. He had contentment, a loving wife, and the years ahead to share with her. He heard Hal gently chiding her.
‘What are you thinking of, woman? You’ll be an honoured guest, not a skivvy!’ he forestalled Ben.
‘I think it would be a splendid idea,’ Ben was surprised to hear himself say. He made an effort to sound hearty. ‘It would give Matt special pleasure to know his mother prepared some of his old favourite dishes. I’ll certainly tell Mrs Horn, and the two of you can get your heads together before the big day.’
He wouldn’t stay any longer, and when he’d gone Bess smiled in delight at her husband.
‘You see, dar? Ben can be as homely as the next ’un when he’s given the right lead. I thought you said he was a bit tetchy lately, but he seemed quite like his old self to me. Trust a woman’s nose to know about these things!’
She spoke gaily, and went quite pink when Hal suddenly moved across to her and held her very tightly in his arms without speaking. As though he needed to feel the warmth and the strength of her, and to be glad that they still had each other. Hal could feel the beat of his own heart against hers, and each was steady and strong. He felt a fleeting pity for Ben Killigrew and his uncertain future. They had lost Sam irrevocably, but through it all, it seemed that the Tremaynes were the survivors.
* * *
Jack looked at his wife with a sense of hurtling doom.
‘It can’t be true! Annie, we’ve been so careful. It’s not true, is it? Can ’ee be sure yet? Have ’ee seen the doctor?’
He gripped her slender shoulders and felt them tremble, even though she gave a nervous laugh.
‘I don’t need doctors to tell me when I’m having a baby, Jack. I feel it here, under my heart. I know what was said, but I’m still glad. Be glad as well, darling. Say that you’re glad!’
He folded her in his arms. How could he say what he really felt? That if he lost Annie he would no longer want to live? That he knew just how Dora must have felt after losing Sam. Without the will to live, even for the children that were left… Jack squared his shoulders. He wasn’t a woman, to succumb to the first ailment that took him, as Dora had. He didn’t blame her. She was weak… but Jack Tremayne was strong, and if strength were ever needed, it was now.
‘We’ll see Doctor Vestey straight away,’ he said huskily. ‘We’ll see about taking you to a specialist, to check that everything’s all right. If it’s not – perhaps we should see about—’
She put her fingers over his mouth. ‘No, my love. I won’t kill our baby.’
‘It wouldn’t be killing, Annie,’ he said desperately. ‘’Tis hardly a baby yet, just a speck.’
‘It’s a speck made from our love, Jack, and we could never live with ourselves if we did anything to harm it. You know it, don’t you?’
‘I do,’ he agreed grudgingly, knowing it was the truth. Any baby had a right to life, and one that they created was doubly precious. But if it cost Annie her life… Jack swallowed painfully.
‘But you’ll do as I say, now. We go to see Doctor Vestey tomorrow, and ask ’un to make arrangements to see a top man.’
Annie smiled indulgently. ‘And what can he do, my love? Tell me to stop eating sweetmeats so I don’t put on too much weight? Or to stop enjoying my husband’s attentions?’
He looked at her. They were in their bedroom, cosy for the night. They hadn’t yet turned down the gas-light, and her eyes were large and luminous and inviting. She saw the dawn of pleasure in his answering look, and pulled him closer.
‘Nobody’s told us yet, darling. And we don’t have anything to worry about for the next seven months—’
He groaned, holding her slim body and feeling himself rise at her teasing. Nothing to worry about… their carelessness might be their disaster… but for tonight it would be farthest from their thoughts. Jack kissed the parted mouth awaiting him, and made love to his wife with the abandonment of desperation.
They were taken to task at the doctor’s office the next day,
and Jack was angry and upset at being made to feel like a naughty schoolboy.
‘What d’you expect folks to do wi’ their natural urges?’ he said sharply, less concerned with Annie’s blushes than this elderly man censuring them.
‘Jack, I thought we’d discussed all this, and found the solution—’
‘Ah well, ’tis all right for medical men to give the instructions. ’Tis summat else for two red-blooded folk to remember to carry ’em out,’ he muttered.
‘We did try, Doctor,’ Annie’s soft voice was pleading for him to understand. ‘I’m sure ’twas only once that we forgot.’
‘It only takes once, young lady,’ the doctor said drily. ‘However, the thing’s done, and you have to make a decision.’
Jack felt his temper quicken at the doctor’s choice of words. The ‘thing’ was their child, his and Annie’s, and it was made out of love. In that instant he felt a fierce surge of love for it, speck or no speck… fatalistically, he knew he was totally in tune with her wishes. Life was sacred, and there could be no question of being rid of what had begun.
Annie spoke up before the doctor could clear his throat, shuffle his papers, and construct a sentence about advisable termination that wouldn’t horrify them both.
‘I won’t have my baby taken away, Doctor. ’Tis blasphemous to do so. If it’s God’s will to take it from me, I shall accept it, but I’ll do nothing to help Satan.’
He stared at her. He hadn’t taken Annie Tremayne for a religious woman, nor her husband. He saw their fingers meet and entwine, and knew that they shared a special kind of faith. He sighed. He was a practical man who believed in science, not mystical beings, and knew that faith alone wouldn’t deliver this woman of a healthy child.
‘Can we see a specialist in these matters, Doctor Vestey? ’Tis not that we doubt your abilities—’ Jack said, his voice awkward lest the doctor should think their faith in him was quickly waning.
‘I was going to suggest it.’ The doctor spoke with some relief. Of course he would continue to keep an eye on Annie, she was his patient. But he much preferred to pass the case on to some other man, should the worst happen. He took a notepad stamped with his name and credentials, and wrote quickly, sealed the letter in an envelope and handed it to Jack.
‘I want you to take Annie to the Truro Hospital and ask to see Mr Shiner. He’s the gynaecologist I’m referring you to. He’ll be there tomorrow and Friday, but I suggest you see him as soon as possible. He’ll want to examine you, Annie, and he may want to do some tests. It’s nothing to be afraid of, but I do urge you to do exactly as I say if you want this child.’
The fright in Annie’s eyes gave way to hope. ‘Then you do think there’s a chance for the baby?’
‘I think there’s a chance for the baby. It’s the mother I’m concerned about.’
He showed them out, thinking there were no fools like young folk, yet aware of a brief sigh of envy before the next patient came hobbling in, stiff with arthritis and grumbling incessantly at his lot for the next half hour.
* * *
Morwen was surprised to see her brother and his wife turn up at Killigrew House the next afternoon. Jack wasn’t one for visiting, but after she had welcomed them inside, it struck Morwen at once that Annie looked pale and on edge.
‘We’ve come from Truro Hospital,’ Jack said at once. ‘Annie didn’t feel like going straight home, and the twins are being taken care of, so we decided to take a ride—’
‘Why were you at Truro Hospital? You’re not ill, are you, Annie?’ Morwen couldn’t wait for all these fancy explanations, which merely told her how edgy Jack was too.
Annie gave a shaky laugh. ‘I’m not ill. Just pregnant.’
Morwen’s face broke into a delighted smile. ‘But that’s marvellous – isn’t it?’
Jack took up the tale as Annie bit her lips, and Morwen saw how they were shaking.
‘It will be if Annie’s all right. We had to see some gynee-summat-or-other fellow, and he says Annie ought really to go into hospital and have a termination. He means we should kill our babby, and if you’d heard the callous way he said it, you’d be as upset as we, our Morwen. Killing a babby’s wicked, whatever the reason. Everybody knows that.’
Morwen felt her face blanch. She had helped her friend Celia to kill a baby, and as she heard the condemnation in her brother Jack’s voice, she felt almost as if he knew. That he was accusing her on account of Celia, and blaming her in some obscure way for Annie’s troubles.
‘Jack, love, don’t take on so.’ Annie’s placid voice calmed him, and Morwen blinked rapidly. Jack knew nothing about that night on the moors that had led to Celia drowning herself in the clay pool, and his sole concern was for his wife.
‘Did the man say it has to happen, Annie?’
‘No. He said it was our choice, but that he couldn’t be responsible for the consequences if we didn’t heed his advice.’
‘And what do you intend to do?’ Morwen asked carefully.
The two of them clasped hands, their fingers interlacing as if to close out the rest of the world.
‘Have our baby, of course. What else does a woman do when she’s pregnant?’
In the small silence, Annie began to giggle, her blue eyes shining like stars. ‘His name’s Mr Shiner, Morwen. Did you ever hear anything so daft? And he’s got dark shadows under his eyes that look as if somebody’s punched him, and left him with two real shiners!’
‘He’s got dark shadows from looking up too many womens’ clouts,’ Jack grunted. ‘It probably drives him batty—’
‘Jack, for heaven’s sake!’ Annie went scarlet with embarrassment, but his sister knew he only spoke with such crudity when he was totally at a loss for anything else to say.
She spoke quickly. ‘Well, I think we should celebrate. A baby is always good news. Can you take a drink of something, Annie?’
‘Only hot chocolate from now on,’ she gave a mock groan. ‘I’m to follow a strict diet, to rest every afternoon, and to see Mr Shiner once a month.’ She repeated the words parrot-fashion.
‘And at the end of it, there’ll be another little Tremayne!’ Morwen tried to revive her brother’s gloomy spirits. ‘I wonder if it will be a boy this time.’
‘I pray for it,’ Annie said softly. ‘I want a boy for Jack, and I’ve already picked out his name. We’ll call him Sam.’
At that, Jack’s eyes seemed to be more moist than before, and Morwen knew that within seconds they were going to be in each others’ arms and sharing the love and the fear and the resolution they had made. She tip-toed out of the room, knowing they wouldn’t even notice her go. She mumbled that she’d get them both a hot drink, but in reality she went because she couldn’t bear to see such perfect harmony between them, when it contrasted so vividly and so heartbreakingly with what was between her and Ben.
Chapter Fourteen
If there was anything guaranteed to make Morwen more restless than before, it was the news of Jack and Annie’s baby. She was happy for them, of course, but their closeness emphasized more sharply how far apart she and Ben had become. So many times she saw him come home drunkenly and was helpless to do anything about it. He was no longer the old Ben. He was some new and frightening person who reminded her more and more of his odious cousin, Jude. How could he let that happen?
When she tried delicately to offer advice about business affairs, he shouted that business affairs were none of her concern. He’d see to it. When a man couldn’t sort out his own problems, he was no longer a man. Since Hal had reported back to her all their conversation, it was on the tip of Morwen’s tongue to beg him to think again and accept her father’s help. But she knew that his pride would never let that happen. A Killigrew begging from a Tremayne…?
Ben told her harshly what he had told Hal. He’d pay off his debtors a bit at a time, and hope to satisfy them until the dues from the spring despatches came in. There was still money owing to him from the autumn despatches, he scowled, and o
rdered Daniel Gorran to send off demanding letters, without heeding the effect they were having on associates who had once been pleased to call Ben Killigrew friend. But, with typical Killigrew luck, it seemed to be working, at least for the moment. The gambling episode with Jervis Penhaligon had put the frighteners into him, and he kept strictly away from the gaming-houses now.
And some semblance of sanity made him thankful that he hadn’t gambled away the house and the clayworks. He would never admit how dangerously close he’d come to doing just that. The shame of making his family homeless would have made him suicidal. He was already so muddleheaded from excessive drinking and health worries that he was just thankful to put the business dealings in Gorran’s hands and let him do the sorting. What was the use of having an accountant if he couldn’t deal with awkward customers? Ben blundered on, alienating everyone around him.
* * *
Ran Wainwright was moving into his splendid new house. He had named it New World, which made Ben scoff, and charmed Morwen and all the children, linking his old country with his adopted one. They had been to see it many times now, and knew every nook and cranny. In particular they loved the little round room, hidden away from the bigger rooms, and overlooking the sea, where Ran swore there must be a friendly ghost, a fact that nonetheless sent them shiveringly to bed.
‘You shouldn’t tease them, Ran,’ Morwen laughed, when Charlotte had asked curiously if he had ever seen the ghost and he had to admit that he had not, to her great disappointment. ‘They’ll be wanting one at Killigrew House next!’
‘I thought there were already enough ghosts there,’ Ran said lightly, as they went on a tour of the house now that all the furniture had been delivered, and it began to look like a home.
‘Do we have ghosts, Mother?’ Albert said at once, and she shook her head quickly.
‘No, we don’t, love. Uncle Ran’s just being facetious.’
‘What’s that?’ Charlotte pouted, hating words that she didn’t understand.
Family Ties Page 18
