Family Ties

by Family Ties (retail) (epub)

  ‘I don’t know what her mother would say about that,’ Morwen began, but Jane smiled at once.

  ‘I don’t mind, if you agree, Morwen.’

  Freddie suggested, ‘Cathy can come with Venetia and me, and we’ll deliver her home safely later in the day.’

  It was all arranged. Jane didn’t suggest coming as well, to Morwen’s relief. It would be enough of a strain saying good-bye to Matt, and now that the time they had together was hours rather than days, all the things she meant to say to him came crowding back. All the regrets, and the confidences, and the lovely times they should have had, that were somehow marred and not quite as any of them had expected.

  Sadly, Morwen wondered if it was always like this. The anticipation of something was often so much more enjoyable than the actual event.

  ‘I think it’s time we went to bed,’ Bess said at last, finding it hard to keep awake. Jack and Annie and the twins had gone long ago, and the four younger Killigrew children had also gone to their beds. Walter was still outside somewhere, seeing Jane and Cathy Askhew into their waiting carriage and checking that their driver wouldn’t fall asleep on the way home.

  When he came back inside the house, Morwen thought in amusement that he was as attentive as a lover. And realized that that wasn’t quite as foolish as it seemed. But not yet… Walter was barely fifteen years old. It was too soon to be thinking of such things, and it made Morwen feel far too old to contemplate it!

  ‘We should all go to bed,’ she agreed quickly, thinking that the sooner Ben went up, the sooner he would finish with the brandy bottle.

  She said good-night, glad that the party was breaking up. It had been more successful than anyone could have hoped, after the previous week. And, at last, the French ship had left Cornish shores, and was on its way to France with the clay blocks, so they could all breathe easier again.

  It was hard to sleep. She was in Ran’s house, sleeping in one of Ran’s beds, and although the girls were snuffling noisily alongside her, Morwen was very conscious that they were under the same roof. The last time that had happened, they had shared a small hotel room in London… she kept her thoughts rigidly away, refusing to remember the pleasure and the pain of that time. If it hadn’t been for Ben’s attackers, she might never have found solace in her lover’s arms… and there would always be guilt mingled with the joy of it.

  * * *

  They were all up early. The day was here, and Bess was very pale as she picked at her breakfast. It was worse for her, Morwen thought. In all probability Bess would never see Matt again. But each of them seemed to have decided not to cry for the sake of the others. Amid all the hugs and kisses when the moment of embarkation came, throats were thick and voices choked, but they managed to hold back the tears until the last of the waving hands could be seen no more, and the ship glided majestically into the wide basin of Falmouth harbour.

  ‘Good-bye, our Matt,’ Morwen heard her mother whisper. She put her arm around Bess, who suddenly seemed to have shrunk.

  ‘Come on, Mammie. Let’s go home. We’ve still got a wedding to plan, and Jack’s babby to be born before the end of the year.’

  Bess gave her a watery smile. ‘You were allus a good girl, Morwen. A wedding and a birthing are the two best things.’

  Morwen felt a chill run through her. She wished she hadn’t mentioned the two together. It left a great question mark over the third. There was always a third, and the third was a dying.

  She heard Cathy Askhew thanking Bess politely for letting her come to Falmouth with them.

  ‘You’m welcome, my lamb,’ Bess said warmly now. ‘’Tis nice to see young folk getting along so well.’

  Cathy blushed, and Morwen realized that Walter was hovering right beside her. He would be staying in Truro with Freddie now, and impulsively she gave him a hug too.

  ‘Take care, darling,’ she said. ‘And come home when you’re ready.’

  He nodded, knowing the implication in her words. The other children had found their own kind of acceptance now that the initial shock of their true identity was over, but Walter was still unsure, and needed time away from them to see things clearly. Morwen understood that.

  In the same way, she had always needed to be on the moors away from people, the child of nature that old Zillah used to call her. She smiled ruefully; Walter’s needs weren’t quite the same. All he needed right now was to get away from her and Ben.

  She prayed that they were all going to be less troubled now. Matt’s visit had been as traumatic as it had been wonderful, and what they all needed now was a return to normal living.

  She helped her parents into the trap with Primmy and Charlotte, who begged to ride with them. She and Ben would take the younger boys and all meet at Killigrew House. She looked around for Ben. Where was he…?

  She heard him before she saw him, and her heart lurched. Dear God, not more arguments…

  ‘I saw the way you were behaving with the Askhew girl, Walter, and I’m just warning you to behave yourself. Jane is an old friend of mine, and if I hear of any trouble being brought to my door because of young Cathy, you’ll answer to me for it. Do you understand?’

  Morwen could have wept for his insensitivity. Walter’s love for Cathy, if love it was, was so new and so fragile, and Ben’s harsh words were destroying it. She heard Walter’s angry reply.

  ‘I’ve no intention of bringing trouble anywhere. And certainly not to your door. You do that well enough for yourself.’

  ‘You young devil. How dare you speak to your father like that?’ Ben was incensed, his face puce.

  ‘But you’re not my father, are you? And I’d say my real father would despise you just as much as I do for the way you trample all over everyone around you. Is there anything more, or can I go now?’ He oozed sarcasm, and Morwen knew it was time she intervened.

  ‘Walter, please apologize at once.’

  ‘Not this time, Mother. He got what he deserved for once, and I hope my opinion chokes him.’

  He stalked off to join Freddie and Venetia and Cathy, too far away to hear what was happening with the general harbour commotion going on all around them. Cathy could obviously see that something was wrong. She threw a puzzled glance their way, and then slipped her arm through Walter’s for a moment, before dropping it just as quickly.

  ‘Did you see that?’ Ben spluttered. ‘There’s something going on there, Morwen. And did you hear the insolence of the boy?’

  ‘Ben, for pity’s sake. You’ll make yourself ill, and people are beginning to stare—’

  ‘Let them,’ he snarled. ‘Is that all you care about? Your son? What people will think?’

  ‘I care about you, Ben,’ she said steadily.

  He stared at her stonily, and at last he seemed to slump and to let her lead the way to the carriage. The boys were already inside it, and as they left Falmouth, Morwen felt as though all the close family ties she cherished were beginning to unravel. It was a terrible, empty feeling, and at the heart of it was losing Matt all over again.

  * * *

  Two days later a messenger came rushing to Killigrew House.

  ‘Mr Killigrew, Sir, you’m wanted at Charlestown port. Summat terrible’s happened, Sir, and the harbour-master wants ’ee there right away.’

  ‘What’s happened?’ Ben said at once.

  The man snorted. ‘I dunno the ins and outs on it, but ’tis summat awful bad about your clay blocks, so he said. He just said to get ’ee there quicker’n yesterday.’

  Ben was out of the house without even calling Morwen. His gut was filled with a sick dread. He leapt on the back of his horse, leaving the man running behind him, and cursing about the ingratitude of gentlemen. Ben raced his horse towards the port and slithered off its back, not noticing how it lathered and laboured, nor how its movements matched his own labouring heart.

  ‘What’s happened?’ he gasped out when he saw the harbour-master’s grey face.

  ‘Mr Killigrew, calm yourself—’
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br />   ‘The devil take you! I’ve no time to be calm!’ Ben roared. ‘Is the ship sunk?’

  He saw the man nod. ‘It had almost reached France, but I fear all the cargo has been lost. Everything was over in minutes. A vessel on its way back here saw it happen. The repairs may not have been sturdy enough, or the ship may have been holed again. There were dangerous rocks in the area, but the ship was old, and her timbers were in need of renewal. By some miracle a few of the crew were saved and were picked up by the other ship—’

  Ben heard his voice meandering on. At least, it seemed that way to him. The voice seemed to float somewhere between him and the sea, where his precious cargo of clay blocks was absorbing salt water and slowly sinking to the bottom. It was crazy and ironic that all the months of drying the stuff at his clayworks had resulted in the clay becoming swollen and bloated, like old men distorted after drowning…

  It was so ironic it was laughable. Ben suddenly heard himself laughing, laughing and screeching, because it was all so hilariously funny. His clay blocks had been lost too far out for even the wreckers to take an interest in them, unless the French had wreckers too. That would be a laugh. They’d probably serve them up as some new French delicacy and cure the stomach-ache at the same time. Somebody should market that.

  The agonizing pain in his chest was funny too. Everything was a huge joke, and this was the biggest joke of all, because Ben Killigrew was never going to be able to pay off his debts now, and it didn’t matter a damn, because he wouldn’t be around to see the fury of his debtors…

  ‘Mr Killigrew, should I call a doctor?’ he heard the harbour-master’s voice again, hazy, alarmed, and he grimaced as the pain clenched him in a death-hold.

  ‘No. An undertaker,’ he managed to choke.

  * * *

  There was nothing they could say that would pacify Walter. He was totally convinced that it was all his fault that Ben had died so unexpectedly. He had goaded his father. He had been so bitter and not tried to understand. The other children went around like silent little ghosts, whispering and worrying, but Walter wept openly, and to Morwen, it was the worst thing of all.

  ‘Will you please listen to me, darling?’ she tried yet again. ‘It was not your fault. Doctor Pender’s already told you of your father’s heart condition. He’s shown you the report from the London Hospital. This was going to happen some day, and both your father and I knew it.’

  ‘Another secret you decided to keep from me?’ Walter said bitterly.

  ‘Would you rather I had told you so that you watched him every minute like a hawk? Do you think Ben would have wanted that? He was strong and proud, Walter, and so are you. You may not have his blood in you, but you have his strength and his pride, and I need you to be strong now. I need it for myself.’

  She tried not to tremble over the words. She ached for him and loved him, and knew that he was going through a private wilderness.

  ‘I blame myself. If I hadn’t been such a bastard—’

  He glanced at her, and she gave a tiny smile. ‘It’s all right. Swear if it makes you feel any better. But don’t go on hurting yourself so needlessly.’

  He didn’t answer, and she knew she wasn’t reaching him yet. He had come rushing here from Truro as soon as Morwen had sent word to everyone, and had been white-faced and devastated ever since. He had spent hours in the room upstairs, where Ben was now laid out in readiness for the burying. Morwen prayed for the day to come and be over, and then perhaps Walter could find some sort of peace with himself.

  Killigrew House had become a kind of focal point. All the family were there at different times, except for Annie who needed daily rest and not too many shocks. Hal and Bess were as supportive as always, and there was always Ran, at her side whenever she needed him. But Morwen felt oddly constrained with him. Her husband lay upstairs, not yet buried, and yet she felt as though her heart was encased in a block of ice.

  She had made her own peace with Ben. She had wept in unexpected agony when they brought him home. He was more relaxed in death than in many years of life, and she saw in him no longer the hard, brittle, and unpredictable man of recent years, but the young, virile Ben Killigrew she had loved so madly. She wept for all that they had shared, and all they had been to each other, and when she had finished weeping, it seemed there were no tears left for herself.

  She made polite replies to all those who called to pay their respects, and who went away awed at the dignity of Ben Killigrew’s widow, still beautiful in her mourning, still a desirable young woman, whether the words were said aloud or not.

  And amid all the misery, there was something else that needed to be made clear. There was supposed to be a wedding in the family…

  ‘I see no reason why it shouldn’t still go on,’ Hal said evenly, when they were all together a few days later. ‘’Tis up to Morwen to say if she thinks it fitting, of course, but we’ve allus been clayfolk, and weddings and birthings and buryings are all part of life, and have to be accommodated.’

  Daddy’s right,’ Jack added just as gently. ‘Mourning never did any good to anyone, and we won’t remember Ben any the less by going on with Freddie’s wedding. ’Twill do us all good, in my opinion.’

  They were all beginning to treat her as if she was made of the finest porcelain fired from their own china-clay, Morwen thought, and said her piece.

  ‘It’s not my say-so, but Freddie’s and Venetia’s. If they think it’s too soon, then we’ll wait, but if they want to go ahead, I’d have no objection.’

  ‘We don’t want to wait.’

  Freddie sat with Venetia’s hand in his, and Morwen could see the faint relief on both their faces. Her small feeling of resentment died. Why should they wait, when all they wanted was to be together? And it wasn’t going to hurt Ben.

  ‘That’s settled then,’ she said briskly. ‘There’s no need to change any of the arrangements. And after the – the funeral, Walter wants to come back with you again, Freddie. Is it all right? I’d like it too, if he’s no trouble.’

  ‘He’s a help in the shop. Of course he can come.’

  He hesitated, then decided it was wisest not to tell any of them about the nights he heard the boy crying. It may have been his sleep, but awake or not, it was obvious to Freddie that Walter was still going through torment. And if he wanted to ask that nice Cathy Askhew to tea, Freddie’t wouldn’t object. In fact, it was probably the best thing, to take his mind off everything else. He would definitely suggest it.

  It was easy enough to settle things, Morwen thought. Everything in neat little compartments, and Ben in his box upstairs. Freddie and Venetia would be married, and Annie would have her baby. Matt wouldn’t know about Ben until he reached America and her letter caught up with him, but she doubted it would cause more than a ripple, other than his concern for herself. In time, the children would cope with the new way of life, and she…

  Morwen knew that even this terrible time was only a little respite. Ben’s business affairs were nagging to be dealt with, and she couldn’t put it off for long. Once the funeral was over, she must turn her attention to them. The will must be read, and then she intended going to Killigrew Clay, with Hal at her side, to tell the clayworkers exactly what the situation was. Just how bad it really was, she still had to find out from Daniel Gorran, and that too, was a meeting she dreaded.

  There was one more compartment in her life that as yet she dare not open. She had been born an optimist, with a zest for life that surrounded her like an aura. But for now, the bright future for which she yearned beckoned from a far distance as if through a Cornish mist, elusive and unattainable.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It was the biggest funeral St Austell had seen for a long time. All the town wags said so, even if the bulk of the walking congregation were those extraordinary clayworkers. Not that they could fault them for their deference to a fair boss. They were all agreed on that. Their garb may be strange… the men in their tidied working clobber, because most of t
hem had nothing else… the young kiddley-boys mostly in bare feet… the bal maidens in their brightest and best clothes and bonnets, because this was still an occasion, and they loved an occasion, whether it was a wedding or a burying…

  They all shuffled behind the black-plumed horses of the hearse, lending dignity and spectacle to what was still essentially a family affair.

  ‘The poor young woman,’ some muttered, seeing Morwen’s set face, white and cold as if frozen in stone.

  ‘And all those debts that Ben Killigrew was rumoured to have left. How will she cope wi’ those—?’

  ‘’Tis no time to be speaking such ill of the dead,’ the speaker was shushed at once as the cortège began to pass them.

  For Morwen, it was still a nightmare. She walked behind the black-draped coffin, finding it unbelievable that Ben was inside it. No matter how prepared you were, she had discovered that the shock of death was always the same. And for all his faults, Ben had been so vital, so alive… and now he was dead. She choked back a sob, and felt the arms supporting hers tighten.

  Her two strong brothers, Jack and Freddie, were at her side, while close behind them came the three young boys in a small scuffling group of misery. Then came Hal and Bess, and behind them Ran, with Venetia. No one expected Annie to attend in her condition, but everyone else was in more or less their proper order, with friends, business acquaintances, and the heartbeat of Killigrew Clay in the background. Only the two girls, Primmy and Charlotte, stayed behind at the house, at Morwen’s insistence and their own relief.

  The ceremony was long and dismal, which was as it should be. They were here to bury Ben Killigrew, and it was the end of an era. They laid him to rest in a fine part of the churchyard with a view of the sea, and Morwen suddenly thought how ludicrous it was.

  As if Ben cared now whether he was in sight of land or sea. They had once shared a lot of laughter, over big things and small. Ben would laugh at the incongruity of all this…