Family Ties

by Family Ties (retail) (epub)

  ‘The baby’s breeched,’ Doctor Vestey said tersely. ‘I’ll have to help it out as best I can. If she was in hospital I could use instruments. As it is, we must manage the best we can, and your job is to hold her still, and pray she doesn’t tear.’

  Morwen’s mouth went dry as the brutal instructions went on and on to the accompaniment of Annie’s screaming. Morwen tried to close her ears to it, conceding that Doctor Vestey was nothing if not efficient. And it seemed nothing short of a miracle when at last the slithering child was held in his hands, and he was smacking its bottom and making it open its lungs and yell its own greeting to the world.

  ‘Is the babby all right?’ Annie mumbled weakly from the sodden pillow. ‘Is it Jack’s boy?’

  Morwen turned to look at her. So much pain, and all she could think about now was the baby she and Jack wanted so much. So much pain, and yet, as she held out her arms to take the squalling, red-faced infant from the doctor’s hands, Annie Tremayne was so beautiful that the tears stung Morwen’s eyes at being privileged to watch such a moment.

  ‘Aye, it’s Jack’s boy,’ the doctor said. ‘And a fine and lusty specimen he is. You’re a lucky young woman, Annie, but this must be the last, do you hear? There are only so many times you can cheat the old reaper.’

  Morwen shivered, but amazingly, Annie was laughing triumphantly as she cuddled the baby, still attached to her by the cord, and waited for the after-birth to come away before she was made presentable.

  ‘We’ll see, Doctor! We’ve cheated him this time, and I’ll settle for that for the present.’

  Half an hour later, Doctor Vestey was preparing to leave, and Morwen had washed her sister-in-law and tidied her, and Annie was sitting up in bed awaiting Jack’s inspection, the baby wrapped in a clean towel for the night, until Jack took her home in the morning. Morwen promised she would stay, knowing Ran’s hospitality would extend to her, and wanting to be at hand in case Annie should need anything.

  As soon as he had seen that everything was well with his wife and son, Jack would go home to give his children the glad news, and those at St Austell must wait until morning.

  Jack had a few private moments with Annie, and then invited Ran to take a look at the newest Tremayne.

  ‘We’re going to call him Sam after Jack’s eldest brother,’ Annie said, suddenly shy. ‘But we want to give him a second name after you, if you’ve no objection, Ran.’

  ‘I’d be highly honoured, Ma’am,’ Ran said gravely, in that quaintly-worded mixture of the old world and the new that enchanted every Cornish lady who heard it.

  ‘I think I’d like to go to sleep now,’ Annie said suddenly, snuggling down carefully in the bed. Jack got up from the bedside at once, a hint of relief in his eyes. It hadn’t been an easy time for him either, downstairs with the sound of Annie’s suffering plain to hear. And he and Ran had taken more than their usual share of spirits to calm their nerves. He kissed his wife and said he’d be back in the morning to fetch her home.

  ‘I’m to go to the hospital to see Mr Shiner first,’ Annie reminded him. ‘Just to see that everything’s all right.’

  But it was obvious from the love flowing between them that everything was more than all right. Everything was wonderful.

  * * *

  Morwen spent the rest of the night in Annie’s room. There was a small couch where she could doze, to be ready in a moment if mother or baby stirred. Annie slept the blissful and exhausted sleep of a newly-delivered woman, but it was impossible for Morwen to sleep. She felt as though she teetered on a cliff-edge now, as though this new arrival to cement Jack and Annie’s solid relationship emphasized her own insecurity.

  She wandered to the window, where the ocean breezes wafted in. Out there, beyond the horizon, was America, where Matt had found his own haven. Everyone had someone, and she, who had once had everything, now had nothing. She no longer minimized the love she and Ben had once shared. It had been everything in the world to her, but it was a part of her life that was over, and in the months that passed, she could remember Ben now with love, instead of pain.

  There was a small writing desk near the window, a block of paper, pen and ink in their separate grooves, for guests’ use. For some reason, the words Ran had once said to Walter came floating back to her.

  ‘It’s a special privilege to get letters from the people you love. They can often say things in letters they find dificult to say out loud.’

  It was as though some other hand was guiding her to reach out for the pen and dip it in the ink, and draw the writing block towards her. Telling her not to throw away the chance of love and happiness, for those who were offered it were the fortunate ones in this world, and shouldn’t discard one of God’s greatest gifts lightly. She wrote carefully, wishing she had the words at her command to say all that she felt, and knowing the sense of release at being able to say, if only on paper, all that her heart longed to say.

  ‘My dearest Ran,

  I call you that in all sincerity, because you are the very dearest man in all the world to me. My own foolishness has driven us apart, and I regret it more than I can say. I don’t ever expect you to love me again, because you will probably always suspect that I still doubt your motives in wanting to marry me. I know I destroyed your love for me, and for that God is punishing me every day of my life.

  Ran, I know that nothing matters but the feelings of a man and a woman, and to have your love again I would gladly give away Killigrew Clay and everything I own. It was never really mine, anyway. It was always Ben’s and part of a man’s world. I would only ever have played at being an owner, so what did it really matter?

  You asked who put the idea into my head. It was my mother, and it was done in all innocence when I told her I loved you and thought I was going to marry you. She said I would be occupied with having babies and being a proper woman and would be glad to leave the running of Killigrew Clay to you, and that was when I began to mistrust you.

  I should have seen the sense in her words, my dar. They’re all that matters. Now that I know you’re lost to me, I had to put things right, and to let you know I do trust you, Ran. I’d trust you with my life.

  I’m tempted to tear up this letter, but that would be cowardly. So I’ll leave it where you’ll find it after I’ve gone home in the morning. I’m no good at being noble, though, so don’t expect me to dance at your wedding to one of the Pendewy girls, because I shan’t! I love you.’

  Annie gave a small moan, and Morwen went to her at once, but the girl was only turning in her sleep. The baby was tucked up in a drawer on the floor by her side, and slept contentedly. Morwen’s throat was full, just watching them. And even more so from saying all that she wanted to say to Ran.

  She wouldn’t be able to leave next morning until Jack had taken Annie and the baby home, but she suddenly felt desperately tired, and at last she slept fitfully, the letter safely tucked beneath her head. She would slip it beneath Ran’s bedroom door before she left for Killigrew House.

  * * *

  The children were excited to hear the news. Walter had left for the works long ago, but Morwen sent one of the stable-lads with a message for Bess, and told him to go on to the Clay One to tell Walter and Hal. There would be a lot of rejoicing among the Tremaynes and the Killigrews from now on, she thought mistily, as the girls clamoured to know what the baby was like and what he would be called.

  ‘He’s to be called Samuel Randell Tremayne,’ she said, feeling an absurd little twist of pride at the name.

  ‘Samuel! That was our father’s name, wasn’t it?’ Primmy echoed. Her face went suddenly scarlet. ‘I’m sorry, Mother. I – I just don’t know what to call him. I can’t say Uncle Sam, can I?’

  Morwen hugged her. ‘He’ll always be your father, my love, and he’d be so proud his children.’

  ‘Anyway, we’ve got a cousin Sam now,’ Albert said. ‘So in a way, our father’s still here, isn’t he, Mother?’

  ‘In a way, love,’ Morwen said.


  Sometimes, to her, Sam had never gone away. Especially when she looked at the three older ones, who looked back at her with Sam’s blue Tremayne eyes.

  They spent the rest of the morning discussing when they could go and see the baby, and if it would be baptized in Truro or St Austell, and which one of them it was going to be most like. In the afternoon, Primmy and Albert and Justin begged permission to go and see Grandma Bess. Charlotte played outside, making daisy-chains on the lawn, while Morwen sat back in a wicker chair and let the sun warm her face.

  She didn’t see anyone approach until a shadow came between her and the sky, and then she opened her eyes and saw a tall stranger with sunlight like a halo around his face, and her heart leapt.

  ‘Ran,’ she breathed.

  He dropped down on the grass beside her, while Charlotte whooped around them. She might have been on another planet for all the adults were aware of her. Morwen watched nervously as Ran slowly took a folded piece of paper from his pocket.

  ‘Did you mean it?’ he said quietly. ‘Every bit of it?’

  In the daylight, it was less easy to admit to the opening of her heart. But if it had been foolish to mistrust him, how much more foolish would it be to deny everything now? She gave a small nod.

  ‘Of course I did. Everything,’ she said.

  Thinking that now he would surely take her in his arms. Thinking that everything would be restored between them as if by one magic stroke of an artist’s brush.

  ‘I should put you across my knee and thrash you,’ he said, his voice edged with anger. Morwen blinked, and Charlotte came within her focus, her eyes saucer-round at this apparent quarrel between her two favourite people.

  ‘Why?’ she bristled at once.

  ‘Because it wasn’t until the end of the letter that it even sounded like my Morwen. All that humility made me cringe! It wasn’t until you reverted to normal and said you were no good at being noble and that you had no intention of dancing at my wedding that I believed any of it.’

  She was outraged until she realized he was teasing her. There were dancing lights in his eyes, and the laughter lines around them forced little ridges of pleasure at her annoyance. And there was something more in his face that made her heart begin to beat faster with a soaring feeling of hope…

  ‘Are you going to marry Uncle Ran?’ Charlotte shouted.

  Before Morwen could say anything, the other children had come home and were running into the garden in time to catch the words. Primmy looked from one to the other of the adults, standing so stiffly together, her quick mind assessing the situation at once.

  ‘Are you Mother?’

  Justin spoke up. ‘She can’t, can she? She’s married to our father—’

  ‘No, she’s not. You can’t still be married to somebody when they’re dead, you ninny,’ Albert said. He looked at Morwen and Ran with all the wisdom of the adolescent.

  ‘We wouldn’t mind, Mother, really we wouldn’t,’ he said with some embarrassment. ‘Uncle Ran could move in here—’

  ‘No, he couldn’t,’ Ran told him. ‘I have my own house, in case you’ve forgotten.’

  But Morwen knew there was more to it than that, more than the children would understand. She could see it plainly in the sudden flash of pride in Ran’s eyes. If he did intend to marry Ben Killigrew’s widow after buying into Ben Killigrew’s business, he certainly wasn’t moving straight into Ben Killigrew’s house as well. There was no way he wanted to walk so completely in Ben’s shoes. Randell Wainwright’s shadow was his own.

  ‘It’s simple then,’ Primmy said matter-of-factly, and Morwen felt a stab of amusement as the four children crowded together, almost shutting her and Ran out as they thought out their own solution. They were extremely good at that, these Killigrew children, she realized… especially when Primmy the schemer initiated something…

  ‘Justin wants to go to that Truro college, so he and Charlotte can move into New World with Mother and Ran. Albert and me like our school here, and Walter’s already working at Killigrew Clay. So if Grandma Bess and Granddad Hal move in here, the three of us can all stay together!’

  The four of them drifted indoors as Mrs Horn called them in for tea, still chattering like magpies over the proposed new order of things. Would it happen? Could it happen? Morwen’s mind buzzed with the sweet simplicity of it all. It would still need her Mammie and Daddy to agree to it, of course…

  She looked up into the eyes of the tall, powerful man at her side. The man who had called her ‘honey’ in a way that was special and exclusive. She loved him with a fierce and primitive passion that was almost pain, and her throat was suddenly dry. Because no matter how clever the plan, she wasn’t certain yet if Ran still wanted to marry her.

  Her spirit momentarily deserted her, and it was more than she could do to ask. But as always, her beautiful, expressive eyes spoke more than words ever could, and Ran’s feelings matched hers as he answered the unspoken question in his own way.

  ‘Your children have more sense than you, Mrs Killigrew,’ he said, and then he opened out his arms to take her inside.

  Next in The Cornish Clay Sagas:

  Family Shadows

  A heartbreaking, unerring portrayal of a family in turmoil, Family Shadows is a beautiful saga of love and betrayal that will delight fans of Lyn Andrews, Dilly Court and Katie Flynn

  Find out more

  First published in Great Britain in 1988 by Severn House Publishers Ltd by arrangement with Sphere Books Ltd

  This edition published in the United Kingdom in 2019 by

  Canelo Digital Publishing Limited

  57 Shepherds Lane

  Beaconsfield, Bucks HP9 2DU

  United Kingdom

  Copyright © Rowena Summers, 1988

  The moral right of Rowena Summers to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN 9781788634694

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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