The Carpenter's Daughter

by Gloria Cook

  ‘Don’t presume to think you know everything about all of us.’ He raised his voice, leaning towards her. ‘There’s some very happy marriages, complete partnerships, at Burnt Oak. You don’t understand a thing, do you? You know nothing about life yet you dare to stand there and preach at me. I don’t approve of the way my father preys on young girls but there was nothing I could do for Sarah. It was too late. She wouldn’t have listened to us no matter how much we’d pleaded with her. It’s been going on for ages. She’s besotted with him. She would have told even you to mind your own business. Anyway, if you had one realistic bone in your body you’d see she’s chosen a better life for herself.’

  ‘Better!’ Amy shouted, furious that he was justifying Sarah’s shame. ‘You call being an outcast in the village a better life?’

  ‘It’s her life. As least she’s got the guts to make her own decisions.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ Amy knew she was about to be accused of something and she was ready to fight back.

  ‘It means that she’s done what she had to get the best for herself and her family. She’s dragged herself up out of deprivation and starvation. She’s never known a cosy life hiding behind a mother’s apron strings.’

  Amy hadn’t expected to be derided. She dropped her eyes to the ground. She couldn’t bear to see that look in his eyes again, to see that he didn’t like her, as on the first day he’d come here. That he thought she was a coward. Perhaps he was right. She had never made plans to leave home and make a life for herself. Perhaps she was scared to face the rigours of life, just like her father was. From Sol’s earliest suggestion that she study the account books she’d had qualms about the financial state of the business and had not wanted to face them. The owner of Meryen’s hardware store had hinted that he was owed money.

  Her voice surfaced low and dry, dry because she felt the little bit of life left in her since Toby’s death had drained away. ‘You’re wrong about Sarah. She’s been led astray from her values. She would never have set out to throw away her reputation. I’ll go to the den when my visitor has gone. I’ll tell you what I find.’

  ‘Good.’ Sol answered grimly. ‘And perhaps you’d better arrange for an apprentice. I’ll stand Jowan down. And you should start looking for a qualified craftsman. I’ll carry on here until I’m no longer required.’

  Not knowing if he meant these new arrangements, unable to look at him, she could only nod. She trudged back to the house, tears of shame and despair blinding her. Her old life was gone for ever, the future was looking bleak and she had just made things worse. The only thing she had gained in recent months was the return of her yellow and red scarf.

  Tara had never driven through the village before. Her Aunt Estelle had forbidden it. With Joshua being so flexible, it was good to be able to please herself on just about anything. People came out of their cottages to see whose horses were making a light clipping trot rather than the heavy rumbling of a workhorse hauling a heavy ore waggon. With mouths gaping in surprise, they touched forelocks and dipped curtseys. Tara looked out each side of the carriage and waved at the windows. Almost to a man, woman and child, after the initial surprise, her waves were returned enthusiastically.

  She did as she had planned, familiarized herself with what she saw, for she intended to talk to Joshua about the village. She would make him listen and would not let him humour her. All the little dwellings looked in need of repair or basic amenities. All in all the village looked poor and downtrodden but there were also touches of quaintness and pride. Some dwellings had thick protruding granite window sills, some had mullioned windows. Most had stable doors and most of them needed fresh paint or new hinges. Some were made from cob, some were full or half slate-hung. Roofs here and there were lopsided. Cottages rambled off in short curving lanes. The newer houses tended to be in spirit-level straight rows. Low thick uneven stone walls divided the gardens; stones were loose here and there and weeds were rife. One cottage had massive buttresses extending nearly out to the road. Another’s front door was reached by granite steps, with a rusty iron rail. There was little in the way of pavements and those in evidence were of granite slabs or cobbles. Set well back off the road at the far end of the village was the square. Here was where a lot of the trade was carried out; the general stores, a drapery, ironmongery, farm shop, a candle maker, and the mine shop where Tara understood subsist, an advance of wages, was mainly spent. A shop, newly painted, with the sign, H. Kivell, High Class Greengrocer and Fruiterer, stuck out like a rose among weeds.

  ‘It was an eye opener,’ she told Amy and Sylvia, while drinking tea in the front room. ‘I feel it is incumbent on the squire to do something for Meryen. Goodness knows it’s been sadly neglected for generations by the Nankervises, but I want that to change. You both must know the needs of the villagers, especially the children. Perhaps we could put our heads together and arrive at ways that are helpful, but not at all patronising, to make their lives a little easier.’

  ‘Well, Mrs Nankervis,’ Sylvia said, her little finger curled round her best china. She was honoured to have the lady of the big house in her home and she had insisted she and Amy scrub it until everything sparkled. The gifts Tara had brought – sugared almonds as well as the carousal – had been much exclaimed over. ‘Meryen has waited long enough for this. Amy and I shall be glad to come up with ideas. For a start it would go a long way if the constables put a stop to the drunkenness outside the public houses. Most inhabitants are God-fearing people but there are those who persist in that sort of unsavoury behaviour which all too often leads to hunger and violence in homes. And, well, it’s not a nice subject, I know, but there’s filth lying about in certain areas which brings danger of diseases. Something could be done about that.’

  ‘Thank you for your contribution, Mrs Lewarne. I’ll speak to my husband about it. Have you any ideas, Amy?’ Tara had noticed that Amy was quiet and pale and she took it to be the strain of the family’s circumstances.

  Amy gave a half-formed smile. The encounter with Sol had left her feeling crushed and she had little energy for the woes of others. Why was life so hard? How could things change so dramatically and sweep away all her security and self-assurance? ‘I’ve often hoped for some more education for the children. Reverend Longfellow gives lessons twice a week in the evenings in the chapel schoolroom but he does not seem greatly gifted and few children attend, and he doesn’t include the girls.’ At one time she would have suggested she teach the children herself, she was capable and she would have thought of ways to make the learning fun and interesting, but she had too many concerns here at home for such a consideration.

  ‘Well, that’s something to start on,’ Tara said. ‘Any improvement will inevitably make a difference to people’s lives. I shall form a committee to meet once a month. Would you ladies agree to be on it? I mean, it wouldn’t work very well without you both. I’d like to suggest we meet at Poltraze, that way our schemes will be taken seriously.’

  ‘We’d both be greatly honoured, Mrs Nankervis,’ Sylvia said, putting an awed hand to her bosom. ‘You and I up at the big house, Amy. Fancy that. Well, I never.’ She was too excited to realize Amy was downcast.

  Baby Hope began to cry upstairs. Sylvia excused herself to feed her.

  ‘I’d so like to see the baby, if I may,’ Tara said.

  ‘I’ll bring her down as soon as she’s comfortable,’ Sylvia said, scampering out of the room as if half her age.

  ‘Your visit has brightened up my mother. Thank you, Tara,’ Amy said. ‘More tea?’

  Tara declined. ‘Apart from what’s happened, is there something particularly wrong, Amy? I can see you’re very low. You can confide in me.’

  ‘Oh, it’s just about everything. I’ve had a quarrel with Sol. I offended him.’ She outlined the details of the angry exchange. ‘Now I realize that I don’t want him to leave. I should have trusted him. I certainly don’t want strangers here.’ Her face full of misery, she added, ‘He doesn’t like me.�
��

  ‘I’m so sorry you’ve had such a bad time. Perhaps Sol will come round. It’s understandable that you’ve been overwhelmed with all that’s happened. Is it important that he likes you?’

  Amy shrugged. ‘Yes and no. I’ll try harder to get along with him. If he can help us out of our difficulties then Mother need never know about them.’

  ‘My life seemed to be going nowhere, then it all changed suddenly and I was to marry Joshua and I was scared how I would cope. Then the fire changed things again. I’d do anything to go back and not have Aunt Estelle suffer such a terrible end, of course, but now I’m free to make my own decisions.’

  ‘You think things here might change again for the better?’ Amy was almost too weary to cling to a glimmer of hope.

  ‘We never know what lies ahead of us. In the meantime try not to be hard on yourself. We are allowed to be human.’

  Amy had heard the last comment before, but often it had an addition. ‘But it’s the human side of us that gets us into trouble.’ She had made trouble for herself with Sol. She hated the sense of desolation it gave her. Witnessing the purpose Tara had in her she made a resolve of her own. To soften her approach with Sol and make him her friend. Whatever happened, if it was possible she’d like to always have Sol as a friend.

  ‘Amy, can I have a word, please?’ Sol was at the door of the den.

  She didn’t hear him. She’d spent the last half-hour staring into space, having deliberately shut off her thoughts, after a time of horrified and hurt emotions. It had only taken a short while to glean from the account books that no bill had been paid for eighteen months. There were some recent curt letters of demand for settlement. It all tied in with her father’s growing harshness and the economies.

  ‘Amy, are you all right?’ He stayed put, not wanting to infringe on her. He had not told Jowan about their quarrel. He’d needed to think. Had it been something to do with Amy why he’d agreed to come here? He’d been attracted to her from the moment he’d first seen her, and again when she’d been coming down the stairs here at Chy-Henver carrying china, dressed in black and steeped in grief. The day she’d come to Burnt Oak he’d taken her scarf, something he’d never done before. He’d never wanted anything to remind him of the women he consorted with. But he had kept Amy’s scarf, had been reluctant to part with it and had only handed it over the day he’d packed to come here to stay. After the second time she had asked for it back he’d hidden it in his room where he’d occasionally run it through his hands and hold it to his nose to smell Amy’s tender scent. He had told himself it meant nothing. Of course, it didn’t. He wasn’t the romantic sort. The very thought was ridiculous.

  Amy. She drifted in and out of his mind all the time. Amy, an uppity young madam – he enjoyed baiting her. Putting her in her place. Sometimes she made him feel uncomfortable and he was sharp with her, for no real reason. Amy . . . she was . . . Amy.

  He shouldn’t have quarrelled with her like that. She had suffered, she was worried and perplexed. He shouldn’t have said those severe things to her, it was callous. How small and young and deflated she had looked when she’d walked away from him. Now he wanted to do right by her, he had to put things right. He couldn’t leave until everything, one way or another, was settled about Morton and what was to happen to the business.

  ‘Oh, Sol, I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.’ Amy was at the kneehole desk. She pointed to the only other chair in the room. ‘Would you like to join me? We need to talk.’

  The den was little bigger than a cupboard and dark, and she had lit lanterns. Morton had kept it locked. Amy had got the brass key from the little round table by his kitchen chair.

  Sol joined her, moving sensitively. ‘I can see you are shocked. It’s how I feared, then?’

  She shook her head in desperation. ‘How am I going to tell Mother? She hasn’t a clue this was going on. How are we going to pay for Toby’s headstone?’

  ‘Amy, if you let me help you she may never need to know. Look, I shouldn’t have gone at you like that before. I’m sorry.’

  ‘I’m sorry too. I should have kept my tongue in check. You’re under no obligation to help me, Sol.’

  ‘Yes, I am. I didn’t have to force my presence here, and I’ve no plans to desert you now. I really want to help, Amy. Let’s see it as a challenge to make Chy-Henver a well-run carpentry business. If your father reappears, well, we’ll work that out if or when it happens.’

  ‘I need to know why he ran up these debts. What was behind it? Thanks to you, some of the smaller ones can be paid off. I can think of a few things that can be sold which won’t stir Mother’s interest. I’ll write to the other creditors and ask for a deferral and hope to convince them that things will be back on track even with my father gone. Sol, I don’t really know what there is in the stores. Are they badly run down?’

  ‘I think there’s enough seasoned wood, lacquer and stuff to keep things going for a few weeks. Amy, please don’t say no to this out of hand. I’ve got money to buy in new supplies and I’m sure enough remuneration can be made for you and your mother, and me. You could tell the creditors there’s a new partner.’

  She wouldn’t have countenanced such a suggestion a few hours ago. She would even have been offended. But she and her family were at the mercy of the world and she must use any means to try to put things right. In the circumstances it was a kind and touching offer from Sol. ‘Well, we will be entering into a form of partnership, won’t we?’

  ‘Lewarne and Kivell. Put your hand there.’ He stuck his hand out to her.

  Amy gazed at the tough, work-marked flesh. Taking a breath, she placed her hand in his. He closed his rough fingers around hers. While they shook they stared into each other’s eyes. ‘Everything will be fine,’ he said, and it came out with the generous measure of emotion he was feeling, a new experience for him. He was trading his carefree life for one that tied him to a promise, a promise he didn’t need to make, but the challenge and purpose set before him, entwined with the ones Amy had made, gave him awareness of the greatest sense of adventure. It would do for him for now.

  Amy visibly relaxed. The terrible burdens weighing her down for the last few months lifted away and she felt she could face anything. ‘We must keep nothing from each other. Sol, I’m sure I could help you and Jowan in small ways. It would help get the orders out. After all, the bal-maidens work hard enough. Actually, I think I’d enjoy it. Mother is able to run the house now. It will be good for her to resume her position.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ Sol replied, humouring her. ‘We’ll look after your mother and Hope in every way we can.’ He studied her and smiled. ‘Pity you don’t drink. It would be nice to toast the occasion.’

  She opened a bottom drawer and pulled out a near empty bottle of brandy and a glass. ‘I found this. My father wasn’t keeping it for medicinal purposes. We can share a few sips, cement our new understanding.’

  He laughed, a warm chuckling sound. ‘I’m enjoying this partnership already.’ He opened the bottle and filled the glass halfway. ‘You first.’

  Smiling with some kind of happiness for the first time in ages, she took the glass, feeling daring. She tasted the brandy with her tongue on her lip. It was warm and soothing. Sol’s eyes were on her. She took a big sip, blinked and made a face as she swallowed. ‘Mmm, it’s nice.’

  ‘I never thought I’d see this.’

  Confidently, she took two more sips then passed the glass to him. ‘Your grandmother said something to me, that one can’t fight their fate. I suppose this was my fate to be going into partnership and drinking brandy with you.’

  Sol emptied the glass. ‘And who knows what’s next.’

  Eighteen

  ‘Get a move on, you two. We’re going to be late for work,’ Sarah said crossly, at breakfast. ‘I’ve never seen you eat so slowly.’ It was ironic. Tamsyn and Arthur never went hungry these days but they now had little appetite. They had flesh on their bones and their faces no longer
showed thin sharp angles, they didn’t suffer so many aches and pains or catch as many infections, but they didn’t seem a bit grateful for it.

  Wispy-haired Tamsyn slowly trudged her spoon round a bowl of porridge and kept her head bowed. Arthur, with milk teeth missing, was also disinclined to speak.

  Sarah glanced from girl to boy, forgetting her irritation. Life would soon give her everything and she had no need to share their gloom, which, she was sure, was because they were missing their mother. ‘Do you want some more sugar in it?’ Her voice was bright. ‘We’ve plenty to spare.’

  ‘No,’ Tamsyn answered, putting a spoonful of the dark brown oats reluctantly to her mouth.

  Arthur just shook his head, glum, his lower lip stuck out.

  ‘What is it then?’ Sarah didn’t look at them. She knew what was really wrong but didn’t like to admit it. She went on the defensive, something she’d been doing for some time, in and out of her home. ‘For goodness sake what’s the matter with the pair of you? You’ve got no reason to be down in the dumps.’

  ‘We don’t want to go to work,’ Arthur piped up in his reedy voice.

  ‘Why not?’ Sarah tossed her head in challenge.

  ‘You know why,’ Tamsyn said, on the verge of tears. ‘No one talks to us any more. They move away when we go near them as if we smell.’

  ‘Take no notice of them!’ Sarah blazed. She had got into tempers a lot lately for this reason.

  ‘They call you names,’ Arthur wailed. ‘A slut, a whore. They’re bad names, aren’t they? Like the bad women in the inns and the bad women in the Bible.’

  ‘All right!’ Sarah jumped up from the table, making the children blink and pucker up their pained little faces. ‘There’s no need to go on.’

  ‘When are we going to move into this nice house you promised?’ Tamsyn sniffed as tears rushed down her chin. ‘We want to get away from here.’