From A Distance

by Gloria Cook

  ‘You’re beautiful here.’ He shuddered in excitement. He withdrew his hand and ran it up in under her skirt. ‘I want you, Vee,’ he breathed over her mouth. ‘I must have you.’

  He let her go and led her to an ancient couch, one that bore the scorch marks of the disobedience of his earliest smoking habit. Vera Rose was trembling. Her whole self felt as if it was on fire. Faced with the reality of actually having sex, of letting a man use her most intimate and embarrassing part, specially Jonny, an insatiable womanizer, made her pull back from him. She was sure he had taken others girls to this piece of furniture, and there would certainly be others.

  ‘Don’t be scared,’ he whispered, clamping his hands on her shoulders. She didn’t move. All she could do was stare down at the marred, green-striped watered silk of the couch and feel she was about to be totally lost. Jonny nuzzled behind her ear and swayed against her body. ‘It’ll be all right, I promise. Your first time might as well be with me. I’ll be gentle, understanding. I won’t get you into trouble. I’ve got protection. You’ll love it, Vee. Let yourself enjoy it. Women do these days, you know. And why not? Forget all that Victorian prudery, it’s rubbish.’

  But? She knew there were a hundred buts, yet none would come to her. She was too far gone in sensual need, so caught up in desire she had forgotten all her mother’s advice and warnings about ‘that side of life’. Jonny came round her and kissed her mouth and her response was immediate. She loved the feel of his lips, the taste of him. He ran his mouth down her neck, unbuttoning her blouse, kissing her cleavage. She knew it was a worthless question but she had to ask. ‘Do you love me, Jonny?’

  ‘Course I do,’ he said, slipping off his jacket and tie and then getting on with undressing her. ‘I’m not the marrying type and you’ll always be the closest girl to me. Come on, relax. I know what I’m doing. Let me initiate you into the grown-up world.’

  Vera Rose had one last moment of doubt, then she allowed him to do just that.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  In Truro, Perry faced his sister across the breakfast table.

  ‘You don’t have to come with me every time I go to the farm. I’m sure you’d like to do some shopping or something.’

  ‘Something, Perry?’ Selina turned over a page of The Times, took a large bite of toast and marmalade, then settled her eyes on him as she munched.

  Perry hated her eyes. They were rarely quiet and all too often, as now, the irises sparkled in mocking rays of beautiful violet and glints of cold silver. They hinted of the exotic and the barbaric. In the past she had been a caring, sympathetic nursing sister – she had devotedly nursed him back to health after half his leg had been blown off by a grenade – and he didn’t doubt that now as a doctor she had the best of ways with her patients, but this one good side to her was definitely missing now.

  The instant they had got here in Reggie Rule’s house, on the evening of Alec’s death, she had given him a hard look. Nothing more. But he had known he was on different ground with her now, that they were not united in grief over Libby in the way she had first shown.

  He shrugged off her answer as if not really interested – Selina was on top form in her old cat and mouse games. ‘Thought you might have liked a spot of lunch in town.’

  ‘I’ve not a single friend hereabouts, have I, remember?’ She returned to a report of how the country’s gold reserves were dwindling alarmingly, and how it was being proposed that the salaries of the armed forces, teachers and policemen should be reduced. At one time Selina would have been concerned about the inevitable unrest this would cause. She had too much unrest curdling in her soul now to care. Swiping over the page, she added with a contemptuous grin, ‘I said goodby to my reputation when I took too many lovers during my time at the infirmary.’

  ‘It’s hardly something to be proud of.’ Perry pushed away the fried food she had cooked for him. He had no appetite. Selina made him feel sick. She had taken him away from Em’s comfort, and it grieved him that he was not there all day long to comfort her when she needed him most, or her family, whom he was enormously fond of.

  Selina poured herself another cup of tea and slowly stirred in sugar. With her elbows on the table, she held the cup to her lips, her sight again rooted on Perry. Perry knew she would not move or speak until he looked at her. Acid-ridden bubbles of apprehension rose in his gut. She was about to lash out about someone or something and he had no choice but to listen. The violet orbs scoured him. ‘Nor is knocking off a married woman under her poor dying husband’s roof. The good people of Hennaford, not to mention the surviving Harvey brothers and Emilia’s children, would change their good opinion of you, and her, if they ever discovered the truth.’

  ‘Is that a threat?’ Of course it damned well was. Perry thought he would gag on the bile surging up in his throat. ‘You know very well that nothing happened between Em and I while I was staying there. And I wouldn’t have broken up her marriage. I’ve got more scruples than you, Selina. Is this about Dolly Rowse making you feel unwelcome? You should ignore her. She’s old-fashioned. She remembers your affair with the relative of the rector’s wife. Em seems happy to have you at the farm. You’re forgetting that. I thought that the pair of you discovering Alec had given you and her a certain bond.’ As if! But he’d hoped for calmer moods.

  Not the sort of bond I want. ‘Pifft! She tolerates me because she wants you there, and she won’t let me near that youngest brat of hers.’

  ‘Em’s always been overprotective of Lottie. Selina, swear you won’t cause any trouble for Em.’

  ‘Oh, you know I never make that sort of oath, brother dear.’ She reached for his plate. ‘Not hungry? Never mind. I’m ravenous. In fact I’m just in the mood to take anything of yours that I fancy.’

  ‘What the hell does that mean?’

  Selina ate and smirked. Only Emilia knew of her other leaning.

  Perry’s disablement meant he couldn’t get up quickly, but he scraped back his chair and left it rocking. He leaned across the table. ‘Hurt me as much as you like if that’s what you want, but I swear to you Selina, if you do anything, anything at all to harm Em, if you cause a rift between her and her family, I’ll kill you. I will.’

  A slight raise of her chin, a glacial look. ‘You’ve grown away from me over the years, Perry, and I’ve grown to resent that. I’ve asked you to come to Donegal with me, but rather than be with your last living relative you’ve refused. You’d rather be anywhere than with me, wouldn’t you? Well, I don’t think I’ll go back there anyway. There was just a lot of boring countryside and the other doctor was just a whisky-swigging old fart. He disapproved of everything I did. I’ll stay a little longer in this wretched place to see if my daughter’s body is found, then I’ll leave here and I never want to see you again!’

  ‘Fine by me. Over the years you’ve brought me a hell of a lot of trouble!’

  Selina gathered in her brows. ‘We don’t quarrel very often but when we do we really let rip. I think we’re revealing our true feelings. Perry, be sure you don’t do anything to upset me in the next few days or I will tell the Harveys what a whoring little bitch their precious Em is. That she’s your whoring little bitch.’ The more she went on, the more Selina changed. The good symmetry of her body seemed to distort, her long graceful neck to shrink, her colour darkened from a healthy pink to blotchy red and then to the puce of a rotting corpse. Perry had to fight with himself not to reach out and throttle her to get her to shut up. ‘She’d have to flee Hennaford like I did, in humiliation, a lifelong outcast, never to be forgiven. Oh, you and her could be together, but not as you’ve no doubt planned, as a cosy little set-up in her dead husband’s farm in about a year’s time. She could go away with you. Will probably be able to take her brat with her but not her sons, the farm belongs to them. And not with her parents’ blessing and she’ll hate that. All she’d have is a cripple, and a snivelling kid, who, because she was denied her security, would probably go exactly the same way as my Lib
by!’

  ‘You despicable bitch! You’re blaming everyone for Libby’s tragedy except yourself. It was your immorality and nothing else that drove us out of Hennaford. You were the one who caused Libby all that pain, pain she never learned to deal with. You were nothing to her. She hardly saw you while you studied. If you were at my house you went out every evening seeking sexual conquests. And it could never be with anyone on mutual terms, you had to seduce someone innocent or happily settled, married or very young. You are an evil, corrupting she-devil!’

  Selina laughed, a cruel, derisive cackle. ‘But don’t you see? Even if we had stayed in Hennaford all those years ago your affair with the squire’s wife would’ve come to light eventually. The husband wasn’t sick back then. Alec Harvey had already suffered one selfish wife who’d made his life hell. He adored Emilia. He trusted her. He thought she was totally his. He’d have taken a shotgun to you, Perry. And Libby would have ended up an orphan with a scandal chasing her. Either way you look at it, both of us made a mess of Libby’s life. And I shall punish myself for that for the rest of mine.’ She glared at him, smiling almost madly. I’ll punish all the others responsible for Libby’s misery, including you.

  Perry collapsed in a heap back on the chair. He could barely breathe and was very near total panic. ‘Please, Selina, don’t do anything terrible, I beg you. I can hardly cope with losing Libby. I couldn’t go on without Em. Look, if it’s what you want I’ll go away with you, today. It’s unlikely Libby will be found now. Let’s pack right now and leave.’

  Selina gazed at him with eyes devoid of feeling. She folded the newspaper and got up from the table. ‘I’m not leaving Cornwall yet. Libby’s death was not a tragic accident. Someone was negligent and I want to learn all the facts. Do you know, I think I will slip down into the town. I fancy a spot of window shopping, and who knows who I might meet? It’s market day, so a lot of people from Hennaford will be about, villagers, farmers, perhaps a farmer’s widow…’

  She had gone too far with this last threat. His panic folded away. In a voice that was deadly calm, he said, ‘Fine. I’ll go over to the farm by myself. I’ve arranged to do some paperwork, to give Em more time with the children. I’ll see you when I see you then.’

  Suspicion was now the greater part of Selina. Perry was a fighter, as determined to cling on to something that he wanted badly as she was. The deep, abiding love he had for Emilia wasn’t something he was just going to be prepared to have swept away from him. It meant he would protect her at all costs. She’d have to keep on her guard and be at her most cunning. ‘Good, that’s settled. I’ll expect you back for supper.’

  Perry damped down his fury and agitation while he waited for her to leave the house. He sat at Reggie Rule’s desk, pretending to be busy by going through the drawers. In the bottom drawer was an oddly shaped lump covered in thick cloth. He lifted the cloth and found an officer’s pistol. He had one just like it himself, up in London; his, like Reggie’s, had been brought back from the front. When Selina banged her way out of the house – to make the point that she was superior to him – he picked up the pistol and gripped the hard, cold metal. It was several seconds before he put the weapon back in its place. He whispered, ‘I won’t let her hurt you, Em, darling. Not ever.’

  He reached for the telephone to tell Emilia he was on his way, to hear her voice to help dispel the revolting darkness Selina had pierced into his soul. His heart leapt as the telephone rang sharply.

  ‘Hello. Perry Bosweld speaking.’

  The voice on the other end used apologetic, soothing, but official tones. ‘Mr Bosweld. This is the coxswain of the Newquay lifeboat. I’m very sorry to have to tell you this, but I also hope you’ll find it something of a relief. We’ve been informed of a body washed ashore further up the coast in the Padstow area. We are reasonably confident it’s your daughter.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  On the granite slabbed pavement of River Street, in Truro, a girl was pretending to be looking in the window of the sweet shop while, in fact, she was watching Jim Killigrew load his van with supplies from the adjoining ironmonger’s shop.

  If not so deep in thought about what time he’d finish his next assignment, erecting a shed and laying a concrete path at a house in Shortlanesend – and how soon after that he could see Elena, he’d have noticed the observer, a striking figure in a pale yellow, crêpe de Chine, puff-sleeved dress, the skirt slightly flared, and a chic but delicate hat of the same colour over her shiny fair hair, and white net gloves. A gold chain with a Celtic cross was around her pale throat. Her shoes of soft leather were flat, befitting her age, but she carried a small clutch bag with a gold clasp. Two shop assistants out for a breather during their lunch hour gazed at her with admiration and envy.

  The girl kept up her covert scrutiny, trying to find the courage to speak to Jim, someone she had known for years, from the occasional time she had been taken for a picnic at Ford Farm and had played with Vera Rose Stockley, and had been teased by Jonny Harvey; both older than her by five years. She wished she had walked on past Jim now, or gone into the sweet shop, but it wasn’t her nature to be rude, to ignore someone in a lesser position; she had been adopted and she pondered every day that her origins could be lower than that of the humblest person.

  Jim placed a galvanized bucket and a pickaxe carefully into the back of the van; his vehicle was his pride and joy, too precious to be banged about. On his way back into the ironmonger’s he saw the vision of blossoming feminine softness, a vision of sunshine to match the fine day. She was a pleasure to the eye, pure and fresh, and looked older than her age. She raised her hand immediately, a habit of hers, to conceal the half-crown-sized, ragged, dark-pink birthmark on her right cheek. ‘Miss Louisa! Back from your travels then?’ Jim never wore a hat but he wouldn’t touch his forelock to anyone. Out of respect for this shy young lady he wiped his grubby hands down his shirt. He offered his hand, knowing Louisa Hetherton-Andrews would stop hiding her birthmark and gladly present hers.

  Her voice was agreeably well-to-do. ‘Aunt Polly and I arrived home yesterday. I think I must have seen nearly half of Europe by now.’ She stepped up to his van, trailed her forefinger, an inch away, in front of his boldly printed name. ‘I’m most impressed by this. May I say that I’m glad to see good fortune has smiled on you?’

  ‘That’s not all.’ Jim beamed, his chest swelling with pride. ‘I’m engaged to be married, to Miss Elena Rawley.’

  ‘Miss Rawley? Really? I’m amazed. Well, congratulations. When’s the wedding to take place?’

  ‘Christmas Eve,’ Jim was delighted to announce; the whole of Hennaford was amazed. ‘We’re adopting two orphaned children. Alan and Molly wanted us to have a Christmas wedding.’

  ‘You’re adopting two children? How very noble of you. Please accept my best wishes for the wedding and your future all together. I see I have to catch up on a lot of news in Hennaford, although I don’t know many people there. I’ve heard the tragic news about Mr Harvey, of course. Aunt Polly is stricken, she and Mr Harvey had been close friends for a great many years. She’s at our dressmaker’s, ordering black. We’re to go to the farm tomorrow.’

  ‘Mrs Em will appreciate that. Jonny Harvey’s staying there at the moment, helping with the harvesting. I worked at the farm myself yesterday.’

  ‘You get along well with Jonny, don’t you? He hero-worshipped Mr Harvey, but as I remember from the past, when he wasn’t around, Jonny used to trot along after you.’

  ‘He’s a good sort.’ Jim smiled as he recalled teaching Jonny to use a slingshot and Cornish wrestling.

  Jim’s smile made Louisa conscious that she had spent several minutes speaking alone to a young man in the street. The matrons of the town would disapprove, and if any of the girls at her exclusive school saw her she'd be teased endlessly. Louisa was popular and had many friends, but the presence of her birthmark made her prefer not to be the centre of attention. ‘Well, I mustn’t hold you up any longer, Jim
. You must be very busy. And I must catch up with Aunt Polly. It’s been nice seeing you. Goodbye.’ She turned round and walked off towards St Nicholas Street.

  Jim lit a smoke and stared after her until she had disappeared from sight behind a horse-drawn coal lorry. The girl was going to be eagerly sought after by the cream of the town’s young toffs. It was a pity she was bothered about the birthmark, it did little to detract from her fair face.

  ‘Glad to see you’ve an eye for a pretty girl, Jim, even one who’s far too young for you. I could hardly believe my eyes when I read the wording on this van. Your own little business, eh? I’d never have thought you had it in you.’

  The smile, the warmth left by his meeting with Louisa Hetherton-Andrews metamorphosed on Jim’s face into a scowl of hatred. ‘I’ve only got two words to say to you and the second one is “off”!’

  Selina was prowling the city. She was in a filthy mood, having tried to sort out her thoughts quietly in the small, select, first-floor High Cross Restaurant that overlooked the splendid, three-spired, Edwardian-built cathedral. She had come here in former days when she had wanted to be alone, to the charmingly shadowy surroundings, where the lighting came from tall, tapering candles and fresh flowers were put out every day. A diner at a corner table, a businessman whom she knew to be Dougie Blend, a roguish associate of Ben Harvey’s, had aimed a provocative smile, a smarmy smile at her. Blend, apparently, knew what he was doing in the bedroom department, but his sort – nattily suited, heavy-breathing, chunky-bodied, loud-mouthed and greasy – had never taken her fancy. Throughout her lunch of locally caught stuffed mackerel, Blend had continued to ogle her. She hadn’t given him eye contact and was infuriated when he had waddled to her side, and said breathily, ‘Pardon me, miss, but I believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting before, a few years ago.’