2006 - Wildcat Moon

by Babs Horton

  He picked up the third photograph and looked at it There was a white tear line running through the middle of it as if it had been ripped in half. He looked at the back and saw that someone had glued tracing paper over the back in an attempt to mend it It wasn’t half as interesting as the other two. It was a photograph taken at a wedding; disappointingly there was nothing written on the back.

  He lay the photographs down on the bed and compared them. Then suddenly he gasped.

  The man in the wedding photograph was the spit of Thomas Greswode, just older looking. He stared at the photograph of the bride, a very pretty woman looking up at the bridegroom as if she could eat him up. She looked the way people were meant to look when they were in love. Yuk!

  He looked again at the face of Thomas Greswode. He had a nice face, cheerful and honest-looking, the kind of boy you’d want to have as a friend.

  With dismay he heard the clattering of crockery downstairs. Any minute now Mammy would be up the stairs bringing him beef broth or junket and other disgusting muck that was supposed to be good for him but tasted terrible. He shoved the diary and letters hastily underneath the bed, folded his hands across his chest and assumed an air of innocence.

  One cold and dank morning in the middle of January the bells tolled in Rhoskilly Church for the funeral of Jonathan Greswode. Folk from the Skallies made their way along the sodden lane and together with the villagers of Rhoskilly they took their seats in the ancient church.

  There were only a few family mourners sitting stiff-backed at the front of the church. There was a wizened old woman who sniffed incessantly. She was the old nanny from Killivray. There were a few well-dressed friends from London including a pale-faced, haughty young woman and a tall, stern-faced man they assumed was her father.

  After the service the villagers stood at a discreet distance from the other mourners and then, when the final prayer was over and a handful of soil thrown onto the coffin of the late Jonathan Greswode, they moved slowly away.

  Jonathan Greswode was laid quietly to rest with his father Charles beneath the towering stone angel.

  Nan walked back to the Skallies with Freddie and Charlie Payne. They were silent until they were halfway back.

  “Funny old funeral,” said Freddie Payne. “Hardly any flowers. He couldn’t have been a popular man by the amount of mourners there.”

  “Who was that woman who was weeping her socks off?” Charlie asked.

  “I think she was the one staying at the house when he was murdered,” Freddie replied.

  “Perhaps it was her who murdered him; she was a hard-faced little bint by the look on her.”

  “Nan! Don’t be so wicked!”

  “Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if Miss Brazen Face was his fancy woman,” Nan said defiantly. “She had that look about her.”

  “Nan! Shame on you. You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”

  “Well, that’s what it looked like to me.”

  “His wife weren’t there, though, were she? Funny thing that, a woman not turning up to her own husband’s funeral.”

  “Maybe they didn’t get on,” Nan said with a shrug.

  “Whether they got on or not it’s a mark of respect to go to your husband’s funeral.”

  “It said in the paper she was in a bad way with her nerves. Not well enough to be let out,” Charlie remarked.

  “Think she’d have made the effort though. Them nuns could have brought her,” Freddie grumbled.

  “I don’t suppose the poor devil’s in a fit state what with the husband killed and the little girl missing,” Charlie added.

  “They’ll catch up with that governess woman sooner or later, you mark my words, and if she’s hurt that child shell swing,” Freddie Payne shook his head.

  “That’ll be the last of the Greswodes in Killivray House, mind. The child can’t live there on her own even if she’s found, which I very much doubt.”

  “By law the wife should inherit, I suppose, but I can’t see her coming back after all that’s happened, can you?”

  “Maybe she will, one day,” Nan said. “Maybe she’ll enjoy me place better without him.”

  “You’re a cold-hearted bugger, Nan Abelson,” Freddie said, looking at her in surprise.

  “Well you never know what goes on between a husband and wife in a marriage; he could have been a cruel devil to her and the child for all we know,” Nan said angrily.

  “Even so I don’t expect she would have wished him to end up losing his life at the hand of a murderess,” Charlie said, shocked by Nan’s outburst.

  “Who knows?” Nan remarked coolly. “I saw her once or twice in the village. She looked a gentle type, downtrodden if you ask me.”

  Charlie and Freddie Payne looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

  They’d always known that Nan had a downer on men at times. They put it down to a past bad experience for in all the time she’d been in the Skallies she’d never made a mention of Cissie’s father or whether she’d been married or not. The fact was she was on her own and left with a young child to bring up. It couldn’t be easy raising a child like Cissie who wasn’t the full shilling.

  “Well,” Nan said, brightening, “ifll all come out in the wash, I dare say. Do either of you two fancy a pint? On the house of course.”

  “Go on then, funerals always brings on a thirst in me,” Charlie replied enthusiastically.

  “Have a drink while we still can, you’re a long time dead after all,” Freddie mused.

  Spring came with a rush to the Skallies. The sun rose earlier each morning, bringing with it a weak yet welcome warmth. Fresh winds blew in from the sea, drying out the houses and whipping away the fusty damp smell that had plagued them all winter.

  Spring cleaning began in earnest except at the Kellys’. Washing flapped on the makeshift lines strung up along the beach. Windows were cleaned with vinegar, front steps scoured with carbolic and brass buffed up until it gleamed. Rugs were battered mercilessly out of upstairs windows and curtain nets dipped in Reckits Blue.

  In Killivray House cobwebs festooned the diamond-paned windows and dust blew under the doors and gathered in the corners of the abandoned rooms. Birds roosted in the towering chimneys and mice nibbled at the feet of the stuffed brown bear at the top of the stairs.

  The hedgerows in the surrounding lanes grew thick and primroses and snowdrops flowered in profusion.

  Bluebells and yellow poppies sprang up in the grass of the sand dunes and apple blossom drifted down from the gardens of Killivray House and speckled the beach with petals.

  Three mewling kittens were born in the backyard of the Pilchard Inn and the Paynes brought in a catch of fish so large that it almost sank their boat.

  And Archie thanked his lucky stars and winked at the Virgin on his wall because there was still no news from the porker.

  In late April a boatload of trippers landed on Skilly Beach and invaded the Skallies, keen to hear the gruesome details of the Killivray murder and see the strange folk in the Skallies that the newspapers had talked about.

  After that they came each fine weekend. Life in the Skallies began to change and there was a busyness and sense of purpose that hadn’t been there before. Nan was run off her feet in the Pilchard and Cissie learned how to wash glasses and clear the tables.

  The Eayne brothers found a couple of battered tables and set them up outside the pub and the Arbuthnots surprised everyone by serving afternoon teas in their front parlour. Cissie sold bracelets made from shells and the Paynes smoked mackerel and set up a fish stall outside the Peapods.

  In Cuckoo’s Nest Mrs Kelly waited until the youngest children were taking their afternoon nap before she steamed open the letter that had arrived that morning.

  It was addressed to her husband but he was out fishing with the older boys and wouldn’t be back until dusk She couldn’t wait that long to find out who had written to him. The postman hadn’t called at Cuckoo’s Nest in years. Who in all the world would want to
contact him after all this time?

  She read slowly, struggling over the longer words and when she came to the end she slumped down onto a chair and fanned herself with the letter.

  It must be some sort of a joke. It couldn’t be right. This sort of good fortune didn’t come the Kellys’ way. They weren’t the sort of family that fortune favoured, they were born unlucky. And yet, and yet this looked like an official letter from a solicitor in London. She replaced the letter in the envelope, stuck it back down and put it behind the broken clock on the mantelpiece.

  Jesus, Mary and Joseph, if this were true then they had no more worries.

  She felt the baby quicken in her stomach and made the sign of the cross.

  Archie had no luck trying to pick the lock on the diary. He poked at it with a rusty compass and a bent hairgrip but nothing would make it budge. In the end he sneaked a saw from the cupboard under the stairs but it took him ages to saw through the leather band that attached the lock to the front of the diary.

  He took himself down to the beach, settled himself behind a rock and opened the diary.

  He skipped through the slippery pages until he came to an entry in June of 1900. He read avidly, enthralled as life in the past began to unfold.

  June 2nd

  Received a letter from Sizzie today. She is well but broke her wrist falling out of an olive tree! She doesn’t say what she was doing up the tree but she is quite wild! The fiesta is soon to be held and the flags are up in Santa Caterina. How I would love to be there. Everyone will eat and eat until they are stuffed and stay up half the night. Sizzle’s mama has been looking after our house while Papa is away. He arrives back there tomorrow. Sizzie said a brother from the monastery drove his cart off the road and ended up on the roof of Signer Rabiotti’s cantina. Sizzle’s cousin has had a baby boy called Allesandro.

  Sizzie is sad that she won’t be able to wheel him around Santa Caterina…She used to wheel me out in the perambulator when I was little and race through the narrow streets like a mad thing. How I used to love it! I miss her. Uncle gone to London.

  June 8th

  Today the cricket list went up and I am not in the team! Not even a reserve. Willis Minor is in and although he is a good chap he can’t catch for toffee. G says not to fret but Chas knows I am good enough for the team. G says Chas is a spoiled brat and she would give her eye teeth to give him a sock in the jaw! 80 and I walked in woods. He told me all about his home in Africa, about the enormous sunsets and the calling of elephants and lions at night. He still misses his family badly and I think he would like to go back one day. I can’t say I blame him. I wouldn’t want to work for Uncle.

  Z upset cook with his bad language. She threatened to make him into a stew.

  June 9th

  Beaky F called me to his study after Latin…I am to play for the villagers’ cricket team! Hip hip hooray! As G says, every cloud has a silver lining.

  Beaky says best not to tell Chas—he will get a well-deserved shock on the day when I walk out to the wicket.

  G has gone shopping to St Wers and wouldn’t let me go with her. She is v. secretive of late…Perhaps she has a young man there. She is very pretty and such good fun!

  June 11th

  Aunt talked all through dinner about cricket and how Chas has the makings of a first-class cricketer and could bring home the honours. Chas has head size of a soccer ball, he is so boastful. He has been bought spanking-new whites and a new bat for the game. Went for walk with G but she came back to house. She is not herself at all.

  June 13th

  The builders have finished the new summerhouse—Papa wanted it built in honour of Mama. Have taken some toys and books down there—it is ace! Except for Chas who thinks he owns it. Met Benj in woods and went back to s/house. Chas was a pig. Says he won’t have Skallies lads in his summerhouse! Said other frightful things about catching things off those sorts of people. Benj and I ignored him and went down to beach. Benj is twice the boy Chas is. He may be poor but he is a true friend. The best chap you could meet Beaky F says if Benj took the exam he could get a scholarship place at Nanskelly. That would be terrific.

  June 21th

  Uncle is back and very bad-tempered. It must have been hot in London because he is very suntanned. The best day! Chas and all went to St Wer. G gave me a present—a spanking-new cricket bat. It’s the tops. Bo bowled to me down on the bottom lawn for hours. G not feeling well. Probably the heat. It is boiling!

  Cook and G made lemonade and parkin and we sat in shade. Fell asleep. When I awoke G was whispering to cook. I shouldn’t have listened but I did. G said she was at her wits’ end with his advances—she said he was like an octopus with St Vitus’ Dance and she was afraid to be alone with him. She didn’t say who he was but perhaps it’s a chap from St Wers. I don’t know why she sees him if she’s afraid of him. Perhaps she is lovesick! Cook said he had always had a ‘thing’ about G and the best thing she could do was to find another position.

  G said that Bo was looking to go home. Then cook said, I hope to God, Gwennie my girl, that you and he aren’t dilly dallying…all that would come of that would be tears. They talked in riddles half the time so I learned nothing. I hope Gwennie does not leave or Bo either. That would be awful.

  V excited about the match.

  June 21st

  Pipi was not well tonight. Her nose is dry and she even refused a bone from cook.

  Uncle says she will get over it and would not call the vet. Bo and I sat with her for ages.

  June 22nd

  Pipi was a bit better this morning and ate a little bread and milk. Called for Benj but he was out in boat He’s a fine sailor and knows so much about the sea and fishing and things like that. Mrs Treg gave me tea and cake. She is nice. Hogwash House is a very friendly place and nothing like Killivray! I cannot wait for Papa to come back at Christmas! I wish he would write to me soon—it’s an age since I last heard from him. I saw the little Payne twins outside the Peapods in pram. Can’t tell them apart They are as brown as berries. Saw G’s father coming out of Pilchard. He was blotto.

  July 5th

  Benj and I out in boat at dawn. Caught five whopping fish. I took two for cook and she was very pleased. G has borrowed a box camera. Took photo of me outside s’house. Chas inside sulking because he wanted his photo taken first.

  Pipi is v. sick again. Slept in stables with her last night Bo thinks that she may have eaten rat poison. Her heart is weak and she can hardly stand. Fed her with milk through a straw but she cannot swallow.

  Bo came in just after midnight and brought me some bread and cheese.

  Pipi passed away just after five o’clock. She was only young for a dog. Papa bought her for me as a leaving present when he left me here at Killivray with Z.

  Bo and G going to help me bury her in woods. I was not brave at all and hooted like a girl. Bo was a great comfort he understands how I feel Aunt says what a fuss over a mere animal.

  July 11th

  Bo has made a small headstone and engraved Pipi’s name on the stone. We buried her beneath a horse chestnut tree. G and I picked flowers for grave.

  I am very sad tonight. I would give up my place in cricket team if only I could have Pipi back.

  Chas said Pipi was just a mongrel. Pedigrees were best and didn’t get sick. Chas is a mongrel and I wish he would get sick, very sick indeed in fact!

  July 15th

  G is helping to make teas at Nanskelly tomorrow so that she can see me play. Beaky F is going to teach Benj to score. I am so excited. Chas and rest still have no idea I am playing. Z escaped and was caught in kitchen eating a seed cake cook had just taken out of oven! Saw Bo on cliff path—he’d been out to Nanskelly. He asked me to post a letter for him in Rhoskilly. He was very excited and when he is he can’t stop smiling.

  July 16th

  Hooray! Just the best day ever. Chas’ face was a picture when I walked out to bat. He was livid. I scored 89 not out! And I made two sixes that nearly went
over the cliff. Chas was bowled by Dally after only 3 balls! Dally took two magnificent catches. I won the cup. I won the cup! Never felt so proud in all my life. I shall write to Papa to tell him my news. Team carried me to Skallies—a wobbly ride I can tell you and I was half afraid they would drop me.

  Bo was really pleased. Gwennie said she was that proud she could burst. She might one of these days as she is getting very fat. Mr D from Pilchard bought ginger beer all round and Mrs D made us magnificent pasties.

  Dally got scratched by one of the wildcats that live in the backyard of the Pilchard.

  Dally says there have always been wildcats in the Skallies and sometimes when the moon is full you can see the outline of a cafs paw on its surface—Wildcat Moon always means change is on its way…On way home I took cup to show Pipi. The flowers had all been taken off the grave, ripped up and thrown around. I picked more but I swear if Chas goes near her grave again I will beat him to a pulp.

  Late for dinner so sent to room.

  G sneaked me up a beef sandwich.

  July 26th

  My photograph of Mama and Papa was missing from my trunk. I found it in nursery cupboard ripped in half. I hit Chas as hard as I could and bloodied his fat nose. I know it was him. No one else would do such a thing. G has taken it to mend. I hate Chas and his parents even if they are my family. Uncle has stopped my pocket money for a month and made me apologize. I did but crossed my fingers behind my back so I don’t mean it. Very glad there is a lock on this diary. It was a wizard idea of G’s to hide it under floorboards in s/house. I wouldn’t put it past Chas to sink low and read a chap’s private diary.