by Gloria Cook
‘Kate is devoted to Jill. It’s a relief having her here,’ Emilia said.
‘She’s a darling,’ Perry added fondly.
‘And quite fascinating. I’m trying to get her to agree to sit for me,’ Abbie said, picturing Kate in various costumes, arranged in dreamy places, like the bank of the stream. Her feet could be painted in as perfect and bare or in dainty slippers. ‘She’d be the ideal model for fairy queens or sprites.’
‘That’s a thought.’ Jonny was seeing Kate behind a camera lens, in her own clothes, just as she was – the epitome of unflawed maidenhood. Trouble was, she seemed overawed by him and he was sure it would prove a hard task to get her to pose for him. The others in the room assumed he was referring to Abbie’s remarks so didn’t question what he’d meant. Abbie caught his eye. She never failed to feed his base desires. She was an energetic lover, their bodies fitted together in fantastic union and they complemented each other’s adventurous spirit. He gave his brows a certain lift and she answered with a brief lowering of her lashes. She was eager for him too. As soon as they could get away to some secluded place they would make love for the rest of the day.
Another of the visitors was Elena Killigrew from nearby Ford House. Having had a surprise baby at the age of forty-six, fifteen months ago, and because she was perceptive and wouldn’t dream of upsetting a soul, she had inquired first if Jill would want to see her. Jill did, saying the quietly religious woman, who could be trusted to come up with just the right thing to say, was welcome.
‘I’m so glad Jill and Kate have each other,’ Elena said. ‘They’ve both had a major blow to come to terms with. Kate is content in her new home at the moment but I noticed the way Jill kept watching her. She knows that issues may well come up for Kate in the future. It’s hard to believe the girl’s family could just turn her out in such a heartless manner.’
‘There’s some right rotters in the world,’ Jonny observed. He wondered if he could get some good pictures of Kate unawares rather than approaching her directly and frightening her off. She’d be more natural that way.
The latest visitor to look in on Jill joined them – Mark Fuller, joint partner of the Killigrews in the local building business. When not at work he was rarely seen without his infant daughter, but he had, of course, not brought her with him today. ‘All right if I join you for a few minutes?’
‘You don’t have to ask, Mark. Come in.’ Emilia motioned for him to sit beside Abbie on one of the plush sofas. She had a large tea tray on the go and plenty of spare cups. After pouring the tea she asked Abbie to pass it to him.
‘Thank you, Miss Rothwell,’ Mark said. His mind was not on her but his daughter. ‘Did you say you had some homemade rose hip syrup for Jana, Emilia?’
‘I did. It’s in the kitchen. I’ll fetch it when you’re ready to go, which I hope won’t be soon. We don’t see nearly enough of you.’
‘No, old chap,’ Perry said. ‘When Jill’s up to it, we must arrange for you to have dinner with us. You and Jim too, Elena. And you, Abbie, if you’re still here.’
‘I’m not planning on leaving just yet,’ Abbie said, her eyes fixed on Mark. ‘Call me Abbie, everyone does,’ she told him. She wasn’t going anywhere until she found out more about this exciting individual. The instant he’d entered the room she’d instinctively perked up her posture, which had thrust out her curvy breasts, and her stomach had done a peculiar flip. With the tan of an outdoors man, Mark had little bulk to his physique and although he couldn’t be termed good-looking, he was sexy in an unconscious way, which added outrageously to his appeal. There was no animal invitation to women about him as there was with Jonny, nothing overtly beguiling, but he stirred her so much it was a hard task not to reach out and touch him. She edged along the button-back sofa for closer contact. He smelled of the wonderful fusion of subtle aftershave, exotic tobacco and sensuous man. He glanced at her and smiled; there was a velvety mesmeric quality to his light-brown eyes that drew her in even more. She was terrified that the raw pleasure of being near him would show in her face.
To keep her dignity she trawled over the ordinary things about him. In the course of her stay she had been told about him. He was a former lieutenant in the Royal Artillery, a surviving Far East prisoner of war. He’d still been recuperating from near starvation and the injuries received from brutal beatings, a scarecrow of a man, when he’d come down from Surrey to Hennaford to look up the orphan evacuees living with Tristan Harvey; a promise made to their dying father, a corporal. Medically discharged, he had started a new life in Hennaford. He and his wife had agreed to an amicable divorce, but unknown to him she had given birth to his daughter. Rather than giving the child up for adoption without telling Mark as she’d intended, she had brought the girl down to him. Mark had been delighted to take her. His daughter, it was stressed, was ‘his life’. Proof of this was a new batch of photographs he was passing round. A doting father, yes, but surely he had room for some female company?
‘I’d like to take a bash at a portrait of little Jana,’ Jonny said, feeling he could make a better job of it than Mark had with his photos. Mark had got the light wrong and the focus should be softer. ‘I quite enjoy wielding a camera.’
‘Take as many of my little princess as you like.’ Mark was pleased.
Jonny reached across from his chair and passed the photos to Abbie. She enthused over them, wrenching as much eye contact as she could from Mark. ‘She’s absolutely divine. You simply must let me paint her.’
‘That would be lovely,’ Mark said, pointing out Jana, of golden curly hair, toddling in the garden, eating a crust of bread, playing with the family dog, making a cute funny face, in her nightgown, with her nanny, and lots more, all of which held no real interest for Abbie.
‘Good. We must make a date of it.’
‘I’ll sort out when I’m free. I’d like to watch while you work.’ He couldn’t bear to miss out on one little moment of Jana’s development or a single important event in her life.
Jonny noticed how engrossed she was in the other man. He didn’t know whether to feel slighted, annoyed or unconcerned at being forgotten so quickly. He shrugged to himself. Abbie was a lovely woman, a good sort and soothing company, but that was as far as it went between them. Good luck to her if she thought she had met someone she really liked. He was suddenly keen to get back to his camera. He’d go home with his father and stepmother and take some up-to-date snaps of them and the children to take back to base with him.
There was another newcomer and he leaped up to greet her. ‘Louisa, darling! How wonderful that you’re here.’ He embraced his half-sister, clad in a feminine dress with a narrow waistline and matching bolero. Her light blonde hair sat in perfect curls on her shoulders under a discreet hat tipped jauntily to the side. She had waters of grace and exuded a gentle fragility, which inspired men of all ages to dance attendance on her. The other men had got to their feet out of politeness and were darting their sight all around her, as if checking she was entirely whole and not needing protection in some way.
‘How wonderful to find you all here,’ Louisa said, beaming around the room. ‘I was wondering if Jill’s up to a visit.’
‘She’s had quite a few visitors today but I’m sure she’ll be pleased to see you,’ Emilia replied. ‘All the support she’s getting will mean a lot to her.’
‘I’m so glad. I’ll pop along in a few minutes.’
She was introduced to Mark. ‘I’m pleased to meet you at last, Mrs Carlyon,’ he said, keeping hold of her hand for a moment after he had shaken it.
Louisa gazed at him. ‘Yes, indeed, Mr Fuller. It’s a pity we’ve kept missing each other. I’ve heard all about you and your little girl. I’d be most interested to meet her.’
‘I’ll make sure you do.’
Jonny saw the immediate rapport between them. He threw his eyes on Abbie. She seemed to be squaring up in her inner self, obviously seeing Louisa as a rival. She must be hating Louisa’s understated but e
xact grooming; she, until a minute ago, had been lounging like a tomboy, and she wore formless trousers, flat unpolished shoes and an old blouse, and had given little attention to her hair.
Everyone sat down, Louisa in the armchair Jonny had vacated, he on the piano stool close to her. While people considered what to say there was a brief silence. Elena broke it. ‘I must go soon, but while I think of it, Emilia, I’d like to mention the village play. The headmaster, Mr Patterson, has approached me with the idea of putting on something he’s written himself. It’s a different leaning on Robin Hood, with mythical creatures, dragons, and our own Cornish piskies and spriggans visiting Sherwood Forest. It’s time to drum up actors, backstage people and musicians.’ She looked around hopefully. ‘Anybody?’
Emilia and Elena jointly arranged nearly all the village events. Emilia began making mental lists. ‘I’ll get cracking on it. If we could get Jill involved it could be the very thing to take her mind off her loss.’
‘Tremore will provide a good contingent, as usual. Eh, darling?’ Tristan said.
‘I’m sure we will,’ Susan agreed. ‘I’ll run up some costumes but please don’t expect to see me on stage.’
‘Kate would make a perfect fairy princess or wood nymph, although I doubt she could be persuaded to act,’ Jonny remarked.
‘I could send off my work from here and stay on a bit longer, if that’s all right with you, Mrs Em, and help paint the scenery, if that would help,’ Abbie offered graciously, twinkling her brilliant green eyes at Mark. And lingering on him with a sweet, coy smile. He was too polite not to respond and she wanted him to see her in a different light. To see she could be as calmly devoted to all the womanly qualities as the damned Carlyon woman was. Abbie wasn’t afraid to fight for something she wanted in any way it took.
‘Of course it would. Thank you, Abbie. We’d be very glad to have a professional help out,’ Emilia replied.
‘I’m sure you could organize the carpentry, Mark,’ Abbie purred at him, edging that little bit closer to him again.
Louisa glanced at Abbie Rothwell and saw the possessive observation she had clamped on Mark. So the artist was taken with Mark too. Too? Was she taken with him herself? Having others on her mind these last few years, she had given up pursuing her own private life, but yes, she had been deeply attracted to Mark the instant she’d set eyes on him.
Abbie returned the glance with lips pressed into a smile that was not a smile, and Louisa read the silent signals and the smugness in them correctly. ‘Back off, I saw him first.’
Louisa retained her composure. Think I’m weak and helpless, do you, Abbie Rothwell? Too ladylike and sensitive to fight my corner and perhaps too prudish to know passion? You’d be surprised to learn I had a raging affair with Tom before Jill came on the scene.
Mark nodded in agreement to Abbie’s suggestion. His attention was only in one direction. ‘Will you be taking a hand in it, Mrs Carlyon?’
‘I don’t usually, but I definitely will this year, Mr Fuller.’ Louisa lowered her tone huskily, pouting her lips in a gesture of triumph at the woman beside him.
Everyone except Jonny was oblivious of the war that seemed to be about to break out in Amazon proportions.
Chapter Six
‘How did you get on?’ Jill asked Kate as she came in from the dairy. Kate had blown into the kitchen like any typical young person, swinging the stable door wide and letting it bang behind her. It pleased Jill that she was displaying such new verve and that her shyness was easing away.
Kate proudly placed on the table a round pat of butter, in its distinctive pale yellow Ford Farm greaseproof wrapper stamped with a buttercup design. ‘I made this all by myself. Mrs Em said I’m getting better every day, that I’m a natural and an asset. I’ll put it in the refrigerator.’
Each of them had the habit of looking the other over to make sure she was well. Kate had come quickly to Jill on two occasions when she’d been overcome with grief and had needed a pair of comforting arms. She made sure Jill was eating enough, getting plenty of fresh air and not overtaxing herself. ‘Oh, you’ve put your walking shoes on,’ Kate said. ‘A stroll will do you good, Jill. Do you want me to come with you?’
‘Yes. I feel ready for my first outing. Mrs Em and I are going to the schoolhouse for the first meeting about the village play.’
‘Oh, I don’t want to be dragged into acting.’ Kate hunched up, on the defensive. She avoided anything that might draw attention to her out-of-true legs and her ugliness. She still thought of herself as ugly, believing her family’s unvarying description of her. They’d implied she was stupid and she was sure others thought the same. She couldn’t bear to be on show and have people whispering about her.
Jill was quick to reassure her. ‘Don’t worry, my love. I wouldn’t ever let anyone try to badger you into doing anything you don’t want to. I’ve got no intention of acting on stage either. I thought we could volunteer to make the tea for the rehearsals and take charge of the refreshment on the night of the performance. Just come for the walk and to listen. It will give you the chance to see some more of Hennaford and meet a few people. Please don’t back out, Kate. I do still need your support.’ She was using a little emotional bribery but she really did need Kate to be there, her presence was helping her work through her grief. When she’d collapsed in anguish having come across the few rows of white knitting she’d started for a baby’s matinee jacket, Kate’s immediate care had acted like a balm. Now she was knitting a bolero cardigan for Kate to wear with her summer dresses.
Kate’s fears fell away. Jill had that effect on her. She felt shielded from the nasty things in life, and that she was wanted, and utterly snug. She belonged somewhere where her company was actually sought. She had a proper home. She could say to herself that Ford Farm was home to her without a scrap of feeling she was presumptuous or wrong. ‘I’ll do anything for you, Jill. I’ll slip up and get changed.’
‘Good girl.’
Jill set off down the hill towards the ford with Kate and Emilia protectively on either side. Kate trailed her fingers over stalks of long grass and the crowns of lacy cow parsley, yellow coltsfoot and creeping cinquefoil that crowded the hedgerows. More than a month had passed since Elena Killigrew had first mentioned the play, and Kate was falling in with Hennaford’s meandering rhythm. Humming softly, she listened as Jill and Mrs Em mulled over last year’s play. It hadn’t been much of a success owing to the freezing harsh winter before it. No one had shown much heart for it. Like the rest of the country at the year’s start, Cornwall had suffered greatly and come to a total standstill during what was known as the Big Freeze.
Kate remembered that terrible time when all movement had been perilous, when water had iced up in the pump and even in the buckets already drawn indoors. Villages had been cut off for days in the snow blizzards, milk had frozen on doorsteps, meat and bread had been almost impossible to come by. Electricity had been cut for several hours a day. If people couldn’t get to work, like her father and brothers, they didn’t get paid. Kate had shivered throughout the day and night, forced to sit outside the reach of the wood fire in the slab and denied an extra cover for her bed. She had got chilblains on her hands and feet, cracked skin and lips, but not a jot of sympathy. There had been many accidents resulting in broken bones.
Worst of all had been the disappearance of a child who had slipped out of her bed to play in the snow. A frantic search for her had failed, and it was only after the thaw, which had wreaked more havoc with flood waters and burst pipes, that she was discovered beside the next door neighbour’s shed, having been buried and frozen by a fall of snow from the roof. Kate recalled her mother talking about poor little Millie Weeks. ‘Serves her parents right. They couldn’t have been looking after the maid properly and that’s what they got.’ Kate shivered to recall the cruel words, at the thought of freezing to death like Millie. Although she was safe, memories of her family were beginning to plague her with inexplicable moments of dread, as if
something had happened to her but she didn’t quite know what. Thank God, she was far away from them. She pushed her family out of her mind, hoping to keep them out.
They reached the ford. Just an inch or two of water trickled across the road over its stony bed. An old man with a lavish white beard and crooked walking stick, accompanied by a little white terrier with one black paw, was weaving a stiff path up to the other side. Gaily wagging its thin tail, the dog shot through the water and ran up to Kate. Laughing, she stooped to pat and stroke it. Emilia led the way over the wide slab of granite that acted as a bridge, lying tight against the hedge. She knew Andy Trevean wouldn’t go any further than here on his daily constitutional. ‘Patch, get back here!’ He waited until the three women and the dog were on his side of the ford, his wrinkled face in its usual, decidedly grumpy state. He was never inclined to speak first.
‘Good morning, Mr Trevean,’ Emilia said brightly. There was no one as grouchy hereabouts as Andy Trevean but no one really minded. It was just his way, people said, he was a nice old boy underneath it all. And occasionally he did show a friendlier side.
‘Mornin’ to ’ee, Missus Bosweld. Good to see ’ee up and about, Missus Harvey. I was mighty sad to hear about your loss.’ He stared at Kate from yellowing eyes. ‘Hello, maid. You’re young Kate Viant, aren’t you? I must say you’re looking a sight better than the last time I spied ’ee. Well, I won’t say much about your late grandmother, mustn’t speak ill of the dead, even though she had a tongue like a viper and a heart as dark as a coal house. A relative of yours was lurking round here backalong, one of your brothers what left you behind, I reckon. Didn’t like the look of him at all. Drawing water, I was, when he crept up t’me asking if I knew where you was. Didn’t tell him nothing mind, thought you wouldn’t want him to know where you were. Hope I did the right thing.’
Kate went rigid. It had probably been Sidney. Was he seeking her out to demand she go back to do the housework, or for some other horrible reason? Or was it Tony? He was a little kinder than the rest. He might have sneaked away to inquire if she had set herself up somewhere and was well. That was unlikely. Tony was lazy, weak-willed and too afraid of their mother for such a venture. ‘You did the right thing, Mr Trevean.’ She tried not to show how this unnerved her. She couldn’t bear the thought of being dragged away from Ford Farm, from Jill and Tom and all the others there. ‘I’m really happy where I am.’
