‘That’s not what we’re here to discuss,’ Colm says stiffly, and the men behind him shift uncomfortably, so that I know the whole village has heard what happened yesterday, or some version of it.
‘I’ll come with you,’ Marn says, releasing his grip on my arm. ‘You three can sort the seed potatoes ready for planting.’ Ty answers with a nod.
As we watch the search party trudge, set-faced, from the yard, Sophie wraps an arm around my waist. I’m thankful for her silence. There’s nothing I can say to ease the weight of the lie we’re holding over Jed. Whether he deserves it or not, I know it’s not true, what they’re thinking.
A noise behind us makes us turn and Tilda is standing in the doorway. It’s the first time all day that she’s shown her face, and the look on it makes me glad Marn’s instruction will keep me clear of the house.
‘Would you like a cup of tea, Aunt Tilda?’ Sophie asks sweetly, as if nothing in the world is amiss.
I don’t wait to hear her answer. With dread and anger surging in equal strength through me I march across the yard, wishing I could keep going, out the gate and away. The memory of Colm’s arrogant stare, and of the way the other men – men I’ve known most of my life – couldn’t bring themselves to meet my eyes, burns in my cheeks. When they learn the truth it’ll be worse by far.
Ty catches me as I reach the barn door. ‘It’s lucky they didn’t come before the storm,’ he mutters. ‘What they’d have found then would have been hard to explain.’
‘Hush,’ I say, peering into the barn’s farthest corners as though spies might lurk in every shadow.
Ty shrugs. ‘You needn’t worry,’ he says. ‘There’ll be nothing left for them to find.’
Guilt at the secret I’ve been keeping from Ty stifles any answer I might make.
‘We might as well get this done,’ he says, lifting the heavy lid from the first bin of potatoes. ‘It’ll pass the time at least.’
It’s the first shred of warmth I’ve had from my brother in days, but I wonder whether he’d offer it if he, too, knew the truth.
Colm and the others don’t stop when the search party returns from the bay. Ty and I watch from the barn as Marn turns in at the house while Colm marches straight on, crossing our yard as if he owns it. I wonder if Sophie has told Marn that Colm was snooping around our barn a few days since.
‘Come on,’ Ty says, setting the potatoes aside. ‘Let’s find out what happened.’
My feet are reluctant as I trail him towards the house.
‘… and I’ll not stand by and see it!’
Tilda’s voice reaches us before we’re through the door. When she sees me at Ty’s shoulder, she lifts a shaking finger to point. ‘You’ve brought shame on this house!’ she screeches. ‘Shame and worse to come, I’ll warrant! I’ll not suffer it!’
Marn steps in the way of her pointing finger. ‘Tilda, there was nothing to be found. There’s no evidence.’
‘I need no evidence beyond what’s obvious for all to see!’ she cries. Marn reaches an arm to restrain her as she lunges towards me. ‘Get out!’ she spits, foam flecking the corners of her mouth. ‘You’ve no place here. You’ll not set foot again in my house.’
‘It’s my house,’ says Marn, anger sharp as knives in his voice. ‘And as my niece she’s welcome in it until I say otherwise. Ness, go to your room.’
I hesitate and his voice booms out again. ‘Now!’
A little unsteadily I circle the table, keeping as far from Tilda as I can.
‘Sophie, make a cup of tea for your stepmother. She’s
tired and she’ll take it in her room.’
Sophie moves to obey. I place a hand on the stair rail and turn my back, but not before I’ve seen the look that Tilda throws after me.
The bed creaks as I sink onto it. Below me the kitchen is silent but it’s a silence that feels as if it’s waiting for something, as if the air of the house is ready to split and tear, rending everything inside along with it.
‘Ness?’ Sophie’s voice rouses me. ‘You’re to come down now. Marn wants to speak to you.’
I open my eyes, disoriented. I must have fallen asleep. Pushing hair from my eyes, I wince as my fingers accidentally graze my cheek. The light falling through the window is dull but still clear. ‘It’s late afternoon,’ Sophie says. ‘You’ve been here for three hours. Tilda too,’ she adds. ‘Marn locked her in.’
We stare at each other. Sophie’s brief burst of confidence seems to have faded. She looks scared – as scared as me. I throw water on my face from the ewer near the window and smooth down the creases in my skirt. ‘It’ll be all right,’ I tell her, though I suspect neither of us believes it.
Marn is sitting at the table. ‘Sit down,’ he says, pointing to a chair. ‘I went to the beach before Colm’s search party,’ he adds, as I slide into the seat across from him.
I nod, unable to think of a reply. Beneath the table my hands grip onto each other where they lie in my lap. Marn moves at last, reaching inside his jacket. He draws out a square of fabric and lays it neatly on the table. It’s a scarf, folded over and knotted into a sling. He arranges it so that the pattern is clear.
‘I remember Bella buying this,’ he says. ‘It was a present for your mother.’ I stare at him. ‘She’d wear it whenever she came to visit. Bella was always pleased at that.’
‘Mama loved it,’ I croak.
Marn nods. ‘Ness, you can’t stay here.’ Our eyes lock and hold. ‘An empty cave won’t set their fears at rest.’ He pauses. ‘In the morning I’ll take you to Tarbet. You can stay with your mother’s aunt.’
I swallow. ‘Aunt Sarie?’ I ask. We lived with her, Mama and Pa and I, before Ty was born. I have a dim memory of a thin, disapproving woman contrasted sharply against Mama’s warmth and smiles. Aunt Sarie didn’t like children – or Pa, if I remembered right.
‘You’ll be safer away from here,’ Marn says quietly.
The thought of leaving Leewood suddenly hits me like a blow and I drop my head to hide a rush of tears. I could argue and plead and deny what he’s thinking, but Mama’s scarf lies between us, and I can’t deny that. As if he understands my thoughts, Marn pushes the dirty cloth towards me. I fumble it into a ball and hold it to my face. It smells of the sea.
‘Uncle Marn?’ I say, before I’ve had time to think. ‘There’s something I should tell you.’
Marn hesitates, then shakes his head. I persevere. ‘It’s about this,’ I touch my fingers lightly to my cheek. Even with Jed as my enemy, it’s not right that he should be held accountable where he’s innocent. Marn says nothing and I hurry on. ‘Jed isn’t to blame. He did follow me – Sophie spoke true about what she saw, and about all the other things as well. But he didn’t hit me. I fell.’
Marn’s face is unreadable. ‘You’ve a lot of your father in you,’ he says at last. ‘He and I didn’t much agree but he was true to what he believed and I respected that,’ he adds. ‘I’m glad you have his honesty, Ness.’
I swallow and look away. I don’t feel honest, not in this. Marn’s hand rests briefly on my shoulder. ‘Now go pack your things,’ he says.
That night I stand at the window of our room to watch the moon, hung fat and gold above the wood. Sophie has fallen asleep at last, both tears and promises finally run dry. I try to picture the moon as it would look tossed in pale slivers of reflection on the sea. The salt current pulls in my blood and I ache for the bay; for the chance to say a last farewell there to my father, and to all the life I’ve spent here.
Marn said nothing of how long I would stay in Tarbet, but I know that no matter how she misses the work I do, Tilda will never have me again at Leewood. Once I set my feet on the road tomorrow, there’ll be no turning back.
Chapter 27
My hand lingers a moment on Sal’s warm rump, then I walk back across the yard to where Marn has the wagon hitched behind Shehan’s old carthorse, my winter jacket and the single small rucksack that holds my belongings already stowed
within. Marn must have got in late last night from collecting old Drake but his face shows no more sign than usual of his weariness.
Sophie runs forward to hug me, tears streaking her face. Tilda hasn’t yet left her bed, and I’m glad of it.
‘It’ll be all right,’ Sophie assures me, her arms tight around my back. Last night she promised to talk to Merryn about Dev, and to help him get away if she can. After her exploits with Colm I don’t doubt she’ll try but, even though it’s against my will, it still feels as if I’m abandoning him. In Tarbet, though, I may be able to find someone who can help him, some friend of my father’s from his fishing days. I’ve promised Sophie I’ll send word if I do.
‘Be careful,’ Sophie whispers close to my ear.
I nod. ‘You too.’
Ty takes his turn to stand before me. We two are all that remains of our family. I’m hard pressed to force a smile. ‘Take care, Ty,’ I tell him.
‘Summer market’s not far off,’ he replies, his voice tight. ‘We’ll visit you then.’
I think briefly of last summer’s fair, when we all went by cart to Tarbet. Marn gave us each a few coins to spend, together with a few hours to ourselves to spend them. Tilda stayed on in Tarbet a few days and the journey back had been sleepy and contented without her.
It’ll not be the same again, I think. Not ever. ‘I’ll look forward to it,’ I tell him. He hugs me then, awkwardly, while I think of all I’d like to say to him, if only there was time. ‘Look after Sophie,’ is all I manage.
Marn swings himself up onto the wagon. I’ve no choice but to follow. Sophie reaches up and squeezes my hand. ‘We’ll miss you,’ she says, and I nod. ‘All of us,’ she adds, staring hard so that I’ll take her full meaning. There’s no response I can make, even if the pressure in my throat would let me make one. Marn slaps the reins and my fingers clamp tight around the seat.
The sun has yet to rise above the hill. From the corner of the road I turn back, seeing the farmhouse set in its fold of hill with barn and sheds and vegetable patch forming a welcoming square around it. It all runs misty before my eyes but Marn has no time for sentiment and slaps the reins sharp against Drake’s rump. Once we turn onto the main road Leewood is lost and I face the front, staring unseeing at the miles ahead. It’s a long way to Tarbet and Marn is hoping to be home again by nightfall.
We’ve almost reached Wester when two figures appear on the road ahead, hurrying towards us from the village.
‘You’re heading the wrong way,’ Dylan Larkey calls as they draw near.
Marn pulls up. ‘For what?’ he asks, a frown darkening his face.
‘They’re searching the widow’s place. A stranger’s been sighted,’ Dylan says importantly.
I press my hands beneath my thighs to save myself from clutching them to my chest.
‘Pa said we could join them when we’d finished our chores,’ Pike Larkey adds. ‘I don’t know why we couldn’t leave the chores till later. It’s not every day you get the chance to see a hanging.’
‘Or two,’ his brother adds, relish rich in his voice.
Marn says nothing, only slaps the reins across Drake’s rump and starts to turn the wagon.
‘Can we ride with you then?’ Dylan asks. ‘They’ve probably taken them by now.’
Marn ignores them both, his mouth a thin line. Dylan reaches forward to take hold of Drake’s halter, leading him around on the narrow road. He might think he’ll earn a ride for his help but he’s bargained without Marn. As soon as we’re facing back the way we’ve come he slaps the reins without a word, startling old Drake into a lumbering trot. Dylan jumps away from the wheel in surprise, stumbling backwards so that he ends up sitting inelegantly on the roadside. Pike calls something I decide I’m best not to hear. Marn’s face is set hard.
‘There’s too many itching for trouble,’ he says at last, as we clatter down the road. ‘I’ll not stand by and let them lay it at Merryn’s door.’
I say nothing. Already I’m imagining Dev bound and beaten, maybe hanged. I’m sorry if it brings trouble to Merryn, but they’ll find nothing to incriminate her, and I’m glad of that. Merryn can stand up for herself. It’s Dev that I’m afraid for.
The speed Marn takes us back to the turn-off to Leewood near rattles my bones apart, but once there he pulls up sharp. ‘Ness, I want you out of this. It’ll be no help to Merryn if you’re with me. Nor,’ he adds grimly, seeing the rebellion in my face, ‘to anyone else. Go home now.’
‘But –’
‘There’s no time for buts. Take your things and tell Tilda I’ll be back as soon as I can.’ He hesitates. ‘Tell her some business has come up in the village,’ he adds.
As Marn whips Drake into a lumbering gallop, I find myself wondering if the old horse will survive the trip, but I’ve neither time nor sympathy to spare. Slinging my rucksack across my shoulder I set out across the fields at right angles to the road, aiming to round the southern flank of Cullin Hill and intercept the footpath that runs along its seaward side. I’ve already said my goodbyes at Leewood and Tilda’s the last person I intend to see, whatever Marn might say.
The sun’s midway up the sky and I’ve a stitch in my side by the time I have the headland and the track to Merryn’s in sight. Dumping my rucksack on the grass I collapse on the ground to catch my breath and consider the situation.
Ton Barritt will be part of the search party, and Jed too I don’t doubt. A wave of rage washes through me at the sheer stupidity of it all, but before I’ve time to let it get the better of me a flicker of movement catches at the corner of my eye. Two men have crested the skyline on the headland. They’re heading away from me, too far off to be a threat. As I watch, a third man appears, walking towards them. After a moment, all three turn and disappear over the hill towards Merryn’s.
Searchers. My breath is coming faster than ever and my stitch feels suddenly worse, stabbing up towards my heart. Picking up my belongings I hasten on towards the cliff-top, eyes skipping in all directions. When I reach the top of the path I glance down into the bay, unable to contain a small cry at the sight of more men on the sand below. As I watch one looks up to where I’m standing, raising an arm in greeting. With relief I realise he’s too far off to recognise me. Clenching my teeth I wave in return then turn and walk quickly away, inland from the cliff till I’m certain that I’m out of his line of sight, then west along the headland.
The going is rough but I daren’t risk the overgrown path. Staying back from the cliffs and below the skyline, I follow the curves of the land until I’m circled round and heading south. The hamlet lies on the point of the headland, the westernmost point of the island. It takes me the best part of an hour to reach the ruins and all the while the words ‘too late, too late’ beat a steady rhythm in my head.
The first men I saw were on the path that leads to the abandoned village, two going out and one coming back. If Dev had remained there, they can’t have failed to find him – and why would he have left, when I’d told him it was safe? But if they’d found him already, surely they wouldn’t still be looking … unless they’re looking now for someone else: some accomplice.
Dylan Larkey had said that Colm was searching Merryn’s farm for a stranger. He didn’t say whether there was a sighting of Dev other than Jed’s. Perhaps Colm had no evidence of Dev’s presence other than that it fitted neatly with Elsie’s campaign against Merryn.
As I mull through these thoughts the coastline begins to curve around to the east and I cast my eyes along the ridge at my left, searching for the jumble of stone that marks the village beyond. The stones were once a shelter where the fisherfolk could keep a lookout over the western sea, for storms or raiders, or maybe just because their lives were so bound to its moods.
There’s no one watching now to see me creeping up the rise and pausing there to catch my breath. There’s a silence across the hillside that seems unnatural. Not an insect click or a bird call breaks it. It’s as if the whole world is waiting for what
will happen next.
As I raise my head above the hilltop, the mounds of tumbled stone that were once cottages come into view. There’s no one waiting. Cautiously I scan the place where I left Dev in the corner of two fallen walls, but there’s no sign of life.
Just as I’ve decided that it’s safe, a stone clatters against a wall to my right. I freeze.
‘Good shot,’ a voice whispers.
‘Better than yours,’ another scoffs.
‘Keep it down!’ That voice I know: it’s Jed. ‘We’ll never catch him with you two yapping!’
‘If he was coming back he’d be here already,’ the first voice answers – one of the village boys, though I can’t tell for certain who it is. ‘It might be days since he was here.’
‘He’d hardly leave all his belongings behind,’ Jed sneers. ‘He’ll be back.’
‘That stuff might belong to anyone,’ the answer comes sullenly. ‘It might have been here for years.’
‘We’ll miss all the fun,’ the third voice adds. ‘We should have stayed at the farm – they’ll not bother to fetch us when they find him.’
‘We could have shown them how to deal with strangers, and any who shelter them!’
‘They’ll fetch us,’ Jed answers. ‘Now hold your tongues.’
There’s blood pumping so loud in my ears I doubt I’d hear more anyway. I back slowly down the slope, careful not to dislodge a stone or rustle a single stalk of grass. My eavesdropping, aside from saving me from a trap, has given me plenty to think about. They’ve not found Dev, at least not yet, but either he left in a hurry or he’s gone to look for food and he’ll walk straight into their trap when he returns. Either way I have to find him, and fast.
The slope I’m on ends suddenly, falling in a stony precipice to the sea. I work my way along, placing each foot with care and keeping as far down the cliff as I dare, tensed at any moment for a voice that might shout the alert and set the searchers onto me. The sea below me wrinkles and shifts. There’s no soft curve of sand this side of the headland. The rocks below wait jagged and sharp.
The Sea-wreck Stranger Page 13
