My deepest regard always,
Your affectionate niece, Polly Dakin.
Jessica sat back in her chair, musing. Her niece painted a commendably vivid picture of her new lifestyle. She hoped the older son of the house was not giving trouble. Remembering Polly’s attitude to George Rawlinson, she smiled. Dear George.
It had not taken him long to recover from his disappointment, she was gratified to note. Her eyes again sought the name of the younger man in question.
Jessica rang the small silver bell at her elbow to summon the maid. She came at once, apron strings fluttering, frilled cap askew.
‘Yes, ma’am?’
‘Ah, Agnes. Your cap, girl. How many times do I have to tell you? Agnes, do you happen to know a young person by the name of Royle? I believe he comes from Hoylake.’
‘Would that be John Royle, ma’am?’ The maid’s perky young face broke into dimples. ‘Yes, I do. Everyone knows John. His father heads the fisher-fleet and John has his own boat.
‘’Tis said, though,’ Agnes went on confidingly, ‘as John wants better things in life. He’s what some would call a scholarly lad. I’ve heard he’s looking for premises to start up his own school.’
‘Really? How very ambitious of him!’
‘Yes, ma’am. ’Twas believed he was very smitten with Polly from the tavern. Went there looking for her, he did. But Polly had gone. It must have been to do with that business of Innkeeper Dakin wanting Polly to wed—’
‘Yes yes!’ Jessica brushed all this aside. ‘Where would I find this John Royle?’
‘Young John, d’you mean, ma’am? Only his sire goes by the same name.’
‘Yes, of course. Does he trade here in Parkgate?’
‘Yes’m. John supplies the Harbour House and comes round the houses every Thursday. The fish you eat comes from him. Well, it’s always fresh.’
‘I see. Thank you, Agnes. Oh, one more thing. I’m thinking of giving a dinner party. Just a small gathering to brighten up the winter. Let us say … six in all.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘I can name the guest list for you. Mr George Rawlinson—’
‘That’ll mean fillet steak on the menu, ma’am. Loves his fillet steak done in red wine, does Mr Rawlinson.’
‘So I’ve observed. Pray do not interrupt, Agnes. As I was saying. Mr George Rawlinson. Now, who else? The rector and his daughter, Susanna. Oh, and we’d best include the rector’s sister, Miss Charlotte Marsdon. I know she’s with them on a housekeeping basis but she is family when all’s said and done. It would help if she were less shrewish, but we shall cope.’
‘And let us have my nephew from the Harbour House.’
‘Master Edward, ma’am?’
‘Yes, of course Master Edward. Whom did you think I meant? My nephew is turning out a very personable young man. He tells me he has leanings towards becoming a solicitor. Such a dry occupation for one so full of fun, though I daresay it takes all sorts. Anyway, Edward will bring a touch of life to the company.’
‘Yes’m.’ Agnes bobbed a curtsey. ‘Will that be all, ma’am?’
‘I think so. Oh, and Agnes’ – Jessica proffered as the agitated maid was about to vanish from the room – ‘next time young Royle is due with a delivery, you might let me know.’
‘I will, ma’am,’ Agnes said.
That afternoon, Jessica donned her cape and bonnet with the intention of visiting her sister. She was picking her way delicately over the straw on the tavern yard, avoiding the passengers who had just disembarked from the Chester Flyer, one of the new fast stage coaches, when she was halted by a voice speaking her name.
Jessica turned and found herself face to face with the rather odd character known as the village wise woman, Meg Shone. She had clearly been gathering seaweed for her potions, as her basket was full to the brim. She came closer.
‘Glad to have come across you, mistress,’ she said in her flat, low tones. ‘’Tis about young Polly. I’d be grateful if you’d pass on a message.’
‘Oh? And what makes you think I’m in a position to do that?’ Jessica queried.
The woman gave a rusty cackle.
‘You don’t have to pretend with me, mistress! Nobody has any secrets from Meg Shone.’ Her black eyes glinted. ‘A grand girl, is Polly. That girl saved my life. Near drowned. I did! Tell her Meg Shone never forgets a favour.’
‘Very well. I shan’t forget.’
‘Oh, I knows that. Meg Shone knows who she can trust and who she cannot. I’ll bid you good-day, mistress. May you get all you desire.’
Bestowing a gap-toothed smile, the woman hurried on her way. Jessica carried on thoughtfully into the tavern. Loud snores directed her to the tap-room, where her brother-in-law was sprawled in a drunken stupor, his head cradled in his arms, an empty flagon on the table beside him. Halting, Jessica delivered him a sharp prod with her parasol.
‘Wake up, lout! Have you no shame? Barely mid-afternoon, and you already in your cups!’
Wallace Dakin opened bleary eyes, took in the woman before him and closed them again, groaning. Jessica, unsympathetic to his plight, again enlisted the use of the parasol to rap insistently on the table top for the girl in the kitchen, provoking another groan from the suffering landlord.
The girl appeared reluctantly, wiping greasy hands on her gown.
‘Bring some coffee,’ Jessica snapped. ‘Black and strong and plenty of it. And look sharp about it.’
The coffee duly delivered, Jessica set about sobering up the tavern-keeper.
‘Wallace, you must listen to what I have to say,’ she began, once it became apparent that she had his attention. ‘It’s come to my knowledge that we are shortly to be paid a visit by the coastguards. Do I make myself understood?’
He stared at her, his once handsome face working stupidly.
‘Aye, that’s perfectly clear. It is correct, I suppose.’
‘Indubitably. I think perhaps it might be wise to take stock of what lies in your cellars. Mind me?’
He nodded.
‘And while I’m here I want a word regarding my sister. Marion is failing, Wallace. You are aware of that?’
Another nod, stricken this time.
‘You will do her a favour by smartening yourself up and laying off the drink – or at least, cutting back on it. Show her a little consideration, man. Let her see that you care for her. It’s the very least you can do.’
Pressing her lips tightly together to indicate an end to the conversation, Jessica left the room, taking the stairs to the bedchamber above. Marion lay propped up on pillows in the vast bed, her eyes closed in her wan face. Jessica caught her breath. Her sister seemed to have deteriorated in the few days since she had last seen her.
‘Marion, it is I. Are you awake?’
Marion opened her eyes with effort.
‘Why Jessica, how robust you look. Is it windy outside? You have a fine colour in your cheeks.’
Aware that her heightened colour stemmed more from the altercation with Wallace than from any idiosyncrasies of the weather, Jessica could not help but smile.
‘It’s very fine for the time of year,’ she remarked, going to sit in the chair by the bed, her back ramrod straight, skirts spread out around her.
‘You’re about to ask if there is anything I require,’ Marion continued in her new, unfamiliar, weakened voice. ‘There is but one thing. Jessica, I want to see my daughter one last time. Could it be arranged?’
Jessica did not answer. Spiriting Polly away had been far from easy. She knew, and Marion knew, that the girl was better off where she was. What her sister asked was a heartbreakingly impossible request.
Trina’s cold nose in her hand brought Thea awake with a jolt. Disoriented, she threw a glance around at the unfamiliar surroundings and laughed shakily when realization dawned. Whatever would Dominic think if he knew she had dozed off in his kitchen.
Sitting back in the chair, stretching lethargic limbs, she allowed her mind t
o trail back over the scenes and conversations she had just witnessed. People today were not so very different, she concluded, with their loves and problems and loyalties. She glanced at the clock on the wall.
‘Come on, Trina,’ she said to the dog, scooping up the documents before her. ‘Mum will be wondering where we are. Let’s go. With luck you might get a nice juicy bone as a special treat.’
The rest of the day passed agreeably. After lunch, she and Dominic took Trina for a walk across the fields and along the sandy lanes that criss-crossed this part of the Wirral. It seemed natural for Dominic to take Thea’s hand in his as they strolled along.
‘It’s been a grand day, Thea,’ he said in his lilting brogue. ‘Just grand. All being well, I’m free again next Sunday. Will you be needing some more strong-arm stuff for Merry?’
She was aware of her rapidly thumping heart and the warmth of Dominic’s hand against hers. She looked up, her clear grey-blue eyes meeting his.
‘Yes, I’d appreciate your help, Dominic.’
Regrettably, it was not to be.
At break at school the next day, Thea was taking her turn on playground duty when the mobile phone in her pocket started up. She answered it hastily, her attention fixed on the playing groups of children under her care.
‘Thea? It’s me, Richard. Look, I know this isn’t convenient so I’ll be quick. Will you be seeing Dominic Shane today?’
‘I could be – any particular reason?’
‘Well, yes. I haven’t mentioned this before but we’ve come across his ex-girlfriend, the lovely Aisling Cleary. I don’t know how much you know about his problems here, we only know Aisling’s version and Tracey says she doesn’t trust Aisling any further than she could blow her. Thea, she’s coming to look for him.’
‘Aisling is?’ Thea’s voice rose to a squeak. ‘But why?’
‘Oh, some idea she’s cooked up about wanting to make amends and all that. I wouldn’t have thought Dominic would be too keen to see her. You might warn him, sis. Tell him she’s getting an early flight tomorrow.
‘Thea? Are you still there?’
‘Yes,’ Thea replied, seeing a skirmish in the furthest corner of the yard and making a bee-line for it. ‘OK, Richard. I’ll do that.’
The troublemakers saw her coming and broke up instantly, leaving Thea with the phone still in her hand and her mind racing.
From what Dominic had divulged of Aisling Cleary, she seemed ruthless, cunning and untrustworthy. Was she coming to claim Dominic back? Now, just as they were on the verge of something new and exciting? Thea bit her lip. It certainly looked that way….
Chapter Six
Thea knew she was too late the moment she drew up outside Dominic’s front gate. The house looked shuttered and silent; no smoke rising from the chimney, no window open to the late autumn sunshine, no dog barking a warning. There was nothing to indicate the presence of the householder.
Heaving a sigh, for she had left the school premises as soon as she reasonably could and driven straight here, Thea slid out of the car and went to double-check. She rang the doorbell and, receiving no response, walked round to the rear of the house, her feet crunching on the pebbled path.
Glancing in at the kitchen window, she saw all the signs of a hasty departure; newspaper flung aside, cupboard doors left ajar, the remains of a hurried meal still on the table.
Two plates, she noticed, with a pang that shocked her.
She was about to leave when a voice hailed her from the neighbouring garden. A pleasant-faced woman stood by the fence, a quilted green gilet over a shapeless jumper and trousers, secateurs in hand. Behind her, a rose-bed had been given a rigorous pruning.
‘Were you wanting Mr Shane?’ she asked politely. ‘Only he was called away unexpectedly.’
‘I see.’ Thea managed a smile. ‘Did he say when he’d be back?’
‘No, the young woman with him seemed in a desperate hurry. They’ve taken the dog with them. I think there was some talk over putting her in kennels, but you know how Mr Shane is over Trina!’
‘Well, thank you.’
Leaving the woman to her gardening, Thea returned to the car. On the way home her mobile phone trilled. When she arrived at the farm there was a message.
Hi, Thea, it’s Dominic. Remember that business back in Ireland I told you about? Well, something has turned up. It’s too complicated to explain here. I hope to be back before long and will be in touch. Trust me.
Sitting in the car, frowning a little, she played it back again. No mention of the woman responsible for his sudden departure. Thea had to wonder what Aisling Cleary’s game was. Bad news, Richard had called her. It wasn’t like her brother to cast aspersions.
Maybe the Irish girl had caused problems between him and Tracey. She’d certainly come between herself and Dominic – and just when the friendship had subtly changed.
The chugging of a tractor made Thea look up and moments later her father drove into the farmyard, the huge double wheels spewing clods of mud across the concreted surface. Parking the vehicle in the barn, he reappeared, sending her a salute of greeting.
Thea collected her bag of schoolwork and left the car to go and speak to him.
‘Hi, Dad. What a mess on the yard. I hope it’s not my turn for hosing down.’
‘Think it is, actually. He grinned. ‘’Course, if you’re pushed I don’t mind taking over.’
‘I wouldn’t say no.’
As a rule she enjoyed doing her bit on the farm. Right now she had too much on her mind.
‘Thanks, Dad. Oh well, suppose I’d better get changed and see to the ponies before it gets too dark.’
‘You sound a bit out of sorts, Thea. Bad day?’
‘No, not really, it’s this time of year. You know, winter coming on, spring a long way off. I should have sold that mare and foal when I had the chance. It would have been less to do.’
Chas looked his daughter over carefully but made no comment. At the back door of the farmhouse they parted company, Chas to seek out the new farm hand, Thea to run upstairs and get into working jeans and a warm jumper. She remembered as she came down again that it was her mother’s day at the farmers’ market, which meant the making of the evening meal fell on her.
‘It’ll be curried something,’ she muttered, then felt an immediate stab of guilt. Curry wasn’t her father’s favourite dish; his dinner could well end up in the bin.
Dusk was drawing down rapidly as she hurried to the fields with hay and a bucket of dry feed. A cold wind swept in off the estuary, stinging her cheeks and making her eyes water. The small herd of ponies were gathered around the gate watching for her, their eyes bright under their shaggy forelocks, bodies rounded and snug in the thick winter coats they were growing.
‘Hello, you lot,’ Thea called, dishing out their usual treat of Polo mints. One of the foals pushed in and gave her an impatient nip.
‘Bad pony!’
Thea rubbed the tender spot on her arm. It hadn’t broken the skin but would leave a bruise.
Animals fed, she hastened back to the house to start the supper, only to find Mae home and in the process of cooking their evening meal.
‘Honestly, Mum,’ Thea began, ‘you must be shattered after being on your feet all day. You don’t have to scrub potatoes and clean masses of vegetables like this. Something light would do.’
‘Not for your father, it wouldn’t. He’s been out on the fields and deserves a decent evening meal. Anyway, chops and two veg is easy enough. Put the kettle on, will you, love? I’m gasping for a cup of tea.’
Thea obliged. Handing the tea to her mother, she made instant coffee for herself and went to thaw out by the range.
‘Did you see anything of Helen Sanders at the market?’
‘Yes, I did. She was having some friends round so she bought quite a lot of stuff. I thought she looked a little better.’
Mae deftly milled some rock salt over the prepared vegetables and transferred the steamer to the
hob.
‘Bryony still features a lot in the conversation. Helen can’t praise her enough. D’you know, your sister’s even turned a hand to the milking.’
‘Then miracles do happen,’ Thea murmured, sipping coffee.
‘Oh, Thea. Bryony always was a helpful little thing as a child. It’s just the teenage stage that was … well, a little fraught. And when is it not?’
‘I suppose you’re right,’ Thea said, relenting.
When Chas came in, the conversation turned to his farming day and whether to spend the evening filling in the welter of agricultural forms that were piling up on the dresser, or go to the Thatch for a game of darts.
Meal over, Thea took herself off to the sitting-room to do her preparation for tomorrow’s lessons.
‘Not herself,’ Mae mouthed to Chas, directing a meaningful look at the closed door.
‘I noticed. It wouldn’t have anything to do with that young vet she’s been seeing a lot of lately?’
‘Dominic, you mean?’ Mae switched on the dishwasher and went to sit opposite her husband by the range. ‘Why d’you say that?’
‘Well, I was having a word with the lad’ – Chas’s usual way of addressing farm hands, young or old – ‘and he said they’d taken on a relief vet at the practice because young Shane had been called back to Ireland.’
‘Really? Did Jason say what for?’
‘No, but it’ll be unfinished business, I suspect. I always thought there was more to that fellow than met the eye.’
‘Oh, Chas!’ Mae threw her man a glance of amused affection. ‘You say that about everyone you haven’t known from being a boy.’
She broke off, frowning.
‘I hope this isn’t a disappointment for Thea. She’s not had it easy this year.’ She bit her lip. ‘Oh, dear. She seemed quite taken with Dominic, and he obviously likes her. But then what young man wouldn’t? Thea’s lovely … I do so want her to be happy, Chas.’
‘Me, too.’ Her husband nodded, then glanced at the clock. ‘I might tackle some of that confounded paperwork, then slip down to the Thatch for an hour.’
Across the Sands of Time Page 10
