The man was still nervously fiddling with his hat. ‘And what am I to tell them?’ he gestured at the cart.
Will had an inspiration. He winked and tapped his nose. ‘You can tell them anything you like – but keep this to yourself. This whole affair may prove to be quite innocent – indeed I hope it does – but in times like these …’ He let the sentence hang. ‘I rely on your discretion.’
‘You can count on me, officer!’ Grey, as he’d hoped, was flattered. ‘And I’m sorry, Miss Verity, if I was quick to judge. We’ll see you both tomorrow and I’ll say no more of it.’ He turned to Will again. ‘And never fear, I know how to keep things underneath me ’at!’ And, as if to prove the literal truth of that, he jammed his bowler on and hurried back towards the factory. ‘Now then, move along there – there’s nothing here to see. Bit of bad news for those girls that’s all.’ And, as if he’d pushed a button, there was a general shuffling and everyone resumed what they were doing earlier.
Will turned to Verity. She was staring at him as though she could not quite believe what she had heard. ‘You’re really taking it serious, what I said to Mrs Dawes? I thought you’d only laugh.’
He found he was impatient suddenly. ‘I said I’d take a look with you, that’s all.’ He whirled to frown at Prudence. ‘Not you. You can go off home. And mind you hold your tongue about what happened here.’ He didn’t want Martha learning that he’d nearly cost her daughter her position, or that he’d had to make a proper song and dance of things.
‘Oh she can keep a secret, can’t you, Pru?’ Verity’s green–grey eyes were sparkling now. With excitement, probably, he realized ruefully. But he’d have to go through with this foolish expedition to the cliffs – though of course there was nothing to be found.
There wasn’t, either – just a trampled patch beside the stile where people had been walking, like they always did. Nothing more sinister than a broken cycle clip and an apple core.
‘That’s where he was standing, signalling with the lamp!’ Verity said, pointing. ‘Just about this time of day, it was. A little earlier, perhaps, but it was darker with the rain.’
Will pushed his helmet further back. ‘Well, he isn’t here now, is he? Supposing there was ever anyone at all. It seems to me that your imagination’s been at work again, my girl. I promised Mrs Dawes I would come to talk to you – she thought it might be smugglers you saw – but there’s no sign of anything. Not even any recent footprints on the cove that I can see. There’s been a deal of trouble for nothing much at all – cost me a whole day’s effort and nearly cost your job. So next time that you fancy that you’ve seen a spy – or a dragon, come to that – just make sure you catch him before you come to me. Do you hear?’
Verity looked chagrined. ‘But you told Mr Grey that I—’
‘I know what I told him. And now I’m telling you. There’s too much imagination in that head of yours. So now, you get off home before the day turns any darker than it already is.’ He ought to offer to accompany her, he knew, but he didn’t have a lantern and it was getting dusk – and he had his cycle which he couldn’t ride back without a lamp. Serve her right to walk home in the gloom, this once. He threw his leg across the crossbar, ‘You mind what I said!’
And he cycled off without her. The last thing that he saw, she was hurrying forlornly in his wake along the road.
‘Joe Martin, can’t you talk a bit of sense? Of course our Effie isn’t looking down on us. This was her home for seven years. How wouldn’t she bring us a bit of something, now and then? Shop butter and jam is getting very scarce – and such a price I’d never think of paying out for them. Effie only means it as a bit of a treat, that’s all. If you don’t want it, leave it – just means more for all the rest of us.’
Effie sighed. She had called in to see her aunt and uncle for an hour. She ought to go more often, she was aware of that – after all, Madge had taken her in when Mother died (with Pa in lodgings and working down the mine, he couldn’t cope with a young daughter on his own), and when Pa’d had that awful accident Madge and Joe had given up their own room to nurse him back to health while they slept in the best parlour on the horsehair chairs. Effie had plenty to be grateful for.
But though she was a married woman, and with social standing too, she was still treated in this house like the child she used to be. And nothing was ever right for Uncle Joe.
Take this afternoon. If she hadn’t brought them something he’d have grumbled about that! Though he was spreading the bought butter on his bit of bread, she saw. No jam – nobody in this house ever had them both at once, unless it was Christmas or their birthday. They would be scandalized if they’d seen Alex eating toast – they were scandalized enough when she married him. Not only was he ‘from a hoity-toity family’ but he was a ‘bloody policeman’ and Joe hated them, after they’d broken up a protest at Penvarris mine.
Funny to think she’d once lived in this crowded little house. Of course there were fewer cousins to cram it nowadays. Peg was married, and Meg in service now – and even little Samuel was old enough to work down at the mine, even if only as ‘kiddlyboy’. He had been doing the most menial jobs, like taking tools to be sharpened, though today it seemed he had progressed to holding the bore-piece in the hole while someone hammered it.
‘Force of it goes right up through you – makes your teeth rattle,’ he reported proudly now, sinking his own into a slice of bread and jam. ‘Some nice taste, Effie,’ he added, through the crumbs. ‘Which reminds me, I saw your pa today, working at the shaking-tables.’
Effie nodded. Her pa had to be content with a surface job these days. His accident had left him with a weakness in his leg that made it near impossible to go back underground. But he’d grown skilled at what he did, and had almost grown resigned to grading tin instead of mining it. ‘I called to see them yesterday,’ she said.
Uncle Joe made a hurrumphing sound. ‘Why he had to go and marry that Mrs Richards, I shall never know,’ he muttered, holding out his plate while Madge cut more bread for him. ‘Man of his age! Ought to have more sense.’
He was only being awkward, because of course he knew. Pa had felt so guilty when her only son was blinded in that same accident – Pa had been the leader of the team – that he’d tried to support the pair of them in the best way he knew. And truth to tell, it had worked out very well. Pa had lived in rented lodgings half his life, while Jilly Richards was a widow with a cottage she was struggling to keep, so the marriage suited both of them.
‘Don’t be so cussed, Joe,’ Madge was saying now, as she and Effie folded clean washing after tea. ‘Walter is looking happier than he’s been for years. To say nothing of him being better fed, and his laundry better washed.’ She winked at Effie. Was it imagination, or was Madge mellowing, now that she was not rushed off her feet all day with all those mouths to feed? ‘But I’m glad you drop in now and then to see your pa,’ she went on, with a sly glance at her neice. ‘Which reminds me, you’ll never guess who called in here and was asking after you.’
‘Who?’ said Effie, although she guessed at once. ‘Not Peter Kellow?’ Poor Peter, they had been childhood sweethearts years ago – he’d given her a kiss in the school-yard when they were six and, though they’d grown up since and she married Alex Dawes, he’d never looked at anybody else. Cousin Meg had thrown her cap at him, in vain.
‘Course it was Peter Kellow,’ Joe said. ‘Came in purposely!’
‘He never did,’ Madge contradicted. ‘He was telling about a high-up fellow who’s been going around Cornish mines, wanting skilled men to sign up in some special Tunnellers Brigade. Badly needed for the war apparently, and anyone who’s skilled with dynamite can earn six bob a day. He thought your uncle might be interested – though it would take more than that to stir Joe to anything.’
‘It’s a lot of money, though,’ Effie said, covering her surprise at how this news had chilled her heart. ‘Most soldiers only get a shilling, don’t they?’ She knew her face was sc
arlet but she didn’t care. She was worried enough about Alex as it was, without her oldest childhood friend going off to war as well. And underground tunnelling with dynamite? What would that be for? Undermining enemy positions, probably? That sounded wickedly dangerous – as if it wasn’t bad enough above the ground, with Germans shooting cannons at you all the time.
‘That’s a damty sight more than we’re earning down the shaft,’ Joe said. ‘That’s why he came to say. They’re specially looking for experience, he said – but I’m too old for tricks like that and I’ve a wife and family to think about. Surprised he didn’t go himself, though – he’s a single man.’ He shot a look at Effie as he spoke.
Effie found that she was breathing out, in her relief – though she hadn’t been aware that she’d been holding in!
But Aunt Madge was speaking. ‘He told you, Joe – there’s wolfram in the big shaft down Penvarris pit, and that’s essential for making armaments. They aren’t looking to take men who are extracting that. That’s why this general didn’t go recruiting there – though several fellows heard and signed in any case. But Peter’d rather stay round here, at any rate, I ’spect.’ She gave Effie that knowing grin again.
‘The Lord knows why he bothers,’ Uncle Joe replied. ‘Broke his heart, you did, my girl, marrying that damty policeman. Think yourself too good for common miners, I suppose.’
‘If you can’t say something nice to Effie when she comes to call, then don’t say anything,’ his wife exclaimed. She turned to Effie. ‘Born finding fault, he was. If angels were showing him into Paradise, he’d find something wasn’t right! Suppose he ever got to Paradise at all, what with his language and his visits down the Tinner’s Arms!’ Madge had been brought up Methodist, like Ma, and did not approve of alcohol – though, to do him justice, Joe only went to the Tinner’s after union meetings, once a month at most, and even then he only had a single glass of ale. Effie had never known him come home ‘worse for wear’.
But Joe (as if to prove Madge right) turned argumentative. ‘Good God, woman! What do you expect? Have to wash my mouth out if I say “damty” or permit myself a drink? Worse than those Strict Adherents, the way you carry on!’ He was stirring his cup of strong brown tea. ‘And can’t a man run to a bit of sugar now and then? Can’t be that expensive, surely?’
‘Yes it damty can!’ Madge slammed down the folded teacloths with a bang.
Any minute there was going to be a row, but Effie had learned long ago how to stop an argument. ‘Talking of Strict Adherents, I met one yesterday.’ She told them about Verity and the lantern on the cliffs. ‘Could it have been smugglers, do you think?’
‘Shouldn’t think so for a minute.’ Her uncle made a face. ‘Why did she come telling you about it, any’ow?’
‘She came to talk to Alex,’ Effie said. ‘But of course, he wasn’t there.’ She tried to keep the sudden quaver from her voice, but failed.
Joe must have realized she was genuinely upset, because he changed the subject hastily. ‘Well, better get you home before it gets too late,’ he said. ‘Wait while I get a lantern. I’ll need it coming back.’
He wasn’t usually so thoughtful, and Effie was quite touched – though of course Joe had to spoil it by grumbling all the way.
Four
Verity was hot and breathless by the time that she got home – though Crowdie had passed her in the farmcart and given her a ride to the bottom of the hill. By the time she reached the smithy it was almost dark, with just the faintest moon to help her see her way.
She braced herself for trouble as she raised the latch. The rest of the family were sitting round the table, eating soup, and they all watched in silence as she hung up her shawl and hat.
Her father put his spoon down and she waited for the onslaught of ‘jawing’ to begin. But all he said was: ‘Sergeant Jeffries came to see you, then?’
She sank down at her place by Constance on the bench. ‘You know about all that?’
Pa broke a piece of bread and mopped his plate with it. ‘Told me he was going to. Called here to see you – but you weren’t home, of course.’ He raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Seemed to think you’d seen something awkward on the cliffs? Pru said he took you out there to point out the place to him.’
‘Pa knew about the policeman, anyhow,’ Prudence muttered scarlet-faced. ‘Had to say something, how you were so late.’
Vee glanced around the table. All her sisters were still staring up at her, except for Patience who refused to meet her eyes. In fact, her eldest sister was looking very odd, pinker than Hope’s school pinafore and carefully concentrating on her empty bowl. Verity shrugged her shoulders. Perhaps there’d been trouble about her chatting to that man. If Pa had found out there would be the deuce to pay. But she herself had got off lightly, for a change. Pa and Ma knew everything it seemed and there was no need to fear a row – or lines and lines of Bible verses to be learned by heart.
‘The Sergeant must’ve thought it was important,’ Pa was saying now. ‘But you hadn’t said anything to us.’
‘Well, it was really nothing,’ Vee answered, with a laugh. Best to make as little of it as she could. ‘I saw a man out by the stile, the other night, that’s all. Trouble was, I spoke to Mrs Dawes, and she thought it might be smugglers – though it doesn’t seem it was … Why, what is it, Pattie?’ Her sister had made a strangled noise and jumped up from her chair.
Patience, more red-faced than ever, sat down and shook her head. ‘Nothing! Swallowed a bit of something the wrong way, that’s all.’
‘But …’ Verity began, and saw Pru shake her head. ‘Shall I fetch you a bit of water from the pail?’
‘Please,’ Patience managed. ‘Then I’ll be all right. Just a bit of onion or carrot, I expect.’ But of course, it was nothing of the kind. Patience had not been eating at the time, and there was nothing left inside her bowl for her to choke on anyway.
Vee shook her head as she went out to the pail. Just one more strange thing in a day of oddities. First Sergeant Jeffries standing up for her and seeming to take her story very seriously, and then suddenly losing interest when they got out to the cliff. And as for saying that there were no footprints in the cove – did he think she didn’t know that the tide would rub them out? But you couldn’t argue with a policeman, or with an elder sister either. She filled a glass tumbler – it had once held jam – and took it to Pattie who drank it greedily. But after that she seemed to be avoiding Vee as much as possible.
Apart from that, the evening ran its normal course. Each of the girls had their own chores to do – Verity’s was darning, and helping Charity to read – and there was no time or space for sharing secrets, with their parents there.
But when Vee went upstairs, taking a candle, to help get the younger girls to bed, Patience stopped her on the landing and hissed furiously at her, ‘What were you thinking of! Getting the story all around the factory that there was trouble in this house!’
‘It wasn’t my doing,’ Vee replied, with truth. ‘It was that Mr—’
But her sister cut her off. ‘And as for what you said to Pa when you came in! Do that again, and I shall swing for you, I swear!’ And she stormed downstairs again.
Vee was completely mystified, but Patience could sometimes be horrid when she chose – especially if she’d had a jawing about something from their pa. In the meantime, there were tasks to do. She and Prudence had their hands full, too, with four little nightshirts to put on, and four lots of hair to brush. There was always an argument, in any case, about whose turn it was to have the pillow end – which two were at the bottom and which two at the top, leaving just space for Vee and Constance either side. (Pru and Patience shared the narrow bunk next door and Faith was in Ma’s room in the cradle still, of course.)
But at last all the schoolgirls were in bed and the nightlight safely on the windowsill. Vee gently closed the door on them, then turned to Pru and said, ‘What’s up with Patience?’
Pru just shook her head.
‘Not here,’ she murmured. ‘They won’t be sleeping yet. Small pitchers have big ears! Besides, it might be better if you didn’t know – you’d blurt the truth to somebody before you thought.’ And she led the way downstairs. She had the candle, so Vee had to follow her – and that was clearly all the explanation she was going to get.
There was a little bit of awkwardness when they got to the dairy factory next day. Patience had been right. The story of ‘bad news’ had clearly spread and some of the other girls were frankly curious – and Verity’s attempts to shrug off their questions only made things worse.
Of course you couldn’t talk once you were in the packing room – young Mr Radjel prowled around and saw to that – but when it was time to pause and eat your lunch (apart from three timed ‘pass-outs’ to the cloakroom in the day, the factory allowed you fifteen minutes for your meal) several people who were off at the same time huddled together on the far side of the yard, whispering and looking sideways at the Tregorran girls.
Patience was mad as hops with Verity. ‘Now see what you have gone and done. Look at everyone – nudging each other and gossiping behind their hands!’ She jumped to her feet and off she stalked, her face as red as fire – which only made things worse.
It was Pru who had the inspiration which put paid to it. She left her bit of crowst and sidled up to one girl who had been her friend at school. ‘Here, Gloria Tresize! Don’t upset our Verity by asking her too much. Her friend’s gone for a soldier and his mother’s just had news – and well … I won’t go into details, but let’s hope that he’ll pull through!’ She spoke just loud enough for other folk to hear.
Vee felt herself turn scarlet – more than Patience had – and hurried back to work before she’d even eaten all her bread and scrape. But it worked like magic – people understood about the dangers of the war. The whispering stopped at once, and when the day was over several people came and asked Vee quite kindly how she liked the job, and telling her little tricks to make it easier. Nobody mentioned soldiers, though, to her relief.
The Blacksmith's Girl Page 5
