Vee hadn’t thought of that. ‘It won’t be very pleasant. The place is a nest of rumours as it is – first it was Pattie, now it will be me. But, I suppose I’ll have to. What else would I do? Pa wouldn’t have us go as bal maidens down the mine – rubbing shoulders with young men, he says, and godless, some of them. And he wouldn’t like us going in private service, either, where there might be men about – too many temptations, I’ve heard that many times.’
‘What about a female household?’ Mrs Dawes enquired.
Verity shrugged. ‘Where would you find one?’ she said bitterly, and then realized that it sounded like a hint. ‘What I’d really like, though,’ she went on, trying to change the subject as fast as possible, ‘is to go into a shop. Milliner’s or something – where only women go. Like you used to do, I suppose …’ She broke off as the serving-girl, Amy came in with the tray, and Vee watched in silence as she poured the tea, remembering not to seize the cup but wait till it was passed.
‘Funny you should say that,’ Mrs Dawes remarked, picking up her own cup with enviable grace. ‘I was in the act of answering letters when you came – including one from a solicitor – and something’s just turned up. I’ve got to go to Falmouth in a day or two – to sign a lot of papers and that sort of thing. But, if it all works out as I expect, I might just know of an opportunity …’
Vee nearly dropped her teacup. ‘In a shop you mean? Not in Falmouth surely?’ She shook her head. ‘Pa would never hear of such a thing – away from home and guidance – and, in any case, who’d have a girl like me? All tongue and no judgment, my mother always says.’
‘I don’t know about that. You seem to be a girl of some intelligence. And it’s not in Falmouth, this would be much nearer home. Though it’s not certain yet. In the meantime, would you like a temporary post, just for a day or two? It isn’t onerous. I have to go to Falmouth, which means going up by train, and as a recent widow I can’t well go alone. Would you care to travel with me? I would pay of course – not much, but a little. What would you say to that?’
Vee’s head was spinning. ‘Well, I’d love to go, of course. I’ve never been further than Penzance in all my life. But if you need a companion, how don’t you take your maid?’
The woman laughed. ‘You’re very sharp, young lady! I could do that, of course. But there are two reasons for asking you instead – first that the day concerned is Amy’s half-day off, and that would mean she didn’t see her family and, second, that I’ll have to change at Truro on the way. I have friends there and I thought that I might break my journey for an hour and call on them. Amy has no special reason to welcome such a thing, but – according to Crowdie – it might appeal to you. Free time to walk to anywhere you choose. I understand you have a friend who’s in a hospital nearby.’
Go and visit Ned Chegwidden? Was that possible? Vee knew her eyes were shining but she shook her head. ‘Pa won’t allow it, I can tell you that. In fact …’ She put her cup down with a clatter as she spoke, ‘I ought to run off home. You’ve been very kind to me, and I appreciate the fact – but there’ll be all sorts of trouble and I’ll get a larraking, for people even thinking that I might be a thief – let alone getting fired and losing Pru her job as well! Pa will likely skin me before I get the chance to speak.’
‘Not if I come with you,’ Mrs Dawes replied. ‘Wait while I get my bonnet.’
And that is what she did.
Four
Martha was putting Pattie’s washing in the tin bath to soak – milk and salt were good for shifting blood – but lighting the copper would have to wait until another day. She was still shaken from the day’s events.
So she was hardly in a state to cope with visitors, but there was blessed Verity coming through the gate and a strange woman with her. Somebody well off, too, by the look of her. Someone from the factory perhaps – might be, but you couldn’t ask Prudence, because she wasn’t here.
Martha ran her fingers through her tousled hair and tried to straighten her pinny to look respectable, then she hurried from the wash house to greet the newcomers. ‘Afternoon … I suppose it’s afternoon by this time,’ she began.
Verity was looking terrible, she thought. All flushed and worried like the dear knows what. ‘Anything the matter? Who’s this lady then?’
The stranger smiled and held out her hand. ‘I’m Ethel Dawes. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?’
‘Lady who gave the crates to Pattie,’ Verity put in. ‘How is she, anyway? Have I got a niece or nephew?’
Martha shook her head. ‘Neither one, I fear. Midwife came, but Pattie lost the child. She’s weak but pulling through. Ephraim’s down there with her, but I said I’d go again. Thought I might send Prudence, where is she by the way? Not come home with you?’ As she spoke she led the way into the house. Kitchen was an awful mess – what would this stranger think? ‘Bit early aren’t you?’ She glanced towards the clock. Somehow today she’d lost all sense of time – it seemed a hundred hours since Ephraim had arrived. ‘Girls aren’t home from school. Something happened down the factory?’
Verity said, inexplicably, ‘You haven’t heard the news then?’
Martha’s knees betrayed her suddenly, and she found that she was sitting down instead of standing up. ‘Not our Prudence too? Nothing’s happened to our Prudence?’
Mrs Dawes and Verity exchanged a glance, but it was Vee who answered. ‘Not the way you mean. You sit there a minute, and Mrs Dawes here will explain. Oh, and here’s Constance coming with the girls – they’ll have to hear as well.’
So they were all in the kitchen when Sergeant Jeffries brought Prudence home with the welcome news that he’d caught up with Mr Grey. ‘I’ve got the other fellow under lock and key as well. He turned up at your pigsty, as we thought he might – good job that the farmer had a gun! Blaming each other, he and Mr Grey! Oh, and old Mr Radjel says your jobs are safe!’
And Toby chose that moment to come roaring in, and the whole story had to be repeated for his benefit. But his reaction startled everyone.
‘Well, whatever Radjel says, that’s the end of that! How dare they believe that my daughter is a thief! Dismiss her would they – and call her a liar too? They change their minds about it, now, but how did they ever credit a single word of it? Well, none of my girls will ever work for them again! Sooner have them breaking tin stones down the mine. Anything but down that wretched factory!’
‘In that case,’ Martha murmured – seeing an opportunity, in front of witnesses, ‘you wouldn’t mind if Verity went to work for Mrs Dawes? She’s very kindly offered her a little job – as a sort of companion to begin with, so I understand. Quite a vote of confidence in Vee’s integrity.’
And Toby – who had always held that a Strict Adherent must stick strictly to his word – found himself unable to demur.
It was two days later that Will brought the bicycle. Effie had agreed to have it, once she heard, because it would be useful for Amy, after all.
Amy was delighted, and – with Effie’s blessing – tried it out at once, though clearly it wasn’t as easy as the vicar’s daughter made it seem. Several times the girl fell off into the weeds and scratched herself quite badly, but she persevered and slowly began to get the hang of it.
‘Be able to ride home, see Mother, very soon,’ she said, delightedly – though with more hope than promise, Effie thought. ‘Save me twopence for the horse-bus every time. And I can go whatever time it suits, stead of waiting if it’s late.’
Effie had to smile at her enthusiasm. It helped to make up for leaving Amy at home and taking Verity to Truro on the train. Truth to tell, she would be glad of lively company – and Verity was so excited she could talk of little else. Though there would have to be a sober conversation soon. There was a business proposition to discuss.
It had been a shock to get that letter from the solicitor. It should not have been, perhaps. Major Dawes had made a point of telling her that he’d put some money by in trust for Alex when they wed, an
d that she would get it – but that was at the funeral and she hadn’t really been in a state of mind to take it in. Not a fortune, as he’d told her, but a tidy little sum. And she had decided what she’d like to do with it.
Rescue Weston’s Haberdashery. She could do it, she was sure of it. Miss Pearl would have to be consulted, naturally enough, but she’d already spoken of a lack of capital. And once Effie had acquired an interest in the place she could make the improvements she had always wanted to.
Not that she’d be able to do it all at once. She was still in mourning, so she could hardly work herself – but she knew a girl who might. And she could oversee it and work behind the scenes. Still live at An Dyji, which she’d come to love – get a man, perhaps, to come and clear the grounds, if she could find one, with the lack of manpower these days.
And there was another idea she might suggest to Verity! She laughed a little at her own enthusiasm for these schemes – but she felt as if the girl had brought her back to life. Taught her that conventions could be fought against, as well. She’d never met a family where so much was frowned upon – much worse than Alex’s mother, even, she thought with a wry smile.
It was thinking of rebellion which gave her the idea. It was preposterous, of course – a woman of her age, and still in mourning too, but once she had thought of it, she simply had to try! And this was the moment, if it was ever to be done. It was very early – even Amy wasn’t up, and it was barely light. There was nobody about.
The bicycle was leaning up against the shed. It was the work of a moment to tiptoe out to it, wheel it to a smooth part of the lane, put a foot onto the pedal and …
‘Effie? Miss Pengelly? I mean, Mrs Dawes …?’
The voice was coming from nearby, behind the hedge. A man’s voice, and incredulous – though more amused than shocked. Effie’s cheeks burned scarlet – imagine being seen! – and she attempted to turn the bicycle away and hurry back to the safety of the house. In her haste she failed to free her long skirt fully, and it caught against the pedal shank. It jerked her over, and she gave a shriek and sat down with the machine on top of her.
‘Not hurt, are you?’ A man came rushing from the next-door field. Someone in uniform, with chevrons on his sleeve, who was lifting the bicycle and bending over her.
She was too embarrassed to even look at him. ‘I’m perfectly all right. Please leave me, go away.’ She couldn’t for the life of her imagine who it was.
‘Effie! I’m sorry. I should not have come. They’ve sent me back to take a training course – and I’ve got two days’ leave. I took the night train down – going to see the family, but I’d heard that you were here. I had to come and see if I could get a glimpse of you. I didn’t mean to bother you, of course – though I heard about your husband …’ There was an awkward pause. ‘I’m very sorry. It must be terrible.’
She raised her eyes but she’d already realized who it was. Peter Kellow. Smart as Christmas in that uniform.
‘What do the stripes mean, Peter?’ As if she didn’t know. But she let him offer her his hand and help her to her feet. It was oddly comforting. And it didn’t matter how unseemly she must look – this was only Peter, and that didn’t count.
‘They’ve made me a Lance Corporal, lowest of the low. But if I do well this course, they’ll make me up again, they say. Might even rise to a commission – the last man to do my job got to be Lieutenant in the end, before he died. I’m training other miners – and they’ve got some new explosive they want to introduce.’
‘Couldn’t that be dangerous?’ She didn’t like the sound of that Lieutenant’s death – however much of a promotion it might be.
‘Stand me in good stead. Might get me recommended as mine captain one day – when the war is over, if I survive so long.’ He shrugged and gave a laugh. ‘Now, shall I wheel that bicycle back in for you, or do you want to try again?’
She shook her head and found that she was laughing, too. ‘Shouldn’t have tried the first time. It’s far too soon for that. One day, perhaps, I’ll dare to pedal it again – but probably I won’t. I’ve learned my lesson – and bumped my elbow too.’ She rubbed it ruefully.
But Peter Kellow wasn’t laughing now. He looked at her. ‘Don’t close your mind to it. There are lots of things that you might learn to do, with time. Don’t you think so?’ And he clearly wasn’t talking about the bicycle.
She shook her head again. ‘I don’t know, Peter. I don’t know at all.’
He made a rueful face. ‘Well, you go in now. I’ll put this away. Put butter on that bruise. And forget you’ve seen me. I shouldn’t have been here.’
Amy was up by now, and looked surprised to see her mistress coming through the door. ‘Oh, sorry madam. I’ve not even made your tea.’
‘I woke up early. Stepped out for some air. I’ll have it in a moment, in the middle room.’ She looked out through the window. But the bicycle was out there, leaning on the shed, and Peter Kellow was nowhere to be seen. She kept an eye out for him, but he did not appear again – and then his leave was over, and she knew he must have gone.
Ned was feeling better. Much, much better now. Well enough to take part in an egg-and-spoon race in the yard, where he hobbled well enough to beat Fred Wills – and everybody else – though it was clear he’d never walk without a limp again.
He was cock-a-hoop about his victory, till the medics called him in.
‘You’ve made good progress. We’re very pleased with you. But we’re getting to a point where there’s no more we can do.’ They were beginning to talk about discharging him.
It hit him like a hammer. In here, he was fine. He could do as much as anybody else, very often more, and if he was slow and awkward – well, so was everyone. Ma came to see him sometimes, and that was wonderful – but what would happen when he had to go back home? She’d have to see for him, and wash his clothes and all the rest of it – and she’d see the leg, which she’d never really done. And he would be underneath her feet – they wouldn’t pass him fit to go back underground. ‘Fresh air and gentle exercise, that’s the ticket, man. Get your strength back slowly, and you’ll be right as rain. But we can’t have you crawling down tunnels in the mine.’
And it was true, of course, he couldn’t crawl at all. He couldn’t do anything very much, but limp about and play stupid childish games, like egg-and-spoon races and draughts. He quite upset Fred one morning, when he refused to play again – just when he’d been getting good enough to win from time to time.
‘Don’t know what’s got into you, Chegwidden,’ Fred Wills said, crossly, sweeping up the draught set and making off indoors. ‘Winning races seems to make you sour.’
‘Find someone else to play with!’ Ned retorted. ‘I’ve got real life to think about.’ And he sat at the table, huddled in his coat, and contemplated all the things he couldn’t do: run, walk any distance, kick a ball about, even change his trousers without sitting down. He was sunk in gloomy silence, when he heard a nurse’s voice.
‘Somebody to see you.’
That would be Mother – though this was not her usual day. He looked up listlessly. ‘Come twice this fortnight?’ But the words died on his lips. ‘My dear life! Verity!’
She was prettier than he remembered. More grown-up looking too. But she still had that sparkle and that delightful smile. She was smiling this minute. ‘Ned. How are you?’
‘What are you doing here?’ He looked around as if her father might appear and march her off at any minute.
She shook her head and laughed. ‘I asked you first. How are you? You are looking well. Better than I expected, from what your mother said.’
He made a face at her. ‘That’s what they’re saying here. Threatening to discharge me soon and send me home.’
She sat down opposite, where Fred Wills had been. ‘That’s wonderful. Or don’t you think so? Doesn’t seem so from your face.’
‘Oh, I dunno. What am I supposed to do? No use for anything, the way I am.’ He l
ooked into her eyes. They were tawny, dark and very beautiful – even more beautiful than in his dreams. ‘Couldn’t, for instance, think of marrying. Even if your father would have let you – which he won’t.’
‘Marry me, you mean?’ The eyes were misty now. ‘That’s what you’d like to do? Oh, don’t shake your head like that, just tell me that it is.’
‘Well, of course I would – if it were possible. But it never would have been, I suppose in any case … and now …’ He shook his head. ‘You wouldn’t want me, not the way I am. Find yourself a proper man who can take care of you.’ She didn’t answer and he went on bitterly: ‘They talk about heroes, but I’m nothing of the kind. Made into a cripple by a bit of wire.’
‘You’ll need to be a hero, if we’re going to fight my pa!’ She bit her lip and there were teardrops in her eyes, but she was smiling all the same. ‘We’ll find a way, Ned, if that is really what you want.’ She put out a timid hand and sought his own. ‘It’s what I’ve always wanted, all along. And things are different now, with Pattie. You heard what happened there?’
‘Heard she’d married, and then lost a child. Must have been upsetting.’
‘It was worse than that. She had to get married – your ma explained it all, though I didn’t really understand at first. Fair broke Pa’s heart it did, and Pattie’s too, I think. She was proper poorly, and she’s not really better yet. Doesn’t make an effort – that’s what Prudence says – as if she’s given up and doesn’t want to live. Pru has gone over to stay with them in fact, try to give a hand and nurse Pattie back to health. You heard that we’re not working at the factory?’
He looked at her, surprised. ‘I thought that was all sorted out? Ma said so, any rate. It was Mr Grey himself who had been stealing things – police got his fingerprints and he broke down and confessed.’
Verity gave a peculiar little laugh. ‘Well, after a fashion. He certainly confessed. I could feel quite sorry for him, really, when it all came out. He’d got talked into stealing very early on, just little bits of things, but the man that he was dealing with had got his claws in him by then – threatened to expose him to the police if he didn’t go on stealing and supplying things, bigger and bigger orders as it went along. Then I gave him a bad fright myself, I think, telling the police I’d seen a stranger on the cliffs, and shortly after that there was a dreadful fuss – the books didn’t balance – and the bosses called the police.’
The Blacksmith's Girl Page 23
