Kilgarthen Read online

  ‘No, I suppose not. You’re not working in the farmyard today then?’

  ‘No, I’m off to put fodder down in the fields. The cows in calf in particular need some extra help in winter.’

  She thought it too forward to ask if his boss was at home; Ince would wonder why she wanted to meet him and she didn’t really know herself now. She looked up at the dark grey sky. ‘Do you think we’re about to have a shower of rain?’

  He shook his head. ‘Probably just a few drops this morning but it’ll tip down this afternoon.’

  ‘That’s good. I don’t want to turn back yet.’

  ‘All the same, I shouldn’t go too far from the village, Mrs Jennings. You might get lost.’

  ‘I’ll take your advice, Ince. Well, I’d better let you get on with your work.’ She hadn’t known this man for long but felt he was one person she wanted to be on friendly terms with. ‘Please, call me Laura.’

  He smiled and nodded, got back on the cart and waved to her before moving off. Laura felt some of the bitterness and anger melting away from her heart. She had met some very kind people since the funeral. All these people had known Bill, in some ways probably better than she had. She realised that she was seeking a way into Bill’s heart and mind. He still had a hold over her and she wanted to break it; perhaps most of all she wanted to find out if it was her fault that he had been so horrible to her.

  When Laura reached the end of the long lane, she realised she must have passed the turning to Rosemerryn Farm. Since meeting Ince she had noticed only one turning that was more than a path; that must have been the way to the farm. She cycled back. If she found the farm she’d say she wanted to buy some eggs or something; having reminded herself that Daisy had said Spencer Jeffries was a recluse and he and Bill had hated each other, she was losing her confidence.

  She found the opening again and turned down it to find herself bumping over a muddy track with high hedges on either side. Her legs and the bike were soon hopelessly splashed. Why didn’t these farmers tarmac the way to their farms?

  Like all moorland farms, Rosemerryn Farm was carefully sited in a natural dip and sheltered by tall wind-vexed trees and bushes. Laura dismounted and leaned the bike against a granite stone wall, her eyes sweeping round the yard as she picked her way over the cobblestones. Her overriding impression was that everywhere was extremely muddy; a glance at her boots and she despaired of ever getting them really clean again.

  Bill had told her a lot about the local farms and this one owned everything she was expecting to see, barns, outhouses and hayricks, a pigsty, a few scratching chickens, granite animal troughs, spare granite gateposts, discarded horse implements, an old corn binder, a roller, a heap of mangolds and turnips, and a plough. She couldn’t see the cow shed but wrinkled her nose at the strong steamy smell of the dung heap that would be beside it. In the middle of the yard was the farmer’s most prized possession, vital to his work, a grey Ferguson tractor. The wheels were caked with mud but the bodywork was well cared for; a can of paraffin, a tool box and bundle of rags were lying beside the vehicle ready for some maintenance work. It was parked on a reasonably clean part of the cobbles, close to a somewhat neglected Ford saloon.

  Hearing a sudden noise, which she first thought was a wail of the wind, she noticed a big black horse, which had whinnied to her in greeting, looking over the stone wall of a field. Laura made her way to the horse and stroked its splendid head. The horse was doubtless ridden to inspect the herd of cattle; Laura knew that cattle used to this sort of herding would ignore anyone trying to drive them on foot if they wandered into the lanes. After several moments she left the horse for the farmhouse in search of its master.

  She knocked on the door of what looked like a very old but well-kept building and conjured up a picture of the interior of the house as rustic and cosy. She was standing inside a wide sheltered porch with healthy potted plants on shelves either side of her. She thought she heard a movement inside but after several moments no one had answered. Must be out working in the fields, she thought, or perhaps in one of the outbuildings.

  She rounded the house and saw a little girl riding a tricycle in the yard. Laura stopped in her tracks and stared, utterly captivated. She had never seen a more beautiful child. Long wispy curls of white-gold hair drifted down her slender back from her red wool hat. Her skin was honey-toned and flawless, her small features perfectly proportioned in a delicate heart-shaped face. Her eyes shone like sparkling blue gems as she pedalled furiously in a wide circle.

  Laura held her breath. She was bewitched. She had dreamed of having a child like this one.

  ‘Hello,’ she said softly.

  The girl was startled by her voice and fell off the tricycle. Shocked at what she had done, Laura rushed to her and helped her to her feet. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. Did I frighten you? Are you hurt?’

  The girl clambered quickly to her feet. Then she smiled so broadly, impishly crinkling up her face, that Laura wanted to gather her up in her arms and kiss her cheeks. ‘I’m tough, you know,’ she said pertly, keeping one eye narrowed.

  ‘Are you, darling? I hope your trike isn’t damaged.’

  ‘Daddy will mend it,’ the girl said brightly, then looked over her red and blue tricycle. ‘No, it’s not hurt, just a little scratch, but that doesn’t matter. Daddy’s got lots of scratches on his tractor.’

  ‘I’m Laura. Will you tell me your name?’

  ‘I’m Vicki. Have you come to see about me going to school? I’ll be five soon and old enough to go to school,’ Vicki said proudly. Her voice was a pleasure to listen to, clear and tinkling.

  ‘No, Vicki, I’m not connected to the school. I’m staying in the village for a while. Do you live here, on the farm?’

  ‘Course I do. Are you a holidaymaker?’

  Laura wanted to stay and talk to this little beauty. She lowered herself down and put her hands gently on Vicki’s waist. ‘Do you know the lady in the shop? She’s my Aunty Daisy.’

  ‘She’s a nice lady. She gives me an extra sweetie when Daddy buys me dolly mixtures.’

  ‘Who’s your daddy?’

  ‘I am,’ came a gruff voice almost on top of them. ‘Take your hands off my daughter.’

  Laura turned to face a man with the coldest eyes she had ever seen, yet when he smiled at Vicki they were full of gentleness.

  ‘Run along inside, pipkin,’ he said to Vicki. ‘I’ll see what the lady wants.’

  ‘Goodbye, Laura.’

  Laura looked from the man to his daughter. ‘Goodbye, Vicki. I’m very pleased to have met you.’

  Vicki skipped happily to the back door, sat down just inside it and pulled off her boots. Laura couldn’t take her eyes off her and returned the wave she gave before disappearing inside the house.

  ‘Well, what do you want?’ Vicki’s father asked her, folding his arms and standing across the doorway as if he was guarding his home and family. ‘Are you lost?’

  ‘No, no,’ Laura blustered, her eyes now rooted on the man who had passed on his looks to his daughter. ‘I, um, thought you might have some eggs for sale.’

  ‘Did you now?’ he asked suspiciously, his lower lip twisting into a sneer. ‘I only sell my eggs to the village shop. Ask your late husband’s aunt for a tray to take back to London with you.’ As far as he was concerned, his business with her was over and he made to follow his daughter.

  ‘You know who I am then?’ Laura challenged him, raising her voice to detain him, angry at his bluntness. ‘How?’

  He looked at her disparagingly. ‘Dressed like that in a farmyard? Who else would you be?’

  ‘Are you Spencer Jeffries?’

  ‘That’s none of your business. Leave now. I don’t like people on my property and I don’t like strangers talking to my daughter.’

  ‘I meant her no harm,’ Laura persisted stubbornly. ‘She’s a charming little girl. She obviously didn’t get her good manners from you!’ Laura knew she had no right to be here or to say what she
just had, but this man made her see red.

  He looked at her gravely for a moment, then gave a high-pitched whistle which made her jump. A big scruffy border collie ran round from the side of the farmhouse and took up a menacing stance in front of her. ‘If you don’t go now, Barney will make sure you will.’

  ‘You’d set your dog on me? I only wanted—’

  ‘Make sure she goes, Barney,’ he grunted and with that he went indoors.

  * * *

  ‘Spencer Jeffries is the rudest man in the world,’ Laura complained to Daisy when they were sitting across the dinner table.

  Daisy looked up in surprise from her bowl of oxtail soup. ‘You’ve met Spencer?’

  ‘I have if he’s a tall, fair-haired man with a gorgeous little daughter called Vicki,’ Laura admitted guiltily. ‘I was curious about him and drove to his farm.’

  ‘So that’s why you came back so muddy,’ Daisy said, breaking off a piece of fresh crusty bread. ‘What did you want to see him for?’

  ‘I told you, I was curious. His name kept coming up yesterday and he sounded rather mysterious. I suppose I was looking for something to take my mind off burying Bill and—’ She stopped there. She was still reluctant to tell Daisy what Bill had done to the company. It would upset her so soon after his funeral. Perhaps she never would.

  Daisy let out a girlish giggle. ‘I bet Spencer sent you away with a flea in your ear.’

  ‘He did,’ Laura said crossly. ‘He threatened to set his dog on me. He whistled to fetch the lumbering great brute into the yard and all the while I was getting back on the bike I was dreading the sound of another whistle to send the dog after me to tear my leg off. It followed me all the way back to the lane,’ she added indignantly.

  Daisy laughed, much amused. ‘Spencer’d never go that far. And Barney wouldn’t harm you.’

  Laura looked peevishly across the table. ‘You seem very friendly with the man.’

  ‘There’s a special bond between me and Spencer. I delivered Vicki. Natalie was in the shop that day, only seven months gone, when she suddenly went into labour. She thought she’d been having wind all day. Anyway, I brought her in here and because she had problems and was s’posed to go into hospital I phoned for the ambulance, but we’d had snow and the ambulance had trouble getting through. It wasn’t long ’fore things were speeding up and I had to get Natalie upstairs. I banged on the wall for Bunty and between us we calmed Natalie down and I delivered little Vicki. What a day that was. Bunty was panicking – she’s never married and has no children but I’ve had three, they live all over the world now, and things came natural to me.

  ‘The birth was straightforward but with Vicki coming so early, that was the worrying bit. She were so tiny. I remembered what my old midwife had said once and I wrapped her up in cotton wool and towels and put her in a shoe box. By this time Spencer had come searching for Natalie. I’ll never forget the look on his face when he first saw Vicki. He’s adored her ever since. She’s just like him to look at, though his hair’s darker and his eyes are grey and not blue. She’s got Natalie’s eyes. When the ambulance finally got through, Natalie and Vicki were rushed to hospital. Spencer was so grateful to me and Bunty, and we’ve got on well ever since.’

  ‘I didn’t meet Natalie, Vicki’s mother,’ Laura said, returning to her soup, now gone cold after the long tale.

  Daisy looked down mournfully at her plate and sniffed back tears. ‘She… she died three days after the birth.’

  ‘Oh no! What a sad end to the story.’

  ‘Spencer took Vicki home when she was strong enough and has practically brought her up single-handed. Most of the help he has comes from Ince. We all offered, of course, and she usually stays here a few hours each day during the hay making, but for the most part that little girl’s had the love of two doting men.’

  ‘I don’t think I’ve seen anyone as beautiful as Vicki Jeffries,’ Laura said wistfully. ‘I wish I could have spoken to her for longer. Her father will miss her when she starts school.’

  ‘Be good for her, though,’ Daisy said, taking things off the table.

  ‘It doesn’t explain why he’s so aggressive.’

  ‘He’s been like that since Natalie died. He always did keep himself to himself, but now he’s over-possessive and over-protective of Vicki. He adored Natalie, you see. Without Vicki I think he would have gone to pieces. He’s probably afraid of losing her too.’

  He should think himself lucky he’s got someone he’s afraid of losing, Laura thought bitterly. She said, ‘Why did he and Bill fall out? It was obvious he despised me because I’m Bill’s widow.’

  ‘I don’t know, Laura,’ Daisy mumbled, looking over her shoulder as if there was something that needed attending to on the range. ‘But with Billy lying down the road, what does it matter now? What would you like for afters? I’ve got some yeast buns and cake left from the funeral.’ Laura frowned. Why was Daisy being evasive? While she was fetching the cake tin, the telephone rang and Laura went into the sitting room to answer it. Andrew Macarthur was on the other end of the line.

  ‘Laura, are you starting for home today?’

  Without hesitating, Laura found herself saying, ‘No.’

  ‘You’re not?’ Andrew sounded surprised.

  When Laura had arrived in Kilgarthen yesterday she thought she’d hate Bill’s home village. But she was beginning to find Kilgarthen interesting and although Bill was buried here she couldn’t bear to go home and get involved in the mess he had left of her father’s company; she would feel his presence there more than here. She knew she could go to friends in London, there were some who would be glad to have her until things were settled, but she wanted to stay with the kind-hearted woman who in a few short hours she had come to call Aunty Daisy – and she couldn’t get the shining little face of Vicki Jeffries out of her mind.

  ‘You can see to everything, can’t you, Andrew?’

  ‘Yes, of course, if that’s what you want. I thought you might like to go over things with me. You were your father’s personal assistant before you married.’

  ‘Do you think we can salvage anything?’

  ‘No, the bank won’t co-operate. Bill’s pulled too many fast ones over the years and the business world’s lost confidence in the company.’

  ‘In that case I’d rather not pick over the bones. Do what you have to, Andrew. At least I have the comfort of knowing I’m not destitute and when I’m ready to face the world again I’m sure I can get a job. I haven’t forgotten what I learned with Dad.’

  ‘Are you hiding away down there, Laura?’ Andrew asked sternly.

  ‘Of course not,’ she said emphatically. Andrew was a very close friend but he wouldn’t understand why she wanted to stay here.

  ‘Are you sure you’re doing the right thing?’ This was Andrew the friend, not the family solicitor speaking now. ‘I didn’t think you’d want to stay down there with…’

  ‘Bill buried here?’

  ‘Yes. You were upset, of course, but when you left here you said you couldn’t wait to get rid of him, to leave him there. You’ve had quite a change of heart.’

  Andrew Macarthur had disliked and distrusted Bill, and Bill had hated Andrew. There had been many clashes between them over the years. Because Andrew was a young, attractive, somewhat debonair man who had served his country with distinction during the war, Bill had been jealous of his friendship with Laura.

  ‘It isn’t because he’s got a hold over me from the grave, Andrew,’ she replied, although this wasn’t strictly true.

  She could tell by a sigh that he wasn’t convinced. ‘What then?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know. Bill’s aunty has been so kind and… I can’t explain it really. Look, I’ll ring you in a couple of days.’

  ‘That was my solicitor again,’ Laura told Daisy as they tucked into yeast buns while sitting either side of the fireplace.

  ‘Worried about you, is he, dear?’

  ‘Yes. He wanted to know
when I’m going back to London.’

  Daisy set her brown eyes on her shrewdly. ‘What did you tell him?’

  ‘I told him I’d ring him in a couple of days.’

  ‘Good. I’m glad you’re not going yet, Laura. I hope you’re going to stay with me. You’re very welcome.’

  ‘Thank you. That’s very kind of you. I’d rather have some company at the moment. I will go down to Bill’s cottage and sort out his things. There must be some keepsakes you’d like.’ Laura gathered up the crumbs in her lap. ‘You can talk to me about Bill, you know. I want to leam about his life here.’

  ‘That your main reason for staying here then?’

  ‘Yes. Bill was so horrible to me. I want to know why the people here thought so much of him. I suppose it’s obvious really. Bill did well for himself and people revel in reflected glory and he was very generous to the village which he never forgot, and—’

  ‘I shouldn’t go asking too many questions if I were you,’ Daisy blurted out. ‘Like I said before, ’tis best to let sleeping dogs lie.’

  Daisy looked so fierce that Laura was silenced. Was there something more to be found out about Bill Jennings than his being Harry Lean’s half-brother?

  * * *

  When Laura put her coat on to take another walk through the village, Daisy climbed up on a chair in front of a built-in cupboard and took out a square locked box. She carried the box upstairs. Taking the bottom drawer completely out of her dressing table, she put the box in the space on the floor. She put the drawer back in and when she straightened up she saw her reflection in the mirror. It was filled with guilt.

  Chapter 4

  Vicki Jeffries was sitting in her nightie, slippers and dressing gown crayoning on the kitchen table. Ince was watching her, his sleeves rolled up, exposing his long, muscled arms which were resting on the table. Spencer was making her night-time cocoa. This sort of scene could be found nearly every night on Rosemerryn Farm.