Authors: Benita Brown
Tags: #Technology & Engineering, #Sagas, #Fisheries & Aquaculture, #Fiction
A Safe Harbour (37 page)
‘Now what are all these pretty things?’ she asked when she joined Kate at the washstand.
Kate lifted the largest of the jugs from the bowl. It was full of water and was steaming gently. ‘Joan brought the hot water just before you arrived,’ she said. ‘And in a moment it will be cool enough for me to start my
toilette
.’
toilette
.’
‘Your what?’ her mother asked
‘It means I’ll get washed. But that’s what Joan calls it. “Here’s the water for your
toilette
,” she says. She’s just showing off.’
toilette
,” she says. She’s just showing off.’
‘Aye, she’s always thought a lot of herself, hasn’t she? Ever since she was a great lumpy bairn. What’s all these other things for?’
‘The middle-sized jug is for the waste,’ Kate told her. ‘When I’ve washed my face I can empty the water into here and then pour some more for my other bits.’ They grinned at each other. ‘And this is the soap dish.’ Kate lifted the lid.
‘Let me see.’ Her mother took the dish and smelled the bar of soap inside it. ‘Mm, it’s scented.’
‘Carnation.’
‘Eeh, our Kate, what luxury.’
‘And this is the tooth mug – look, Mrs Adamson sent Joan up with a new toothbrush. And this,’ Kate picked up the final item of the wash set, ‘is a shaving mug. Which I don’t need, of course.’ She bent down to open the door of the wash stand. Inside there were two shelves filled with clean towels and flannels. ‘So, if you sit down, again, Ma, I’ll get myself ready.’
Kate’s hairpins were in a small china tray on the washstand. She pinned up her hair and then opened the neck of her nightgown in order to wash her face and neck. Then, as she had always done in the crowded cottage at home, she became a contortionist as she washed the rest of her body under the cover of the nightgown.
Aware that her breasts were full and her belly rounded, embarrassment made her grateful that her mother turned her head to stare into the fire. Kate dried herself and pulled on half her clothes before taking off the nightgown and pulling on the top half. Her mother was quiet. Kate turned round as she did up the buttons of her blouse and saw the older woman’s distracted expression.
‘How are things at home?’ Kate asked.
‘As usual. Although . . .’
‘Tell me. My father isn’t bullying you, is he?’
‘No. Most of the time your brothers keep him in check. But he’s drinking more.’
‘Is that possible?’
‘It seems it is. More than once he’s been brought home and dumped on the doorstep. He . . . he doesn’t like the gossip, mind you.’
‘Gossip?’
Her mother remained silent.
‘About me?’
‘Aye.’
‘What are they saying?’
‘Well, they don’t like you being here at the Adamsons’ house.’
‘Would they rather Mr Adamson had left me in the cave to drown?’
‘No, pet, don’t get upset. Of course folk are glad that he rescued you but most of them think he only brought you here to curry favour.’
‘Oh.’
That hadn’t occurred to Kate and now she examined the idea. For Richard Adamson could easily have taken her back to Belle Vue Cottage and then, braving the Lawson menfolk, gone for her mother. But he’d brought her to his own home. Had he hoped to impress the villagers by looking after Kate and sending for his own doctor? Had he hoped that this gesture would give him a small advantage in any future confrontation?
But what about that moment on the beach? A timeless moment measured only in heartbeats when he had held her close and kissed her and roused her sleeping senses to a passion stronger than any she had ever experienced before. Had he simply been taking advantage of her helpless state? And then, regretting his action, had he made sure to stay away from her? To her dismay that thought brought nothing but anguish. Shocked by this revelation she turned away from her mother and faced the window. The sky was an unrelenting grey.
‘Don’t fret, Kate,’ her mother said. ‘Nobody thinks badly of you.’
Kate shrugged, not able to speak or even face her mother.
‘No, it’s your father they blame,’ Nan said. ‘They say it was wicked of Henry Lawson to turn his daughter out, especially as you had just lost your sweetheart, and that, after Meg died, he should have forgiven you for whatever it was that angered him. Most folk admired you for working so hard.
‘The gossip this last week has been that you were so grief-stricken over the loss of Jos and then Meg that you neglected yourself. And that made you ill. They say your father should have relented and let you come home. Especially as . . .’
Kate was alarmed by the way her mother’s voice wavered. She turned to face her. ‘Especially as what, Ma?’ She paused as alarm took over. ‘You’re not ill, are you?’
‘No, pet, I’m not ill. Divven’t fret about me. It’s your great-grandmother. I think old Sarah is failing. She barely touches the broth I make for her and hardly ever opens her eyes these days, but that doesn’t stop her muttering and moaning. I think it’s her dreams.’
‘What does she dream about, do you think?’ Kate had often wondered.
‘Who can tell? But sometimes she smiles and laughs just like a child – or a young girl. And she mutters a few words. Kate, it’s uncanny. If you didn’t know who it was who’s talking, you would think there was a young woman in the room – greeting her man back from the fishing, or chiding her bairns. And then sometimes she cries – fair breaks her heart – just sobs and sobs until her voice is dry and cracked. If I try to comfort her, she’ll open her eyes wide and say, “Where’s my Kate? Where’s me bonny lass?”
‘Oh, Ma, I wish I could come and see her.’
‘Your father’s forbidden you to set foot in the house again.’
‘Would he have to know?’
‘Kate, hinny, nothing that happens in the village goes unnoticed. Someone would tell him.’
‘And then you would suffer for it.’
‘Aye.’
‘But it’s so cruel!’
‘I daresn’t cross your father, pet. Besides, it wouldn’t be right. He’s my husband.’
‘And you promised to love, honour and obey him!’ Kate felt her anger rising. ‘What about the part that says you must love and cherish each other? Has our da ever taken note of that?’
‘Kate . . . don’t . . .’
To Kate’s dismay she saw that her mother’s eyes had filled with tears. She rushed over and sank down on to the floor at Nan’s feet.
‘I’m sorry, Ma,’ she said. She was almost crying herself. ‘You’ve done nothing to blame yourself for. I was the cause of all this and it’s my own fault that I can’t come home and see my great-grandmother.’
Nan took her daughter’s face in her hands. She leaned forward and kissed her brow. Then she said, ‘Perhaps if old Sarah gets worse – perhaps if it looks like the end – then maybe your father will relent and let you say goodbye to her.’
‘If I’m still here.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well it won’t be long before I’ll have to take myself off to the workhouse, will it?’
‘Don’t say that!’
‘Why not? I can’t stay in the village once the bairn shows, can I? If that piece of gossip got round my father would likely go berserk!’
Her mother was silent. Kate knew there was nothing she could say.
‘I don’t suppose there’s been a letter from my Aunt Winifred, has there?’
Her mother sighed. ‘No. I’ve been round to the cottage every day. I can’t understand why she hasn’t answered our letter.’
‘Perhaps she doesn’t know how to. I mean, perhaps she just doesn’t want me.’
Her mother shook her head. ‘No, that wouldn’t be like Winifred. There must be a reason. She would answer if she could.’
The two of them stared at each other as they realized for the first time the implications of what Nan had just said. Kate shivered and reached for the warm shawl that her mother had brought along with her other clothes.
‘I’m ready. I suppose we’d better get back to the cottage,’ she said. ‘I’m supposed to ring for Joan to see us out. She has to tell Mrs Adamson when we’re gone. Then no doubt they’ll fumigate the room.’
‘Fumigate? Why?’
‘Joan Donkin has made more than one reference to the smell of fish!’ Kate reached for the bell pull near the fireplace.
‘Wait, pet.’ Her mother stopped her. ‘There’s something I have to tell you.’ Nan’s troubled expression filled Kate with alarm.
‘What is it?’
‘You can’t go back to Belle Vue Cottage. Alice has moved her daughter and her family in.’
‘Into the cottage? Of course . . .’ Kate realized that her illness and the high fever had made her forget what it was that had upset her so that evening and made her go to the beach and take refuge in the cave. ‘She told me Susan was coming home . . . that night I fell asleep in the cave.’
‘So that’s why you were so upset. Kate, Kate, it breaks my heart that you had no one to go to.’
Except Jos. The words formed themselves in Kate’s mind. Had she gone to the cave intending to join Jos? That’s what would have happened if Richard Adamson and his dog had not been on the beach that night.
‘Well, Alice felt bad about it, I can tell you, but Susan and her man had nowhere to go and you have to look after your own family, haven’t you?’
‘That’s the way some people feel.’ Kate regretted the words the moment she’d said them. She saw the look in her mother’s eyes and it almost broke her heart. Her mother didn’t deserve to be spoken to like that. ‘I’m sorry, Ma,’ she said.
‘No, you’ve a right to be angry – bitter.’
‘Yes, I have. But not with you. Never with you. But now can you tell me where on earth I’m supposed to go?’
By the time he returned home from work she would be gone. That was how it should be but, nevertheless, Richard suppressed a groan. He turned the pages of the ledger that Len Dawson had placed in front of him and nodded as if approving. But in truth he was finding it hard to concentrate. The copperplate writing blurred as he remembered the night he had crept upstairs in his own house like a thief and opened the door of Kate’s room.
He ought not to have done so. Kate was a guest in his house, a guest deserving of respect, but he had not been able to stay away. That night the moonlight had streamed across her sleeping form, her perfect face and her glorious hair spread out across the pillow.
Such pale beauty, he thought, and immediately remembered the moment when he had taken her in his arms and kissed her. He should not have done it. She had been vulnerable and he was supposed to be a gentleman, wasn’t he? And yet, that night, when he had rescued her from the cave, relief had given way to an emotion as deep as the ocean itself. He had been unable to resist her.
Richard had closed the door quietly and returned to his room in turmoil. Perhaps that was the moment he had realized that Kate was as important to him, if not more so, as these neat rows of figures and the business he had worked so hard to make successful.
Chapter Sixteen
‘This is your bedroom, Kate. Do you like it?’ Alice Willis looked at Kate anxiously. The shopkeeper’s greying hair was escaping from her usual neat bun and she looked tired. Kate’s mother had followed them upstairs and stood beside, Alice smiling encouragingly.
‘A room of your own, eh, Kate?’ Nan said. Kate looked at the concerned faces of the two kindly women and managed a smile.
‘It’s at the back of the house,’ the shopkeeper said, ‘so it’s quiet – although I admit there’s not much of a view, only the back lane and the yards.’
Kate looked round the room, which was furnished with solid old furniture. The curtain rails were set so that the curtains almost covered the narrow window even when they were open. Perhaps this was deliberate in order to obscure the view of the roofs of the coal houses and the privies. On the surface everything was clean and tidy, but the lavender bag hanging from the brass bedrail did little to dispel the faint smell of ancient damp.
Alice had seen the direction of her glance. ‘That’s me best feather bed, mind. You’ll be real comfortable.’
‘I’m sure I will.’
‘And there’s extra blankets in that chest if you get cold. And you can light the fire,’ Alice said. ‘Look, I’ve set it ready. And there’s plenty coal in the coalhouse; it’s there for the taking.’
Kate glanced at the fireplace where paper twists, sticks and coal were waiting to be lit. A full coal scuttle stood at the side. ‘I’m sure I’ll be very comfortable, really I will. And it’s good of you to take me in.’
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