Authors: Benita Brown
Tags: #Technology & Engineering, #Sagas, #Fisheries & Aquaculture, #Fiction
A Safe Harbour (55 page)
‘Is it true, Kate?’ he asked.
She stared at him uncomprehendingly.
‘I was walking up behind you. I heard most of what was said.’
‘True that my brother sank the
Tyne Star
?’
Tyne Star
?’
‘You know I don’t mean that.’
‘Oh, the other. Yes, I am.’
She saw his eyes widen with shock. ‘And is . . . is my cousin the father?’
‘Goodbye, Mr Munro,’ Kate said.
Turning round, Kate walked back past Joan and her friends. She continued along the cliff road, ignoring the curious glances of the returning mourners, until she came to the graveyard on the headland. Only the gravediggers were left as they shovelled soil into Charlie’s grave. She heard the thud as each clod landed on the coffin. A heap of floral wreaths waited to be arranged over the freshly disturbed earth. But that was not where Kate was heading. She had not come to say goodbye to Charlie.
‘I’ve made my mind up,’ she said aloud when she reached Jos’s resting place. ‘I cannot stay here with these mean-minded people. I shall take your child to a new land. A better land, and I will not be alone there. There will be other folk from this village, other folk who will teach your bairn the old ways.’
She had thought she was alone and when she heard a sound behind her she turned with her eyes blazing to find herself facing Mary Linton. Jos’s mother. Kate’s anger faded.
‘Is it true, Kate?’ the older woman asked. This was the second time someone had asked her this question.
‘My, doesn’t news travel fast,’ Kate said.
‘I can see you’re angry. But you owe me an answer.’
‘What kind of answer?’
‘Are you with child?’
‘Yes I am, and before you ask—’
‘I don’t have to ask. Jos is the father, isn’t he?’
Kate’s eyes widened and Mary Linton smiled at her. Her spare features were etched with sorrow.
‘Don’t look so surprised, Kate,’ she said. ‘I know you, and I would never believe what those wicked women are saying. And I know my Jos – or rather I knew him – and I’m ashamed.’
‘Ashamed? You? Why?’
‘Because I’ve neglected you. I believed there was no one who had ever suffered as much as me. I had lost my firstborn and I think I became a little mad. I’ve barely crossed the door since.’
‘I know. I’m sorry.’
‘But I’m the one who should be sorry. You should have been able to come to me when your father threw you out. I should have guessed why he did it, but I was only thinking of myself.’
‘That’s natural.’
‘No, I’ve been an unnatural mother. If Jos is looking down on me from heaven he’ll be very angry that I’ve let it come to this.’
Mary Linton only had her shawl to protect her from the keen wind blowing in from the sea. ‘All the way from the steppes of Russia,’ Jos used to tell Kate. ‘No wonder it’s so cold!’ She could hear his voice in her head. It was the first time it had happened since he’d drowned. She found herself smiling at the memory.
‘What is it?’ his mother asked her. ‘You smiled. Did you hear him too?’
Kate shivered when she saw the look in the other woman’s eyes. ‘Hear him? No,’ she said. ‘I remembered something he said.’
‘Well I heard him plain as plain telling me what I have to do. Kate, you must come to us. And when the bairn is born I’ll raise it as my own. I’m sure that’s what Jos would have wanted.’
‘You want to raise the child?’
‘Yes. You’re a young woman. You must get on with your life. Perhaps you’ll marry. You won’t want a bairn to hold you back.’
‘But I do! I mean I want this child. It’s my child as well as Jos’s. I could never give up a bairn of mine!’
‘Kate – I’m begging you – it would mean so much to me. And I heard what you said just now when you thought you were alone. You mean to go away, don’t you? Far away?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘You can’t take my grandbairn from me like that! You mustn’t! Imagine growing up and never knowing your own folks!’
‘My child will have me and—’ Kate stopped herself just in time.
‘Oh, I know you’ll be a good mother. You would have made Jos a good wife. None better. I always thought he was lucky to have won your heart – a clever, beautiful lass like you. You could have had anyone. You still could – if you give the bairn to me.’ Mary Linton started to cry.
‘Please don’t,’ Kate said. ‘Jos wouldn’t want you to be upset like this. Come on, I’ll walk home with you. We can talk on the way.’
‘What’s the use?’ Mrs Linton said. ‘You won’t give up the bairn, will you?’
‘No. I’ll never give up my bairn.’
That night Kate’s mother called to see her. ‘I’ve heard the gossip,’ she said. ‘It’s wicked. Why didn’t you tell them it’s Jos’s child?’
‘Do you think it would make any difference?’
‘You were going to marry Jos. If he hadn’t drowned no one would ever have known. You’re not the first lass to be caught out and you won’t be the last.’
‘Ma, listen, some of those women hate me.’
‘They’re jealous, that’s why.’
‘Jealous of me?’
‘They always have been, ever since you were a small child. Sometimes I used to wonder where you came from. You were like a fairy child, a changeling, so bright and so bonny and so brave. Naturally those other great lumps were jealous of you.’
‘And now they can pay me back. Ma, it’s time for me to go.’
‘I was afeared you were going to say that. I know it was Meg and me who came up with the idea of writing to Winifred, but that hasn’t stopped me dreading the day you would leave me.’
‘Ma, you must never mention Winifred again – not in any circumstances.’
‘But why?’
‘Because if anyone finds out where she is, or that we’ve been writing to her, they’ll know where to look.’
‘Oh, Kate. How could I forget! But that Susan Armstrong knows there was a letter from Canada to Meg.’
‘I know, and that’s a pity. But Canada’s a big country. You can have no idea how big. And now, my darling ma, I’m going to tell you exactly what I’m going to do so that you won’t be worrying about me. And what I tell you—’
‘I know.’ Her mother smiled. ‘That’s a secret, too.’
Not long after her mother had gone there was a knock at the door. Kate braced herself for Susan’s abrasive presence and called for her to come in. But it wasn’t Susan. Kate should have known that, for Susan wouldn’t have bothered to knock. She would have barged straight in. It was Alice.
Alice, all in black, and looking tired, seemed almost apologetic. ‘Can I come in, pet?’
‘Of course.’
‘Fancy putting the kettle on? I’m parched with all the talking I’ve done today.’ Mrs Willis sat by the fire and watched as Kate made the tea. She took the cup gratefully. ‘Well, then,’ she said. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘Susan’s told you?’
‘Aye, and half the village an’ all. Kate, pet, I’m real sorry.’
‘And I’m sorry, too. But you don’t have to worry. I’m leaving.’
‘You don’t have to, you know. I wouldn’t mind a bairn living here with you.’
Kate felt emotion welling up as she looked at Alice in grateful astonishment. ‘I can’t tell you what it means to me to have you say that,’ she said. ‘But the last thing I want to do is cause trouble between you and your daughter.’
‘Aye, I can’t deny there’d be trouble. But she’d have to learn that she can’t always have her own way.’
‘Thank you, Alice. I’ll always remember this, but it’s all right. I have somewhere to go.’
‘Well, you don’t have to hurry. Take as long as you like to make your arrangements. I’ll fettle Susan.’ Alice had finished her tea and she raised her cup a little and looked at it. She smiled. ‘Do you mind the day I read your tea leaves?’
‘I do.’
‘I got the impression you didn’t believe any of it.’
‘Well . . .’
‘Don’t try to deny it. But don’t worry, I’m not offended.’ She smiled. ‘Well, I was right, wasn’t I?’
‘About what?’
‘About the baby.’
‘Yes, you were.’
‘And remember I also saw a wedding. I thought I’d got them in the wrong order at the time, but I hadn’t, had I?’
‘No.’
‘And I still think I’m right about that wedding.’ Alice heaved herself up. ‘I’m for me bed – and I won’t be sleeping in the chair tonight. I’ve moved into the bedroom at the front of the house, just along from you. Susan’s had the hot-water bottles in it all day.’ She paused as she reached the door. ‘Oh, and Kate, hinny, don’t think I believe for one moment all that nonsense about you carrying on with Mr Adamson or Mr Munro. I know you too well. And anyone who can add up should have realized that the father of your bairn is Jos Linton.’
When she was alone Kate sat and stared into the fire, trying to lose herself for a short while in the game of seeking pictures in the flames. There were none. She was pleased that Alice had not mentioned the other predictions she had made that day when she had read Kate’s tea leaves. The warning for someone whose name began with W and the turmoil connected with another whose name began with R.
How could anyone have foreseen that good, kind William would end up taking the blame for the sinking of the
Tyne Star
? And Richard Adamson had certainly had his business affairs thrown into turmoil. Or had Alice been hinting at another sort of turmoil? The turmoil Kate herself now felt? No, there wouldn’t be a wedding. How could there be when the only man she wanted to marry would never want to see her again. Not only had one of her brothers sunk the pride of his fleet but she was carrying another man’s child.
Tyne Star
? And Richard Adamson had certainly had his business affairs thrown into turmoil. Or had Alice been hinting at another sort of turmoil? The turmoil Kate herself now felt? No, there wouldn’t be a wedding. How could there be when the only man she wanted to marry would never want to see her again. Not only had one of her brothers sunk the pride of his fleet but she was carrying another man’s child.
Wearily Kate rose and went over to sit at her small table. She turned up the oil lamp and opened her writing pad. Before she went to bed tonight she must write to her Aunt Winifred. And then find some way of coping with the unbearable realization that she would never see Richard again.
Chapter Twenty-five
When Richard Adamson got home that evening he found his mother waiting in his study. She was standing looking up at the portrait of her late husband, Richard’s father. It had been painted by a local artist but it was as good as any her sister’s son, Howard, had produced. At least that was her opinion.
‘I thought you would come straight here,’ she said without looking round. ‘You usually do, and I want to talk to you before we have our evening meal.’ Then she went on to say musingly, ‘You look like your father, you know. Although perhaps not quite so handsome.’
‘Thank you,’ Richard said drily.
His mother turned to look at him. ‘Have I offended you? I didn’t mean to. It’s just that nobody would ever be as handsome as your father in my eyes. And now we must see what Howard has done with your likeness; whether it will be fit to grace the wall next to your father. He sent word that he will leave it at the cottage when he goes.’
‘He’s leaving?’
‘Yes. Tomorrow he will begin his journey to Paris. All artists must go there, apparently.’
‘But why so suddenly?’
‘He didn’t say. In fact he didn’t have the good manners to come and tell me personally. He sent a letter along with that strange child, Betsy. But at least he had the grace to thank me for helping to make his stay in Cullercoats comfortable.’
‘Is that what you want to talk to me about?’ Richard asked.
‘Partly. You see, the reason for his hasty departure also concerns you.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘You really have no inkling?’
‘None at all.’
She sighed. ‘Then I think I’ll sit down before I start,’ she said. ‘And I request that you will do so, also. I have no wish to end up with a crick in my neck.’
Richard settled his mother in the most comfortable chair and then sat down facing her. His father’s portrait was on the wall behind her, and suddenly he felt like a schoolboy again, facing his parents with his latest school report.
‘I think you know, Richard, that one of my weaknesses is to listen to the gossip of servants?’ Richard smiled. ‘It livens my day. I was lonely after your father died.’
‘I’m sorry. I know I’ve neglected you.’
‘No, I’m not complaining, you’ve been a good son. And since Caroline Travers started coming to the house my existence has been much more lively.’ Richard stirred in his seat uncomfortably and his mother looked at him keenly before continuing. ‘But old habits die hard. And, in this case, Joan thought I ought to know what was being said. She thought it her duty to tell me – although she gave every appearance of enjoying that duty immensely.’
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