Authors: Benita Brown
Tags: #Technology & Engineering, #Sagas, #Fisheries & Aquaculture, #Fiction
A Safe Harbour (56 page)
‘Mother, what is this leading to? Is it something to do with the sinking of the
Tyne Star
?’
Tyne Star
?’
‘No, although the whole sorry mess is connected – connected to the Lawson family, that is.’
‘And how is Howard involved?’
‘He painted the girl’s portrait.’
‘Kate’s portrait. Yes.’
‘And he says he’ll leave it at the cottage with your own. He thinks you’ll want it.’
That surprised Richard. He knew how much Howard valued the portrait and he had imagined that he would want to show it in exhibitions. But he was glad he was leaving it for him – although one look at his mother’s face warned him that, for some as yet unexplained reason, he had better not say so.
‘Do you know yet what I’m talking about?’ his mother asked.
‘Apart from the facts, I have no idea.’
‘Then, first, I will tell you that Mrs Travers has withdrawn her invitation for us to spend Christmas with them. She and Caroline will go to their friends in London. Then, when the winter is over, Caroline may travel a little. They think it best in the circumstances.’
‘Circumstances?’
‘Yes, they’ve heard the gossip, too. Although I’m sad to say from an entirely different source.’ She shook her head. ‘I thought better of Sam Phillips.’
‘What has Sam got to do with this?’
‘He realized straight away that the girl was pregnant. After all, he is a doctor, but he has been perfectly discreet about it until now. I can’t imagine why he has behaved so unprofessionally – unless he is in love with the girl himself.’
Richard Adamson came as near to losing his temper with his mother as he had ever done. All this nonsense was apparently supposed to mean something.
‘Who is pregnant, Mother? Caroline?’
‘Richard!’ His mother was shocked. ‘Of course not! No, it’s the fish lass, the girl you brought to our house. Kate Lawson. And the gossip in the village is that she’s been carrying on with both you and Howard, and that one of you is responsible for her condition.’
A moment later Grace Adamson was staring at an empty chair. Richard had risen and stormed out of the room without a word. She guessed he had gone to see Howard. And he was obviously angry with him. But why, exactly? The anger only made one thing certain: Richard cared for this girl. But she still didn’t know which one of them, her son or her nephew, was the father of the child the lass was carrying. Whatever the answer it seemed she was to become either a grandmother or a great-aunt. Oh, Lord, she thought, as something else occurred to her, how will my sister react to this?
Lights shone from every window of the cottage his cousin had been staying in. The door was ajar and Richard could hear the sound of sobbing. A young woman’s sobbing. Could it be Kate, heartbroken because Howard was leaving? Richard pushed the door open and entered and was met by the evidence of a hasty departure. Old papers and discarded laundry had been left carelessly on the floor but, apart from that, Howard had removed his belongings. It was Betsy, Richard realized now, who was kneeling on the floor nearby and doing the sobbing.
She looked up when she heard him and stopped crying long enough to tell him that Mr Munro had gone.
‘How long ago?’ Richard asked. Betsy frowned and Richard realized the accurate measurement of time might be difficult for her. ‘
About
how long?’ he added.
About
how long?’ he added.
‘It was while they were having the funeral tea in the church hall.’
Richard realized that the ‘tea’ had more likely been held at lunchtime, or as soon as the ceremony was over. ‘How do you know this, Betsy?’ he asked.
‘I came here with some fish heads for the cats. He was packing like a madman. Just grabbing things and throwing them in. He sent me with a note to Mr Brunton.’
‘Brunton?’
‘At the wood yard.’
‘Oh, yes. The horse and cart.’
‘That’s right.’ Betsy looked surprised that Richard had guessed the purpose of the note. ‘He paid Mr Brunton to take his trunk and his boxes – crates he called them – to the station and load them into the guard’s van of the train. I suppose there’d be porters at the Central Station in Newcastle,’ she added. ‘He said he was getting the night train to London. Fancy travelling through the dark like that.’
There was a question Richard had to ask. ‘Did Mr Munro go alone?’
Betsy started to snivel and Richard guessed what that might mean. The child was very fond of Kate. But she was nodding. ‘Yes, he went alone,’ she said. ‘Isn’t he cruel?’
‘Cruel? Because he left . . . I mean because he didn’t take . . .’
‘The cats. That’s right. The poor creatures think they belong to him. Look at them asleep on the hearthrug and in the chair. They have no idea their master has deserted them.’
Richard found himself relaxing a little although he wasn’t sure why. He knew that he wasn’t the father of the child Kate was supposed to be expecting – he still hoped the rumour was ill founded. But if it were true and if Howard was the father then it looked as though he had seduced her and abandoned her. Richard wasn’t sure yet what he wanted to do about that. But now he distracted himself with Betsy’s distress.
‘Mr Munro couldn’t take the cats, Betsy. They would be frightened on the train and even more so on the ferry.’
‘Ferry? Is he going to Norway? Why is he going to London first?’
‘No, not Norway. I think he’s going to France. But wherever he’s going the cats would hate it, believe me.’
‘So what will become of them?’
‘You can go on feeding them.’
‘How? Where?’
‘You’ve been bringing them fish heads and tails, haven’t you?’
‘Yes, they love them.’
‘And what do they drink?’
‘Water or a bit of milk. Mr Munro gave them the milk.’
‘There’s a coal house and a storehouse in the back yard, isn’t there?’
‘Yes, and a netty – I mean a water closet.’
Richard smiled. ‘Well, here’s what we’ll do. I want you to make a comfortable place for them in the storehouse—’
Betsy was ahead of him. ‘Can I take a blanket or two from the bed?’
‘Take the best. But you’ll have to leave the door just a little bit open so that they can get in and out. And I want you to come to the back yard each day, use the door in the lane, and put the fish down for them. Milk and water, too.’
‘Where will I get the milk?’
‘You’ll buy it from Bains’s dairy. Take a jug. I’ll make sure you get the money. In fact I’ll pay you to look after the cats. How does that sound?’
‘I divven’t want much.’
‘I’ll decide what’s proper.’
‘And can I take some dishes to put their food and drink on?’
‘Of course you can. In fact we’ll make their little house now, shall we?’
Her face fell. ‘Tonight?’
‘I’m afraid so. I’ll have to lock up the cottage now that there’s no one living here.’
‘But it’s cold and they like lying by the fire.’
‘I know they do. But don’t worry, Betsy. They were used to living on the street before Mr Munro encouraged them to come in, weren’t they?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Come on. Why don’t we take the eiderdown, too? Let’s make their new home as cosy as possible.’
The cats did not want to be moved. They made disgruntled noises, but they knew Betsy so they didn’t protest too much. While Richard was helping the child to settle them he tried to decide what he was going to do. He had to see Kate but he didn’t know how he was going to face her. He tried to remember exactly what had happened the last time they’d been together. She had given herself up to his kiss, there had been no doubt of that, and yet, almost immediately, she had erected some sort of barrier between them. And he had sensed regret and sadness. As if she would have liked to respond further but there was a reason why she couldn’t.
What if that reason was that Howard had seduced her and she was indeed pregnant? It almost tore Richard apart to think that might be true. But one thing he knew for sure. He had to have some answers before he could put it all behind him and get on with his life. It was too late tonight, but he would seek Kate out in the morning and demand to know the truth.
Betsy was crying again. Richard met her as she was leaving the shop the next morning and tears were streaming down her face.
‘What is it now?’ he asked.
Perhaps sensing the weariness of his tone she shot him a resentful glance. ‘Kate isn’t there,’ she said. ‘She’s gone and they won’t tell me where.’
‘Kate . . . gone?’
‘Will you ask her? She might tell you.’
‘Ask who?’
‘Ellen Donkin. She says she’s working in the shop, now.’
‘Wait here.’
Richard went into the shop, setting the bell jangling, and found that it was indeed Joan Donkin’s sister who stood facing him across the counter. She looked surprised to see him. In fact her mouth dropped open unattractively. But she remembered her manners and said, ‘Yes, sir, Mr Adamson. Can I help you?’
‘I’d like to speak to Miss Lawson, if you don’t mind.’
‘She isn’t here.’
‘Then can you tell me where I can find her?’
‘No, I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
The girl frowned. ‘Because I don’t know. I only know that Susan – Mrs Armstrong – came for me first thing and offered me the job. I took it,’ she added unnecessarily.
‘Is Mrs Armstrong here?’
‘No, sir, she’s at home with her bairns.’
‘Thank you.’
Richard was just about to turn and leave when Alice Willis came through the doorway from the back shop. ‘Wait a moment, Mr Adamson,’ she said. ‘Would you like to step through?’ She lifted the hinged section of the counter. ‘Hold that for us, Ellen,’ she said. And then she beckoned Richard to follow her.
They sat in a room that must once have been the dining room of the house, Richard guessed. But now it was in a state of upheaval. A bed was half dismantled and there was a pile of gentleman’s clothes on an armchair.
‘Charlie’s,’ Alice said when she saw his glance. ‘Mr MacAndrews at the mission will see they go to folk who need them.’
‘May I offer my sympathy?’ Richard said.
‘You may. But that’s not why you’ve come here, is it?’
‘No. I came to speak to Kate – Miss Lawson.’
‘And Ellen told you she’d gone.’
‘That’s right.’
‘And you’d like to know where?’
Richard nodded.
‘Well, I can’t tell you. No, before you say anything – I don’t know where she’s going. And anything Kate did tell me was in confidence. So I’m sorry but I can’t help you. I mean that. I really am sorry, but I promised. And now, if you don’t mind, I want you to do something for me.’
Richard sensed that for all she couldn’t help him she was not entirely antagonistic. ‘I’ll help if I can,’ he said.
‘It’s the girl,’ Alice Willis said. ‘Betsy. She’s heartbroken. I’ve noticed you’ve been kind to her and I’d like you to go on looking out for her even though Kate isn’t here.’
‘Of course. I’ve already asked her to look after the wretched cats that my cousin encouraged to live with him and then abandoned. I’ve told Betsy I’ll pay her.’
‘Good. And I told Kate that I’ll try to find an errand or two for her to run. That is if my daughter doesn’t mind.’ Richard sensed some family tension here but Mrs Willis didn’t explain. ‘And Nan’s going to ask her to help with the old woman. To sit with her when Nan’s on her round.’
‘Nan?’
‘Kate’s mother.’
‘Ah.’
‘Don’t do it, Mr Adamson.’
‘Don’t do what?’
‘Don’t go to the Lawson house to ask after Kate. Nan won’t tell you anything and you’ll just cause trouble. You must know you’re not welcome there.’
After he had gone Alice sat for a while and recalled the turmoil she had seen in Kate’s teacup. Of course the R must have stood for Richard Adamson. And as for the turmoil, he had caused grief and heartache in the village in the name of progress. But she sensed that he was a good man for all that. And he was in love with Kate, that was plain to see. She wondered if he believed the story about Kate and the artist. She hoped not. She would have liked to set his mind at rest but Kate had forbidden her to even mention the subject – to anyone. Her pride would not allow it, she said.
Other books
A Function of Murder by Ada Madison
The Marriage Charm (Bliss County 2) by Linda Lael Miller
El bosque encantado by Enid Blyton
Internal Affairs by Matthews, Alana
Tunnel Vision by Shandana Minhas
The Back of His Head by Patrick Evans
Miss Wrong and Mr Right by Bryndza, Robert
Hired Gun #4 by A.J. Bennett, Julia Crane
The Wooden Chair by Rayne E. Golay
Aventuras de «La mano negra» by Hans Jürgen Press
