Eden Falls (48 page)

‘Get out.’

‘I will. I shall leave Port Antonio on t’next available sailing.’

‘Excellent.’

‘And I shall take Seth with me.’

He threw back his head and laughed at this, then said in a mocking falsetto, ‘Please, no, anything but that!’ Eve was filled, suddenly, with a new sort of anger, because she could weather any amount of vitriol thrown at her, but she couldn’t bear to have her son held in contempt too. She stormed from the room before he saw her cry, and he threw the door closed after her with such force that the bang it made resounded through the ground floor of the hotel and made the guests in the bar look at each other and wonder what they’d heard.

Seth and Hugh were still on the terrace when Silas emerged, and when he saw them he seemed delighted.

‘Join us?’ said Hugh.

‘I came out for a smoke. But your company will be a bonus.’

He sat down, next to Seth and opposite Hugh, and he offered them both a cigarette, which both declined. He lit his own, and the tip of it glowed like one of the fireflies.

‘What was the bang?’ Hugh asked.

‘My office door,’ said Silas. ‘Through draught, I suppose. Made me jump out of my skin.’

Seth, wary of this calm and pleasant Uncle Silas, but encouraged nonetheless, said, ‘Sometimes, if the kitchen door’s open, you get a hot gust of air come right through the building, almost solid.’

‘You do,’ Silas said, and he nodded, as if pleased with this observation. Seth relaxed further still. Hugh laced his hands behind his head and gave a contented sigh. ‘I must say, this place is transformed.’ He looked at Silas. ‘Isn’t it? Eve’s done a marvellous job. What a stroke of genius.’

Silas took a deep pull on his cigarette and blew the smoke out in a series of perfect rings before he answered. ‘Genius. Not least because the expense has been minimal. We can serve our guests the scrag ends and plantain that the locals revere and they go home feeling spoiled. Hilarious.’

Hugh regarded him levelly. ‘There’s more to it than that.’

‘Just being facetious,’ Silas said. ‘Evie has spun a miracle. I shall be for ever in her debt.’

Seth glanced across at his uncle, looking for clues, but his face was unclouded; he caught his nephew’s eye and smiled. ‘Do you want to go back with her when she sails?’

‘Do you want me to?’

‘Up to you, my boy. Take a bit of leave if you like. Or stay here with Hugh, showing him how to go on.’

This sounded nice, thought Seth: a few weeks in the steady, benign company of Hugh Oliver.

‘Think about it,’ Silas said. ‘You’ve worked hard, you deserve a break. On the other hand, you’re always needed by the business. Entirely your choice.’ He took another long draw of the cigarette, then pinched out its glowing end between finger and thumb and flicked it up into the night sky. They knew it had landed when the crickets fell silent, and, like a conductor, Silas raised his arm and brought it down at the precise moment the chirruping struck up again. The three of them laughed at his perfect timing. ‘God,’ said Silas, ‘it’s a wonderful life, isn’t it?’

Ruby found Eve in the bedroom, moving quietly so as not to wake Angus. She had piles of clothes stacked on surfaces, and the doors of the wardrobe hung wide, revealing a stripped interior. Ruby was shocked.

‘Are you going now?’ she whispered. ‘What’s the hurry?’ When she looked properly at Eve she could see her eyes were swollen from crying, and this shocked her further still. She said, ‘Eve, stop,’ because the other woman was going about her task with a desperate, unsettling intensity. Ruby placed a restraining hand on Eve’s arm and Eve dissolved into heaving sobs, regardless now of her sleeping son, although he barely stirred. Ruby held her but said nothing, only waited for Eve to collect herself.

Later they sat in sombre silence, side by side on Eve’s bed. Nothing Eve had told her had surprised Ruby, but still she felt a great wave of compassion for her suffering. Eve’s hand lay on hers and Ruby studied it, then enclosed it with her other hand.

‘The preacher at my chapel tells us all shall be well and all shall be well and all manner of things shall be well,’ Ruby said.

Eve shook her head. ‘Not this time.’

‘It shall, Eve. Time passes, wounds heal, life goes on. So there’s a rift between you and your brother. Time and experience may change him, or it may not: all of it just adds to the sum of human existence.’

Eve almost smiled. ‘You’re full of philosophy all of a sudden,’ she said.

‘Jamaicans are very philosophical. We’ve had to be. One island, countless injustices, but we can still find joy in jerk chicken and rum and a tuneless banjo.’

Now Eve did smile, but half-heartedly. She was doused in homesickness, sodden with it. She yearned for Daniel’s kisses, Eliza’s smile, Ellen’s stiff-armed embrace. She wanted to bake a Victoria sponge in her own kitchen. She wanted to spend an afternoon with Anna, spilling her soul. Even if she boarded a steamship right now, she was still three weeks away from any of these things. And yet here was Ruby Donaldson, whose heart had been trodden into the dirt by Eve’s own brother, offering comfort and sympathy with such gentle humour and generosity that Eve felt humbled.

‘What will you do?’ she asked now. Ruby looked at her askance.

‘Do?’

‘When I’m gone.’

‘Nothing’s changed for me, Eve – except that Roscoe and I have made two new friends.’

‘But will you stay ’ere, working for Silas?’

‘I prefer to think of it as working for Roscoe. His future is still full of promise. That’s why I work here – to help him fulfil his potential. One day he’ll leave Jamaica and spread his wings properly.’

‘You’re only twenty-two yourself, Ruby. That’s nowt. Nothing.’

Ruby shrugged. ‘Well, even so, I’m not exactly spoiled for choice, am I?’ She didn’t look sad, exactly: resigned and very serious, but not sad. They exchanged weary smiles, but then Eve’s face brightened and she said, ‘Come with us.’

‘Where?’

‘To England. We’re family, aren’t we? Come back with me. I’ve a big house, room for you and Roscoe, and there are good schools and a college in Sheffield, and open spaces, and my girls’d—’

Ruby held up a hand to stop her. ‘No. Thank you, but no.’ She sounded very decided.

‘Why?’ Eve asked, and when Ruby considered her answer she found she had nothing to say.

A
nna and Maya left Ravenscliffe the day after the telegram arrived to say that Eve was well on the road to recovery. It was a Thursday in late July, and they stayed to share dinner, then packed their small cases and took their leave. Daniel gave Anna such a hug that she was lifted off the floor, her feet dangling uselessly while he squeezed her.

‘Thank you, and I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’ve been like a bear with a sore ear.’

A bear with a sore ear would have been infinitely better company, she thought, although she smiled and said, ‘You’re very welcome.’ She had decided to forgive his lapse into gloomy introspection because, really, there was no alternative.

The telegram had said:
TO ALL STOP MAM MUCH BETTER STOP MUSTN’T WORRY STOP HOME AUGUST STOP PROBABLY ANYWAY STOP SETH.
It had made them laugh, partly out of sheer relief and partly at Seth’s expense.

‘“Probably anyway”,’ said Eliza. ‘That sounds just like ’im.’

‘That’s why it’s sweet,’ said Anna. ‘He can’t help but be himself.’

‘Probably anyway sounds good enough to me,’ Daniel said. ‘As long as she gets here.’

He’d been deadheading sweet peas in the garden, and singing, when Anna and Maya left. Maya, thinking of her English lessons with Miss Cargill, had said, ‘It’s as if the sun has come out from behind a lowering cloud,’ and then she’d been cross when her mother laughed. Anna’s fervent apologies were still being snubbed when Lady Henrietta Hoyland rode up to them on a towering black horse, and Maya’s annoyance was eclipsed by round-eyed awe. She gazed up at Henrietta, who smiled down at her from what seemed a very great height.

‘Looks like I’m lucky to have caught you,’ Henrietta said, and for an awful moment Maya thought she might be required to speak, but her mother said, ‘You are, we’re heading off home. Did you ride over to see me?’

Henrietta dismounted in a fluid, athletic bound. She wore a chic top hat, a long velvet-collared riding jacket and a pair of chocolate-brown trousers, which looked very comfortable, Maya thought, although she’d never seen a lady in anything other than skirts. She hadn’t noticed she was staring, but realised she must have been because the lady laughed and said, ‘Hello, I’m Lady Henrietta Hoyland, a friend of your mama’s, and I’m afraid I borrowed a pair of my brother’s breeches because they’re so much more practical for riding – promise you won’t tell?’

Maya, quite speechless, looked at Anna, who helped her out. ‘You can trust us,’ she said. ‘We won’t utter a word.’

‘Good, good. Now look,’ she said to Anna, ‘I’ve had the most exciting brainwave. I wondered if you might come to Cowes, as my guest. It’s the first week of August, and we have an enormous yacht with empty cabins because it’s only me, Tobias and Thea. What do you think? The regatta will be such fun, and something quite different, don’t you think? A proper thank you from me to you. Do say you’ll come.’ She directed a radiant beam at Anna, pleased with her own bright idea, and then said to Maya, ‘You too, if your mama will allow it.’

Maya stared and then, because she didn’t want to seem rude, she said, ‘Thank you. I do like cows,’ and for a short, puzzling time Lady Henrietta asked her when she’d last been and had she sailed while she was there, until Anna realised the mistake and untangled the crossed wires. She wasn’t able to give an answer to the invitation, though. She knew she must say no but couldn’t, quite. Her first thought had been of the thrillingly different world conjured by the word ‘regatta’. Her second thought, of course, was of Amos.

‘Well, look,’ Henrietta said, ‘have a think, and let me know. I shall take our train to London and travel on by motor to Portsmouth, and we’ll sail to Cowes from there. I’d love to have you two for company, and if the little one has a nanny you might send her on ahead with our household staff – not all of them, of course, just a handful.’

Privately Anna winced at what her husband would have to say at Miss Cargill being dispatched with the Hoylands’ servants. She wondered, too, what Miss Cargill would have to say. Maya said, ‘I have a governess, and I don’t need a nanny because we have Norah.’

‘Splendid, bring the governess: she can teach you all about Cowes with an e and a capital C.’ She threw herself back up into the saddle, and the black horse nickered and took a few delicate, prancing steps backwards.

‘Steady, Marley,’ she said, and immediately, he steadied. Henrietta said, ‘Send me a note, or call in at the hall if you’d like to come. And
do
come,’ she added, then she raised her crop in salute and spoke crisply to Marley, who set off at enough of a gallop that for a while Maya could feel the vibration of his hooves on the hard turf all the way up her legs.

‘May we go?’ the child said. ‘I think Miss Cargill would believe it worthwhile.’

Anna looked down at her, marvelling at the child’s sober precocity; she was becoming more like her governess, and less like either of her parents, every day. ‘We’ll have to see,’ she said: an unsatisfactory grown-up answer, thought Maya, that usually meant no.

Because it was Thursday, Amos was at the nets, so Anna and Maya went there and watched him for a while, unobserved. He was lost in his purpose; even as he walked towards them to take another run-up he looked only at the ball in his hand. His lips moved, as if he were talking to it. When he bowled Maya flinched. ‘He seems quite mean,’ she said to her mother. The batsman had to spring out of the way to avoid being hit, and he shouted, ‘Fuck’s sake, Sykes!’ at which point Anna thought it best to herald their arrival, so she applauded and Maya joined in. Seeing them. Amos tossed another ball in a lazy curve at the nearest cricketer and jogged across the pitch. He smiled at Anna a little uncertainly, then to cover his awkwardness he grinned widely at Maya.

‘Now then, sunbeam,’ he said, and he lifted her boater to kiss the top of her head, which was warm and smelled of straw.

‘You look very cross when you throw the ball,’ she said.

He pulled a snarling face at her. ‘All part of t’game. If t’batsman’s worried, I’m ’alfway there.’

‘Halfway where?’

‘’alfway to bowling ’im out.’ He tapped the side of his head. ‘Psychology,’ he said, ‘is a very important part of a cricketer’s arsenal. You ask Miss Cargill when she’s back. I expect she’ll ’ave an opinion.’

‘She says it’s important to be fair, and never to cheat,’ Maya said. ‘Even at Happy Families.’

‘I should say so,’ said Anna.

‘All’s fair in love, war and cricket,’ Amos said. ‘Famous saying, that.’ He nodded at their bags, which were set to one side. ‘I like t’look of them. Them say to me that you’re coming ’ome.’

‘We are,’ Maya said. ‘Daniel got a telegram and Eve’s nearly better.’

Amos looked at Anna for confirmation and she nodded. ‘That’s grand,’ he said. ‘’ow about we celebrate with a shandy?’

‘At the Hare and Hounds?’ Maya said. ‘In the beer garden?’

‘You read my mind!’ said Amos. ‘Ten more minutes work ’ere, and I’ll be with you.’ He glanced at Anna and said, ‘Is that all right, love?’ He looked anxious, so in reply she stepped forwards and kissed him, and behind them the cricketers gave a ripple of applause and somebody whistled. ‘Off you go,’ she said.‘Play nicely.’

The lemonade at the Hare and Hounds came in marble-stoppered Codd bottles, which was the main appeal of the drink as far as Maya was concerned. At home in Ardington she had twenty-three glass marbles in a velvet drawstring bag, and now she would have twenty-four. This one was cobalt coloured and looked, to her connoisseur’s eye, to be one of the polished ones: a prize indeed. In a separate glass Amos had mixed a splash of his bitter with lemonade from the bottle. Maya sipped it and listened to the adults talk, about politics mostly. It was dull but very pleasant too, to be sitting with them in the garden at the back of the pub. Amos had bought a paper bag of pork scratchings, and the saltiness stayed on Maya’s lips even after a drink. She could see the winding gear and headstocks of New Mill Colliery from where they were sitting, and Maya wished the wheel would turn to bring the men up from under ground. It wasn’t the right time of day, Amos had said. He’d told her, too, that the pit ponies were coming up in a few weeks for some sunshine and fresh air, and he’d promised to take her to see them when they did. There was nothing like it, he’d told her: the ponies would be mad with joy.
Mad with joy
. The phrase had stayed with her. Maya thought about it again now, and shivered slightly at the idea of being so full of happiness that you lost your mind. That, she considered, would be being
too
happy. And she was worried, already, at how the ponies felt when the time came to go back to work in the dark tunnels of the pit.