‘Innovator,’ put in Eve quietly.
‘Aye, that’s it, an innovator an’ all. That means he’s all for new methods and ideas. Not like some, Dr Hogarth said. His friend is a great one for keeping everything clean. Sprays carbolic acid all over the place and he uses some drug or other, what’s it called, Eve? I’m no good on names of things.’
‘Pyocyanase. It’s an antibiosis, I think that’s right. It fights infection.’
‘Aye, well, his friend uses this on all his patients. He’s written in medical journals and everything. Apparently down south, in London and them places, there’s lots of work going on but Dr Hogarth said his friend is one of the first up here to set up the way he has. We . . . we were lucky.’
From the corner of his eye Caleb saw Eve reach across and squeeze her sister’s hand. ‘He’ll be fine. Stop whittling.’
‘I can’t help it, I shall feel better when I see him.’
Nell continued to talk non-stop all the way to Gateshead. It was with a great sense of relief that Caleb saw the tall spires of the great residence where Dr Hogarth had driven them the night before, near the outskirts of the town. The road followed a high stone wall for some three hundred yards before reaching two massive wrought-iron gates which were open. Caleb drove the horse and cart on to a long drive bordered by well-tended grounds and after a minute or two the house appeared in front of them.
He pulled up at the bottom of a series of wide circular steps which led to the studded front door. He got down from the cart and helped Eve and then Nell to descend. ‘You go and see him, I’ll wait with the horse. She gets skittish anywhere new.’This wasn’t true but he was feeling distinctly uncomfortable. It had been different the night before, he had been with Dr Hogarth and it had been dark. Even then he had been overawed. Now, in the bright light of day, he could see just how grand a place this was. There were two motor cars parked to one side of the drive and his horse and cart couldn’t begin to compete. It wasn’t even as if he was driving a carriage and pair.
He climbed back into his seat and sat staring stolidly ahead. He hadn’t missed the air of assurance with which Eve had led her sister into the building. She’d be used to grand houses and hobnobbing with the gentry. She’d know all the right knives and forks and which glass to use. A few weeks back he had gone into a top hotel in Gateshead after visiting the solicitor who was dealing with the sale of the inn. He’d wanted to celebrate that he’d finally got a sale. He had sat there in the fancy dining room and looked at the row of cutlery in front of him and the four different glasses - four, mind - and wanted the ground to open up and swallow him. And the waiter had been a snotty so-an’-so. He’d been polite enough but his tone had suggested Caleb had strayed into the wrong place. Just to show him, he had had the full dinner, a bottle of wine and two brandies after. He hadn’t felt so bad when he’d left, even if he did walk over to the only horse and cart tied up in the courtyard. He grinned to himself. Having done it once he had told himself it wouldn’t be so bad the next time. Not that there would be a next time.
His stomach was in knots by the time Eve came through the front door twenty minutes later. He jumped down from the cart and helped her up into the seat, his nose drinking in the scented smell of her which was faintly mixed with carbolic now.‘How is he this afternoon? Feeling a bit better?’
She looked at him. ‘He - he didn’t seem like Toby. He was in bed and so tired. They said it was the effect of the anaesthetic. Do you think it was?’
‘I’m sure it was.’ Even to himself his voice sounded over-hearty. More quietly, he said, ‘He’ll be all right, Eve. Don’t worry about them, you’ve done all you can. I don’t know where they’d have been without you.’
‘Caleb—’
‘I’m sorry about this morning.’ He said it quickly, before he lost his nerve. ‘I spoke out of turn, lass, and I should have known better. Me and my big mouth.And it wasn’t even true, that’s the thing.You’re not like that, not a bit of it.’
She said nothing. When he glanced at her he saw her eyes were shut but two great tears were sliding down her cheeks.
‘Oh, Eve.’ Remorse flooded through him. ‘Eve, don’t cry, lass. I’m sorry, I am. I’ve got a mouth the size of Glebe pit.’
She made a little ineffectual movement with her hand.
‘Please, lass, don’t cry. I’m a brute, I know it, but I lash out when’ - he had been about to say when I’m hurting but changed it to - ‘when I’m tired. That’s no excuse, of course, but I’m far from perfect as you well know.’ He passed her his handkerchief, thanking his lucky stars he had put a freshly laundered one in his pocket earlier.
She mopped her eyes, sniffed, then said, ‘I’m tired too and I always get weepy when I’m tired.’
‘It’s nice of you to let me off the hook, I don’t deserve it.’
‘No, you don’t.’ She looked at him and gave a small smile.
It made him feel like a worm. He cleared his throat. ‘You’re the last person I want to upset.’
She lowered her eyes and passed the handkerchief back to him. He stared at her for a moment and then said quietly, ‘What’s happening with Nell? I presume she’s staying with Toby for a while.’
‘Oh, yes, yes, I was supposed to tell you. They’ve said she can stay as long as she wants. They’re so nice.’
Aye, that was as maybe but no doubt Eve would be paying for their ‘niceness’. He did not voice this, however, but said, ‘That’s good. Did she say what time she wants me back?’
‘Not really. Any time. Toby’s mam is at Nell’s looking after Betsy and when Lucy and the lads get home from school she’ll give them their tea and stay on till Nell’s back.’ Eve hesitated. ‘You don’t have to take me home, Caleb. If you take me into town I’ll get a taxi cab. I don’t mind.’
‘Don’t be daft.’ He clicked at the horse and she obediently ambled in a semi-circle and off down the drive. It wasn’t until they were back on the road that he glanced at her again. ‘You know what day this is, don’t you?’
Her brow wrinkled. ‘It’s Wednesday.’
‘Aye. What else?’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t follow you.’
‘This very day seventeen years ago I went to the hirings at the Michaelmas Fair.’ Her astonishment caused him to smile.
Then the smile was wiped away when she said in a low voice, ‘You must have regretted that day many times.’
‘Regretted it? Of course I haven’t regretted it.’ And then, when she said nothing but kept her eyes on her hands which were knotted tightly on her lap, he said, ‘What made you say that, Eve?’ She shook her head in a dismissive way. ‘Eve, I need to know. Why would you think that?’
‘I don’t want to rake up old wounds.’
‘You won’t.’
‘It’s just that I know how much Mary must have hurt you.You were so kind to her, right to the end.’
After a short silence during which only the sound of the horse’s hooves on the dusty road and the twitter of birds in the trees lining the avenue could be heard, he said quietly, ‘She did hurt me, yes. But not to the end. I had realised long before she came back that last time that what I’d felt for her was the idealistic puppy love of youth. It bore no resemblance to the real thing. Mary herself told me I had never seen her for what she was and this was true. I was dazzled by her beauty and zest for life, I suppose. But I’m glad she came to me at the end.We became friends. It’s what we should have been all along. If I had seen this from the start I might have been able to protect her from herself.’
‘I don’t think so. I don’t think anything any of us could have done would have prevented what happened. I blamed myself right up until Oliver and Howard died, I suppose, and then a little while after they had gone I realised I was doing the same thing again. If I had gone with them that day, if I had jumped into the water after Oliver, if, if. But life can’t be lived looking backwards.’
‘That’s very wise.’
‘No, not really. It boils down to the old saying that hindsight is a wonderful thing. But all we can do is make judgements and decisions in the present and then live by them.’
‘That’s harder than it sounds.’
‘Yes, it is. Especially when those same judgements and decisions hurt those we love.’
His voice tender, he said, ‘I’m sorry you’ve been hurt so much, Eve. If I could bring your son back, I would.’
‘Don’t.’
Her voice was choked and it caused the muscles of his face to tighten. In that moment he knew if he could give his own life for the child’s, he would have done so. The force of his emotion clamped his teeth together and neither of them spoke again for some miles. Then he saw her start when he said, ‘It’s Michaelmas Day, the fair will be at Saltwell Park. Do you fancy going for old times’ sake? We can stay as long or as short as you like.’
She stared at him, her green eyes wide under her bonnet. ‘But-but it will delay you and there’s going to be a storm.’
‘Damn the storm. Do you want to go? I’ll take you home afterwards.’ He found he was waiting for her answer with bated breath. When it came, the whispered ‘Yes’ caused him to let out a shuddering sigh. ‘Good, that’s what we’ll do then.’ He grinned at her and she smiled faintly back.
Chapter 28
The fair was in full swing when they reached the park as an early sombre twilight took hold. Caleb tied up the horse and cart in the same fishmonger’s yard he had used all those years ago, but now the fishmonger’s lad was a grown man with a wife and a bairn.
The raucous noise of steam organs and hurdygurdies was borne on the muggy air as they approached, walking side by side but without touching. They passed the brightly painted wagons of the Romany showmen first, a couple of dogs barking but without any real energy. Even they seemed sapped by the thick stillness that precedes a storm. And then they reached the shooting galleries and coconut shies and side shows: a bearded lady, performing dwarfs, the ‘snake’ woman with live pythons, sword swallowers, gypsy fortune tellers and a huge man built like a brick outhouse who was challenging all-comers to a boxing match.
They stood watching some screaming children on the swing boats for a moment or two, and then walked past the helter-skelter and colourful merry-go-round to the stall selling roasted chestnuts. Caleb bought Eve a bag and a couple of toasted muffins dripping with butter for himself. He couldn’t have described how he was feeling. Elated, nervous, brave, joyful, panicky, his emotions were changing by the second and leaving him tongue-tied. He didn’t really want the muffins but needed to give his hands something to do to stop himself taking hold of her.That’s what he really wanted to do, to capture her in his arms and kiss her until she was breathless. But likely that would signal the end of this tentative closeness that had sprung up.
He wiped his hands on his handkerchief when he had finished the muffins and they continued to stroll, his hand now and again dipping into the bag of chestnuts she was holding.They passed a blind match-seller and he dropped a few pennies into his tray.
He could hardly believe he was here with her like this. He caught her looking at him and forced himself to smile and say jocularly, ‘Who would have thought all those years ago we’d be walking round the fair again like this? And you with enough behind you now to buy and sell anyone here a hundred times over.’
She didn’t smile back. Neither did she drop her eyes when she said, ‘I’m still the same frightened girl I was then, deep inside, Caleb.’
He stopped walking. ‘You, frightened?’
‘Don’t you think I’m capable of feeling frightened like any other woman?’
He had offended her in some way, he could see it in her face but for the life of him he couldn’t think how.
She had started walking again and he took two long strides to reach her side. It was then she said in a low voice, ‘Contrary to what you may think, I am capable of feeling fear and longing and joy and-and love like-like the beauties of this world. More so, in fact, because when you look like I do—’
‘What do you mean, look like you do?’ He caught hold of her arm now, swinging her round to face him and not gently. His voice had been rough, too, almost angry.
Taken aback, the colour flooded her face. Why had she said anything? Why? Stammering a little, she said, ‘I . . . I was trying to explain that my emotions don’t match my looks, that’s all. People . . . well, they expect plain women to be cold and,’ she swallowed hard before bringing out, ‘passionless.’
Two bare-footed little ragamuffins ran by, shouting excitedly and almost knocking the bag of chestnuts out of her hand. Eve seized the momentary diversion to begin walking once more but was again brought to a standstill by his hand on her arm. ‘Is that how you see yourself ? As plain?’
She stared into the deep brown eyes. She couldn’t bring herself to speak but inclined her head.This was the ultimate humiliation and she had brought it on herself by agreeing to come to the fair with him. She would have to watch him trying to be kind now while she read the pity in his face. She had loved this man for as long as she could remember because the time before she’d met him had shrunk to the blink of an eye, such was her feeling for him, but the one emotion she couldn’t bear from him was pity.
The faraway rolling of thunder was becoming louder and the sky was charcoal dark except when it was split by distant lightning. Eve was conscious of this on the perimeter of her mind but her senses were taken up with watching the dawning expression on Caleb’s face. Her emotions heightened to breaking point; the only way she could describe it to herself was as though he had removed a mask and she was seeing him as she had never seen him before. And she knew it wasn’t pity in his voice when he said huskily,‘You’re beautiful, Eve, beautiful. So beautiful. ’ She did not resist him when he caught hold of her hand and drew her closer, the chestnuts falling to the ground unnoticed. ‘I know you could never feel the same way, I do know that, and I understand, well, in part, but to me you’re . . .’