Netherwood (57 page)

She had cried again then, and was crying now, at the thought of him.

‘Eve, lass?’

She started. Clem Waterdine, of all people, stood before her on the lane. His old face was creased in consternation.

‘What’s up wi’ thee?’ he said.

She smiled, wiped her eyes. ‘Nowt, Clem, nowt. Summat in my eye.’

A likely tale, he thought, but he lifted his cap and moved on. No welcome home, no pleased to see you. Yorkshire men didn’t stand on ceremony, especially old ones like Clem. Any fondness they felt was implied, not spoken. Eve smiled again as she watched him go; the fact that he’d stopped and said anything at all was Clem’s way of saying he was happy to see her back where she belonged.

She walked on, feeling brighter, and instead of heading for Beaumont Lane she turned towards the mill where she reckoned she’d find everyone she wanted to see. There was a new shop on Mill Street, bow-fronted with a fancy gold fascia declaring the existence of Franklin G. Pickles, Pharmacist. The window displayed three vast glass bottles of jewel-coloured liquid: one red, one yellow and one purple. They looked full of the promise of magical properties, which was presumably their point, thought Eve. She walked on, wondering what else she’d missed
and feeling a little indignant that anything had dared to change in her absence. Mitchell’s Snicket looked the same, though. She felt a leap of the spirits at the sight of her business, the elegant, substantial building facing her at the end of the lane, and she broke into a run as she approached the arched entrance. In the courtyard she found Ellen, pottering about on the edges of the millstone fountain. The child saw her at once, and, abandoning her game, jumped up, ran across the cobbles and, damp from the water, hot from the sun, barrelled into her mother. Eve scooped her up. She smelled of toasted teacakes, and she pressed her little face against Eve’s until it hurt.

Thea, unbeknownst to Lady Hoyland, had left London for Stratford-upon-Avon, where she was to spend two weeks studying Shakespeare before returning to the capital. So when Tobias agreed, quite meekly, to join the family migration back north, his mother thought victory was hers. She was completely wrong, of course. In fact, with Lord Hoyland’s blessing, Thea had been invited to Netherwood in mid-September with Joseph and Caroline Choate; they would stay for a few days before travelling together to Glendonoch for the shooting. Tobias had high hopes that a first-hand viewing of the ancestral home and the Scottish seat might prove irresistible to Thea, if she wasn’t already won over by the attentions of an earl-in-waiting. Teddy, for once in agreement with his oldest son, was biding his time before speaking to his wife. It broke all manner of ancient rules and rituals to invite guests without the prior knowledge of the hostess, but Lord Hoyland felt that, just this once, needs must. Clarissa could be won over, he was sure of it. For what it was worth, the earl felt that Thea Sterling could be the making of his son. If he was entirely honest, he thought she probably deserved better.

Anna was thrilled about Fortnum and Mason; it sounded to her like just the sort of establishment they should be supplying. The pies would travel once a week by train, to be met in London by a Fortnum’s delivery vehicle. Splendid arrangement, and one which brought honour on the business. King Edward’s interest impressed her less, however. She’d heard about his antics and didn’t approve.

‘Scandal follows him around,’ she said. ‘It isn’t kingly.’

Eve laughed. It was hard to believe in any of it, now she was home. She had kept Daniel to herself, for just that reason. She didn’t want to discuss him with Anna as if he was history, as if it was over. Better, she thought, to keep him to herself. She took another sip of tea, and sighed.

‘This is t’first decent brew I’ve ’ad in six weeks,’ Eve said. ‘Proper, dark-brown tea. T’stuff they drink in London’s disgusting.’

‘Why?’

Eve shrugged. ‘Tastes like perfume. And it’s wishy-washy.’

‘Wishy-washy,’ said Anna, filing it away for later use. ‘Perhaps it was Earl Grey. Or Lapsang Souchong?’

‘You what?’

‘My father sold it in our shop in Kiev. There are many different types of tea.’

‘Really?’ said Eve. ‘I thought tea was just tea.’ She looked at her friend admiringly. She was a mine of information.

They were back home in Beaumont Lane, in their favourite spot on the back doorstep. Already, the novelty of her homecoming had faded and the children had drifted away to play. Lilly and Maud had nodded hello, staunchly and deliberately underwhelmed by her reappearance. The house, Eve thought, needed a proper clean, but she would have cut out her tongue sooner
than mention it. The children looked well though. Really well. Rosy and cared for. Seth was a little taller and had started filling out around the shoulders. He was first reserve for the knur-and-spell team, he said. Amos wouldn’t be able to play some Saturdays and Mr Medlicott had asked Seth to take his place.

‘Why won’t Amos be able to play some Saturdays?’ Eve said.

‘Rallies and whatnot,’ said Seth, and Anna clapped her hand over her mouth.

‘Oh my,’ she said. ‘You don’t know about Amos!’

‘Know what?’

Anna and Seth exchanged a glance, but Eve could see from their expressions that there was no black secret. Seth spoke up. Amos was sacked for recruiting miners to the union, he said, then walked right into a job at the YMA. He wore a suit to work now, and had a pen in his top pocket.

‘He gets t’train to Barnsley every day. He lives in lodgin’s on Sheffield Road. It’s a better job, safer like,’ said Seth. ‘But ’e can’t get to t’allotment so much. It’s more mine really, now.’

‘It was always yours, love,’ Eve said. He smiled at her. He looked younger, for all that he had grown. He looked, in fact, happy.

‘When did all this happen?’ she said.

‘Just,’ said Anna. ‘When was it, Seth?’

‘Wednesday,’ he said. ‘He started Wednesday.’

‘That’s right,’ said Anna. ‘And he came here to tell us and stayed for dinner.’

‘Tea,’ said Seth, and they shared a smile.

They’re friends, thought Eve. Anna and Seth are friends.

A week passed effortlessly by, then another, then another. Life fell into its old rhythm. Ginger handed back the reins to Eve,
graciously hiding her disappointment that she was back so soon. Anna stepped back from duties at the mill and returned to domesticity, though she had a nice little sideline as a seamstress these days, and was threatening Eve with a new summer uniform for herself and the mill girls; skirts were getting higher, she said, and less full, and they’d all be less mithered in the heat if their shins were free of fabric.

‘Mithered?’ Eve said.

‘Yes. Hot and bothered,’ Anna said.

‘I know what it means! It’s just, you never said it before.’

‘Oh, codswallop,’ said Anna, just for effect.

She kept the book of poems in a cupboard by her bed. They were lovely, but what she read most was his inscription. She had thought she would write to him, but there was too much to say. And in any case, he didn’t write to her. She thought, it’s all for the best. She had the lily of the valley framed, though, and hung it on her bedroom wall.

In the estate office, in a new daily ritual, Absalom Blandford studied the ledger relating to Eve’s Puddings & Pies with a saboteur’s eye. One of these days he would discover a discrepancy or a deception, even if he had to invent one himself. It would have to be clever and convincing; something small, perhaps, but worrying enough to trouble the earl with, and from that seed of suspicion, who knew what might grow? He could wait years, if he had to, for the ruin of Eve Williams. The longer it took, the more satisfying it would be. He whistled as his finger traversed the pages. He had never felt more content.

One Sunday in August, Anna had taken the children to the common with Amos, who had bought a kite in Barnsley and wanted an audience for the maiden flight. He’d come back to Beaumont Lane after chapel, and shared their Sunday roast, then all of them had gone, loud and excitable, moving like a maelstrom out of the house, down the entry and into the street. For Eve, the treat was being alone in her house. The business took so much of her time now. Eve’s Puddings & Pies was doing a roaring trade, and people travelled to Netherwood from other towns, just to shop and eat there. It still astonished her that she could be their destination, when once upon a time selling to her neighbours had seemed ambitious. With the wages from her spell in London and the weekly income from the business, there was too much money, really, to keep safely in the house, even after wages were paid and ingredients bought. Samuel Farrimond suggested a bank account, and she promised to think about it. Anna suggested a bigger house. There was a fine stone villa for rent on the edge of town, detached, with views across the common. Five bedrooms, an indoor lavatory and a kitchen as big as this backyard, she said. Eve could practically buy it outright with what she had stuffed in the housekeeping tin. She promised to think about that too. For now, she just needed to return to normal.