The Sea Between (30 page)

T
he yard was ringing with the sound of iron against iron. Muffled up against the biting southerly that was roaring up the valley, Richard and John were crouched on top of the barn, hammering nails into the barn roof, which had taken a battering in the previous night’s gale. The loosened shingles had kept Richard awake all night, clattering around in the wind. Amazingly, Suzannah had slept right through it.

Let’s hope she sleeps through the night again tonight, Richard thought as he hammered in another nail. They’d been at the farm for almost a fortnight, and just about every night the house had rung with Suzannah’s screams at some ungodly hour. His mother had got up several times to help him to settle her in her cot again and was taking the disrupted nights in her stride—a small price to pay for having her granddaughter there. John had tactfully not mentioned the nightly screaming sessions, but he was no doubt wondering how many more he’d have to weather. Richard breathed a loud sigh and pulled another nail out of his pocket. He would have to have a serious talk with John and his mother sometime soon, because his short-term plans would affect them quite a bit.

He pulled up the collar of his jacket as a hail of white pearls began to pepper the roof. Within seconds, the shingles were running with them. The past two weeks there’d been one storm after another. Gritting his teeth, he hammered in another nail. By the time he and
John had got the roof fully secured, they were both blue with cold.

‘You brought some damned awful weather with you, Richard.’ John smiled wryly as he shrugged off his long oilskin coat.

Richard smiled back at him as he briskly rubbed his hands together, trying to get some warmth into them again. ‘Well, I’ll do my best to take it away with me again when I leave. Speaking of which,’ he added in more serious tones, ‘I need to discuss my plans with you at some stage, John.’

John nodded, turned briefly to hook his oilskin over a nail, then walked over to the wooden crates that were stacked at the far side of the barn and sat down on one. ‘What are your plans?’ he asked bluntly.

‘I’m planning on doing much shorter hauls. I intend to make enquiries to see if I can sign a contract to carry cargoes between ports. The
Firebird
’s a fast vessel. She’s well suited to coastal trading.’

‘I presume it’s the New Zealand coast you’re meaning?’ John asked.

Richard nodded.

John folded his arms, tucking his fists under his armpits for warmth. He didn’t look particularly surprised by Richard’s announcement. ‘Letitia and I thought you might decide to do that. We were discussing it only last night.’ He paused then said, ‘What other plans do you have, Richard?’

‘You mean for Suzannah?’

‘Partly. Any plans you make will obviously affect your daughter. But I was actually meaning what plans do you have for yourself?’

‘I’m thinking of purchasing a house in Lyttelton and settling Suzannah there. It may take me some time to organize a house and a shipping contract, though, so I was hoping you’d be agreeable to my leaving Suzannah with you while I sort things out. I appreciate she’s not the quietest child.’

John gave a soft laugh. ‘I’ve yet to find a quiet child. She’s no noisier than Edwin’s children were at that age, and this latest child of theirs has a pair of lungs that would shame a siren. As to your question: I’m sure Letitia would be delighted to be in sole charge of her granddaughter for a while, but I can’t guarantee that you won’t come back to a spoiled child.’

Richard smiled and said gratefully, ‘Thank you, John.’

John shook his head. ‘You don’t need to thank me, Richard. I know what it’s like to lose a wife, to be left with a family to raise alone. It’s not easy. It wasn’t an easy time for Charlotte either when she suddenly lost her mother. How did Suzannah cope?’

How had Suzannah coped? The truthful answer was that Suzannah had hardly noticed that her mother had disappeared, which wasn’t surprising since her mother had largely ignored her. Eliza hadn’t neglected her—she’d kept her clean and well fed—but that was all she’d done. It was almost as if she blamed Suzannah for what had happened. When he’d tackled her about it and suggested that it might be a better use of her time if she played the piano less and played with her daughter more, the result had been a huge row, which was the way the majority of their conversations had ended during those last months of her life. ‘You should talk!’ she’d said in cutting tones. ‘What affection do you ever show anyone? You’re never here!’ That was when he’d sold the
Nina,
bought the
Firebird,
and changed his shipping schedules. He had also employed a woman to live in and look after Suzannah. He had expected Eliza to be furious with him for hiring a child’s nurse, but she’d merely shrugged and said it would give her more time to do the things she enjoyed doing. Ironically, that was probably why he had formed the affection that he had for Suzannah—to make up for Eliza’s lack of it.

He could say none of that in answer to John’s question, though. ‘She coped very well, considering,’ he replied, and left it at that.

John nodded, then said quietly, ‘You haven’t really answered my question about what plans you have for yourself.’ Rising to his feet, John walked over to him. His fists were still balled tightly under his armpits and his face was pinched with cold. ‘Letitia and I have been wondering whether you might be thinking of asking Charlotte to marry you. Forgive me for being blunt, Richard, but I’m your stepfather now and stepfathers are allowed to be blunt.’

Richard smiled. John was very like Isobel on occasion. With matching bluntness he replied, ‘I’ve only recently buried my wife, John.’

John nodded. ‘I know you have. But time marches on, Richard, and I wouldn’t like to see it march on and leave you behind, all for the sake of doing what’s proper. There were a few raised eyebrows in the district when Letitia and I married so soon after Ben died. I’m sure a lot of people would have been much happier if we’d waited “a decent length of time” as they call it. But we married anyway, and neither of us regrets it. So don’t let “decency” stand in the way of your asking my daughter to marry you, if that’s what you have in mind to do.’

Richard lowered his eyes and gathered his brows in a frown. ‘I asked Charlotte to marry me five years ago and she turned me down.’

‘She did,’ John agreed. ‘And I know why she turned you down. I can’t say that I agreed with her decision, but Charlotte has a mind of her own, as you’ll have discovered by now. It was the sea that came between you. If you were to offer her marriage now, I think you might receive a different answer.’

Richard looked up again, wishing he shared John’s confidence. The equation was considerably more complicated than John’s simplified rendering of it, however. The complicating factor was Suzannah. Had she been his blood daughter it might have been different, but
he wasn’t at all sure how Charlotte would feel about raising a bastard child who had Eliza for a mother and her ex-fiancé for a father. She’d seemed to take to Suzannah, for the brief time that she’d seen her in Lyttelton, but that was no guarantee that she’d be prepared to be her stepmother.

‘It wouldn’t be just me that Charlotte was marrying,’ Richard said quietly. ‘I’ve Suzannah now.’

John lifted his shoulder in a dismissive shrug. ‘Plenty of women inherit a ready-made family when they marry. And I think I know my daughter well enough to say that if she agrees to marry you, she’ll raise Suzannah as if she was her own flesh and blood.’

Richard nodded and smiled, but he wasn’t going to commit himself to anything, no matter how hard John pressed him. He needed to sound Charlotte out a bit more as to how she felt about Suzannah before he did anything else.

‘I’m considering it, John,’ he said. ‘Now, you’ll have to excuse me. I need to relieve myself.’ With a grin, he disappeared through the open doorway and went around the back of the barn, leaving John to go into the house on his own.

‘I suppose my mother will be having one of her quiet words with me later on,’ Richard murmured as he watched the yellow stream form a muddy puddle at his feet. Doing up the buttons of his crotch, he leaned against the barn, listening to the wind roaring through the trees, wondering what the weather was like in Lyttelton, and whether Charlotte had been out walking again with the chap with the green beetle.

Inside the house, Letitia was having a quiet word with John.

‘Well, did you talk to him?’ she asked in a hushed voice. She was kneeling on the rug in front of the fire, playing with Suzannah. There
were bobbins of coloured thread for miles, spread over the sofa and strewn all over the hearth rug.

‘Yes, I talked to him,’ John said with a grin. ‘So perhaps you’ll stop badgering me of a night now and let me get some sleep. Between you and that granddaughter of yours, I’m lucky if I manage to shut my eyes.’

‘John, don’t exaggerate! Now, tell me: what did Richard say?’ she hissed.

‘He said he was thinking about it—“considering it” were his words.’

‘And what did you say to that?’

‘I told him not to consider it for too long or he might find that Charlotte has said yes to someone else.’

‘And what did Richard say?’

‘He said he needed to relieve himself.’

‘John!’ Letitia narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Did he say he would ask Charlotte to marry him or not?’

John laughed. ‘He didn’t say one way or the other, Letitia. But I’m sure he will ask her.’ And hopefully Charlotte would accept him this time. By God, he’d have a few things to say to her if she didn’t.

C
harlotte yawned loudly as she climbed up the stepladders, cradling a bolt of fabric in her arms. It had been a long, boring day. She hadn’t had any customers at all until one o’clock, when Mrs Firth had arrived, along with her two youngest children, and bought some embroidery threads and six yards of heavy black satin. Still, the one sale that she’d made had been reasonable. And, as George liked to point out, it wasn’t the number of times the shop bell rang that was important, it was the takings at the end of the day. He was right, of course, but she would sooner make twenty small sales and be busy than one large sale and be bored. Today was a Thursday, and for some reason Thursdays always seemed to be particularly quiet. As if determined to prove her wrong, the shop bell tinkled, announcing a customer. Replacing her bored expression with something more welcoming, she looked over her shoulder to see who it was.

‘Good morning, Charlotte,’ Richard said warmly as he closed the door behind him.

‘Good morning,’ she returned. She gave the bolt of silk a firm push to ensure that it was securely on the shelf, then made her way back down the steps. She’d been wondering when he would return to Lyttelton to ‘sort out his affairs’, as he’d put it, wondering also if those affairs might include herself.

‘When did you get back?’ she asked as she walked over to the
counter where he was waiting for her.

‘Last night.’

‘You’ve left Suzannah at the farm, have you?’

Richard nodded. ‘A quiet day,’ he remarked, glancing around the empty shop.

‘It is at present,’ she said, then with a smile added, ‘Would you like to buy something? I have some very nice men’s handkerchiefs. You won’t find better quality anywhere.’

Richard gave an amused laugh. ‘Actually, I came to see if you’d come for a walk with me.’

She looked at him for a moment, then said, ‘I’m sorry, Richard. I can’t leave the shop unattended.’

‘I thought you had a woman who managed it for you,’ he said with a frown.

‘Not any more. Rose got married a few months ago. She’s living in Christchurch now.’

‘Can’t you put the
Closed
sign on the door for an hour or two?’ he suggested.

Charlotte tilted her head to the side, and in mildly reproachful tones said, ‘You seem to be forgetting: this is how I earn my living.’

Digging into his pocket, Richard drew out a handful of silver coins and deposited them on the counter. ‘All right, I’ll buy some handkerchiefs. And these pigskin gloves,’ he said, picking up a pair of light brown gloves that were lying on the counter. ‘It’s my mother’s birthday next month. Now, can I turn the sign on the shop door around? Or must I buy the ostrich feather hat as well?’ He walked into the middle of the shop, making a show of examining the hat. The hat, a rather elegant one decorated with black ostrich feathers, was prominently displayed on a carved wooden bust, perched on top of a wooden stand that was hidden beneath some lovely lilaccoloured fabric that Charlotte had draped around it. A number of
people had admired the display, but so far it hadn’t tempted anyone to purchase the hat. Much as she would have liked to see it sold, she really couldn’t picture Letitia wearing it.

‘The gloves,’ she said with a smile, ‘are actually mine. And if we’re going to go for a walk, I shall probably need them. It looks quite cold out.’

‘You’ll come, then?’ Richard asked.

‘As soon as I’ve parcelled up your handkerchiefs, I will. How many do you want?’

‘How many will I get for the coins on the counter?’

‘Enough to make a small sail if you sew them together,’ she said.

Richard laughed.

While she gathered together his purchases, he wandered around the shelves, inspecting the bolts of fabric. Five minutes later, a brown paper parcel, neatly tied up with string, was lying on the counter.

‘Do you want the tuppence change or shall I put it in the charity box for the orphanage?’ Charlotte asked, pointing to a small wooden box with a slit in the top at the far end of the counter.

‘Put it in the box,’ Richard said with a smile.

She smiled back and dropped the coins in. ‘I’ll get my coat,’ she said, and went into the back room to fetch it.

They walked up Oxford Street as far as the road went, then took the foot track that wound across the hill. It had rained heavily during the night and the ground was wet and squelchy underfoot, so they had to pick their route carefully. They were feeling their way with the conversation, too, and spent the first half hour or so talking about the changes that had happened in Lyttelton over the past eighteen months, slowly working their way round to things of more consequence.

‘How are my father and your mother? Are they well?’ Charlotte asked. What she was really asking was how they had reacted to the news about Eliza’s death.

‘They’re both well, but very shocked to hear about Eliza,’ he returned. ‘My mother was upset to think that she’d died so young; and she was upset on account of Suzannah, too, being left without a mother. Your father was very supportive. I wasn’t sure how he’d feel about looking after Suzannah while I sort out my affairs but he couldn’t have been more helpful. And my mother is very taken with Suzannah.’

‘I’m sure she is. She’s a lovely child,’ Charlotte said. She glanced across at him and added quietly, ‘You have a lot of feeling for her, don’t you?’

‘I do,’ he replied with touching simplicity.

‘I’m glad you do,’ she said genuinely. ‘What happened isn’t Suzannah’s fault. Were you ashore when she was born, or at sea?’

‘At sea.’

At sea by choice, she suspected. Not that she blamed him. What man would want to be at home while his wife gave birth to a child who wasn’t his?

‘Suzannah was three months old the first time I saw her,’ Richard continued. ‘She was asleep in her cot, and I pulled the blankets back so that I could see her face and accidentally woke her up. She stared up at me and my first thought was: thank God, she has blue eyes; she has her mother’s eyes, not her father’s. I was only intending to have a quick look at her, but all of a sudden Suzannah’s eyes lit up and she gave me the most beautiful smile. I wasn’t intending to pick her up either, but I did, and as I held her in my arms she kept smiling at me and…well, she wasn’t difficult to love.’

‘Is that why you changed your shipping schedules, so you could see more of Suzannah?’

Richard nodded. ‘She was the main reason. As for the future, I’m planning on carrying mainly coastal cargoes, with Lyttelton as my base.’

She wasn’t surprised by his plans at all. He’d been doing mainly coastal trading for the past year, with Southampton as his base. ‘What will you do about Suzannah?’ she asked casually.

‘I don’t know yet,’ Richard returned, equally casually.

Yet
—such a small word, but it encompassed such a lot, including, she suspected, herself. ‘Where are you staying? Are you sleeping aboard your ship?’ she enquired.

Richard shook his head. ‘I’m staying at the Queen’s Hotel. The
Firebird
’s lying at anchor in the bay, and I’d prefer not to have to row half a mile to my bed each night.’

‘I expect George and Ann will invite you to dinner a time or two,’ she said. ‘Will you be calling on them sometime?’ He would, of course, but it would be good to know when, so she could forewarn George. George was struggling with some fairly powerful emotions following the news of Eliza’s death and the unexpected arrival of his daughter in the country. Struggling or not, he would be obliged to invite Richard to dinner fairly regularly. He couldn’t do otherwise: Richard was family now, by dint of Letitia’s marriage to John.

‘I was thinking I’d call on them tonight. They’ll be at home, I suppose?’ Richard asked.

‘Yes, they’ll be at home.’

‘And you?’

‘I’ll be in, too,’ she said.

An hour later, they were back at the haberdashery. Taking the key from her pocket, Charlotte opened the door and turned the
Closed
sign around to
Open.
Richard followed her inside, then waited at the counter while she went into the small store-room at the back to take off her coat.

When she came out again she was surprised to see that he’d picked up his parcel and looked ready to leave.

‘I’d better let you get on with whatever I’ve kept you from,’ he said with a smile. ‘Can I steal an hour or two of your time on Sunday afternoon? Or are you busy?’

‘I’ll be going to church in the morning but I’ve no plans for the afternoon,’ she said.

‘I’ll call for you at one o’clock then.’

She nodded. ‘I’ll be ready.’

Richard smiled again. ‘Wear something suitable for riding. I’ll hire a couple of horses and we’ll ride out somewhere.’

And with that he left, leaving Charlotte standing by the counter, wondering how long it would take for Richard to get around to asking her to be his wife. He’d prepared the ground today by telling her about his proposed shipping plans, letting her know that he was making arrangements to do what she’d asked him to do five years ago.

‘God, that easterly has a bite to it,’ Richard complained, screwing his eyes up against the wind.

Pushing her hair out of her eyes, Charlotte turned her head to admire the view. They were on the brow of a hill above Sumner Road, which afforded a magnificent panorama of the harbour. ‘I thought you’d be used to cold easterlies,’ she said, shouting to make herself heard above the whistle of the wind.

‘Being used to them doesn’t make them any less cold,’ he shouted back. ‘Let’s go somewhere more sheltered.’ Tugging on the reins of his horse, he turned back down the hill.

Fifty yards down from the brow, the air was noticeably warmer. This was one of Charlotte’s favourite spots. The down-side to the
place was its isolation, which meant she could only come here when she could persuade a man to accompany her. In a port, there were always a number of seamen from foreign parts wandering around, so if you were a young woman it paid to be cautious. In the four years that she’d lived in Lyttelton, she knew of at least three women who had been either indecently assaulted or raped by a seaman who’d drunk too much, and each time it had happened in an isolated place. Admittedly, the incidents had occurred after dark, but they could just as easily happen in the daytime. A woman on horseback, riding alone, was a fairly conspicuous, not to mention unusual, sight in the port, so Charlotte certainly got noticed when she went riding alone, which was why she was careful to keep to the main thoroughfares and avoid remote places like this. Occasionally, she managed to persuade George to accompany her, but he didn’t particularly enjoy being in the saddle.

Richard, however, seemed to really enjoy riding—she glanced across at him and smiled—and was also a very good horseman; surprisingly so, given the little amount of riding he’d done. Perhaps not all that surprising, though, as it was second nature for him to tune his movements to those of a shifting ship, which was probably why his body moved so naturally with the movement of a horse.

As they reached a grassy terrace, Richard reined in his horse and dismounted. ‘Charlotte, I know you love riding,’ he said. ‘But d’you think we could walk for a while? It would make conversation considerably easier.’

Faced with little choice, she slipped down from the saddle. Leaving her horse to graze, she walked over to join Richard, who didn’t appear to be itching to walk. He was standing, staring out across the bay.

‘Do you remember the first time we rode out together?’ he asked quietly. ‘You took me to Shelf Rock and I kissed you. Well, I’d very
much like to kiss you now.’ He turned towards her, his expression serious. ‘May I?’

She stared at him, wondering why he was asking for permission. He hadn’t asked for permission at Shelf Rock. It was a few seconds before she tumbled to what was at the bottom of it. Richard was asking her if she was willing to start afresh and let him court her again.

In answer, she stepped towards him. Taking her in his arms, Richard pulled her close and kissed her. She closed her eyes as memories flooded back. In her father’s yard when he had returned from sea, after being away for six months, he’d held her in his arms like this and kissed her—a hard, urgent kiss that had told her far more eloquently than words how much he’d missed her. This kiss, unrushed, gentle, and indescribably intimate, encompassed a much deeper loss than a six months’ parting. It was a kiss that spoke of the loss of years.

It was several minutes before Richard released her lips. Still holding her close in his arms, he rested his forehead against hers. ‘Charlotte, I want you to be my wife,’ he said softly. ‘But I’m afraid to ask you, because I’m afraid you’ll say no again.’ Drawing his head back, he looked earnestly into her face. ‘Last time I asked you, you said you’d marry me if I agreed to make changes to my shipping routes. I wasn’t willing to do that at the time, but I am now. My situation has changed, though. I’ve got a child whom I’m responsible for and I’m not sure how you’d feel about raising Suzannah, knowing she isn’t mine, and knowing who her father is.’

Charlotte lowered her eyes uneasily. George wasn’t the only one struggling with guilt. She hated having to deceive Richard like this, but she had no choice.

Misinterpreting her silence as hesitancy, Richard let out a long, low
breath, then said quietly, ‘Will you give it some thought, Charlotte? Over the next week or two?’

She looked up, nodded, and smiled. ‘Yes, I’ll give it some thought,’ she said.

She knew what her answer would be. It would be yes, but it wouldn’t hurt Richard to wait for his answer. Suzannah was a lovely child, and Charlotte didn’t think she’d find it hard to raise her as her own. As for everything else…Richard would still be away quite a lot, and in some ways she knew she was settling for second best, but if she’d learned nothing else in the past five years, she’d learned that life didn’t always turn out exactly as you’d like it to.

Taking hold of her hand, Richard drew her down on to the grass, easing her backwards until she lay full-length on the hillside, cradled in his arms.

‘I love you, Charlotte,’ he whispered, and bent his head to kiss her.