The Sea Shell Girl (28 page)

‘These are just not made correctly,' she announced, tossing the garment at Merry. As Mrs Winter followed after the woman, Merry heard a titter. Looking up she saw Saphira Meredith's friend, the formidable Alexandria, watching, a sneer curling her lips. Merry smiled politely but the woman ignored her and turned to her friends.

‘I can't imagine anything worse than having to purchase ready-made undergarments – other than having to sell them, of course.' As high-pitched laughter rang around the floor, Merry noticed Mrs Smale frowning in her direction.

‘May I help you, Miss Courtland?' she asked, thankful she'd remembered the woman's name.

‘I hardly think so. Imagine purchasing anything from a place such as this,' Alexandria grimaced to her friends, who let out derisive sniggers. ‘When a man takes me out I always take great pains to dress properly.' She paused and gave a theatrical sigh. ‘It means couture, of course, but then a man such as Carey expects nothing less.' At the mention of his name, Merry's heart jumped. ‘Come along, darlings, let's leave this little shop girl to her tidying up. After that sensational party at the weekend I have a feeling I shall be requiring something very feminine indeed.' She gave an affected titter, then, with a final sneer at Merry, turned and marched from the store, closely followed by her entourage.

‘What an absolute cow,' Freckles hissed, appearing at Merry's side. ‘Don't you take no …'

‘Am I to wait all day for that stock, Miss Brice?' Mrs Smale's imperious voice demanded. ‘Miss Dyer, will you please see those undergarments are tidied away from view,' she added, lowering her voice.

With heavy heart, Merry did as she'd been told. Had Carey taken that Alexandria out as she'd implied? If he had, then he couldn't be away like he'd said, could he? She didn't have him down for a liar but the woman wouldn't have announced such a thing if it wasn't true, would she?
Come on, Merry, get a grip, she urged herself. Worse things happen at sea, as Grozen always said. The irony hit her in the stomach and she bit her lip. All she had to do was ask him when he next got in touch. That was always supposing he did contact her again.

Despite her intentions to put Carey to the back of her mind, Merry found thoughts of him popping up at all hours of the day or during the long hours of darkness. To keep her attention focused elsewhere, she threw herself into her job and disciplined herself to act more the lady, like Prunella.

At the beginning of December, to encourage more clients into the store, Mr Fairbright arranged for a small fir tree, decorated with ribbons and candles, to be placed in each of the two bay windows.

‘If it was good enough for Prince Albert then it is certainly good enough for the dear people of Plymouth,' he beamed at them. Then he became serious. ‘Due to the inclement weather, the store's takings were very low last month. I am depending upon you to encourage our clients to increase their purchases. Mr Didcot is at this very moment addressing the men in the same vein. Remember, it is one month until the end of your probationary period. Good luck and good morning, ladies.'

As he made his way across the floor, Freckles turned to Merry. ‘Blimey oh rimey, blackmail or what?' she whispered.

‘Would you care to share your pearls of wisdom with us, Miss Brice?' Mrs Smale asked.

‘I said we would encourage the punters in if the store was a bit more hot,' she said, pretending to shiver.

‘Whilst your grammar leaves a lot to be desired, young lady, your reasoning is sound,' the manageress admitted. ‘Mrs Winter, perhaps you could hurry after Mr Fairbright and make that suggestion.'

Freckles and Merry exchanged glances. ‘Why doesn't she do it herself?' Merry whispered.

‘Probably thinks he'll give her what for,' Freckles replied.

However, when the supervisor returned some moments later, her smile was brighter than the candlelit window.

‘I wonder what she suggested?' Freckles snorted, nudging Merry in the ribs.

Just then the bell sounded for the store to open and they hurried to their places behind the counter. Clients swarmed in, enticed by the tree-lit window, and the assistants were rushed off their feet. Then, to their surprise, Joanie appeared. Wearing her best apron and bearing a silver tray, she began circulating among the shoppers offering them small glasses of spiced wine. As the aroma of cinnamon and cloves wafted around the store, the atmosphere became convivial, inviting the eager clients to linger and purchase.

Word spread and the store became ever busier by the day. Mrs Winter's smile grew wider while Mrs Smale, knowing she'd been bested by her deputy, prowled around scowling and picking on anything and everyone.

‘Crafty as a coot, that one,' Freckles declared, staring at the supervisor admiringly as they passed her on the way to the staff-room. ‘Still it worked, didn't it? We must have taken squillions this week.'

‘I can hardly feel my feet,' Prunella whispered.

‘Thank goodness it's Saturday. I just want to go to bed and sleep,' Merry groaned. However, all such thoughts vanished in a flash when she saw the pretty plant, swathed in red ribbon, that was waiting for her on the table. She knew immediately who it was from and despite her intentions, her heart leaped. It had been so long since she'd heard from Carey she'd worried he'd forgotten her or, worse, been entertained by other distractions.

‘Come on, clever clogs, what does the flori … ori … thing mean for this effort?' Freckles asked, pointing in disgust to the plant.

‘Nutmeg geranium means to expect a meeting,' Prunella explained.

Merry's heart flipped.

‘And soon, I should think,' Joanie said, coming into the room. ‘I heard the lieutenant's ship docked this morning.'

‘Oh,' Merry cried. So he
had
been away, after all, she thought, impatiently snatching up the card.

My Dearest Merryn,

The past few weeks have been the longest of my life. To think of you yet be unable to see you has been almost more than I could bear.

I shall be waiting at the usual time in the usual place and it is my dearest wish that you will be free and agree to spend the afternoon with me.

Ever yours,

Carey xx

Carefully, she replaced the card and then hugged herself. Did she wish to spend the afternoon with him? Of course
she did. She would be careful to act casually, though, ask him about his trip and see what he had to say.

Next day she waited until the others had left for church before rising. She knew her mother and Grozen would be horrified if they discovered she'd missed Sunday service but she wasn't going to risk bumping into Nicco. Now that the weather had improved he was just as likely to be lying in wait for her. She spent the morning washing and brushing her hair until she was satisfied it was as shiny as it could be. Then she dressed in her pink blouse and green skirt and threw the shimmering stole around her shoulders. On the dot of noon, she ran down the stairs, then remembering Prunella's advice, forced herself to walk sedately out to the waiting carriage. Although she'd told herself she would act with restraint, as soon as she saw him smiling at her through the open door, her heart double flipped.

‘My dear Merryn, how happy I am to see you,' he said, reaching out and helping her inside. As their hands touched, she felt that delicious tingling travel right up her arm. He must have felt something too, for his eyes darkened and he held on to her for longer than usual. Then, as if remembering his manners, he reluctantly let her go. ‘If you only knew how often I dreamed of this moment,' he whispered.

And I too, she wanted to reply but, determined to act the lady, she just smiled.

As Merry settled herself on the squab opposite, she could feel Carey's eyes following her every move.

‘You are looking even more delightful than I remember,' he murmured.

‘It's probably due to this beautiful stole you gave me for my birthday. I can't thank you enough,' she replied, pulling it closer around her shoulders and caressing the soft fabric.

‘I'm pleased you like it. Though embellishment, however lovely, can only enhance the natural beauty that is there in the first place,' he smiled. ‘I thought we'd have a change from the Madison this time. The lads from the ship have decided to dine there and, being thoroughly selfish, I would like you to myself. You don't mind, do you?'

‘No, of course not,' she replied, her cheeks flushing from the warmth of his gaze. Quickly she turned and looked out of the window. ‘I see we are travelling in a different direction.'

‘I thought we'd have a picnic overlooking the river.'

‘A picnic?' she gasped, looking uncertainly at the snow that was still piled in drifts at the side of the road. ‘You mean dine al fresco?' she added, as Prunella's definition popped into her head.

He gave a hearty laugh that almost sent the carriage rocking. ‘Sorry, that was rude of me, but you should have seen your expression. There is a log cabin at the bottom of our garden. It overlooks the river and my housekeeper has prepared a hamper of food. I thought it would give us an opportunity to catch up on all our news and perhaps find out a little more about each other. Hotel restaurants have their places but are hardly conducive to personal exchange,' he said, gazing at her meaningfully.

Not sure how to answer, she looked back out of the window. Already they had left behind the tall buildings
with their smoking chimneys and in the distance she could see the dark green and purple of the moors. They were capped with snow and reminded her of icing on a cake.

Then they veered left, and through the stark outline of trees she saw the shimmer of water.

‘Is that the Tamar?' she asked excitedly.

‘It is indeed, though of course we are still on the Devon side,' he grinned mischievously, but she wasn't about to be drawn.

They'd just passed by the huge railway bridge over the river when her attention was caught by a row of glassed buildings gleaming in the weak winter sun.

‘What are those?' she asked.

‘Have you never seen hothouses before? The temperate climate here is perfect for growing flowers and fruit,' Carey explained. ‘Uncle Fergus, or Fingers, as Saphira insists on calling him, is a dab hand at growing anything and everything.'

‘Freckles likes giving everyone nicknames as well,' Merry laughed. ‘She calls Mrs Winter, Jacky Frost – her first name is Jacqueline, you see – and …' Her voice tailed off. It wouldn't be seemly to mention their name for Mrs Smale. But by now the horses had turned into a gravelled driveway and he didn't notice her hesitation.

‘That is where we live,' he said, pointing to the house ahead.

Merry stared up at the square three-storey limestone building, with its large slate roof, overhanging eaves and tall windows either side of a large black painted front door.

Before she could say anything, the carriage continued along the path to the side of the house, coming to a halt beside a log building overlooking the water. Some cabin, she thought. Why, their living room back home would have fitted inside it.

‘Come along, Merryn, you must be famished. I'm dying to see what Mrs Simmons has left for us,' Carey said, jumping out and helping her down from the carriage. A gust of wind tugged at her skirts, making her shiver, and she pulled her stole tighter round her. ‘Let's get inside. Dawson, you can take yourself up to the kitchen for a spot of luncheon and return in a couple of hours,' Carey called to the driver. ‘That should give us time for a leisurely meal,' he said, turning back to Merry and grinning.

It was cosy inside the cabin and the views over the river, as it wended its way out to sea, were spectacular. As ever when she was close to the water, Merry felt her spirits soar. She hadn't realized before how much she'd missed the movement and brightness, tucked away as she was in the heart of the bustling town.

‘Take a seat,' Carey invited, pointing to the chairs set beside a table. He hurried over to the hamper set on the shelf and eagerly undid the flaps. Drawing out a cloth, he began spreading it over the table. Automatically Merry leaned forward to help, and as his fingers brushed hers that familiar tingle shot up her arm. Their glances met and held for a long moment, then his face relaxed into a smile.

‘You must be hungry,' he said, his voice husky. Unable to trust her own voice, she nodded. Turning quickly he delved into the wicker basket, drawing out crusty rolls
with curls of golden butter, ham, tomatoes and a small bunch of glossy green grapes.

Merry's stomach rumbled at the sight but Carey was busy drawing the cork from a bottle and didn't notice. As he poured generous quantities of wine into their glasses, she frowned and he grinned roguishly at her expression.

‘My intentions are honourable, I can assure you,' he teased.

‘Oh, I didn't mean …' She stuttered to a halt and he laughed.

‘Let me propose a toast. To us,' he said, clinking his glass against hers. ‘And to many more such occasions,' he added.

‘That's two toasts, Carey, and you know it,' she said, taking a sip then grimacing.

‘Don't you like it?' he asked.

‘Not really. It tastes sort of sour, somehow.'

‘Really?' he chuckled. ‘Just wait until I tell the wine merchant the Chablis he recommended has been called into question. I'd forgotten how direct you are, Merry. Most women would have said it was delicious. Would you care for something else instead?' When she nodded, he delved into the hamper once more and drew out another bottle. ‘There's only lemonade, I'm afraid.'

‘Lemonade would be lovely.' She watched as he poured it, then eagerly took a sip. ‘That's much better, thank you.'

They ate in companionable silence, looking out over the wide expanse of water. It was busy with boats plying their trade but then she caught sight of a ship further out.

‘Did you have a good trip?' she asked.

‘Same as usual really,' he replied, shrugging and taking a sip of his wine.

‘Do you get invited to many parties?' she persisted, remembering Alexandria's comments when she'd visited the store.

‘Parties? On board, hardly,' he laughed. She was about to ask him about parties at home but he began regaling her with antics of his crew and she could only shake her head at his tales.

‘Well that's quite enough about me,' he said. ‘I'm afraid I don't need much encouragement to unburden when back on dry land, and you are a captive audience, so to speak. It's your turn now. How is life at the glamorous store? Have you had any interesting clients calling in?' he asked.

She looked at him sharply. Had Alexandria told him about her visit? But his gaze was clear as he waited patiently for her to answer. Not wishing to spoil their time together, she forced thoughts of the odious Alexandria to the back of her mind and began recounting some of the pranks Freckles and Chester had played.

‘It would appear your assistants are as mischievous as some of the crew,' he smiled. ‘Saphira mentioned seeing some characters on her visit.'