Fourteen
‘Well, that’s us done, Mrs Pentecost, we’re completely sold out.’ Dorrie smiled happily as she and the other woman packed up their trestle table on Petherton’s lawn. ‘Not a slice of cake or fruit pie, scone or biscuit left. The village tea tables will be in for a treat this weekend.’
‘Most of it should be tasty despite the use of substitute ingredients for egg, sugar and spices. We’re lucky here, having The Orchards to supply us with all manner of fruit.’ Mrs Pentecost gathered together all the lace doilies, lent from various homes, to take home to launder. ‘No elaborate offerings from Delia Newton this year. When is the silly woman going to pull herself together and get out of her bed? Never known anyone to sulk as long as her.’
‘But isn’t Rebecca a little worried about her?’ Dorrie stacked the plates on to a massive teak tray with high rims, used in the long-ago glory days of entertaining Society at Petherton. She and Mrs Pentecost would take a turn at washing crocks inside in the gloomy, cold-all-year-round, high-ceilinged scullery, then they would be free to enjoy the other stalls and side shows, until the packing up at the end of the day. The children’s country dancing was due to start in forty minutes, always a favourite of both women. ‘It’s the impression I get.’
‘I suppose so. I think tests have been mentioned, but I still think Delia’s trying to get back at us, and I’ll vouchsafe she’s enjoying making poor little Lorna Barbary run about for her.’
‘Hello, ladies, you have done splendidly, gold stars all round, you’re the most reliable of my team.’ Esther pounced on them happily. She was wearing an elbow-length, pleat-fronted dress with a wide diamanté buckled belt, a summery picture hat, and had swirled her hair about her head, adding a sparkly slide, and dark pink lipstick. She looked attractive but rather cumbersome. Her rounded cheeks were flushed with excitement. ‘Were you talking about the suffering lady of the bed with diverse things wrong with her? I would be surprised if Delia doesn’t show up here before the end of the day in an invalid chair, in blankets and bonnet, looking for sympathy. Can’t see people being fooled if she does; she won’t get very much pity. It’s good to see Miss Barbary has managed to snatch a few minutes away from her. Mr Soames Newton is treating her to a cream tea. She must be a godsend to him.’
Esther swept her hands in a circle to indicate the bustling scene all around them. ‘One of our best years, don’t you think? Busy tea tent, continual music from our home-grown talent, the brass band and the smaller groups. We have gifts, produce, the white elephant, hula hoop, Punch and Judy, fortune telling by Gypsy Rosalie – she’s as much a gypsy as I am, but no matter, load of old tosh anyway. Ruffles the Chirpy Chappie Clown is going down a treat with his magic tricks. A chap from Bodmin, you know, late of the DCLI. I read about him and snapped him up, says he’ll come every year. The kiddies like to look forward to their favourites. They will remember things like this all their lives. Mr Walters says he’s expecting to get some good essays out of his pupils’ experiences today. The painting competition was a winner. Squadron Leader Whitley was a jolly good sport to have agreed to be the judge. Talking of painting, the Templeton boy is brilliant with a brush or a pencil, did you know? Oh, of course you do, you’ve seen them. The posters he made for the event have caused quite a stir, all those little pictures of the promised events down in fine detail. People have asked him to draw their children, pooches and whatever. He was happy to agree, should earn him a bob or two. Talented boy that, damned shame he can’t complete his education.’
Dorrie peered through the crowd and spotted Finn having a go at the coconut shy. Next to him was Belle. ‘It doesn’t have to be a foregone conclusion that Finn must altogether forget his dreams of becoming a graphic artist and illustrator. Greg and I having been talking about Finn, and now that Mrs Templeton is making excellent strides, we were wondering if Finn could try somewhere for a scholarship or bursary. The main objection might be from Finn himself. He’s sworn he’ll never leave little Eloise.’
‘I’m so pleased things are back on track between you and Fiona,’ Belle said, throwing her last ball at a coconut on its stand and narrowly missing again. Finn had won a tiny rag doll for Eloise.
They walked away. Finn hoped no one had noticed how often he had gravitated towards Belle today, careful not to make it always when she was alone. She was currently having a break from the white elephant stall. Sam had finally plucked up the courage to ask Jenna to be his girl, she had agreed, and Sam had paraded her on his arm. They had played a much-appreciated stint together on their guitars, Jenna singing in her clear country-style voice. The couple were gathering up used cups, saucers and plates and taking them to the scullery. Charlie was busy at The Orchards and wouldn’t show up until later.
It was rapture for Finn to be so physically close to Belle; his whole self was prickling and shivering inside with feathery whispers and the need to touch her. He was a little afraid he would actually reach out and possessively take her hand. He refused to entertain the thought that Belle only saw him in a motherly way. ‘Now Mum’s seen my father for what he really is at last it feels like we’ve started a new life. The only bugbear is Guy Carthewy. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for all that he’s done for us and it’s a heck of a lot – and goodness knows how I’ll repay him, but I will, no mistake – but I wish he wouldn’t interfere.’
‘In what way does he interfere, Finn? Gosh it’s hot, let’s get a beaker of juice and sit somewhere breezy. On the fountain steps.’
‘OK.’ Finn was delighted she had not suggested sitting in the tea tent. It was full of old biddies seeking shade, and no doubt as much gossip as they could wring out of everyone, and Belle might be sidetracked.
‘Guy means well, I know,’ he said when they were perched on the stone steps under a dry cherub water fountain. ‘He’s offered to sponsor my fees to go to college or even university. He wants the leeway to move in on Mum now she’s planning to get a divorce. Guy, of course, has offered to pay all the legal expenses. But Mum is just as likely to change her mind. She really adored my rotten old man. Guy will just add to her confusion.’
Belle looked Finn in the face and he gazed blatantly back into her eyes. He had done many drawings of her, secretly hidden in a tiny wall cupboard in his room, a place once used to keep candles and lanterns. He drank Belle in, breathed her in, stealing more and more of her for his forbidden memories. The beautiful reality of her now was more than an image. It was written all over his heart and as soon as he was alone he would capture it on paper. For the millionth time he imagined kissing her lush lips. ‘But some of what you’ve said isn’t a bad thing, Finn.’
‘It is to me,’ he said, his voice dropping to a husky quality. ‘I’m not ready to leave Eloise in anyone else’s care. Mum seems to love her as a mother should, but she could easily slip back again into that awful depressed state. Eloise is my responsibility and I’ll be keeping it that way for some years to come. My future doesn’t count. Besides, after all the troubles of the last months I’m perfectly happy.’ I’m not ready to leave the area and hardly ever see you. I’m perfectly happy when I’m close to you like this.
‘That’s good to hear, and I do believe anyone can make something of themselves no matter what their circumstances are. Now Fiona is beginning to venture out again, I’d like to invite her over to The Orchards,’ Belle said. ‘Do you think she would join us for Sunday tea tomorrow? Sam has invited Jenna, but we’ll still be a small group.’
‘She might possibly,’ Finn smiled, happy to get another chance to be where Belle was. ‘But Guy Carthewy is there most Sundays.’
‘Well, he’s welcome too. I think he and Charlie would get on fine.’
‘They haven’t got anything in common,’ Finn said, keeping the sharpness out of his answer. Except for both of them getting in my way. He loathed it when Belle mentioned Charlie.
A sudden stir of excited voices made them look towards the edge of the lawn. Pushing Eloise in her pram was Fiona, and Guy was with her, looking wholly like a complete family. ‘Mum’s here!’ Finn squawked in disbelief.
‘Right then, I can ask them both to tea personally.’ Belle was up and walking towards the newcomers. Finn ran after her.
Verity was the first of the crowd to reach Fiona and Guy. ‘Hello!’ Then she lowered her voice sensitively. ‘You look wonderful, Fiona, and you’ve done very well to come out. What did you think of your first look at Nanviscoe and now here? Hello Guy.’
‘It’s all very charming.’ Fiona’s reply was genuine and nervous. Her hair had reclaimed its glossy sheen, and the feather-embellished hat she wore pinned jauntily to the side of her head was sleek and chic. In a classic tea dress with peplum waist and silk stockings, her heels not too high to accommodate her long walk, she was a picture of discreet glamour, and was receiving many complimentary comments. She glanced at Guy for support. He was hovering protectively. ‘I’ve been thinking for a while now about walking to the village. Guy convinced me I might as well plunge in and come to this event where I’ll meet just about everyone at once.’
‘Well, let me introduce you to some people,’ Verity said. ‘Here comes Belle. And Mrs Mitchelmore is on the way. You’ve heard all about her.’ Verity watched Fiona anxiously, hoping she would cope with the exuberant greeting she would get from the lady of the manor and the influx of people wanting to see the baby, and Fiona and her generous landlord. At least she wouldn’t have to contend with the bitchy Delia Newton. She need not have worried. Fiona was calling on her old hostess skills and chatted quite comfortably to all the well-wishers and nosy parkers. She thanked those she knew had been good to Finn. Guy was charm and gallantry itself and many asked about the changes to Merrivale, saying they were pleased the renovations would have laid the old ghosts to rest. Finn was all smiles to have his baby sister here. He proudly gave Eloise the rag doll. He took control of the pram and pushed Eloise about to further show her off. People were putting sixpences and shilling pieces into the smiling baby’s tiny hands for good luck and fortune and Finn carefully gathered them from Eloise’s clutch.
While Belle went back to the white elephant stall, Verity led Fiona and Guy to the tea tent, where she introduced the couple to everyone there. They bought tea and plain scones, butter only available on the first batch laid out. ‘Seems you’ve just missed the vicar,’ Verity said, as they sat at a table covered in snowy linen with a small vase of violas. ‘The Reverend Lytton never has much to say anyway. He’s an old misery. May I ask if you’ve thought about having Eloise christened in the church? St Nanth’s is lovely inside.’
‘No, I haven’t thought about it at all, but I will. I’ll talk to Finn. I’m sure he’ll agree on the Godparents being Guy, Dorrie and yourself, Verity. Would you do us – and by that I mean Finn and me – the honour of becoming one of her Godmothers, Verity?’
‘I’d be delighted, and it would be my honour. Wentworth Lytton will rush through the ceremony but it’s what we all promise God that counts.’
‘I’ve still got Finn’s christening robe. I’ll put on a little tea after the church. Invite Nurse Rumford and Mrs Pentecost too, and the Lawrys and the Vercoes.’
‘What, all the Vercoes? The children too?’ Verity laughed. ‘Are you sure about that?’
‘Yes, I am,’ Fiona smiled. ‘Jean and Jenna will keep the children in line, and it’s only for one afternoon anyway. Jean and Denny have been good to me. I want to repay all for their kindness. It’s time I faced up to life again. Thanks to Dorrie, Greg and yourself, Finn and I have been quickly accepted into the community. And Guy will be there, of course.’ Fiona looked at her lifeline.
‘You’ll always be able to count on me, Fiona,’ Guy said.
Verity saw the love for Fiona shining out of his pleasant eyes. Perhaps in time there would be another cause for celebration.
‘Enough about us,’ Fiona said, nudging Verity gaily. ‘I want to learn about your Mr Newton. Is he here? I haven’t as much as caught a glimpse of him yet.’
‘Jack is not my Mr Newton.’ Verity made a surprised face. ‘He’s my employer and I see very little of him. I enjoy my work in his farmstead office. It was in a bit of a mess but I soon cottoned on to his disordered way of doing things. He actually had everything pretty much up to date. He didn’t really need my services, but he’s good about finding people work. I dare say he would have found something for Finn if he had gone there instead of The Orchards that day. The staff are a cheery lot, from cowman to stable boy. From what I’ve gathered Jack was so horrified as a boy by his father and grandfather’s harsh treatment of the workers, including regular thrashings and docking of pay, that he is set on making amends. There are only workhorses kept there now. I learned that Jack was thrown off his pony as a youth and hurt his back and hasn’t ridden since. Accounts for his passion in fast cars, I suppose. Apparently, he begged the Forces to let him join up, even as a squaddie, but they all turned him down, declaring his back would soon give up on him so there was no point. Next week I’ll be starting in the library of Meadows House. It needs to be put into order. His father was a great collector of books and maps, he says. Some are still packed in boxes and have never seen the light of day. I can’t wait to open them!’
‘Jack Newton sounds fascinating, so much more than a ladies man. I hope I get to meet him sooner rather than later,’ Fiona said.
‘Sounds like my kind of chap,’ Guy agreed. ‘Passed him on the road once or twice, drives a bit too madly, of course, but I suppose it keeps his mind off things. Can’t see him being a happy man, really. May I filch the last scone?’
Fiona put the scone on his plate. ‘Tuck in, you are a one to fill up,’ she told Guy indulgently, then back to Verity. ‘So is Jack Newton here today?’
‘Oh, definitely not.’ Verity dipped to a whisper. ‘I forgot to mention that he hasn’t attended the Summer Fair since his wife died. She hung herself. He found her body on the morning of the Fair and has never spent this particular day in the village since, even though Mrs Mitchelmore thoughtfully changed it to a week later. Lytton refused to take her funeral in the church or allow her to be interred in the churchyard, and she was buried quietly somewhere in the grounds of the house.’
‘The poor man must have been devastated,’ Fiona whispered too. ‘It’s no wonder he doesn’t want to be reminded of that dreadful day.’
‘Sounds like there might be some sort of mystery behind it,’ Guy ruminated. ‘I wonder if Mrs R has ever thought so.’
‘Well if Aunt Dorrie has, she’s never mentioned it,’ Verity replied ponderously. ‘I’ll ask her about it.’ It was then that Verity recalled she had meant, before her new job stole all her attention, to ask her knowledgeable aunt about Mrs Rawling, mother of the wretched murdered Mary. Mrs Rawling didn’t go to any village events and seemed to have been quite forgotten. Verity resolved to find out if there was more behind it than just the poor woman’s wish to be left alone.