Daisychain Summer

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‘But best you tell me, for all that.’

‘Well, like I said, I thought I’d push Daisy down the lane – give Keth the sweeties I’d bought for him in the village – just trying to be friendly. Polly Purvis is a worker, I’ll say that for her. She had a stew cooking and the windows cleaned and bread rising on the hearth, when I got there.’

‘She was in service in these parts, I believe, when she met Dickon. But you knew that.’

‘I did, Tom, though Polly reminded me of it. Said she’d soon get the family on its feet again, now they were together and money coming in regular. Said she had contacts around these parts from way back and would be looking for work, to help out.’

‘But what about that little lad?’

‘She isn’t going out to work. She intends taking in washing, if there’s nothing to stop her doing it. I said I was sure Mr Hillier wouldn’t mind, if she hung it out of sight at the back.’

‘Nor will he. But it isn’t the washing that’s bothering you, is it, Alice?’

‘No. It’s more something she said. “We’ll manage all right,” she said. “And once Keth goes to school, I’ll be able to go out mornings, scrubbing.” And had you thought, Tom, that she’ll even have to dig that garden of theirs; Dickon can’t use a spade with one foot near useless, now can he?’

‘Come to think of it, he can’t – though there’ll be plenty who’ll give a hand. But go on?’

‘Well – I wished her luck, told her I was sure there’d be work. And then she said it. Said she looked like Mary Anne and that any woman in their family who’d ever looked like Mary Anne inherited her luck, too.’

‘Mary Anne who?’ All at once, Tom was uneasy.

‘Mary Anne Pendennis, that’s who! I couldn’t believe it at first, so I said – casual as I could – that Pendennis is an uncommon name but she said no, it isn’t. Not around Cornwall, it seems.’

‘But there’ll be a fair few Mary Anne Pendennises in Cornwall.’

‘So there will, I grant you. But how many by that name married a northerner – a foundry worker, by name of Albert Elliot? Polly had all the family history off pat.’

‘Too much of a coincidence.’ Now Tom knew the reason for his unease.

‘Is it? Think on this, then. Didn’t Mrs Clementina call her house Pendenys Place, and name her first son Elliot – her maiden name? And Nathan and Albert she called for her father and grandfather. Coincidence, Tom? And Polly Purvis was Polly Pendennis, before she married Dickon. She’s actually related to Clementina Sutton. Polly’s grandfather was a Pendennis. She told me he had two sisters; one of them called Sarah Jane – the other –’

‘Don’t tell me! The other was Mary Anne! But what luck did that great-grandmother of Elliot Sutton’s ever have? Took in washing, didn’t she, and worked as a herring woman. You think that’s lucky?’

‘Look, Tom – Polly said it. Mary Anne’s luck, because Mary Anne’s husband ended up with his own foundry and their son got even richer.’

‘All right, then. Polly Purvis – Pendennis – is cousin twice removed to that Elliot? Can’t hold that against the woman!’

‘No, but there’s her son – that little Keth. He’s dark, too. I don’t think I want him to come to my house.’

‘Dark, like his many-times removed cousin, Elliot Sutton, you mean? So you’re going to hold it against the bairn? You, who said you’d make a fuss of the little lad; feed him up a bit? Yet now it seems he’s got bad blood?’

‘I didn’t say that, Tom!’

‘Bad blood,’ Tom urged, his temper rising quick, Alice acknowledged, as it always did when he got himself bonny and mad. ‘And that little lad isn’t going to be allowed near our Daisy because he’s Elliot Sutton’s distant kin? Oh, Alice, I thought better of you. And it isn’t even proven, either!’

‘It is, Tom. As far as I’m concerned, it is.’

‘Then you’ll tell Polly Purvis; tell her about Elliot who is dark because it threw back from a great-grandmother he never knew? But being dark is nothing to do with it; being wicked is more to the point and being spoiled and indulged by his mother and made to think he can do no wrong. He’s what that foolish Mrs Clementina made him and the washerwoman four generations back has nowt to do with his womanizing nor his wickedness!’

‘I never thought to hear you defending one of Mary Anne’s, Tom!’

‘But Elliot Sutton isn’t one of hers! He’s got her Cornish darkness, that’s all. Mary Anne Pendennis was a woman who worked hard to help her man start his first foundry, and was a decent woman, if all Reuben told me is true. I’ll not have you thinking such nonsense, Alice! I thought you had more sense about you. I thought –’

‘Whisht, Tom! Stop your shouting or you’ll wake the bairn. Here – give her to me and I’ll put her to bed. I won’t have you frightening her!’

‘And I, lass, won’t have you getting yourself into a tizzy because Polly Purvis seems to be related to that Elliot, and so distantly related as makes no matter,’ he insisted, his voice gentle again. ‘And I’m sorry I made a noise. It’s something I’ll have to check, this temper of mine.’

‘Very well, and I’ll try not to let myself worry over it. And I’ll not take it out on that little Keth, either.’ Her lips moved into the smallest of smiles. ‘And when he comes to see Daisy, I’ll give him some toast, well drippinged, and sugared bread, an’ all. Does that please you?’

‘It does.’

‘Then will you take that little lass up to her cot, or are you going to sit there, nursing her all night?’

‘I’ll take her up now – if you’ll forget all you’ve heard this day about Mary Anne Pendennis and not chew it over with Polly Purvis and make more of it than it deserves. Any road, who wants to be saddled with kin like him? Do the young woman a favour, and forget it? And remember, that Cornish great-grandmother is nothing to do with you, nor me, nor Daisy!’

‘Nor is she. And I won’t talk about it again – I promise …’

She watched her man cradling their child, supporting her with a work-roughened hand, and tears sprang to her eyes, just to see the way he loved her.

And he was right – or almost so. That long-ago Mary Anne had nothing to do with her nor Tom nor Daisy. But what of Drew, her firstborn; almost the same age as Keth, and Keth’s cousin, though many times removed.

Yet Keth was dark – Mary Anne Pendennis dark – and Drew was Sutton fair and she, Alice Dwerryhouse, was a happy, contented woman who would be kind to the little boy who lived at Willow End, if only because he had the misfortune to look like a man whose very name she detested. And would never say again, if she could avoid it.

10 (#ulink_907a588f-f544-5cf5-a289-ae6f78fe0961)

He saw her from his window as she turned the corner by the church, and hurried to his front door. When she opened the gate to his tiny front garden, he was standing on the doorstep, arms wide.

‘Lass!’ He folded her to him, awkwardly patting her back.

‘Reuben! Let me look at you,’ she smiled tremulously. ‘So long …’

‘Too long, Alice. But come you in. I’d heard tell you’d be arriving today. I’ve been watching out for you.’

‘News still travels fast, in Holdenby.’ She closed the almshouse door behind her. ‘I hope you’ve got the kettle on.’

He had. He nodded to the tray, set ready with cups, then asked, ‘And where’s that little Daisy, then?’

‘Fast asleep in her cot, with Julia watching over her. I’ll bring her to see you, in the morning – Drew, too.’

‘Aye. I like to see the boy. Her ladyship brings him, sometimes, when she visits us pensioners. He’s growing into a fine lad – a Rowangarth Sutton if ever I saw one.’ He looked at her, meaningfully.

‘He is, thanks be. And I’m coming to accept that nothing of what happened was his fault,’ Alice said softly. ‘All at once I saw him not as –’ She stopped, cheeks flushing. ‘I saw him as Julia’s son. He said, “Hullo, lady,” when we met. That was when I began to see things differently. And tomorrow, Lady Helen will be his legal guardian. It’s why I am here – to sign the papers.’

She could talk to Reuben and not watch every word she said. Reuben knew about Drew’s getting: knew everything.

‘And how’s Tom? Seems he got himself a good employer. Gentry, is the man?’

‘N-no. I wouldn’t say Mr Hillier is gentry, exactly. But he’s a gentleman and so taken with Daisy.’ Best they should talk about Daisy. ‘Makes a real fuss of her. And Tom’s well, and a fond father. There’s nothing too good for his little girl. It’ll be the start of his first real season at Windrush Hall, come October. Since we went there, he’s been busy rearing birds, and stocking up. There was only rough shooting and vermin shoots for Mr Hillier, but this year the game birds are thick in the covers. There’ll be good sport.’

‘You’ll be wanting to be back before it all starts, lass. It’ll be Tom’s busy time.’

‘I know,’ she smiled guiltily. ‘I’ve got to stop this gallivanting about. I’ve been away from home twice, this summer.’

‘Home? Is home down there now, Alice?’ Reuben lifted the kettle, pouring splashing, steaming water into the teapot.

‘Home’s where Tom is though we’ll always be northerners, him and me. It felt as if I’d never been away when I got into York and saw the Minster.’

‘You travelled up with Miss Julia, didn’t you?’ Reuben stirred the pot, noisily. ‘What was her doing in London this time?’

‘Legal business – about Aunt Sutton’s estate. I met up with her in London. I was glad of her company. It’s a long journey, with a baby.’

‘So you’re happy, lass? It turned out all right for you?’

‘I’m happy, Reuben.’ She picked up the teapot. ‘But I worry about you and I miss you. I wish you’d come and live with Tom and me. We’ve got three bedrooms.’

‘An’ you’ll need them all when you have more babbies! Thanks, lass, but I manage well enough, here. This little house is easy to keep warm; at Keeper’s, I rattled about like a pea in a tin can. And there’s Percy for company. Percy Catchpole’s retired – didst know?’

‘I did, but I’d still rather you were near me.’

‘And I’d rather you were here, Alice; you and Tom living beside Brattocks Wood, like we alus thought it would be. I looked forward to seeing you and him wed, and bairns around you.’

‘But that can’t ever be, Reuben. Rowangarth has no need of a keeper, now.’ She took his hand, holding it to her cheek. ‘Even if Giles had lived, he’d not have wanted birds reared to be shot out of the sky. He was against any killing. And come to think of it, if Giles had lived me and Tom wouldn’t have been married.’ She sipped her tea, frowning. ‘There won’t be any keeper here, for a while. Drew won’t be handling a gun for another ten years.’

‘You’re right – but even old men have dreams. You can’t blame me for wanting you up here, even though it would have its drawbacks – if you see what I’m getting at?’

‘You mean I wouldn’t have felt easy living near Pendenys? You are right – and as for Tom being here, when him and Elliot Sutton could meet and cross swords – oh, no! I’d always be on edge. Tom has a temper on him when he’s roused; best we’re well away from Rowangarth.’

‘So Tom’s still bitter about young Sutton?’ He held a match to his pipe, puffing thoughtfully, avoiding her eyes.

‘He is, Reuben. When he found out who Drew’s real father was, I never saw him so mad. He went white and quiet and walked out of the house; didn’t come back for hours. He said he’d shot better Germans. Tom can hold a grudge for ever. Some things he’ll never forgive and one of them’s Elliot Sutton.

‘So you see, that’s another reason we couldn’t come home to Rowangarth – not if something happened to make it possible. If Elliot and me chanced to meet, it might stir something up; something about Drew, I mean. While I’m out of sight I’m out of his mind.’

‘But Elliot Sutton is bound to have seen young Drew from time to time.’

‘I accept that, Reuben, but Julia is very protective of the boy. As far as she’s concerned, Drew is her brother’s child. Julia isn’t afraid of Elliot as I am, though she hates him every bit as much as me, because he got through that war without ever getting his boots mucky, whilst Andrew was killed. She’ll never forgive him for that as long as she lives. But forget him. Tell me, what’s been happening in Holdenby.’

‘Not a lot, ’cept that the Reverend Parkin was buried, last week. Another of her ladyship’s friends gone, though it’s thought hereabouts that Mr Nathan is looking for a living and Holdenby vicarage might suit him nicely. And talking about those Pendenys Suttons, talk has it that yon’ Elliot is courting serious.’ Without meeting Alice’s gaze, he refilled his teacup.

‘Talk by way of Will Stubbs, I shouldn’t wonder.’

‘Will had it from Pendenys’ groom, so there’ll be a grain of truth in it. Some foreigner, I believe. Seems no one at Pendenys had seen hide nor hair of him these last weeks. Busy chasing the lass around London, I shouldn’t wonder. But while he’s down there he’s out of your way, now isn’t he? No chance of you bumping into him whilst you’re here.’ He patted her hand reassuringly.

‘I’ll be able to walk in Brattocks Wood, then?’ All at once, she felt less uneasy.

‘Don’t see why not. I’d mention it, though, to the woodman; tell him who you are. Suppose you’ll be wanting to have a word with they old rooks?’ he winked.

‘You remembered, Reuben! But good news or bad it’s best told to the rooks.’

‘Surely no bad news?’

‘None at all. I’d just be catching up with things, and oh, Reuben,’ she sighed, ‘it’s so good to be back. I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed you and Rowangarth and – and everything.’ And even though he didn’t hold with such goings-on, she cupped his face in her hands and gently kissed his cheek. ‘But me and Tom are happy, and there’s a home for you in Hampshire, so think on. And I’d best not stay too long – not tonight.’

Wouldn’t be polite, for one thing, and for another, Daisy Dwerryhouse would soon be clamouring for her evening feed and there was no one but she could give it her.

‘You’ll come again tomorrow, lass?’

‘I’ll come, Reuben – and Daisy and Drew. I promise.’

The air held a hint of chill as she walked back to Rowangarth and dusk came suddenly as it always did, in late September.

Dear Reuben, Alice thought dreamily as Daisy fed gently at her breast. He hadn’t changed in the almost two years since she left. He was snug in the little almshouse with his dogs for company and Percy not far down the road when he needed to talk about the old days; times when there had been two coachmen at Rowangarth and three gardeners – and three apprentices living in the bothy: Robert and Giles away at school and Miss Julia a tomboy who would one day grow up to beauty.

They had been good days, and her ladyship so fair and beautiful that just to look at her made you think of fairy-tales and happy-ever-afters. Alice called back the golden days. Fourteen, she had been, with all memory of Aunt Bella behind her and Rowangarth her first real home.

Yet still she had not been prepared for the feeling of homecoming that this afternoon had reached out to gather her close. To turn the sweep of the drive and see the old house, unchanged and unchanging, made her want to weep with joy.

And then the scent and sound and feel of the house. The slightly musty, slightly smoky smell that came from old books and wide chimney flues; beech logs snapping in stone hearths, flames flickering on old wood and old, uneven walls. Dear, safe Rowangarth that would one day belong to Drew. She had been so happy, so in love in that precious summer of ’fourteen. And then war had come.

She laid Daisy against her shoulder, patting her back, rocking her gently as Tom always did. Tom would be missing his little girl tonight. Happen he’d have taken the dogs to walk the game covers and let it be known the keeper was not sleeping, or maybe he’d have called on Polly and Dickon; shared a sup of tea with them. They would do all right in Willow End. Dickon had a settled look about him, now, and young Keth had stopped sucking his thumb and smiled more often.

Yet nothing could change the fact that Keth Purvis was dark – Mary Anne Pendennis dark – because from way back he was related to her. Did that mean, she frowned, he would grow up in the image of Elliot Sutton, with the same gypsy looks; grow up to remind her?

Not that the boy could help the way he was. Nature could be capricious. Drew, who should have been dark, had been born Sutton fair. During the long weeks of his coming it was the thing she most dreaded; that the rape child she carried would be born to father himself and make a nonsense of the fact that Giles had claimed him.

Yet Drew had been lucky and because of that luck she should be grateful to the Fates who had decreed it and not harbour suspicions about the young boy at Willow End.

‘Asleep?’ The voice from the doorway broke into her thoughts.

‘No, Julia. Just thinking – about Keth Purvis, if you must know.’

‘The child you say looks like Elliot Sutton? Surely you don’t hold that against him?’

‘Not really. Keth’s a nice little boy.’ Of course he was. Keth would be company for Daisy; would walk with her the mile to school and back, four summers from now.

But why did he have to remind her, every time she saw him, of a March evening and a stable in a French village called Celverte? The twenty-sixth day of March. The day they told her that Tom had been killed; the night Elliot lurched down the path towards her. The last day, come to think of it, that Julia was ever to see Andrew. A black day.

‘A nice little boy,’ she repeated, firmly. A little lad who came to her door for dripping toast. An ordinary, dark-haired child, for goodness sake, and shame on Alice Dwerryhouse for thinking otherwise! ‘And would you mind, Julia, if I slipped down to the kitchen for a chat? If I remember rightly, Mrs Shaw always puts the kettle on, just about this time.’

A chat with Cook and Mary and Tilda, just like it used to be, before she climbed into bed and listened to the night sounds she remembered so well; to creaking boards and rattling window frames and outside, in Brattocks, the cries of hunting owls.

‘I’ll come with you. Bet you anything,’ Julia smiled, ‘that Cook has made cherry scones.’ Mrs Shaw always made cherry scones on special days. ‘And I do so wish you were staying, Alice. For ever, I mean. I wish you were in the sewing-room again and you and I sharing secrets like we used to. And Andrew with me, still, and Tom waiting for Reuben to retire so he could leave the bothy and live with you in Keeper’s Cottage.’