‘Waste of ruddy time, this is,’ Graham Chellew, one half of the new shareholders of the Misty, remarked to Matt as they shared the watch one very cold night in the middle of December. For several nights in a row they had shot their herring nets round the Eddystone Rock lighthouse, off Plymouth Sound, and hauled in either small or no reward. And every night Graham put the fishing industry and the world in general to rights. They were now trying in Bigbury Bay further up off the Devon coast. ‘’Tis the fault of they buggers back in thirty-four, trawling the herring in the bay when they were about to spawn. Never seen a decent shoal since then, and all for the sake of one season’s easy catch. Ruined it for all of us, they did.’
‘I know,’ Matt said grimly. ‘I was around then.’
Graham looked at him thoughtfully as he cut off a chew of tobacco and pushed it into the side of his mouth. ‘S’pose you were, but you look younger than ’ee really are with that sombre look you always have about ’ee.’
‘What are you doing for Christmas?’ Matt asked, to change the subject.
‘Same as always. Me and me brother’ll go to chapel, roast a chicken, treat ourselves to a bottle of brandy and curl up in front of the fire. Course, there won’t be much joy around this year, not after night after night of all but empty nets for all the boats. Be a hard struggle for those with young’uns. Empty stockings all round, ’less someone’s lucky enough to have a bit put by, but who in Porthellis has savings?’
I’ve got some, Matt thought bitterly, for all the good it does me. When Hannah had hugged and kissed him in the chapel he’d thought he might have been spending it on a honeymoon.
‘’Tis a crying shame,’ Graham carried on with his woebegone theme. ‘Boats coming down here all the way from Yarmouth and Lowestoft for sweet nothing.’ He nudged Matt’s arm, making him shiver and realise how cold he was. ‘You’re a more devout chapel man than me. Offer up a prayer or two.’
Hunching his shoulders and stamping his feet in a bid to feel warmer, Matt said sourly, ‘I think God’s stopped answering my prayers.’
Graham surveyed him in the starlight for some moments. ‘When?’
‘When what?’ Matt replied, about to go off and get mugs of hot tea before he fell into a deeper depression.
‘When do ’ee reckon He stopped answering your prayers?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ Matt moved away. ‘I’ve said too much.’
Graham restrained him with a huge paw. ‘You were friendly with Jeff’s only fair-haired daughter. You’m talking ’bout the day that pretty little Hannah gave ’ee lip when you had a set-to with Daniel Kittow. I heard about that. That’s it, isn’t it? That’s why you’re going round with your mouth screwed up like a duck’s fert. Well, don’t just hang round moping about it, me handsome. Go tell her you’re sorry. She’s a nice maid. She’ll come round.’
‘Hannah’s got a new life at Roscarrock,’ Matt said, coming out with a statement that had revolved inside his head day and night since that fateful day, something he knew he had been right about when he’d reprimanded her after the fight with Daniel. ‘She has to want me more than that or I could never make her happy.’
‘I take your point,’ Graham rambled on, not that he was a master of the affairs of the heart. Thick-set, snow-white hair sporting a spiky cut that should have seen the barber rightfully out of business, short bull neck, fat nose, small eyes, hands like hunks of meat and skin fissured like well-worn granite, not even the most ardent husband hunter had been tempted to give him, or his twin brother Malcolm, a second look. ‘But have ’ee spoken to her since?’
‘No.’
‘Well, don’t be so hard-minded. How could you possibly know what she’s thinking now?’
Matt glanced across the sea at the navigational lights of an unknown lugger and wondered how its night was faring, then he gazed down at the water over Misty’s stern, looking for signs of silver fish in the first net. He saw nothing but total blackness, the same emptiness that filled him. He knew that Hannah was seeing Daniel regularly once a week at the big house – Daniel had gloatingly spread the news all over the village. Matt didn’t believe that there was necessarily any special meaning attached to it as some of the other villagers did, but he had received no such invitation.
‘I’ll get some tea,’ he muttered, walking slowly to the cabin, not finding the sea motion of the Misty as good as the Sunrise’s.
Jeff hadn’t been able to sleep and had left his bunk over Malcolm’s snoring hulk to make a fresh brew. He and Matt exchanged brief nods but not a word as Matt poured tea for himself and Graham and left the cabin. Matt had seen Jeff protecting Hannah that day and he wondered how he felt about his daughter now, but neither of them mentioned her. From the day that Matt had approached Jeff with the idea of him pulling out of the Sunrise and buying into Misty, their relationship had been strictly business. It worked well with Jeff who was gruff and occasionally fractious but quieter now that he had no family to push around on the boat. All that really mattered on the Misty was the size of the catches and condition of the weather.
At six o’clock in the morning the crew tested the first few nets, pulled in a few herring and shot the nets again. An hour later they tried again and eventually headed for Plymouth where they would berth at Coal Quay. The catch in the fish berth was small but slightly better than that of previous nights.
While the country was rocked with news of the King abdicating so he could marry the woman he loved, while disquieting news came daily about the Spanish civil war and Germany moving its troops into that country, and British men protested over the lack of jobs and their lack of hope for the future, Hannah shrugged it off, uninterested. When Nurse Collins loosened the suffocating hold she kept on Mrs Opie after the first few days, Hannah delighted in doing what she could for her mistress and being in her company. The household would breathe a hefty sigh of relief when the nurse could be sent on her way, and not just because of her heavy, offensive tobacco smell or her brusque manner. Myra Collins was very efficient about her work and surprisingly dextrous in performing the most intimate and embarrassing tasks so that her patient hardly noticed she was being attended to, but it had soon become apparent that she was unpleasantly inquisitive, prying into and asking blunt questions about matters that did not concern her.
A week before Christmas Hannah was angered to find her in her room. ‘What do you think you’re doing in here, Nurse Collins?’ she demanded tersely.
‘I heard you pacing about your room last night,’ the nurse boomed, taking the further liberty of going to the window and peering at the wintry sky, the bare oak tree on the lawn. ‘I’ve heard you on other nights too. I thought perhaps there might be something about your room that gave you restless nights. I’ve had patients sleep like a log after I’ve advised they changed their room.’
‘I’m perfectly happy here,’ Hannah answered acidly, fighting back further harsh words as the nurse ran a heavy finger over the jewellery box Matt had given her.
‘This is a very nice room,’ Nurse Collins observed, her long nose seeming to twitch hungrily as she looked in all the corners. ‘Why were you given it?’
‘That’s Mrs Opie’s business.’
‘So it is,’ Nurse Collins replied, finally heading for the door. ‘You’re well in with her. I wonder why.’
‘Horrid old cow,’ Hannah muttered venomously, wiping the woman’s fingerprints off the jewellery box, feeling it had been violated somehow.
Later in the day, Hannah was upstairs with Mrs Opie, pleased that she had her to herself for a while, Patrick was out in his garden shed, and Angie was enjoying a quiet hour or two in her room. Leah had assumed Nurse Collins was also taking a nap and slipped into the study, carrying a tray of coffee as an excuse.
Greg immediately encircled her in his arms and they kissed tenderly. ‘Happy?’ he whispered close to her ear, holding her waist from behind as she poured the coffee.
‘Yes, very.’ She shivered delightedly, revelling in the sensation of his warm breath on her neck.
He kissed the top of her head. ‘It’s about time I told my grandmother about us,’ he said, turning her round to him.
‘No, not yet.’ She pressed the flats of her hands on his chest to prevent him kissing her more ardently.
‘Why not?’ He searched her lovely round dark face. ‘You aren’t having misgivings?’
She hugged him. ‘No, but I’d rather wait until that horrible nurse has gone before we say anything. If Mrs Opie and Hannah raise objections I’m afraid she’ll stick her oar in and make what we have seem sordid and wrong. She should be gone by the end of January, let’s wait until then.’ Leah didn’t want anything to risk spoiling their romance and end up like Hannah who, despite her pleasure in having Mrs Opie home, was as desolate as a fish out of water.
‘All right, if that’s what you want,’ he smiled to cover his disappointment. During the moments they could snatch together in the house and the longer hours they spent together covertly off the premises, they had talked at length about their steadily growing love. Nothing seemed more right in his life to Greg than to make Leah his wife, and if his grandmother did move out of Roscarrock with Hannah, he would install her here as its mistress and she would have servants of her own. Failing that, he’d take her away and set up home elsewhere. He pressed his lips once more to hers.
Nurse Collins was mooching about in the hall. Hearing voices coming from the study, she tiptoed on her ungainly small feet and put her ear to the door. It had gone quiet. What were Mr Greg and Leah, for she assumed it was them, up to exactly? Her hand strayed to the doorknob. She didn’t know what she’d say when she burst in but she probably wouldn’t have to give an explanation if she caught them up to no good.
Just then, Pogo, who had managed to slip out of Mrs Opie’s rooms, saw the woman he disliked and ran yapping at her ankles. Nurse Collins shouted and ordered him off but Pogo made her back away from the study to the top of the kitchen stairs. Not sure what the disturbance meant, Greg hastily poured the coffee back in the pot and opened the door for Leah to carry the tray back to the kitchen.
‘You’re not afraid of Pogo, are you, Nurse?’ Leah said cheekily as she caught sight of the woman cowering on the kitchen stairs.
‘No, of course not,’ Nurse Collins stated, rearranging her features into some semblance of calm. ‘I was just about to see if the creature wanted to go for a walk when he got all excited.’
The herring season had put a stop to another of Nurse Collins’s lines of inquiry. She wanted to know the exact nature of the friendship between Hannah Spargo and the tall, handsome, red-haired man who turned up once a week at the servants’ hall. The nurse thought him a rough, sly individual and couldn’t understand why Mrs Opie allowed such a caller. There were things going on in this house which were out of the ordinary and Nurse Collins was burning to learn what they were all about.
Hannah played cards that evening with Mrs Opie. She didn’t win a single hand, for her heart and mind were not on the game. As a flurry of snowflakes floated down and hit the windows, she looked wistfully outside into the white-flecked darkness.
‘Close the curtains, will you, dear?’ Mrs Opie said, expertly shuffling the cards in her smooth hands. She watched as Hannah rose from the opposite side of the card table and pulled the heavy velvet drapes, her pale, drawn reflection lingering on the glass before she covered it. ‘I’ve had enough for tonight. Why don’t we sit beside the fire?’
Mrs Opie wheeled herself to one side of the hearth and Hannah sat down in a plush armchair opposite her. As usual Hannah waited for Mrs Opie to raise the topic of discussion. ‘What is it, Hannah? Don’t tell me there’s nothing wrong. I know you so well and it’s obvious you’re not at all happy.’
Hannah returned the shrewd gaze and felt that Mrs Opie could read her innermost thoughts. She would have to tell her soon that she was pregnant, she had been looking for the right moment and this was probably it, but she was afraid her wonderful life here would come to an abrupt end. Mrs Opie was extremely kind to her but even if she wasn’t shocked or outraged by the revelation, what could she do with a pregnant housekeeper and then her infant? Hannah had no clear plans. She had saved a little money out of her wages and, despite his attitude to Viv’s pregnancy, she would ask Daniel if he knew somewhere in one of the fishing ports where she could rent a room and find a job, somewhere where somehow she could look after her baby; she didn’t have Matt but she desperately wanted to keep his child.
She was confident Matt still loved her and many times she thought over his words that she must go to him if she wanted him, that he would not run after her. If she turned up on his doorstep and told him about their baby, she didn’t doubt for a moment he would take her in his arms and ask her to marry him, overjoyed that she had come to her senses and that he was about to become a father. But although she ached for him, being at Roscarrock for all these months had changed her, something he had understood better than she had. She didn’t think she was one of the Opies as he had accused her, but had she changed so much she’d be stifled by life as a fisherman’s wife? And she felt she couldn’t live again in the village where so many bad things had happened to her, where Viv had been brutalised and her aunt and mother were estranged. Hannah felt guilty about not seeing them and had written asking them to come to Roscarrock or meet her elsewhere. Janet had replied politely that she was very busy and Prim had not replied at all.
‘You’ve taken a long time thinking about what you’re going to say,’ Mrs Opie said eventually. ‘I want nothing less than the whole truth, Hannah. Is it something to do with Daniel Kittow?’
It had taken a lot of deft persuasion to get Mrs Opie to agree to Daniel visiting her. Mrs Opie had said she felt she ought to cut herself off completely from the village, adding that what she had heard of Daniel Kittow suggested he was a totally unsavoury character. Hannah had pointed out that nothing had ever been proved against Daniel, and in the end had pleaded that she needed to see her childhood friend, that she would meet him anyway up on the cliffs no matter how rough the weather was. Mrs Opie had reluctantly agreed, secretly telling Greg, who had objected strongly to the arrangement, that this was the best way to keep an eye on Hannah. Hannah had kept Daniel strictly to the two-hour weekly visit, and it had been warming to see him and talk to him in much the same way as they’d done before her romance with Matt.
‘I do miss Daniel,’ she said, uncomfortably aware of being under the spotlight of Mrs Opie’s sharp eyes.
‘How much do you miss him?’ she asked softly. ‘Are you in love with him?’
‘No, not at all. Daniel would like something more to be between us but I’ll only ever see him as a close friend. I think he’s accepted that.’
‘Good.’ Mrs Opie leaned forward, only the slightest movement but it made Hannah pull herself back in her chair. ‘Then I take it he wasn’t the man who made you pregnant?’
Hannah sprang to her feet, hands to her burning face, tears spilling over her rigid fingers. ‘H-how did you know? I-I’m sorry. I’ll pack my things at once.’
‘You’ll do no such thing.’ Mrs Opie wheeled herself over to her and took her arm. ‘You’ll sit down and tell me how you find yourself in this situation. And before you wonder if I’m angry or about to throw you out, I’ll tell you I was young once and not always sensible. I’ve had children of my own and I’ve had my suspicions about your condition ever since the burglary, fuelled by a few mutterings from that wretched nurse. When you closed the curtains just now I saw how tight your dress is.’
Hannah sat down and sobbed into her hands. Mrs Opie stroked her hair. ‘Come now, my dear,’ she said kindly. ‘It might be the end of the world for some girls but not for you. Did you think for a moment that I wouldn’t help you?’
‘I’m sorry,’ Hannah repeated, searching in the sleeve of her cardigan for a hanky. ‘I’ve let you down, after you’ve been so kind to me, giving me the job and a good future.’
‘I don’t see it that way,’ Mrs Opie smiled. ‘Now dry your eyes and we’ll talk this over. First, will you tell me who the father is?’
‘It’s Matt,’ she sniffed, dabbing at her eyelashes. ‘Matt Penney, the man who carried my suitcase here for me when I arrived to stay.’
‘He didn’t force you?’
‘Oh, no, Matt’s a wonderful man. I was greatly attracted to him. It… it was more my idea to… to make love. It only happened once and now….’
‘You’re bearing the consequences,’ Mrs Opie finished for her. ‘Does he know about the baby?’
‘No. If he did he’d want us to get married straightaway, but we quarrelled and—’
‘And that was the end of that,’ Mrs Opie cut in forcefully. ‘Well, things have a way of working out for the best, Hannah. We missed the London trip but for some time I’ve been thinking of moving out of Cornwall and starting a new life, somewhere peaceful in the countryside and near the sea. I’ve allowed myself to stagnate here for far too many years. Greg loves Roscarrock and it will be his one day and he might as well have it now. We’ll go away together, just you and I. We could say you’re my widowed niece or something – I don’t want you to go on being a servant, I value you far too much. The baby will have the best possible start to its life and we’ll have nothing to do but enjoy each other’s company and lavish all our love on it. Would you like that, Hannah?’
Hannah had never really thought Mrs Opie would treat her unkindly when she found out about the baby, but this was beyond her wildest dreams. All she could do was nod and burst into tears again.
Mrs Opie came closer and held her in her arms, caressing her hair and telling her that she would make sure everything would be all right.
‘I’ll start looking for property straightaway. We’ll have a quiet Christmas, then I can let the nurse go and we’ll move away before you start showing.’ There were tears in her own eyes as she said huskily, ‘Trust me, Hannah, we’ll have the most wonderful life together when we get away from this place.’