Daniel Kittow was standing, sure-footed, like a sentinel, in the prow of the Sunrise. He was proud of the forty-foot lugger and none had matched her during the lugger racing in Feast Week last month. Other crews possessed a better spirit of comradeship but few the skill and intuitions of the Sunrise’s fishermen, particularly her skipper, Rufus Kittow. The boat had been crafted locally two years ago in Mitchell’s boatyard at Portmellon. Her frame was oak and pitch pine, her bow-fronted, teak-topped wheelhouse nearly high enough to accommodate Daniel’s six foot, two inch, muscular frame. She carried a boom mizzen and a lug sail, was equipped with two diesel engines and strong canvas sails made on the quayfront of Porthellis, and her cabin provided accommodation for five and had a coal stove with a chimney. The boat hadn’t been fished many seasons but seemed to possess similar characteristics to Daniel, swift-moving, rebellious, independent, able to soar over the wildest seas with youthful enthusiasm. Daniel had bought into the lugger partly with money from his share of the fishing profits and partly through some unlawful sidelines he had been running.
They were sailing downcoast and he was mesmerised once again by the beauty of the vast stretch of the Channel and the scalloped coastline where sleepy little coves nestled between magnificent headlands. He watched the green-tinged, long-beaked dark shapes of three shags perched on Gull Rock, their wings outstretched like old men wearing cloaks as they dried their feathers. When he got a peaceful moment like this, with just the healthy chug of the boat’s engine and whistle of the wind in his ears, when his head wasn’t filled with casting nets or throwing line, the size of the catch and profit margins, it gave him a lift like nothing else could; Hannah would understand how he felt.
The wheelhouse had room for four men at a time and Matt Penney left Rufus Kittow, Fred and Curly Jose there to take the opportunity to approach Daniel. Matt noted the deep concentration on Daniel’s rugged face; they had done fairly well at the ray pits during the last few weeks and he assumed his workmate was looking forward to the hunt for pilchards. He waited for him to look his way before he spoke.
‘What’s up?’ Daniel said, taking the last puff of the cigarette he had forgotten to smoke and tossing the butt into the sea.
Matt’s serious expression provoked another question. ‘Granfer hasn’t said something to offend you again, has he? I’m afraid he had a skinful again last night.’
‘No. Besides, I’ve got used to your grandfather’s foul language – well, most of it, and I say the odd bad word myself. No, it’s nothing like that.’
Daniel studied Matt. He was a picture of embarrassment. ‘What then?’ He teased Matt a little, indulging in the banter that often passed between them when Rufus wasn’t about to add a prurient tone to it. ‘Can’t see what you’re worried about. We’ve all agreed that the boat’s ready for the pilchard drive. You been asked to read a lesson in chapel again and worried about those long names? If it’s advice on your runner beans you’re after, don’t ask me, I’m no gardener.’
A wash of red that rivalled the colour of Daniel’s glossy mane spread up Matt’s neck and disappeared under his thick earth-brown hair, but his gaze was penetrating as he turned it on Daniel. ‘It’s about Hannah.’
‘Hannah? Why? Has her father been threatening her again? Why can’t the bastard just leave her alone? He turned the maid out of her home, isn’t that enough?’
Daniel’s heated reaction wasn’t at all how Matt wanted the conversation to go. Daniel was fiercely protective of Hannah. One day Jeff Spargo would be well and truly thumped, deservedly so, and it would be most unpleasant; Daniel could be very hard. He had nearly broken Rufus’s arm when he’d tried to take his belt to him on the day of the boat tragedy and Matt had observed that the old man seemed a little wary of him at times.
Matt went on doggedly, ‘I’ve been thinking of asking Hannah out, have been for a long time, but I don’t want to step on your toes. You and her are very close. Would you mind telling me how close you are, Danny? If it’s leading to something permanent then I apologise and you have my word I shall bow out gracefully and Hannah need never know.’
Astounded at this announcement, Daniel gaped at Matt. He was only four years older than he was, but for a 28-year-old man he seemed to Daniel to be much older, with something of a middle-aged outlook on life. He lived with his widowed mother in Cobble Street and when not working went nowhere but chapel or up the steep hill of the village to tend his beloved allotment. Alcohol had never been known to pass his lips and he was often quiet and serious, appearing to slip into a kind of melancholy at times. When Rufus was at his bawdiest he made fun of Matt’s apparent uninterest in women, sniggering that he must still be a virgin and speculating that he might prefer men. Matt had been hurt and offended but he’d never retaliated, just ignored the old man and went about his business on the lugger. This had earned him the respect of the rest of the crew and the old man’s taunts were becoming fewer. Daniel had never been given to ponder about what went on inside another’s head. He had taken Matt’s reserved nature for granted, but he knew from local gossip that the women hereabouts considered him a good catch.
‘I had no idea you had a fancy for Hannah,’ he said sternly.
‘So you do mind,’ Matt returned.
‘Hannah and I are friends, in a way I s’pose you could say best mates. Nothing’s going on between us like that and anyway I’m not the marrying kind, although if I was I would only consider marrying Hannah.’ Daniel looked out at the small frolicking waves disappearing fast under the boat. He said to the sea, rather than to Matt, ‘I s’pose she’ll want to get married one day. Women usually do.’ He knew that well enough. He had dallied with the younger females of Porthellis and further afield a long time before his own age of consent and most of them had hoped it would lead to marriage. He felt a strange despondency sweep over him, as if he was about to lose something very special and deeply rooted in him. ‘If Hannah wants to go out with you, then good luck to both of you, Matt. But,’ he paused heavily on the last word, because for all Matt’s apparent respectability, he was still a man, ‘forget yourself and try anything on her and I’ll break your bleddy neck!’
At last Matt smiled, the warm and gentle smile that rarely lit his strong intelligent features but was distinctively his. ‘That’s all I wanted to know. Thanks, Danny.’
Before Daniel could say anything more, Fred Jose came up to them on tottering legs. His sea legs were not very sound, in fact they were the most unsteady in Porthellis and the village was waiting with grim expectancy for him to cause a mishap aboard the Sunrise. The weathering of the face and build-up of muscle that was quickly acquired by every other fisherman had passed Fred by. He was as pale and scrawny as he had been as a boy. His nose had been broken by Mitch Spargo’s flailing hand on the day they had been thrown out of the Wynne and it made him look a little more manly – hard and quarrelsome to an unobservant stranger – but he was still a coward, inclined to panic easily. He worked as hard as the others when conditions were good to fair but was only tolerated as a crew member for Curly’s sake; Curly had partnered Rufus for over thirty years and was a very able engineer.
‘Dad wants to know how you think she’s running,’ Fred said, wiping spray from his face and clinging to the greenheart rail that topped the twenty-inch bulwarks.
Daniel and Matt turned and gave the thumbs up to the Sunrise’s other two partners. With a satisfied expression Rufus rammed his dirty pipe between his blackened teeth and Curly turned the wheel for home; they wouldn’t waste the fuel.
Daniel looked up to check that the mizzen and fore mizzens were blowing to the best advantage. They were. It was fine weather and the wind was blowing hard in the sails. The blue and white lugger was parting the waters like a hot knife through butter, dominant, self-assured, the mistress today. Daniel could have stayed out at sea for hours yet.
Most people in Porthellis simply tapped on a neighbour’s back door and entered the house with a cheery greeting. Janet Rouse, still upset that Hannah had felt she must leave the wedding, was forced to answer a persistent knocking on the front door that evening, even though it was left open to let in the cool breeze and she had called out many times, ‘Come in.’ She grumpily put aside her sewing, took off the floral pinny over her brown and white spotted cotton dress and checked the seams of her fawn lisle stockings.
‘Oh, it’s you, Matt,’ she said, hastily putting on a welcoming smile. ‘Why didn’t you come in? Didn’t you hear me calling? If you want any of the men they’re down on the beach seeing to the boat.’ Janet frowned, puzzled. Matt would have seen her menfolk on his way here. ‘Oh, I see.’ And Janet did see, even without the help of her thick-rimmed glasses. Matt Penney was not wearing the old jersey and faded trousers she’d seen him in when the Sunrise had been taken out. He had changed into a new white shirt and his second best trousers, his shoes were polished like mirrors and his hair was slicked back. Janet instinctively smoothed her own short plain hair and gave Matt a toothy smile. ‘Come inside, Matt, no need for ’ee to stand on the doorstep. You’re in luck, she came in just ten minutes ago.’
Matt ducked under the doorway and took the two deep, well-scrubbed, blue-stone steps down into the narrow passage and followed Janet to her kitchen. The moment his feet touched the rope rug in the middle of the chunky, serviceable furniture, where the makings of a half-finished dress lay on the table, Janet excused herself and left the room. Matt went to the small oblong mirror hanging on a nail near the sink and swiftly taking a comb out of his trouser pocket nervously neatened his hair again. The Rouses’ fat, molly-coddled ginger cat, which Ned had unimaginatively named Ginger, watched him curiously from its basket at the hearth, and he crouched down and stroked it, making it purr loudly. Petting the cat helped to slow down the furious beating of his heart. He had noticed Hannah long before womanhood had touched her, attracted to her quiet spirit and noting how being turned out of her rightful home had not embittered her. To Matt she was as lovely as a spring morning and he’d watched her grow up, waiting patiently for the right moment to make his feelings known to her.
Janet called up the stairs. ‘Hannah! Can you come down now, dear? There’s someone here to see you.’
As usual Hannah had come in looking like a grubby child, her dress damp from sea water with sand sticking to it, her hair windblown, and after a light-hearted chiding from Janet she had gone to her little room to freshen up before she helped with the supper.
Janet was greatly excited at Matt being here to see Hannah. She approved of him. The fact that he owned a fourth of the Sunrise and was rumoured to have a bit put by, that he was intelligent and had done well on the scholarship he had won to St Austell Grammar School meant he unwittingly provoked envy in the village. But Janet liked him because he was quiet and steady and had lovely manners. His cottage, left to him by his father and high up on the cliff near the Manse with the better properties, had plenty of room for him to take a wife and rear a family. His mother was a good soul and would take kindly to having another woman in her home. Having taken on the responsibility of Hannah, Janet was keen to see her make a good marriage. She was disturbed at the amount of time Hannah spent with Daniel; she rather liked Daniel even though he had many of his grandfather’s undesirable ways, he had been Hannah’s rescuer and Janet was indebted to him for that, but she couldn’t see that any woman would have a secure future with him. Matt, however, could give Hannah the confidence she needed.
‘On my way,’ Hannah shouted back. She was peeved that someone should want her now. She had washed and changed her dress and pinned back her hair ready for the sewing she would have to catch up on after supper. She was looking forward to telling her aunt about her encounter with Mr Patrick Opie. Then a thought made her push her dainty bare feet into her best shoes and rush down the stairs like a mad hound. Perhaps it was Mr Patrick Opie who had come to see her.
‘Who is it?’ she demanded of her aunt in a stage whisper before she reached the bottom step.
‘It’s Matt Penney. Why did you come down like a herd of elephants?’ Janet asked in her bright and breezy way, delighted at the thought there might already be something going on between Hannah and Matt and he was expected. She watched her niece’s face closely and was disappointed to see it take on a baffled frown.
‘What’s he want with me?’
‘Go find out for yourself,’ Janet said, pushing her towards the kitchen door. When she had catapulted Hannah into the room, she followed but didn’t stay, going to the back door and muttering about seeing to her washing on the line. She didn’t go to the line but stayed on the step with one ear flapping at the door which she had left slightly ajar.
Matt straightened up from the cat and smiled softly at Hannah.
Hannah didn’t notice. She was worried at why he wanted to see her. ‘Hello, Matt. Daniel’s all right, isn’t he? He didn’t fall off the Sunrise or something?’
His smile dimmed. Daniel saw her as a friend, but how did she see him? He smiled again, wider; his reserved character disguised the fact that he never gave up on anything easily. He moved closer to her. ‘I haven’t come about anything like that, Hannah. No, please listen, I haven’t got a car to take you to the pictures and I never go to the pub so I can’t ask you out for a drink, but I’m wondering if you’d like to take a walk along the cliff path with me – now.’
‘What for?’ Hannah asked, completely nonplussed.
Janet barged back into the room, her features alive with intent. She knew Matt would need some help. Hannah saw men only in terms of friends or relatives. ‘For a bit of company, dear, of course. A bit more fresh air will do you good. I’ve been working you too hard lately.’
Hannah thought her aunt had taken leave of her senses. ‘But the supper—’
‘I’ll see to that.’ Janet advanced on her.
‘I was going to meet Dan—’ Janet gave her such a hard nudge Hannah was thrust three steps backwards. Her aunt was making urgent sidelong expressions with her eyes, as if she was hinting at something… Finally it dawned on her what she was up to, and why Matt was here.
Looking over Janet’s shoulder, for the second time that day she stared blatantly at a man. She had never thought of romance before, she had been too absorbed in coming to terms with her father and grandmother’s hatred of her, in stealing moments to speak to her brothers and sisters and looking forward to her mother’s next forbidden visit to be bothered with that sort of thing. Like most of the villagers, she had taken Matt for granted as the quiet, serious-minded man he seemed to be. Now, although she had seen him throughout every year of her life, she took in all his physical details. He was about six feet tall and naturally lean, with the muscular build born of years of hard work. His hair was the warm brown of newly turned earth, inclined to curl about his ears and on his strong brow. His eyes were his most striking feature, wide and as black as coal, and they were steadily returning her frank appraisal. There was an intense stillness about him. Hannah knew women saw him as a challenge. It was a shock to realise he was a very good-looking man; an even greater one that he was interested in her.
While she had been staring at Matt, Janet had been busy. Hannah felt something being put in her hand. ‘What’s this?’ She gazed at the small canvas bag as if she hadn’t seen such a thing before.
‘You haven’t had a cup of tea yet so I’ve packed a flask and a couple of sandwiches for you both. That’ll keep you going till supper. Off you go then, the pair of you. I don’t want you under my feet. I’m very busy.’
Before Hannah could say another word, she and Matt were being bustled out of the back door. Matt shot Janet a look of gratitude then took the bag from Hannah’s hand. Without a glance at Matt, Hannah quickly changed into her sandy sandals which she’d left beside the doorstep. She walked through the back yard ahead of him but he moved forward to open the brown-painted wooden gate for her then stepped back to let her lead the way again. Feeling silly, Hannah thanked him then followed the narrow alley that led past the next three tiers of dwellings. Without thinking she headed towards the cliff path on the dark side of the village, where she had just come from. Matt stayed close. She was grateful her aunt had not shoved them out through the front door; that would have required them to walk along beside the quay and through the heart of the village. Nevertheless, they were seen by a few people who stopped and eyed them curiously and bid them good evening with a variety of stupid or knowing looks on their faces. Hannah knew that before they came back it would be all over Porthellis that she and Matt Penney were walking out together. She prayed they wouldn’t come across her father.
Matt didn’t speak and walked beside her as they climbed higher and higher until finally they scrambled up the last steep stretch of worn ground to the cliff path. He scaled it first then offered his hand to help Hannah up. She had made the journey hundreds of times, quickly and easily, without thinking about it, but made no protest. Matt’s hand was as big and calloused as Daniel’s. When they were on the path she pulled hers away.
‘Where would you like to go, Hannah?’ Matt said, searching her face.
‘I don’t mind. I went down to Hidden Beach earlier.’ Her eyes were fastened on Roscarrock. From here a third of the house could be seen through the trees of the small wood. Having been offered a position there she had a sudden longing to see more of it. ‘We’ll carry on this way.’
They walked on, not talking, looking down on Porthellis, the beach, the seaweed-strewn rocks that stretched out in irregular lines to meet and be covered by the sea when the tide came in. On the landward side of the path, huge clumps of gorse and wire fencing protected livestock and fields of grain. A herd of rough-hided black heifers, with one solitary tan-coloured beast, stopped browsing to stare at them. Further inland, on the horizon, silent clay hills, called Cornish mountains, reared up in the St Austell area. On the coastal side the cliff fell away steeply, the rock concealed by sweeps of fern and banks of hawthorn bushes. Ivy sought to choke the growth and the few windswept trees. Sorrel, dandelions and primrose leaves grew in clumps and a wren flitted on a stubby tree which was covered with lichen like a second skin.
Occasionally there was a big hump of rock to climb over or the path narrowed and dipped sharply, and as they got nearer to Roscarrock land there was a stone stile in a hedge to climb over. Each time, Matt sought Hannah’s hand to help her up and down, each time holding her hand a moment longer than necessary. There was no access to the cliff running along the bottom of Roscarrock and walkers had to make a wide detour inland. Roscarrock was enclosed by a wall of herringbone slates interspersed with foliage and small wind-bent trees.
‘Let’s climb over the wall and sit on the other side,’ Hannah suggested. ‘We shouldn’t be seen.’ She thought about Patrick Opie’s telescope but decided it was unlikely he would be looking out across this quiet corner of his great-aunt’s land.
Matt was happy with that; they wouldn’t be seen by anyone who happened to be coming along the path. Hannah smiled to herself when he backtracked a short distance to find easy access and helped her up and over the wall.
The ground here was more overgrown than Hannah remembered. She led the way out of the undergrowth until they had a perfect view of Roscarrock House. She stopped and stared at it for some minutes.
Matt nudged her arm to remind her she hadn’t come alone.
‘Oh, sorry. I’ve always been fascinated by the house.’
‘Shall we sit down?’ He pointed to a smooth patch of springy grass.
Hannah nodded and took the bag from Matt. She hadn’t had a drink since before Lizzie’s wedding and was extremely thirsty. As she pulled the cork out of the flask and poured herself a cup of her aunt’s strong stewed tea, Matt sat down close at her side, facing her. He watched her with pleasure. This close she noticed he had a tiny scar on the point of his chin.
Draining the cup, she shuddered. ‘Aunty Janet makes tea brave enough to face the fiercest storm.’ She met Matt’s searching eyes. ‘Would you like some?’
‘Yes please.’
He took the refilled cup from her hand and she pulled out the sandwiches and offered him one. They were thick cut and filled with wedges of cheddar cheese. She ate hers quickly; she was ravenously hungry.
He broke his in half and chewed slowly. ‘Mmm, tasty bread. Your aunt’s?’
‘No, mine actually.’
‘I thought you’d be a good cook,’ he smiled at her.
So he’d been thinking about her, had he, weighing up her attributes as a housewife?
‘Did you enjoy the wedding?’ Matt asked.
‘Yes,’ she replied soberly, not wanting to talk about it. She looked again at the big house. ‘Did you ever take a peep at Roscarrock as a boy, Matt?’
‘Yes. I got as far as the walled garden once. A man with a gun very nearly discovered me. Frightened the life out of me. I never went in so far again.’
Hannah looked at him with awe and gave an unfeminine whistle. ‘Crumbs, that’s even further than Daniel. What do you think the man had a gun for? He wasn’t after intruders, was he? Do you think he would have shot you?’
Matt grinned, much amused. Hannah had an innocent quality about her that he found enchanting. ‘No, he looked like he was about to shoot rabbits. I saw some on the lawn.’
‘Did you ever hear the screams?’
‘Believe all that, do you? Vengeful ghosts, the headless smuggler, the wronged mistress, a dog trapped eternally down a well?’
‘Yes. Don’t you?’ she asked incredulously. ‘And the smuggler isn’t headless.’
‘I think the rumours grew over the years as each generation added to them to make them more frightening. Anyway, whatever the smuggler’s head was like, Hannah,’ he said shaking crumbs off his hand and putting the flask cup down, then looking deeply into her eyes, ‘I bet it wasn’t as beautiful as yours.’
‘Matt!’
‘What?’
‘I didn’t expect you to come out with something like that.’
‘Do you mind, Hannah?’
She could hardly take in the things that had happened to her today. She had seen and talked to one of the elusive Opies, had even touched Patrick Opie. He had offered her a job at Roscarrock, a place only a handful of villagers had ever been inside and none in recent times – the staff were employed from further afield. A few minutes after arriving home, this man had turned up, out of the blue, asking her out. She didn’t have the experience to know if a walk along the cliff path was romantic or not, but thinking about it she didn’t mind his attention; in fact she was flattered to have been singled out by one of the eligible bachelors of the village.
She held his steady gaze. ‘No, I don’t.’
He moved in closer and surprised her again. He took her face gently in his hands and brushed his lips tenderly over hers. Hannah blinked. Of course, this was what usually happened next, according to the few love stories she had read. Butterflies agitated inside her and she mourned the loss of her sisters’ closeness to share this sort of experience with.
Daniel always kissed her cheek on her birthday, when he usually had a little gift for her, and he often put his arm round her shoulders. Occasionally she had leaned against him as they’d sat chatting. This was different. Matt was different. His hands felt different now as they slid caressingly down her neck, along her arms, round her waist and he pulled her into his body. She didn’t have time to ponder any more. He kissed her again, and her lips parted like buds unfolding in the heat of the sun under his light movements. Something wonderfully new and very welcome stirred inside her and grew into a delicious strong sensation. He was very gentle, and as she put her arms round his neck he increased the pressure of his mouth until she thought her feelings would soar and run out of control. Becoming a little disturbed, Hannah pulled her arms down, and sensitive to her retreat Matt ended the kiss.
He didn’t release his firm hold and snuggled her against his chest, placing his chin on the top of her head. Hannah listened to his heart beating. It sounded very fast and she thought he must surely hear hers racing. She had enjoyed her first full kiss, but some half-remembered advice from Aunty Janet about how she should behave when alone with a man ran through her mind. She told herself she would have to be careful about how Matt had made her feel.
Matt slowly ran his fingers through her hair. He put a peck on the crown of her head. ‘If I can get hold of a car would you like to go to the pictures? I’m sure my uncle in Gorran Haven would lend me his.’
‘I’d love to go. I’ve never been to the pictures before. I’ve only been outside the village once or twice. I’ve been further out at sea than I have been on land.’ She tilted her head to look up at him. ‘Can we keep it quiet? My father might try to make trouble for you.’
‘Never mind him. I’m not afraid of Jeff Spargo,’ Matt said as if he had something sour in his mouth. ‘You don’t have to answer to him, Hannah.’
‘I’m still under twenty-one, Matt. Besides, when he gets nasty with me he makes life difficult for the rest of my family.’
‘We were seen leaving the village. He probably knows that we’re together now,’ he pointed out.
‘I’d forgotten that,’ she said in a small voice, imagining his cutting remarks or the insults he would hurl at her bedroom window the next time he got drunk. Her only comfort was that the villagers didn’t believe she was ‘a curse on Porthellis’ or a ‘whore like your mother’. If they believed she was a ‘vile little bastard’, they nonetheless treated her with respect, mostly with affection.
‘Don’t worry,’ Matt said tenderly. ‘You were bound to have a sweetheart one day. He’ll just have to get used to it.’
Hannah thought Matt calling himself her sweetheart was presumptuous of him but she didn’t object when he lifted her face and kissed her again.