Текст книги "Gossamer Cord"

Автор книги: Philippa Carr

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“What?” I cried.

He laughed. “You look scared. Don’t worry. They won’t come alive for you. They did once—so they tell me—for poor old Samuel Starky. That was fifty years ago. Poor Samuel, he came into the Horned Stag crying, ‘They’m all alive. The Stones have come to life! Death and destruction is to come to Bandermoor!’ That’s the name of the little village which I’ll show you later. ’Twill be destroyed this night.’ You see, the grocer’s wife had run off with the postman, and the grocer had taken a woman into his house. Sodom and Gomorrah had come to Bandermoor, and the Stones had come to life to wreak vengeance.”

“And what happened to Bandermoor?”

“Oh, it went on in its peaceful way and the Stones remained. Oddly enough, people still think there is something supernatural about them. Well, this is the Horned Stag. Take note of the animal. Isn’t he fearsome?”

“I think it is because the paint round his eyes has become a little blurred.”

“What a practical young lady you are! Practical and punctual. I like it. Come along.”

We first took our horses to the stables and then went in. The inn parlor was almost a replica of that of the Smithy. Tankards of cider were brought to us.

“I believe you are getting quite a taste for the stuff,” he said.

“It’s certainly very pleasant.”

“Tell me,” he said, “when shall you be leaving us?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

He grimaced. “So soon? But you will be here again?”

“I should think so.”

“Your sister is quite well?”

“I think everything is going according to plan.”

On a sudden impulse I told him I had met Mrs. Pardell.

He was surprised.

“Really? She has not a reputation for making friends easily.”

“I would not aspire to friendship.”

I told him about the cutting.

He was amused. “What a devious plan!” he said. “I can see you are a mistress of diplomacy. Why were you so eager to meet her?”

“I have to admit that I am by nature curious.”

“Curious, practical, and punctual,” he murmured. “The last two are virtues. I am not sure about the first. Why were you so curious to meet the lady from the North?”

“Naturally because of her daughter. I was taken aback when my sister told me there had been a previous marriage, but I did not know who the first wife was until you told me.”

“And then you wanted to know more about her?”

“It was a natural feeling, wasn’t it?”

“Indeed, yes. I daresay your sister would want to know.”

“I don’t think she cares very much. She never liked anything that might be…uncomfortable. She likes everything to go smoothly, and if they don’t, push them out of the way where they can be forgotten.”

“But you are not like that?”

“No. I want to know everything, no matter what it is.”

“I understand perfectly. But what did you think you would get from the lady?”

“I thought I might hear something about the girl…Annette. What she was like, how it all happened.”

“I doubt you got much from Mrs. Pardell.”

“Nothing at all.”

“Too bad after such a clever plot with the plant. But congratulations on a piece of imaginative strategy. Pity it was wasted.”

“Not entirely. I am to go again next visit to see whether the thing has flourished.”

“Clever! I’m overcome with admiration. What profit do you hope to get from all this?”

“The more you know of people, the more you understand them.”

“Are you anxious about your sister?” he asked searchingly.

I hesitated. Was I? I had always been a sort of watchdog for us both. I remembered our first day at school—her hand tightly clasping mine, myself trying not to show her the trepidation I felt; seated together at the little desk. Dorabella close to me, reassured because I was there, the strong one; and she did not know that I was only pretending, as much for her sake as my own.

I was certainly uneasy about her. I could not rid myself of the feeling that there was something not quite right at Tregarland’s. It was a strange notion, but there seemed to be something slightly unreal about the people there.

I could not explain this to Jowan Jermyn. I had been too frank already. What had possessed me to tell him of my little subterfuge in getting a footing into Cliff Cottage by means of the cutting?

The fact was that I felt at ease with him. I laughed at his way of taking everything lightly and finding it amusing. I realized that what I felt about the Tregarland household was all speculation. They had all been kind to us and very welcoming to Dorabella. My mother seemed satisfied. I was inclined to let my imagination run on, to conjure up drama where it did not exist.

He was watching me intently and asked if I were worried about my sister.

“Well,” I said. “It has all happened rather quickly. This time last year we did not know of the Tregarlands’ existence…and then to find one’s sister married and about to have a baby in a place quite a few miles from home.”

“I understand. You feel there is much to know and your sister’s husband’s first wife is part of it.”

“Yes, I suppose that is what I feel.”

“It’s just a straightforward story. The heir of Tregarland married the barmaid; she was about to have a child, and there was a tragedy. That’s all.”

“Do you mean that he married her because she was going to have a child?”

“I believe that was so. It was the verdict of the news agency, at least.”

“I see. As you say, it is not an unusual story.”

“The family wouldn’t have been very pleased, of course.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But these things happen in the best regulated families. It is all in the past. I gather they are delighted with this marriage.”

“Have your sources told you this?”

“Certainly. And they are rarely mistaken.”

He started to tell me of some of the legends of the place; of the celebrations on the moor on Midsummer’s Eve; the bonfires hailing the dawn; Hallow E’en when the witches thrived.

“And Cornish witches into the bargain are far more malevolent than other people’s witches.”

He also told me of the Furry Dance which heralded in the spring, when people danced through the streets of the towns.

I was absorbed and disappointed when it was time to go.

“You’ll be back,” were his parting words, when we said goodbye at the boundary. “I shall hear, of course, when you return, and we shall meet in the field, the scene of our first encounter. Is that a promise?”

“It is,” I said.

And I intended to keep it.

Rescue on the Rocks

TWO DAYS LATER, MY mother and I traveled back home. My mother sat back in the carriage with a look of satisfaction on her face.

“Everything seems to be going well,” she said. “I can’t wait till November. If only we could get Nanny Crabtree there I think everything could be just perfect. Dermot is such a nice young man. I liked him more and more.” She frowned. “Gordon is somewhat…”

I waited while she paused, searching for the word she needed to describe him.

“Overpowering,” she said at length. “Although he says very little, he does behave as though he is the son of the house. Well, I suppose we shall be going down again soon. I think Dorabella would have liked you to stay.”

“Well, I daresay I shall be making the journey back there very soon,” I said.

When I was back at Caddington I saw things differently. My mother was right. Everything was going well.

I thought often of Jowan Jermyn. It would be amusing to see him again. I rather liked the fact that we had to meet…well, not exactly secretly…but to take certain precautions not to be seen too frequently at the same place.

I wondered if Mrs. Brodie had reported that we had called in twice at Smithy’s. It was very probable. It had been tactful of him to suggest the meeting at the Horned Stag.

My father was delighted to see us. He said that he wished Dorabella could come home for a while.

My mother said: “She is at her own home now, and you could hardly expect her to leave her husband. And her husband has an estate to look after.”

“Gordon does that very well,” replied my father. “I don’t think Dermot would be missed all that much.”

It was as near as he could get to a criticism and very unusual with him. It showed how much he wanted to see his daughter.

I missed her, too, but I was sure it would not be long before I went to Cornwall again. I wanted to be with her. Moreover, it was exciting, and a little mysterious in a way, which appealed to my penchant for intrigue. I could not rid myself of the idea that there was something strange about the household, and I felt it would be very interesting to discover what it was. And then, of course, there would be meetings with Jowan Jermyn.

My mother was overjoyed to hear from Nanny Crabtree. She would be free at the beginning of September and would take a short holiday to stay with her cousin in Northamptonshire. She would be ready to go to Cornwall at the beginning of October which would give her a few weeks to settle in before the baby arrived.

We heard from Edward that he and Gretchen would like to come and see us and perhaps stay a couple of weeks. They had a friend who would like to see Cornwall. Should we mind very much if they brought him with them?

“I am sure you will like Richard,” he said. “He is a lawyer and has been a great help to me.”

My mother was always delighted to see Edward and wrote back enthusiastically of her pleasure at the proposed visit.

Edward was now attached to a law firm in London. He and Gretchen were living in the Greenham family house in Westminster at the time but were looking for a house of their own. Edward wrote to my mother regularly so that she could keep in touch with everything he was doing. Although she was only about fifteen years older than he was, he looked upon her as a mother, which was not really surprising, as she was the one who had brought him out of Belgium when the Germans had been invading that country.

They arrived in the early afternoon. Gretchen looked very happy; so did Edward. We were introduced to the friend, Richard Dorrington, a tall, pleasant-looking young man who thanked my mother profusely for asking him.

I could see immediately that she liked him. She told him that Edward’s friends were always welcome.

It was an interesting visit. My father quite obviously liked Richard Dorrington, too—but then he liked most people—yet I did sense a rather special feeling for this young man.

Edward said he was going to show Richard some of the local sights, for Richard, who had lived most of his life in London, did not know this part of the country at all.

Over the first meal Edward talked about the places he had in mind.

“You’d like to see some of these spots again, wouldn’t you, Violetta?” said my mother.

I agreed that I would.

“Robert will be very cross when he hears you’ve been here,” said my mother to Richard. “Robert is my young son. He’s always annoyed because he is at school when we have visitors here. Well, the four of you must go together. You must take Richard to that old Chidam place for lunch. It is really rather fun. Ye Olde Reste House, pretending to date back to the days of Henry VIII when it was actually built about ten years ago. Ye olde Tudor beams—put in all of ten years ago! I expect they have a ghost. Anne Boleyn will appear one day.”

“I don’t think she ever went near the place,” said Edward.

“That’s of no account. They’ll find a way of fitting her in with ye olde Tudor beams. It is really quite amusing with the waitresses in Tudor costumes, complete with lipstick and permanently waved hair.”

“It sounds amusing,” said Richard.

“It is…just for once. You will take him, Edward?”

Then we talked about Edward’s househunting in London.

“I’d like to be near Chambers,” said Edward.

“Richard has a fine place in Kensington,” added Gretchen.

“I think,” said Edward smiling at her, “we shall have to go for something less grand.”

“Our place has been in the family for some years,” said Richard. “My grandfather bought it. Then it went to my father and now to me.”

“In a quiet square,” added Gretchen.

“One of those big family houses, built round a garden square for exclusive use of the residents who surround it,” explained Edward.

“There are some lovely houses in those squares,” said my mother.

“You need a family to fill them,” put in Gretchen.

“I have my widowed mother and sister Mary Grace living with me,” said Richard. “It has always been home to us.”

“Then you have old Mrs. what’s-her-name to keep everything in order,” said Edward.

“That’s the housekeeper,” Richard explained to us. “Yes, she is one of the old faithful kind. She makes everything run smoothly.”

“I know the type,” said my mother.

My father liked to hear what people thought of the political situation. He always felt that people from London would know more of what was going on than we did in the country.

“What do you think of the new Prime Minister?” asked Richard Dorrington.

“It’s early days yet. He’s only been in office just over a month. He did some good work in the past, and it was time Baldwin went, I suppose. Though he did very well over the Abdication. He probably needed a rest after that, hence his resignation. I would say that Neville Chamberlain has not had long enough to be judged.”

“I don’t like the situation on the Continent.”

Edward said: “It is certainly thought-provoking.”

“Mussolini is being closely watched,” went on Richard. “Europe is very uneasy about him, but they all stood by when he invaded Abyssinia. They were horrified, shocked, and disapproving, but they did just nothing. If the countries had stood together then, if they had imposed sanctions, he would have had to withdraw in a few weeks. But they stood by, saying how disgraceful it was, while he snapped his fingers at them and went on. I was, in Rome this time last year…no, a little earlier. It was May. It was in the Piazza Venezia; the crowd was great. I heard there were about 400,000 gathered there, and I could well believe that. Mussolini came out and announced to us all that after fourteen years of fascist rule Italy had an empire.”

“What sort of a man is he?” asked my father.

“Powerful, charismatic in the extreme, with a hypnotic quality. One sensed he had them all in his power. I think these forceful dictators must arouse a certain uneasiness in the minds of many people. They are too powerful, and their people do not seem to question their actions. They can’t, I suppose. They dare not. He is modeling himself on his ally, Adolf Hitler.”

I saw the change in Gretchen. She lowered her eyes, and I was taken back to those terrible moments in the inn parlor at the schloss.

“What about the Rome-Berlin Axis?” asked my father.

Richard Dorrington smiled grimly. “It means Germany and Italy are allies. I think Mussolini longs to be a Hitler.”

Edward glanced at Gretchen and said: “Well, we shall have to wait and see. I want to tell you about the places I plan for us to visit.”

The next day we went off in the car—the four of us together. It was most enjoyable. A few days later there was a picnic in the nearby woods. My mother and father came with us and it was a very jolly party. My mother was overjoyed by Edward’s visit. I would often see her looking at him reminiscently, and I knew she was thinking of the helpless little baby whose life she had saved. Of course, my grandmother had undertaken the main responsibility of bringing him up, but he would always remember that but for my mother, he would not be one of us now.

There was something else. I detected a certain speculation in her eyes. I knew her well and could read her thoughts. She liked Richard; she was constantly talking of him to Edward. She wanted to know all about him. I thought, she is looking out for a suitable husband for her daughter. Dorabella is safely settled, now she thinks it is my turn.

I rather wished the thought had not struck me. It had an effect on my feelings for Richard, and I fancied I was a little more aloof than I might have been. Why did mothers always want to get their daughters married? They wanted to see them settled, and because they remembered them as babies, they thought they needed someone to look after them, I supposed.

I wanted to assure her that I was quite capable of looking after myself. And she must not, as so many mothers do, set out to find a husband for me.

The days were passing, and very pleasant they were. My father enjoyed discussing the state of affairs in Europe and was speculating with Edward and Richard whether Chamberlain would do well, and whether it was a pity that Baldwin had seen fit to resign at this time.

The visit was coming to an end. We were into July and that evening at dinner Richard said, looking at my mother, for he knew she would be the one to make the decision: “You must come to London. There is so much to do there. Everything won’t be so crowded at this time. Why not?”

“You must come as soon as we get our house,” began Edward, when Richard interposed:

“You must stay with us. Mary Grace loves having visitors. So does my mother. It would cheer her up a good deal.”

“Richard’s place is not very far from Kensington Gardens, and then there is the High Street with all the shops,” Edward added.

“Well, we should very much like to,” said my mother.

She came to my room that night when the household had retired.

“What do you think about this visit to London?” she asked.

“Well, perhaps sometime.”

“It sounds fun. I’d like to see that house and meet his people. Mary Grace sounds very charming.”

“Oh, yes…”

“I like Richard, don’t you?”

“Yes. Edward and he seem good friends, and I think he and Gretchen are happy.”

“I think so, too. It is a pity her people are so far away. I think we ought to pay that visit and we shouldn’t leave it too long, either.”

I smiled at her. I could read her thoughts so easily.

I did have a chance of a quiet talk with Gretchen. Although she was happy, and obviously cared deeply for Edward, I often saw anxiety in her eyes.

It was the day before they were due to leave when I found myself alone with her.

I said: “Gretchen, is everything all right?”

“You mean…my family…?”

“Yes.”

She did not speak for a while. Then she said: “They have not been molested. But I believe it is no better…perhaps getting worse.”

“You mean what we saw happen…is still going on?”

“Yes,” she said. “And more often. I wish…”

“What a pity they can’t get out.”

“It is difficult. I talk about it with Edward. I wish they could come to England. But it is not easy.”

“I can see that. They would have to leave the schloss, their home, everything.”

She said: “Some are getting out. Friends of ours have gone. They are in America. And some in Canada, South Africa, and other places.”

“If you and Edward get a house…perhaps…”

She shook her head. “My father would not go. Nor would Kurt. If they were rich, perhaps, as some have done.”

“It may all blow over…”

She lifted her shoulders. “There is such hatred for our race. My family is not important even to attract much notice, fortunately. It is the rich they attack first. But in time…”

I laid my hand on hers. “I am glad you are here.”

“I am the fortunate one. My family rejoice in my good fortune. But I suffer for them.”

“Dear Gretchen, I hope it all comes right soon.”

“One can hope,” she said, but I saw the hopelessness in her face.

My mother talked again of the proposed visit to London.

“It will be fun to go househunting for Edward,” she said.

The visitors left with the assurance that we should all meet again soon.

The next day I had a letter from Dorabella.

Dear Vee,

You said you were coming down. It will be August soon and ages since you’ve been. I am really huge now and looking forward to Nanny Crabtree’s arrival. There’ll be the usual talk. She’ll go on about what a “caution” I always was…the naughty one…not like good Miss Violetta. Such a good girl she was. I can’t get about much. I’m just stuck here. I have to lie down and rest. It’s boring and not very comfortable. I mustn’t do this and I mustn’t do that.

This is an S.O.S. Come please soon…

While I was reading the letter my mother came into the room. “About this trip to London,” she began. I waved the letter in my hand. “From Dorabella?” she asked. “Yes,” I replied. “I must go to Dorabella first.”

It was exciting to be traveling down to Cornwall. This time I was alone, as my mother could not leave just then.

Dorabella would be satisfied if one of us went, we had decided.

Dermot came to the station to meet me. He greeted me warmly.

“Dorabella is so delighted that you are coming,” he said. “And so are we all.”

“I am glad to be here. How is she?”

“The doctor says she is fine. She gets a little restless. She was always one for dashing around.”

“I know she doesn’t like this enforced inactivity.”

“Indeed. She does not like it at all.”

“It will be good to see her again.”

“It has been a long time, she says.”

“My mother has so many commitments at home, and there is my father who can’t always get away from the estate.”

“I know. However, here you are and it is good to see you.”

I was thinking: And I shall be able to see Jowan Jermyn. It will be time for the plant to have taken root. I can make another attempt to talk to Mrs. Pardell. I was drawn into an atmosphere of intrigue and mystery—which might be of my own creating, it was true—but interesting nevertheless.

Dorabella was waiting for me. She hugged me fiercely.

“You might have come before,” she said, scowling and then laughing. “But it’s wonderful that you are here now. I know it’s a long way to come…and there is that nice Richard Somebody our mother mentioned in her letter. You might have told me about him.”

“So Mummy has been writing to you about him?”

“Of course. And our father thinks highly of him. You know…that sort of thing. Well, she wouldn’t want my other half to be left on the shelf when I have been so perfectly disposed of.”

“What nonsense! I hardly know the man.”

“And you liked him?”

“Moderately.”

“I know you and your understatements.”

“More to be relied on than your wild enthusiasms.”

“Well, here I am, a married woman about to replenish the earth. Oh, Vee, thank goodness you’ve come. It’s lovely to have you here. Now I want a detailed account of everything you’ve been doing.”

“First,” I replied. “I have to have one from you. Mummy wants to hear all about you—a truthful account.”

“My life is full of action. You’ll never tell it all in one letter. I lie in bed until they bring my breakfast. I rise, bathe, and amble round the gardens. Lunch and rest. Doctor’s orders. I may go down, or have it in my room. Then I sit in the garden perhaps, discuss layettes and nursery furniture with Matilda, see the midwife if it is her day to call: Then dinner and bed. You see, it is a riotous existence.”

“Well, it won’t be very long now before the great day arrives.”

“It approaches inexorably and fills me with both longing and dread.”

“It will soon be over and then we shall have the marvelous child.”

“You mean I shall.”

“We’ve always shared.”

“You’ll be a doting aunt.”

“I daresay.”

“You must see that man again…the enemy in the feud.”

“Perhaps I shall.”

“What do you mean by perhaps you will? I shall insist. You have come down here to amuse me, remember.”

“I promise I will.”

“Amuse me and see him again?”

“I am determined to do that.”

“What? Amuse me? Or see him?”

“Both,” I replied.

“Oh, Vee, how wonderful that you have come.”

I was with her all that day.

During the next morning the doctor came to see her and said she was a little tired and must rest more.

She scowled but obeyed the rules, and that gave me an opportunity to be alone.

I wondered whether the news of my arrival had reached Jowan Jermyn, and I turned over in my mind whether I should take Starlight to the field and hope to see him there or walk to Cliff Cottage.

Dorabella’s talk about Richard Dorrington and Jowan Jermyn had made me feel a little uncomfortable about both men. It was rather disconcerting to contemplate that because one was growing up and unattached, people always wanted to link one with some prospective husband. It made plain friendship difficult.

I decided, however, that I would pay a call on Cliff Cottage. I remembered then that the last time I had been there I had met Gordon Lewyth on the dangerous part of the cliff path on the way back.

I had seen him briefly when I arrived, and I had thought his attitude had seemed a little warmer toward me than previously. During that walk down to the town he had unbent considerably. I was rather glad that we had made some advance—albeit small—in our relationship.

I had been with Dorabella all the morning and after lunch she had her rest. I set out for Cliff Cottage.

I had not told her where I was going. In fact, I was still uncertain as to her reaction to Dermot’s first marriage. I think it was one of those subjects which were vaguely unpleasant, to be thrust aside and not spoken of.

It was a warm day, but there was little sunshine. The sea was a dullish gray color, quiet but with a sullen look about it.

The gulls were noisy. When I came down the east cliff into Poldown and walked along the harbor I saw the fishermen there mending their nets. Some people were buying fish that had come in that morning and the gulls were screeching wildly, looking for tidbits which, for some reason, could not be sold and were flung back into the river, where they were immediately seized on by the swooping birds.

One or two people recognized me.

“Oh, ’ee be back then?”

“Not much sun about today.”

“Nice to see ’ee, Miss. Lady up house well, I hope?”

It was rather pleasant to be remembered.

I thought of what Jowan had said about the news service. I expected they were all well informed.

I crossed the ancient thirteenth-century bridge to the west side and started to climb up the cliff. It was steep and I paused every now and then, not so much to get my breath as to admire the weird formation of the black rocks with the waves gently swirling around them.

I came to Cliff Cottage. It looked as neat as ever. Boldly I opened the wooden gate and went up the short path. There was a porch on which were stone containers in which flowers grew. The front door had frosted glass panels.

I rang the bell and waited.

There was a short pause. I could see her through the glass peering at me. I wondered if she would recognize me. After a few seconds, when I feared I might not be let in, the door opened and Mrs. Pardell stood facing me.

“Oh,” she said. “It’s you. So you’re back, then.”

“Yes. How are you?”

“I’m all right, thanks.”

“And…er…the…”

Her face was illuminated by a smile. “It took,” she said. “It took a treat.”

“Oh, I am so relieved.”

She looked at me for a moment and I thought her Northern shrewdness would reject my enthusiasm for the gushing insincerity it was. But, like most people with obsessions, she could not believe that they were anything but marvelous in the eyes of all.

“You like to see it?” she asked.

“Oh, I should love to.”

“Come on, then.”

Proudly she took me to it. I was shown the spot. It was like a shrine. The plant looked bigger than when I had brought it. I thought to myself, Thank you, little plant. It is clever of you. Through you I have gone up in the estimation of this uncommunicative lady.

“It’s done wonders,” I said.

“I can tell you I’ve taken a bit of trouble. I saw where it was up at that place, and I reckoned I knew the spot to put it. Gets the sun—but not too much—and there’s shelter…”

“Oh, yes. This sturdy plant here…protects it in a way.”

“That’s so.”

“I am so glad.”

She nodded. “It was thoughtful of you to bring it. I was that pleased…”

“I could see how much you wanted it. And why shouldn’t you share it? I knew you would appreciate it.”

“Well, thank you.”

Was that to be all? I wondered. The end of the mission?

I felt deflated.

I said desperately: “If there is anything else you liked, I daresay I could get it for you.”

It was the right note. I could see the cupidity in her eyes. I had offered the irresistible.

“That’s gradely, that is. There might be one or two.”

“Well, you mustn’t hesitate to ask.”

“I take that as a real kind thought.”

I was glowing with confidence.

“Your garden is a picture,” I said. “This is the best time of the year, I suppose.”

“Spring is better,” she said. “Least I think so.”

“Yes, spring. We’re getting on in the year now.” I inhaled the air. “It’s gloomy today. It makes one thirsty.”

It was a hint and she hesitated for a moment. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Oh, that would be wonderful.”

So once more I had effected an entrance and I was in the sitting room with the picture of Annette of the saucy smile and ample bosom smiling at me.

Then I thought, go carefully. I was not going to give up now, if I could help it. That offer of more plants had been a good one. It was irresistible to her, and it was becoming something of a passion with me to discover more of Annette, and her mother could surely tell me as much as anybody.

She came in with a tea tray on which were two cups, milk, sugar, and a teapot over which was a cosy of pink and beige wool, obviously homemade.

She was a knitter then. That might be a subject to embark on, but alas one of which I was abysmally ignorant, as I was of gardening.

She poured out the tea.

I said: “This is very pleasant.”

She did not comment, but she did not look displeased.

“What an interesting teacosy,” I went on.

That was the right approach.

“You have to make these things yourself if you’re going to get what you want.”

“So you knitted that?”

“It’s not knitted. It’s crocheted. I do knit a bit, though.”

“Are you knitting at the moment?”

“A jersey,” she said tersely.

“That sounds interesting.”

“Had trouble getting the wool. This place…”

“You’d probably get what you want in Plymouth.”

“It’s a long way to go for a bit of wool.”

“You are really very talented,” I said rather obsequiously. “Making these things…and the garden as well. That’s really a show place.”

I was going too far. My desire to get onto the subject of her daughter was getting the better of my common sense.

She said: “How is your sister?”

“She is quite well. She gets tired easily.”

“Reckon you’ll want to be with her when her time comes.”

“I shall probably go home before that. It is not until November. But, yes, I shall want to be here then.”

She twisted her lips in a slightly mocking way, and, to my surprise, she said: “My girl…she was going to have a baby.”