A Safe Harbour, page 16
Adamson’s smile had vanished to be replaced by a troubled frown. Constable Darling suspected that he was not going to like what came next. ‘Yes, sir, I’m sure,’ he said in an attempt to delay, if only for a few seconds, what Mr Adamson was going to say.
‘I know you disapprove of my decision not to press charges against that young fisherman.’
‘Thomas Lawson.’
‘Lawson? The brother of the girl whose sweetheart drowned?’
‘Yes, sir. Thomas is Kate’s twin. There’s an older brother, too, William. You can’t mistake the Lawsons.’
‘You mean the hair?’
‘Aye, and the temper to go with it. They get it from their father. Although, to be fair, I’ve never known William to cause any trouble.’
‘Do you think the girl was part of it today?’
‘I shouldn’t think so. Kate would have more sense.’
‘She was there watching.’
‘Mebbes she just wanted to see what was going on. But I can’t answer for any of them.’
‘I thought you knew the villagers well.’
‘I thought I did.’
‘And you have become part of the community?’
Constable Darling flushed. ‘I know what you’re getting at, Mr Adamson, but I had no idea what was going to happen today.’
‘You mean you didn’t know it would go so far? You thought they would just come along and wave their placards and shout for a while.’
‘I didn’t know anything about it.’
‘Your house is in John Street. Less than five minutes’ walk away. It took you a long time to get here. If you had arrived sooner things wouldn’t have gone so far, would they? You could have prevented Thomas Lawson from acting so violently. In fact you could have broken up the gathering almost immediately. Isn’t that correct?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Couldn’t you hear the shouting?’
‘I wasn’t at home. They planned that, too.’
‘You’d better tell me.’
Constable Darling shifted his weight from foot to foot and, at last, Mr Adamson took pity on him. ‘Draw that chair up and sit down.’
‘The bairns came to my door,’ he said and then he paused.
‘Some children came to your door. Go on.’
‘They said they’d been playing in the ruins – the priory – and that Lucy Green, little Lucy, she’s only four, had wandered off. They were afeared she’d found the secret passage.’
‘There isn’t one.’
‘I know that, but the bairns think there is. Well, anyway, they couldn’t find her. I went with them to look for her. I was afeared she might have fallen over the cliff top, to tell the truth, so I ran hell for leather.’
‘Did you find her?’
Constable Darling sighed. ‘Aye.’
‘And she was safe and well?’
‘Yes, she was.’
‘The children had tricked you.’ It wasn’t a question.
‘Aye.’
‘But you don’t believe it was their idea?’
‘Not now I don’t. The lads put them up to it, didn’t they? In fact it’s just the sort of thing Jos Linton would have thought of.’
‘But he’s the lad who drowned, isn’t he?’
‘Aye, but him and Thomas Lawson were thick as thieves – and Jos’s younger brother Matthew, an’ all. I think this has been planned for some time.’
‘And that is why I don’t want the lad prosecuted.’
‘I don’t understand. That would put an end to it.’
‘I don’t think so. They’re angry.’
Constable Darling would have liked to say that they had good cause to be angry but it wasn’t his place to side with anyone – neither the rich nor the poor. His job was to uphold the law.
‘And locking Thomas Lawson up in prison might make things worse,’ Mr Adamson said.
‘Do you think they’ll think better of you for going easy on him?’
‘No, there’s no hope of that. I only want them to understand that I’m willing to listen to what they have to say. And I have some suggestions to make. We’ll get nowhere if I bring the might of the law down on them.’
‘I see.’
Richard Adamson smiled. ‘I’m not sure if you do. But I want you to know that what you’ve told me today will go no further.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I won’t let anyone – especially not your superiors – know how the children tricked you today. I would have done the same as you.’ Mr Adamson was smiling as he rose from his seat. ‘And now I’m supposed to be taking my mother and Miss Travers to the theatre.’
‘Well, sir, if you don’t mind my saying so, you’d better change your shirt.’
‘What?’
‘It’s got blood all over it.’
Richard Adamson sighed and Constable Darling speculated that, masterful though he was, he might have met his match in Miss Caroline Travers. Her father, Jacob, owned the biggest fleet of colliers in the Tyne and his family had been shipping coal to London for more than three generations. They were immensely wealthy. But there was no son to inherit the business. Furthermore, Caroline was an only child.
If Mr Adamson was marrying the girl for her beauty, good luck to him. There was no denying she was a corker. And if he had another motive then good luck to him again. Fish and coal. Fortunes had been made from both of them so why shouldn’t two of those fortunes unite in matrimony?
‘Get home for your evening meal, constable. I’ve kept you long enough.’ Mr Adamson was smiling and pleasant, as if everything had been settled satisfactorily.
But as Constable Darling made his way home to his house in the village he couldn’t help wondering if he ought to have stood up to Mr Adamson and insisted on arresting Thomas Lawson. He knew the feeling in the village better than the trawler owner did. And he felt in his bones that there was more trouble to come.
‘Sorry. Does it sting?’
Richard opened his mouth to say he was all right and breathed in a whiff of pungent iodine fumes. He gasped and shut his mouth quickly. He felt his eyes stinging and blinked to clear them. He nodded, hoping that his strained smile would satisfy Dr Phillips, who had just put a couple of stitches in the wound in his cheek. Now the doctor was dabbing it with more iodine before applying a dressing of gauze. The doctor’s paraphernalia was spread out on Richard’s already cluttered desk. If Constable Darling could have seen the state of it now he would have been even more disapproving.
‘It’s not a very big wound but the glass cut deep,’ the doctor said. ‘Facial wounds often bleed a lot. Look worse than they are. However, your mother was right to telephone me.’
‘Mm.’ Richard guessed that the call had been prompted by Caroline. His mother was terrified of the telephone.
‘And now the sticking plaster . . . hold still . . . there. Won’t do much for your appearance, I’m afraid. I’m told you’re going to the theatre?’
‘Yes. The Theatre Royal in Shields. Some melodrama or other that the ladies wanted to see. We’ll miss the dinner, though.’
‘Were you going somewhere special to eat?’ Dr Phillips smiled sympathetically as he washed his hands in the bowl of water and dried them on one of the numerous clean towels that Caroline had seen fit to provide. Sam Phillips and Richard had been at school together and had remained friends.
‘Depends what you mean by special.’ Richard grinned and then grimaced as the stitches pulled at the flesh of his cheek. ‘Ouch!’
‘Sorry, should have warned you. But the dinner?’
‘With Caroline’s parents at their house in Tynemouth.’
‘It’s getting serious, then?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Dinner and the theatre with Ma and Pa. And your mother, too.’ Sam smiled as he snapped shut his medical bag.
‘Mm.’
‘I’m not prying, but I didn’t see an engagement ring on the young woman’s finger.’
‘Yes, you damn well are prying. And I’m not going to say more because – at the moment – there’s no more to say.’
‘Ah!’
‘And what does that mean?’
‘It means that one of you, either the beautiful Caroline, or you, Richard, has not made up their mind.’
Richard laughed. ‘You always were a nosy little beggar, Sam. Always wanting to know the whys and the wherefores.’
‘True, and no apologies. It’s my curiosity about life and the universe that’s made me a damned good doctor.’
‘And modest, too.’
They both laughed as they shook hands. ‘I’ll call in tomorrow to change the dressing, shall I? After office hours.’
‘If you think it’s necessary.’
‘It is. I must make sure that the wound is kept clean. We don’t want an infection to take hold. As it is I’m afraid there’s going to be a scar. Let’s try to keep it as small as possible.’
‘Very well. And you’ll have dinner with us afterwards?’
‘That’s what I hoped you’d say. Yes, please.’
Richard would have seen his friend to the door himself but he knew Caroline was hovering and anxious to speak to him, so he pulled the bell rope and asked the parlour maid to see the doctor out.
Caroline and his mother were in the first-floor sitting room at the front of the house. The room commanded a magnificent view of the sea and was furnished in the grand style. This pleased his mother, but Richard often longed for something more homely.
‘All right, dear?’ his mother asked.
She was sitting by the fire. These lofty rooms facing the sea and the north winds needed fires even at the height of summer and now, in September, the evenings were growing cool. Grace Adamson was getting old; the black clothes she had worn ever since she was widowed emphasized how thin she had become, and even though it was still possible to see how beautiful she had once been, her fine-boned features were beginning to look gaunt and her skin was parchment pale.
‘I’m fine, Mother. There’s no need to worry. Sam’s coming again tomorrow and I’ve asked him to stay for dinner. I know you like him.’
His mother nodded and smiled. She glanced away and stared into the mid-distance as if remembering something that pleased her. Perhaps some episode when Sam and I were lads, Richard thought.
Caroline rose from the chair at the other side of the hearth and came to meet him. ‘I’ve telephoned my father to say that we’ll meet them at the theatre,’ she said. ‘Naturally my parents are concerned, but I have assured them that you are all right, even if – even if . . .’
‘Even if you think a blow to the head has affected my judgement.’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘No, but I believe you think me foolish for allowing the lad to go scot-free.’
‘What should I think? I’ll wager that the man showed not one jot of gratitude for your generous action.’
‘I didn’t expect him to.’ He smiled. To Caroline, life was straightforward. It was a long time since her father’s family had been humble working men and her upbringing was a world away from the lives of the fishing families. Her father was not a hard master. The men who worked for him were paid adequately and he had set up a welfare fund for their widows and orphans, but he would not have tolerated what had happened today. He would have urged Constable Darling to uphold the law.
Richard knew it would be difficult to explain to Caroline that he could identify with the hopes and fears of the people in this village, and understood why they had behaved as they had today. There was no benefactor to provide for them when times were hard, as they were now.
And it was not so long since his own forebears had fished from this harbour in a simple coble. He still owned the cottage in which his grandfather had lived with a wife and family of four children to feed; all boys. All but the youngest of them, Richard’s father, John, had been lost in the same storm. Their father, Nathaniel, had survived, and had sworn that he would make life better for himself and his surviving son, who was still a child.
Grief combined with poverty had been the spur and Nathaniel Adamson had prospered. By sheer hard work he had founded the modest fortune that had enabled his son, John, to succeed even further. And, now, Richard, who was John’s only child, owned a fleet of trawlers and was prosperous enough to be courting the daughter of Jacob Travers.
Richard and Caroline had met because their mothers were members of the same ladies’ reading circle. As well as recommending books to each other, some of them began to socialize. Richard suspected that his mother, who liked Caroline enormously, had from the moment she first met her seen her as a suitable wife for her son. Richard had been amused to see the engineering that went on to get the two of them together, but he had not objected.
He watched Caroline now doing battle with herself. She had a sharp brain but she did not have the skill to hide what she was thinking. The struggle to drop the subject played itself out on her lovely face. No matter how much she would have preferred to carry on the argument, good manners and breeding won.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘what’s done is done. But now, do you still want to go to the theatre? Would it be better to stay at home and rest?’
‘No, I’m perfectly all right, and if you can bear to be seen with me looking like a ruffian, I think we should go. My mother would be most upset to miss this performance of East Lynne. She read the book and cried copiously, and now she wants to see the dramatization and cry even more. She has a dozen handkerchiefs at least in her evening bag, isn’t that right, Mother?’
‘Don’t tease,’ his mother admonished. ‘But, yes, I do want to go to the theatre. Have you read the book, Caroline?’
‘No, but my mother and I saw a version of the play when we were in London.’ Caroline put one hand on her breast and raised the other to place the back of the wrist on her forehead. She raised her eyes heavenwards and declaimed, ‘Dead! Dead! Dead! Dead! And never called me Mother!’
Grace Adamson tutted and shook her head, ‘That line does not appear in the book. Poor Mrs Wood, to have her novel traduced so.’
‘Do you disapprove?’ Caroline asked.
‘I suppose I do . . . well, I know I ought to disapprove, especially as Mrs Wood did not want her novel to be adapted for the stage.’ Then Grace Adamson smiled. ‘But nothing will stop me seeing the play.’
The two women looked at each other fondly and Richard acknowledged that Caroline brought a breath of fresh air into this rather sombre mansion that his father had aspired to. Caroline was young and vital and she seemed to be genuinely fond of his mother. Today she had arrived early so that she would be able to help Mrs Adamson dress for the theatre. She had brought her own evening clothes with her and they had got ready together with as much laughter and gossip as schoolgirls. Richard acknowledged that Caroline contributed to his mother’s well-being.
And would she be good for me ? he wondered. She was beautiful, accomplished, well read; she played the piano competently and she sang tolerably well. And, unusually for a woman, her knowledge of politics matched his own. And she was brave. When the commotion had begun outside the house she had wanted to come out with him to face the crowd. He had convinced her that it was her duty to stay with his mother. But, going by her calm manner, she had proved she would be good in a crisis.
So why was it that he was still hesitating over taking the courtship further? Caroline would make a marvellous wife. He watched now as she helped his mother into her cloak and donned her own.
‘Are you ready to go, Richard?’ she asked. ‘My father has ordered a carriage for us and I think I can hear it arriving now.’
Richard moved the lace curtain aside and looked out. ‘You’re right,’ he said.
The carriage was just drawing up. The carriage lamps were lit and shone through the smoky dusk of the September evening. He looked beyond and saw a damp mist curling in from the sea. It hovered a few feet above ground level, making the boat field a mysterious place. The outlines of the cobles seemed to waver and the figures of one or two of the fishermen appeared and disappeared like ghosts.
The wound on his cheek had begun to sting and pull against the stitches. He felt weary. Richard closed his eyes and leaned his head against the cool window pane. Immediately another figure appeared to his inner eye and seemed to burn its image on to his eyelids. Kate Lawson, tall and slender, standing with the crowd and yet apart from it as she watched what had gone on today. It was natural that she should be there, for her brother seemed to be the ringleader. But had she been cheering him on or had she been merely anxious about what would happen?
Richard remembered the moment their eyes had met. Relived the shock he had experienced when he realized that this woman’s estimation of him was important. Was that the reason he had been lenient to her brother? No. He really believed that it would have been the height of folly to exacerbate the matter by throwing the lad into prison.
And yet . . . The image of the girl refused to fade. She had taken up a place in his consciousness and she was not going to go. He didn’t want her to go.
‘Richard?’ It was his mother’s voice.
‘I’m coming.’
Richard Adamson turned and smiled at the two women who were waiting for him. It was time to leave for the theatre.
Chapter Ten
Kate sat by the fire in the cottage cradling a mug of tea. The warmth helped ease the joints of her fingers, which were stiff and sore from the constant scrubbing and immersing in water. She preferred her tea black but, with her mother’s admonitions in mind, she had forced herself to add milk. Anything for the good of the bairn, she thought.
She stared into the flames broodingly. She had hoped that William might call by and tell her whether he had managed to talk any sense into Thomas – or at least if this was going to be the end of it. She understood very well what had driven the men to act as they had, but she didn’t see how they could have achieved anything. Richard Adamson was hardly going to give up his fleet of trawlers. As he’d tried to tell them, you can’t stop progress.
But, in that case, what were the men like her father and her brother going to do? Thanks to Jane, William might have a future away from the village. An interesting and comfortable future if her friend was to be believed, but who would employ her father? Or hot-headed Thomas? William was thoughtful and intelligent; Kate knew he would be able to adapt to a new way of life, but Thomas . . . She couldn’t see him taking orders from anyone except their father. He would find it hard to learn to work for any other employer.
