September Morning, page 31
Skye held on to her temper with an effort at his patronising sneer, and snapped back a reply. ‘Naturally I know what’s happening. And if you mean do we have to think of where else to sell the clay, then no, we don’t. Our partners have got it all under control, and we should be thankful they have their other outlets.’
His eyes narrowed in his florid face. ‘You’re in a mighty forgiving mood, considering you never wanted us to merge with ’em in the first place.’
‘Times change,’ she said evenly. ‘In fact, I’ve been giving the whole business serious thought lately.’
‘Oh ah,’ he said, alert at once. ‘And what wonderful conclusions have you come up with?’
His tone implied that it could be nothing of major importance, especially coming from a woman. He was in one of his most belligerent and macho moods, but she had never been afraid of standing up to him, and she wasn’t afraid now.
‘Perhaps it’s time we sold out completely after all,’ she said coolly. ‘And before you throw a fit, hear me out, Theo.’
But she could see that he was too dumbstruck by her words to say anything at all for a moment. She certainly hadn’t meant to blurt it out. It had been no more than a seed of an idea at first, but one that had steadily grown in her mind, as insidiously as the mist descending over the moors.
He sat down on the chair vacated by Celia and folded his arms as best he could over his bulging belly.
‘Go on,’ he snapped. ‘I’d never taken you for a turncoat, so your reasoning had better be good.’
‘I’m tired,’ she said flatly. ‘Very tired. The miscarriage took more out of me than I realised, and although Celia and Nick think I’m perfectly well again, I know I’m not. I’m telling you this in confidence, Theo, and I’m appealing to your better nature, if that’s not an impossibility.’
‘Go on.’ He grunted again, for once not making any snide comment at her frankness, but not missing her pallor.
She spoke slowly, needing to explain her thoughts to herself as well as him.
‘I’ve come to realise that I don’t have the same interest in the clay that I once did, Theo. My heart is no longer in it, and I don’t think yours is, either. Our day is past, and it’s time we realised it before it’s too late.’
‘Too late for what?’
‘Too late for all of us to make any profit out of a business that’s dwindling rapidly. Bourne and Yelland are in a much better position than we are. They have the goodwill of the paper mills and medical supplies trade, but without the regular German firms buying our clay, we’re doing no more than giving lip service to the partnership. That embarrasses me, and I’ve no wish to feel like a poor relation.’
‘And how do you think our grandmother would see this backing down of all she stood for?’ he couldn’t resist sneering. ‘So much for your fine principles, cuz.’
Skye bit her dry lips. ‘I have a feeling that Granny Morwen would applaud my common sense. There’s a time for holding on and a time for letting go. I think we’ve reached that time.’
‘And do you think our offspring will think the same about losing their inheritance?’ he demanded.
‘It’s not for them to say whether or not we decide to sell. Naturally, they’d all be compensated. But I suggest we put the matter to them all to see what they think.’
He leapt to his feet, his ungainly bulk blotting out the sunlight from her gaze, his eyes spitting fire, his brief sense of compassion gone.
‘I’ll tell ’ee exactly what they’ll think without askin’ their bloody opinion. Yes, they’ll get compensated all right, but your girls couldn’t give a tinker’s cuss about the clay, and your son’s got so toffee-nosed with the newspaper trade he won’t care, neither. Justin’s already turned his back on it all to become a doctor, so that leaves only one, don’t it?’
‘It’s Sebby I’m most concerned about,’ Skye said carefully. ‘I do understand, Theo—’
‘No, you bloody don’t! You came here from America and stepped right into your grandmother’s affections. For all the rest of us knew, you wormed your way right into her will an’ all. You knew nothing about what my father had worked for all his life, and his father and brothers before him. You knew nothing except for some romantic idea of where your parents came from – and it’s mighty kind of you to be so concerned about Sebastian,’ he added, seething with sarcasm now. ‘But if you’re that bothered, why don’t we go and ask him what he thinks about selling out, and by-pass all the rest?’
‘Now?’ she said, appalled at his vindictiveness, and his smouldering resentment of her that she thought had been dead and buried long ago.
‘Yes, now,’ he snapped. ‘While we’re both in the mood.’
* * *
Seb Tremayne looked up from his work to see the small deputation making their way through to the workroom from the White Rivers showroom. When he saw the expressions on their faces he grinned wryly at his working partner.
‘Stand by for fireworks, Adam. When these two get together with that look, something’s definitely up.’
Seb stopped working his wheel and slid the pot expertly on to the base board before wiping his hands on a rag as Skye and his father came into the room.
‘To what do we owe this pleasure?’ he asked. ‘Checking up on us, are you, Father?’
Theo scowled. The boy had far too sharp a tongue on him, he mused, and just as quickly conceded that it was far too much like his own for comfort.
‘We’ve come to talk to ’ee on an important and personal matter, boy,’ he stated.
‘Then I’ll leave you folks to it,’ Adam said.
‘No, you stay, Adam. Whatever business there is to discuss, we’ll do it in the open air,’ Seb said at once, taking command.
This was his domain, his and Adam’s – and Skye’s, of course, he thought, though she didn’t look too well. He wondered at once if they should discuss whatever it was indoors after all. But it was too late now, and she was already following his father outside again.
‘Shall we walk over the moors, or would you prefer to sit in the car to talk, Skye?’ he said. ‘You do look weary.’
‘I’m well enough,’ she said. ‘Let’s walk.’
She had had enough of sitting beside Theo in the confines of his car. He had never smelled too sweet and it seemed now that he never bothered to keep himself particularly clean. How Betsy must hate it, although maybe she preferred his natural bodily stink to his reeking of the floosies he used to visit. Skye gave a shudder, thankful that her husband was a decent man.
They strode across the moors in the heady summer freshness, until they reached the outcrop of smooth rocks where they could sit down and take a breather. In the distance was the Larnie Stone, the tall, holed standing stone, from where you could see the distant sea, and where Morwen Tremayne had once glimpsed her lover, Ben Killigrew, after taking a witchwoman’s potion.
Skye pushed the thoughts out of her head, even though they were never more vivid than here, where it had all begun. The sweet liaison had become a powerful dynastic concern, which she and Theo were about to dissolve. A sob caught in her throat and she wondered after all, if she was doing the right thing.
‘Are you sure you’re feeling quite well, Skye?’ Sebby asked her again.
‘She’s all right, boy,’ Theo said crudely. ‘Just listen to me, and give us your thoughts without interrupting.’
He listened silently as his father explained what he and Skye were contemplating.
‘Is this really what you want to do?’ he said, turning to Skye. ‘I can hardly believe you want to turn your back on the clayworks.’
He ignored his father. It was Skye he was most concerned with, the lovely woman who was looking more careworn than he had ever seen her before. She was still beautiful in middle age, but so fragile and so vulnerable. It was not the way he liked to see Skye Pengelly. Impulsively, he caught at her cold hands.
‘Skye? Have you really had a hand in this, or have you been pushed into it by my father?’
He heard Theo give a raucous laugh.
‘Well, if that ain’t a proper show of confidence in your father, I don’t think!’ he said angrily. ‘The woman can speak for herself, and always has done.’
‘Then why don’t you let me?’ Skye said, her quiet voice echoed across the rustling bracken. She looked at Seb. When they were children her daughters had always called him a prize pig, and so he had been in those days, but not any more. Now, she had the greatest fondness for him.
‘Sebby, it was my idea,’ she said gently. ‘I feel it’s time I stood aside, and naturally, you’ll have your opinion on it, but it’s not only the clayworks I’m thinking of selling.’
Both men gasped as she said the words that seemed to fall from her lips of their own accord. But once said, she knew it was the way forward.
‘I also know how important the pottery is to you and to Adam. You may hate the idea of working for someone else—’
‘Neither us would agree to it,’ he said sharply. ‘I’m sure I speak for Adam as well as myself. If you’re going to sell out, then you must give us first refusal.’
His reply took her aback. It was what she had tentatively intended to offer, but Seb’s response was immediate and decisive. She had expected remonstrations, perhaps anger, but not quite such swiftness of thought that turned a negative situation into a positive one. She should have expected it. Sebby was a man after old Morwen Tremayne’s heart, her eyes stung as the sweet thought slid into her mind with consummate ease.
‘Now wait a minute, boy. Never mind the bloody pottery. ’Tis the clayworks that’s the main concern here. Shares should come to you and the rest of ’em by right, and there are things to discuss—’ Theo began hotly.
‘There’s nothing to discuss as far as I’m concerned, Father. The pottery is Skye’s property, and once I’ve discussed it with Adam, I’m sure we’ll be able to make an offer for it with my share of the money from the sale of the clayworks. I don’t imagine you’ll get any opposition from my brother and cousins, providing you see us all right on that, since we’ll be losing our true inheritance. Is that your plan, Father?’
Skye could hardly contain her smile at his so-innocent words. He could sum up a situation in a moment, and oh, Theo, she thought, you may have scored over a thousand people in your lifetime, but you’ll never put one over on your own son!
‘Of course,’ Theo said coldly. ‘You’re agreeable then?’
He held out his hand and Seb grasped it firmly. Then it was Skye’s turn and, as she felt Seb’s fingers close around hers, she could have sworn she heard a faintly cackling laugh creep over the moors, as if in triumph that the Killigrews and Tremaynes were to be finally severed from all that had been theirs for nearly a century.
But when she looked around quickly, there was nothing there, except a small breeze blowing through her heart.
* * *
Nothing could be done swiftly. There had to be further meetings between all the partners and their lawyers to ensure the best deal on all sides. Skye knew that Nick was openly relieved that she had finally decided to relinquish her interests in business matters. Though he was surprised she had decided to sell the pottery as well.
‘I surprised myself, but it just seemed the right time,’ she said ‘and I won’t be losing all my interest. The pottery will still be a family concern with Seb and Adam taking charge, and Lily minding the shop in Truro. I won’t be letting go entirely.’
‘You’d have had to, if Seb hadn’t offered to buy,’ he pointed out. Then he saw the look on her face.
‘My God, you had no doubt of it, did you, woman? Did you prime him on it beforehand?’
She shook her head. ‘Truly I didn’t, Nick. But I knew in my heart what would happen. He’s the right one to carry on. Him and Adam. I rather like the idea of their partnership, don’t you? It cements our two families.’
‘I thought the two of us had already done that pretty effectively,’ he said meaningfully.
Skye laughed, but the laugh was shaky as she turned away from him. The memory of what might have been still lingered in her mind with a great sadness. As the weeks and months passed, the time for their baby to be born would soon be here. It was as though she had to go through the normal gestation period as a time of mourning until she was completely whole again. It wasn’t even something she felt able to discuss with Nick, whom she loved more than life. It was her pain and her sorrowing, and hers alone.
She felt an undoubted sense of relief now that the idea of selling out had been approved by all concerned. It had only needed the resolve to carry out what her heart had been telling her for months. To free herself of business responsibilities she had never sought, and be herself. A wife and mother and, above all, a woman.
* * *
True to what she and Theo had surmised, neither Oliver nor Justin had raised any objection to the plans. And her girls had openly applauded the decision.
‘It’s time you took things easy, Mom,’ Wenna had phoned from London. ‘You’ve worked far too hard all these years, and you’re not young any more.’
‘Oh, really! And what was that all about?’ Skye had asked, hearing the explosive noise in the background.
After a few minutes Wenna’s voice came back on the line, full of suppressed laughter.
‘It was Fanny telling me off for implying that you’re past it. She’s a scream, isn’t she, Mom?’
‘Is that what you think, then? That I’m past it?’
‘Good Lord no! But you won’t be worrying your head about how much money the businesses are making or losing from now on, will you? You can be a proper lady of leisure at last.’
‘That’s not quite what I had in mind,’ Skye said mildly.
‘Well, I’m glad you won’t be rushing around so much, because Austin and I plan to come down for a visit at the end of August.’
Skye was diverted at once. ‘That’s marvellous news, darling! So I’m going to meet this wonder man at last, am I?’
‘And we’ll have some special news to tell you then. But I’m not going to spoil the surprise by telling you now. I’ll give you a tiny hint, though. Austin will want to have a word with you and Daddy.’
She would say no more. Skye was fizzing with excitement when she hung up the phone, guessing at once what the tiny word was going to be. Austin Marsh wanted to marry her daughter. And when he did, Skye would become a mother-in-law, and in time, a grandmother. The thought of it was at once thrilling and alarming.
Time moved on, and with it, so did she. Not for the first time when she had something on her mind, whether good or bad, she felt an oppressive need to get out of the house. Like all the Tremayne women before her, she needed the clean invigorating air of the moors to be able to think clearly.
It was funny, but she had naturally expected Celia to be the one to bring this news home. Celia was more forceful, more sure of herself, and had fallen in love first. For all her early flirtatious ways, Celia had become a one-man-woman, Skye thought with deep affection, and until Stefan was free to come to her, there would be no one else. While Wenna, shy, quiet Wenna, had fallen just as hard.
It occurred to Skye as she drove to the moors and parked her car before striding out across the short stubbly turf, with the whole of St Austell bay shimmering far below in the sunlight, that she had never met either of the men her daughters were so determined to marry. But that didn’t matter, as long as they were happy and fulfilled. Happiness was all that counted in this world.
Nick’s peevishness, for example over who had been told first about Ethan and Karina’s baby had faded away the moment they saw how blissful they all were in their idyllic Irish farm.
She and Nick might have been just as blissful with their own baby being born any day now… the mortality that was everyone’s destiny would have been continued in a new son or daughter.
In a weird way, the loss of that child had been one of the things that had prompted her desire to sell her partnership in the clayworks and the pottery. She needed time to do what had been no more than a vague idea suggested to her some time ago by David Kingsley. She wanted to perpetuate what had always belonged to the Killigrews and the Tremaynes, and now the Pengellys. She would write that booklet, so that all the children that followed, would know – and that those who remained, wouldn’t forget…
‘What noble thoughts be goin’ round and round in that pretty head o’ yourn, my fine lady?’ she heard a wheezing voice cackle close by.
She didn’t need to turn around to know who was hobbling up behind her. Perhaps she had come this way especially for the sake of coming face to face with old Helza, for whatever reason fate decreed, thought Skye. How old was she now, she wondered, as the old witchwoman literally rocked on her spindly legs as if they would barely hold her up.
‘I’m looking for answers,’ she said simply, the words escaping her lips without any forethought. She felt as light-headed as she always did when faced with this self-styled all-seeing, all-knowing old creature. She began to wish she had stayed safely at home.
‘Before ’ee can find answers, there must be questions, my pretty,’ the wizened old woman croaked, her head cocked to one side like an enquiring bird.
‘But how can I find the answers when I don’t know the questions?’ Skye said, knowing she was being ridiculously enigmatic.
Helza’s eyes screwed up to slits in the brightness of the sun, accentuating the corrugated lines of her ancient face to gargoyle proportions.
‘Mebbe the answer is inside yourself, lady. You’re strong enough to find it wi’out anybody’s help.’
With that she turned and hobbled away. She seemed to disappear into nothingness, but common sense told Skye it was simply a dip in the hillside that hid her from view.
She stood motionless for a while, letting the warm, caressing breezes of the moors wrap softly around her. She had already found the answer. Life didn’t end, even if her own baby’s had ended before it had begun. In the great overall plan of things, life went on, and she had already decided what she was going to do with hers.
