Moving On (A Polvellan Cornish Mystery Book 6) Page 4

  Making a wry face, she sighed. ‘I’ve been there, Elsie. When it came out about Alex’s mistress and daughter, and all his debts, I just wanted to crawl away and hide. That lasted weeks. Then one morning I woke up and thought, “Sod this. I didn’t do anything wrong.” It was Alex who was the thief, the liar, the cheat, not me. Those were his choices. If I wanted to build a new life, one I could be proud of, I had to pull myself together. No one else could do it for me.’

  ‘And so you have, my lover.’

  ‘That’s why I’m sure Tegan will feel better about herself if she shows strength not weakness. Yes, she’ll have down days. We all do. But we keep them private. In public – in front of the Stantons – we put on a brave face. There is a bright side to all this, Elsie. Don’t look like that, there really is. Just think how close you and Tegan have grown these past months, the laughs you’ve shared. Since moving in with you she has learned how much she’s loved, and you have a new purpose in life. Of course it’s tough that she’s going to be a mother at such a young age. But she has one big advantage.’

  ‘What’s that, bird?’

  ‘You; your unconditional love and support. I hope this meeting leads to a financial agreement for the baby. But whether or not that happens, with you behind her Tegan won’t just get by, she’ll thrive. That’s what the Stantons should see.’

  ‘You’re right.’ Elsie gave a brisk nod. ‘And so they shall.’ She paused at the door. ‘You’re some dear friend, Jess.’

  ‘It works both ways, Elsie.’

  ‘Get on.’

  Chapter Four

  Jess had brought in her two kitchen chairs. Elsie had three, plus two ladder-back dining chairs from the rarely used front room.

  ‘I aren’t inviting them in there,’ she announced as Jess helped her place them around the kitchen table. ‘They aren’t welcome guests. My home, my rules.’

  ‘Go, Nan.’ Tegan smiled but it was fleeting.

  ‘Don’t you fret now, bird,’ Elsie told her. ‘Anyone upset you, they’ll have me to reckon with.’

  ‘She’s SuperNan,’ Jess whispered to Tegan.

  ‘She is too.’ This time the girl’s smile was more natural.

  When Alan and Carol arrived, neither kissed their daughter or asked how she was. Carol wore a peach and green summer dress, high-heeled sandals and a cream cardigan draped around her shoulders. Alan looked ready for drinks at the cricket club in navy blazer, grey flannels and a maroon patterned tie over his white shirt.

  ‘You’ll excuse us,’ Alan said to Jess, his tone making it a statement not a request, as he waited by the open door.

  ‘Jess is staying,’ Elsie said.

  ‘Mother, this is private family business,’ Carol murmured before glancing at Jess. ‘No offence.’

  ‘None taken.’ Jess sat beside Tegan, their shoulders touching. Feeling her tremble, Jess caught Tegan’s hand under the table and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

  Alan opened his mouth, but was forestalled by a knock on the door. He opened it and Jess heard his tone change to a muted heartiness that betrayed far more than he realised as he introduced himself to the Stantons then stepped back to allow them inside.

  ‘This is my wife, Carol,’ Alan indicated with a flourish, ‘my mother-in-law, my daughter Tegan and a family friend. Tony and Laura Stanton.’

  Jess heard Elsie snort as nods were exchanged. Wearing a pink pullover over an open-necked shirt and chinos, Tony Stanton might have just come from a golf course. Laura Stanton’s ash blonde hair was cut in a smooth, shining bob. Jess guessed her blue cashmere sweater and white slim-fit jeans bore designer labels. They took the remaining two seats.

  ‘Why is your daughter living with her grandmother?’ Tony Stanton demanded of Alan, ‘and not at home with you?’

  ‘That’s private family business,’ Elsie said before Alan could reply. ‘This here meeting is about your son getting my granddaughter in trouble.’

  ‘Watch what you say, madam,’ Tony Stanton warned. ‘You have no proof that my son is responsible.’

  ‘Jeremy was my first boyfriend.’ Tegan spoke up, her voice shaking. ‘He knows I had never – that I was a virgin. He said if I loved him I would prove it and do what he wanted. He promised it would be safe.’ She faltered. Jess pressed her hand again and Tegan’s fingers tightened around hers.

  ‘What exactly do you want?’ Laura Stanton asked Tegan.

  ‘There’s no question of marriage,’ her husband announced.

  Tegan’s chin lifted. ‘I’m too young. It wouldn’t be legal.’ That was a fact. But as Tony Stanton stretched his chin and his wife studied her polished nails, Jess knew both were facing the realisation that their son had impregnated an underage girl.

  ‘In any case, I wouldn’t have him if he came gift-wrapped,’ Tegan said. ‘He isn’t the person I thought he was. After he got what he wanted he didn’t want to know me any more.’

  ‘For goodness’ sake,’ Laura Stanton exclaimed with a pitying smile. ‘Why are you surprised? What did you expect?’

  ‘Mrs Stanton,’ Jess fought anger and kept her voice level as she held the other woman’s gaze. ‘Tegan was naïve. She believed that your son felt about her the same way she felt about him. Clearly she was mistaken. The truth is she was callously used by a young man nearly three years older who should have known better. Perhaps you aren’t aware that your son had a bet with two friends that he would be Tegan’s first lover. The prize was a computer game.’ Colour flushed Laura Stanton’s cheeks and her gaze slid away.

  Jess continued, ‘I believe the CPS would consider that abuse, or at least exploitation. So instead of blaming Tegan, who was the innocent target of a cruel and squalid trick, you should take a hard look at your son. He’s the person responsible.’

  Mr Stanton waved a dismissive hand. ‘Young men make mistakes.’

  ‘Using my granddaughter’s feelings to blackmail her into having sex with him wasn’t no mistake,’ Elsie flared. ‘It was deliberate.’

  ‘So, to repeat my question,’ Laura Stanton looked down her nose at Tegan. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘For him to stop telling lies about me and trying to give me a bad name.’

  Tony Stanton snorted. ‘You managed that on your own.’

  ‘I’m not the guilty one here. Like Jess said, I was stupid –’

  ‘Naïve, Tegan,’ Jess corrected, ‘not stupid.’

  ‘He made me believe he cared about me. He knows he was my first. That was the point of the bet. He’s got no right trying to shame me for what was his idea.’

  ‘What about the baby?’ Laura Stanton demanded.

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘Do you intend keeping it?’

  Tegan’s chin came up. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why? You didn’t have to go through with – but I suppose you waited too long. Still, you could have it adopted.’

  Tegan laid her free hand protectively over her swollen belly. ‘No, I couldn’t.’

  ‘You needn’t think you’ll get a penny from us,’ Tony Stanton said. ‘Not without proof. You can hardly expect us to take your word.’

  ‘When the baby is born you can have a DNA test.’ Tegan was still shaking and her grip on Jess’s hand was painfully tight, but her voice was stronger. ‘Then everyone will know it wasn’t me who lied.’

  ‘We’ll see.’ Tony Stanton stood up. ‘Laura?’ Elsie opened the door and held it. Alan went after them. Carol glanced at her mother, glared at Jess, then followed. She didn’t once look at her daughter.

  Elsie murmured, ‘Good riddance,’ closed the door then sat down again. ‘I don’t mind saying I’m glad that’s over. I dunno what they come for.’

  ‘To see if you could be bullied,’ Jess said.

  ‘Well, we can’t.’ Tegan rose, pressing both hands to her lower back and arching it as she crossed to the sink. ‘Cuppa tea, Nan?’

  ‘Yes please, my lover. Jess?’

  ‘I won’t if you don’t mind. If I put in an hour’s w
ork tonight it will give me a head start in the morning.’ Jess turned one of her chairs upside down, stacked it on top of the other and carried both to the door.

  ‘Thanks for coming, bird,’ said Elsie.

  ‘I didn’t do anything.’

  ‘You did too,’ Tegan said. ‘You helped me stand up for myself. I wondered what they’d be like. I was really nervous about meeting them. You must have felt me shaking. Beside them Mum and Dad looked like they’d tried too hard. Just because the Stantons have got money they think they’re better than everyone else. Jeremy’s just like them.’

  ‘’Tis like I said.’ Elsie gave a firm nod. ‘That apple didn’t fall far from the tree.’

  ‘I don’t know what I ever saw in him.’

  Jess smiled at her. ‘He was a crush. You fall for what you imagine the other person to be. And I expect he was very convincing while he was pretending to be nice. You’ve had a valuable lesson, Tegan. Money doesn’t make a man. You’re worth ten Jeremy Stantons.’

  ‘Even on your teasy days,’ Elsie added. ‘Come on, we’ll have a bite of supper then you can get on with that necklace you started and I’ll knit a few more rows of this dear baby’s shawl.’

  Tegan turned, her eyes shining. ‘You should see it, Jess. The wool is a lovely cream colour, soft and light, and so fine it’s almost like thread. The pattern is scallop shells. Where’s your knitting bag, Nan?’

  ‘She’ll see it when ’tis finished. Sure you won’t stay, Jess?’

  ‘Thanks, Elsie. But I’ve got some typing to do for Keith Stevens and I need to get on with my research for Captain Carveth.’

  Back in her own kitchen, waiting while milk heated for a cup of hot chocolate, Jess debated which to work on. Her heart urged her to pursue Roxanne. How had she and James Carveth met? Why had he been in Paris? Harry had mentioned the Congress of Vienna, but why would James and Roxanne have been there? No, the printer’s deadline meant Keith’s entry forms had to take priority.

  Two hours later she saved her work, switched everything off and headed upstairs to bed.

  By six on Friday evening Jess had copied details from all the entry forms, double-checked the document and emailed it to Sean. Needing a break, she picked up the phone.

  ‘Hi, Gill, I was just wondering if you’d had any luck with the sheet.’

  ‘Come down if you got a minute and I’ll show you.’

  ‘I’m on my way.’

  ‘I’ll leave the door unlocked. Just drop the catch when you come in.’

  Five minutes later Jess opened Gill’s door. ‘Gill, it’s Jess.’

  ‘Come on up. I’ve got the sheet in the bath.’

  Closing the door, Jess ran upstairs.

  ‘I tried the oxalic acid on a couple of rust spots. But it didn’t work,’ Gill said over her shoulder as Jess walked in. In the bottom of the bath lay a puddle of wet linen. ‘So it looks like the material is rotting in places.’

  ‘I thought you would be more disappointed.’

  Straightening up, Gill rubbed her nose and the look she shot Jess was decidedly sheepish. ‘Thing is, if the fabric is breaking down it won’t be worth much except to someone like me.’ She bent over the bath and moved the wet material to show Jess. ‘You can see the marks. But there’s only one near the embroidery. It’s called broderie rembourree. You get that raised relief effect by layering stitches on top of each other. Takes weeks of work that does. If it was mine, I’d use the embroidery as a feature in pillow shams or a white-work quilt.’

  ‘What a lovely idea.’

  ‘I’d be willing to pay for it,’ she said quickly. ‘Perhaps if I was to speak to the captain and tell him everything I’ve done –’

  ‘Tell me first. Why have you left it lying in the bath?’

  ‘To drain the water out.’

  ‘Why don’t you spin it?’

  ‘No!’ Gill’s expression was horrified. ‘That might rip it to shreds.’

  ‘Sorry. I should have realised.’

  ‘See, when it’s wet the linen is much heavier, and that stretches the fibres. So wherever there’s weakness it could tear. That’s why I put one of my old sheets underneath to take the weight. It’s had three soaks in hot water with stain remover.’

  ‘Three?’

  ‘You wouldn’t believe the colour of the water first time. Like stewed tea it was. Still, that got the worst out. The second wasn’t too bad, and third time the water was nearly clear. I’ve just rinsed it in white vinegar and water to neutralise any remaining trace of stain remover.’

  ‘What now?’

  ‘Gather it up inside the sheet then press the water out against the side of the bath.’

  ‘Can I help?’

  ‘You can. Fifth time of doing this makes me feel my age.’

  Jess braced her knees against the tub and helped Gill press and squeeze. When they had finished she straightened up slowly and arched her back. ‘Ouch.’

  ‘I told you.’

  ‘Now what?’

  ‘One last rinse in cool water. After that –’

  ‘Dear life, Gill. How much more?’

  ‘Stop your whining. I got ten years on you. It just need a gentle wash in liquid detergent and a couple of rinses. I’ll leave it in the bath tonight to drain. Tomorrow’s supposed to be fine and breezy so I can hang it over the line to dry.’

  ‘After all this, you’ve certainly earned first refusal.’

  ‘I dearly hope the captain think so.’

  ‘I bet you could do with a cup of tea.’

  ‘I should have offered –’

  ‘No you shouldn’t. I’ll make it and bring a cup up. You’ve got enough to do to get this finished.’

  Twenty minutes later, back at home, Jess debated whether to ring Harry Carveth. She wanted him to know how much care Gill had taken with the sheet. But she didn’t usually phone her clients to give interim updates so why make an exception this time? After drinking a mug of hot chocolate and eating a slice of buttered tea bread she put the dishes in the washing-up bowl and turned on the hot tap. The phone rang.

  Grabbing the tea towel she dried her hands and picked up the receiver. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Jess, it’s Harry Carveth.’

  ‘I was just thinking about you.’ As the unplanned words left her lips she closed her eyes against a wave of heat and embarrassment. ‘What I meant –’ she began.

  ‘Snap,’ he said in the same instant.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘No matter. It wasn’t important.’

  ‘I thought –’ Gripping the receiver she was hugely relieved when her voice emerged calm and level. ‘I thought you might like to know about the sheet that Roxanne’s portrait was wrapped in. It’s taken hours but Gill – Mrs Eathorne – has got it clean now.’

  ‘Do I sense a but?’

  ‘You do. It looks as if the marks we thought might be rust are actually the fabric breaking down due to age and storage conditions.’

  ‘I can’t say I’m surprised. It was very good of her to try.’

  ‘She – we were wondering what you had in mind for it.’

  ‘I seem to remember you saying she’s a keen quilter?’

  ‘That’s right. She did say that if you were willing to sell it to her she would use the embroidery in a white-work quilt.’ She crossed her fingers.

  ‘I couldn’t possibly sell it.’

  Jess fought disappointment. ‘Oh, OK. I understand.’

  ‘I don’t think you do.’ She heard a smile in his voice. ‘Asking her to pay me when she’s put in all that work would be most unfair. I’ll happily give it to her.’

  ‘That’s very generous. But I don’t think she’d be comfortable accepting.’

  ‘Jess, as far as I’m concerned it’s simply a cloth wrapping. My interest was – is – in the painting.’

  ‘I know. But Gill says the embroidery is rare. She’s seen photos in books, but never actually handled any.’

  ‘Then why would she not welcome the chance to
own this piece?’

  ‘She’d give her back teeth to own it. But she couldn’t accept it as a gift.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It’s a woman thing, and you’re a man.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘That’s my point. May I make a suggestion?’

  ‘I wish you would. I’m out of my depth here.’

  ‘Offer her half the embroidery for her own use. Suggest that in return she uses the best bits of the other half to make a cot quilt for your first grandchild.’ She caught her lower lip between her teeth, wondering if she’d overstepped a boundary. She would never forget the awe and longing on Gill’s face when she had eased the folded fabric out of the bag. Twenty minutes bent over a bathtub pressing and squeezing water out of sodden fabric had been more than enough. Yet Gill had done that at least half a dozen times in the past twenty-four hours out of respect for the beautiful work that must have taken months.

  ‘What a splendid idea. But isn’t it asking rather a lot of her? I imagine quilts, even small ones, take a great deal of work.’

  ‘They do. But quilting is Gill’s passion. Working with something so beautiful and unusual will be a joy for her, and you will have a unique gift for your grandchild.’

  ‘Fair exchange is no robbery?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Knowing you is an education, Jess. Will you pass my mobile number to Mrs Eathorne and ask her to call me?’

  ‘I’ll be happy to. Goodnight, Harry.’

  ‘Goodnight, Jess.’

  It was only after she had put the phone down that she realised he hadn’t told her why he’d rung. She thought about calling him back but decided against it. If it was important he’d call again. She dialled Gill’s number.

  ‘The sheet is yours.’

  ‘How much is he asking?’

  ‘He was willing to give it to you.’

  ‘What, for nothing?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I couldn’t take it.’

  ‘I know.’ Glad her instincts had been right, Jess repeated her suggestion.

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘He was delighted. That embroidery was meant for you. I’ll give you his number. He’ll know I’ve told you.’