Lakeland Lily (40 page)

The old ferryman had promised to keep his eye on her things, and agreed to show the four year old a thing or two about ropes until she returned.

Thomas had looked confused, as well he might, when Lily had explained she was looking for a new home for them. Hadn’t he already got a fine home? A big garden to play in, a swing, any number of toys, and people in abundance to wait upon his every need.

Lily wondered what sort of life she could take her son to, when even her own parents scorned her. But she had absolute faith in Nathan. He was the boy’s true father, after all.

Now she stood before him, and without a word reached up on tip-toe silently to kiss his mouth. As her body melted against his, his arms came about her to swing her high and hold her tight as he always did. Then he laid her down, crushing the globe flowers and violets, and made love to her with a fierceness that melted his anger so that then he must love her again, with a tenderness that caused Lily to weep with joy.

Afterwards as they lay together, sun-dappled limbs heavy with their love-making, eyes closed as Lily lay against the warm curve of his wounded shoulder, Nathan idly stroked her hair. Not wishing to spoil the moment with talk of her plight, she dared at last to ask another question.

‘Do you love me?’

There was a long, aching pause in which she listened to his heartbeat. A chaffinch flew close by. Landing on a branch, it puffed out its pink breast with self-importance and glanced cheekily about. The lovers watched in the silent stillness of the woods until the bird opened its wings and flew off again, envying its freedom.

‘I’ve little trust in love, Lily. My mother loved my father so much she sacrificed everything for him, even me. Look where it got her. A beaten, sick, wreck of a woman, with a bitter young tearaway for a son. You must take me as I am, or not at all.’

‘I want to hear you say it.’

Then he kissed the top of her head and whispered into her hair, ‘I dare say I must feel summat strong for you, Lily Thorpe, or I wouldn’t be here. Will that do?’

She lifted a face shining with love, lips parting for his kiss. ‘Would you marry me, if I were free?’

The answer this time was even longer in coming as he studied her solemnly. ‘Why does it matter, since you’re not?’

‘It matters.’

Very slowly, and with painstaking gentleness, he traced the shape of her blunt chin with one finger, outlined each flared nostril, the tilt of her eyebrows, the smooth pink of her cheeks, pushed back the heavy swathe of silky brown hair. One corner of his mouth lifted into that wicked smile she so loved. ‘I seem to recall that I did ask you once, only you refused me.’

She laughed, all tension disappearing from her body.

As the kisses continued, now soft, now fierce and demanding, desire flared as it always would between them, and she opened herself to him, wrapping her legs about him so he could thrust deep inside her. He took her with a kind of desperate ferocity, almost as if this were their last time together, when really, Lily thought, it was a new beginning.

It was some time later, as they lay quietly together, the sunlight faded from the sky, that reality returned and Lily told him of her banishment. Shock and anger were reflected in his face.

‘She’s turned you out? The old witch. What would Bertie say to such behaviour?’

‘He isn’t here.’

‘He will be soon. When he’s ready to face the world again.’

‘Do you want him to come back?’

‘Don’t ask me that, Lily.’

‘I do ask you.’

‘He’s your husband.’

‘I know.’

There was a small silence as Nathan felt his bravado fade away. Bertie had no doubt suffered in the war too. Might still be suffering. What right had he to inflict further hurt? ‘What about Thomas? Doesn’t Margot even care about her own grandson?’

Lily shook her head, voice hushed. ‘She says I can’t prove he’s Bertie’s son. It’s true, I can’t.’

For a long moment Nathan stared at her. ‘What are you saying?’

‘I think you know. I think you’ve always known.’

He closed his eyes. ‘Dear God, Lily, what have I done to you?’

‘Bit of a mess, eh? My own father has told me never to darken his door ever again.’ She made her voice sound falsely dramatic. ‘So I’m a poor abandoned orphan. I’ll have to move in with you. Or we could go away together, start a new life.’

Cradling his frozen arm, Nathan hunched his shoulders and leaned back against a tree. Hadn’t he enough to face, rebuilding a life that war had torn apart? He spoke softly, with regret. ‘Trouble is, Lily, my life is here, with the steamer business. It was hard won, I don’t want to lose it.’

She knew what he said was true. His business had been hard won. He deserved his success. Even so, she couldn’t deny her disappointment. ‘I thought you loved me?’

He gazed upon her trusting face, knew he had never wanted anything more than Lily beside him. He thought of Passchendaele, of the wounds the explosion had inflicted. But for all his arm was useless he was alive. Many others were not. If the war had changed him, perhaps it had damaged Bertie more, or he would be here too, with Lily. So how could Nathan run off with his best mate’s wife? He simply couldn’t do it. He’d acquired a conscience somewhere along the line. Something the old Nathan had never had.

He cupped Lily’s face between his hands and kissed it with infinite gentleness. ‘It wouldn’t be right, Lily. You know it wouldn’t. You’re still married.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘You must. Your reputation would never recover.’

‘I don’t care about my reputation.’ She felt the beginnings of panic.

‘Yes, you do. All those years turning yourself into a lady, to throw it away on a rapscallion like me? I’m no good for you, Lily. Never will be.’

The pain in her throat grew till it was almost impossible for her to swallow. ‘I don’t care about your past, about anything but being with you.’

His eyes were compelling and filled with a deep sadness. ‘You care what they think about Thomas. Would you have them label your son a bastard? Go home, Lily. Make Margot believe you’re sorry, that we’ll never see each other again. And that Thomas is Bertie’s son. It’s the only way.’

She gazed at him then with eyes filled with fear. How could she do it? How could he ask her to give him up?

‘I should have stayed away,’ he told her. ‘Instead, I’ve ruined your life.’ Then, abruptly, he got up and walked away, and the silence of the woods washed over her - a silence so profound Lily dare not even break it with her tears.

Thomas was happily attempting to tie a double overhand and two half hitches when Lily reached the boat. He’d lost a button from his navy blue coat and a smear of oil streaked his small nose. She rubbed at the oil and kissed the nose, earning a squirm and a grimace for her trouble. Ferryman Bob glanced up and grinned.

‘He’ll make a good sailor, just like his grandpa.’

Lily struggled to find a smile. ‘I dare say he will.’

But her mind was elsewhere, her heart strangely empty. She picked up her son and hugged him, feeling the need to hold him close in her arms. He was boy enough to hate this show of maternal affection in front of the old ferryman, and wriggled frantically till she set him down.

‘Bob was telling me about the Kisel.’

‘The Kaiser,’ Bob gently corrected, nodding his head and making the flies on his hat dance as he launched into his yarn. ‘I remember as if it were yesterday. Back end of last century that was. Around 1894 - no, ‘95. What a to-do! He lunched at the Old England, guest of Lord Lonsdale. Then he was taken up to Waterhead in the launch
Maroo
. His entourage followed in the
El
fin,
which had the cheek to overtake the Kaiser’s boat.’ He gave a cackling laugh at the memory. ‘That didn’t suit the Yellow Earl at all. All boatmen have their pride, you know, lad, just like your grandpa.’ The old man continued with his tale but the words came to Lily as if from a long distance, for all she tried to show interest.

‘Are we going home now, Mummy?’

Lily swallowed. She had no home. Turned from every door she had nowhere to take her child. Not even Nathan wanted her. Suddenly overwhelmed, Lily’s legs started to wobble and before she could stop herself, she sank to her knees and burst into tears.

‘By heck, what have I said now? I never realised my yarns were as bad as that.’

Ferryman Bob took her to the
Faith,
safe in her quiet backwater. It was the only place he could think of where there was a bed. He asked few questions, assuming there’d been some tiff with Margot that a good night’s sleep would easily resolve. Lily did not disabuse him. He proved to be a kind friend, and set about organising her good and proper.

‘You’ll need provisions for tonight,’ he said, and brought her pillows and blankets, a box full of bread and butter, bacon, eggs, and a pot of jam for the bairn. He lifted Thomas into the boat, and set the box by his feet. ‘Stow this lot aboard for your mam. You’re going to have to be a real sailor, lad.’ As if it were all part of a game.

‘Can I be a pirate?’

‘Happen not. Pirates can get in a lot of bother. Now you do as your mam tells you, son. All right? You’re the man of the house now.’

‘Of the boat, you mean,’ came the swift reply, followed by a giggle. Ferryman Bob shot Lily a wry grin.

‘Sharp, that one.’

‘Yes.’

Bob sounded the
Faith
for leaks, checked that the storm lantern was fuelled up and working. Then, satisfied she would neither sink, freeze nor starve, he helped Lily aboard. ‘Will you be all right?’

Lily nodded. ‘We’ll be fine.’ She didn’t feel fine. She felt sick to the heart but Thomas was jumping up and down with excitement, and somehow she must find the strength to go on pretending it was all a game, for his sake.

‘I’ll come and see you tomorrow, lass. Keep your chin up.’ Then she was alone with her son in the boat as a purple dusk crept about them, a stiff breeze rustling eerily through the branches overhead, seeming to emphasise her loneliness.

No one wanted her. Not Bertie who’d deliberately stayed away, not Margot who blamed her for everything, nor Selene who accused her of ruining her engagement. Not even Arnie, her own father.

Now Nathan had let her down. In his way he was doing the honourable thing. But it seemed to Lily as the sun sank behind the black mountains that she was quite alone in all the world.

During the next few days alone with her child, Lily found a kind of peace. She woke each morning to a world of sun and silence, of soft green trees and the gentle lapping of water. It had rained quite hard during that first night, hammering on the roof of the saloon. But Lily and Thomas, cuddled up warmly together and deeply asleep, never heard a thing.

When Lily woke, surprisingly refreshed, the sun on the rain-washed new day lifted her spirits. Bathed in the pink and gold glory of early morning, the sight of the crisp clear mountains invigorated her. The familiar surroundings of the boat, which she’d grown fond of on their weekend ferry trips during the war, comforted her.

Urged on by Thomas’s bubbling high spirits, Lily set about trying to recall the mysteries of the boiler which Edward had once so painstakingly explained to her. If only she had listened more carefully! Shovelling in coal was one thing, getting it started on her own another entirely. But Lily knew that the Windermere kettle could boil water in the twinkle of an eye, or any bucket of water set over the steam would likewise boil. Would it also fry bacon?

After half an hour, filthy and exhausted from her efforts, she gave up. The small failure had demoralised her completely and the tears that swelled in her heart finally overflowed. What reason was there to go on?

‘Don’t cry, Mummy. I might not be hungry.’

Lily rubbed her cheeks dry and smiled through her tears.

‘I reckon we’ll have to be pirates after all. Marooned on a desert island. Let’s hunt for wood and light a fire.’

‘Ooh, yes, yes!’

It was the best breakfast Lily had ever tasted. Thomas’s high-spirited giggles, the bright comfort of a flickering fire, the smell of woodsmoke and frying bacon, all served to make her feel better. Later, as Lily watched her son happily toss sticks of wood into the lake, delighted if one floated, moaning if it sank, she took stock.

Whatever she decided now could affect the rest of her life. Should she abandon her fine life at Barwick House, her carefully nurtured reputation, and go and live with Nathan Monroe despite the gossip and the censure of her own family? Wasn’t this, deep in her heart, what she wanted most of all? And if it meant that she must bring her child up in The Cobbles, what of it? The place was much improved. She’d achieved that, at least.

But was it right to turn her son into an outcast, as he surely would be? The son of a fallen woman. It made her shudder to think of it.

Or should she, for his sake, beg Margot’s forgiveness? Give Nathan up for good as he insisted, just when she had discovered the depth of his love.

Nathan or Bertie? Each represented a different part of her, a different world. Lily silently recalled her bright-faced, boyish husband and couldn’t help but admit that she did worry over him. Had no wish to hurt him.