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Authors: Sara Seale

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BOOK: The Dark Stranger
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II

T
owards the middle of August Tina had her eighteenth birthday and Craig unexpectedly announced he would take a day off from the cannery. What would one like to do?


Could I go over the cannery?

she asked.

Just for a short visit, I mean.

He looked surprised.


I didn

t think you

d be interested. Tin cans aren

t at all romantic, you know.


I didn

t suppose they were,

she said, a sudden idea growing wildly at the back of her mind.

But there must be plenty of work in your cannery—work even I could do. If you could—if you could find me some simple job like banging lids on tins or something, I could do it to repay you for my keep.

His mouth twitched at the
corner
s.


Have you ever seen a cannery in action?

he asked a little dryly.


No,

she said,

I expect it

s very noisy.


Very. All right, Tina, you shall go over the works, and the mine too, if you like, only it strikes me as an odd way of spending your birthday.

So on this hot August day she set out with him to Merrynporth, a luncheon basket in the back of the car, a new white handbag, his birthday present to her, laid carefully on her knees. Belle had declined to join them, and Tina thought it would seem odd picnicking alone with Craig on the first outing she had ever had with him.

He took her over the cannery, introducing his foreman and many of the workers, explaining meticulously the methods used in the factory.

Bewildered by the noise, Tina was glad to get in the car again. It seemed to her terrible that such dirt and clamour and sweated labor
s
hould have been Craig

s background since he was a boy. An apprentice, like any other raw lad, he had spent the early years of his manhood following the lodes underground, working later in the cannery itself, until, on Keverne

s death, he had taken over the management, learning enough to take full charge when his father died.


It seems so wrong that you should have missed so much when it wasn

t necessary,

Tina said dryly.

Belle always said your father was a very hard man.


Well, I don

t know that I think that was particular evidence of hardness,

he replied judiciously.

Plenty of good business men believe in starting their sons at the bottom.


But your brother didn

t.


No, but he was the eldest, and, I think, my father

s favorite. Dad never forgave himself for the accident which killed him. He took no more risks after that with his surviving son.


Then there were risks?


There are always risks in a mine.

They had stopped for lunch on Tudy
Down beside the little stream where Tina had bathed last summer, and the remembrance suddenly brought the color to her face.


Did you really see me naked that day?

she asked suddenly and, at his startled expression, added with faint embarrassment,

Last summer—when you told me to buy a bathing suit or make sure I wasn

t seen. I

ve always wanted to know.


Have you, Tina?

His eyes rested on her gravely.

Would you mind if I had?

She had finished her lunch and lay on her stomach by the stream, plunging her bare arms into the cool water.


I don

t know,

she answered slowly.

No, I don

t think I would
...

She caught the expression in his vivid gaze and looked away quickly. He had a habit of ignoring a question he did not choose to answer.


Do you still want a job in the cannery?

he asked.

She looked up swiftly and her flush died.


Yes, please,

she said humbly.

If you think there

s something I could be really useful at. I

m afraid I haven

t many talents.


But one rather priceless one.


Would it be useful?


Not in the cannery. No, Tina, you

ll not work there or anywhere else if I can prevent it.

His voice was autocratic and his eyes suddenly very blue in his dark face. She sat back slowly on her heels stretching her wet hands out in the sunshine, and he tossed her his own clean handkerchief.


Thank you,

she said.

You don

t think I

m capable of earning a living, do you?


Anyone

s capable of earning a living,

he replied impatiently,

but I don

t want you working when there

s no need.

She dried her arms and hands carefully, not looking at him.


There is need,

she said.

I can

t be a burden to Belle till I

m twenty-one.


You won

t be.


Or, more still, to you.

He watched the sunlight playing on her down-bent face.

I wonder what

s given you this strange sense of obligation,

he said, and she looked up quickly.


It isn

t so strange,

she answered.

If it hadn

t been for me, Belle wouldn

t have been hampered after father died. She

s still quite young and very good-looking. She might even have married again.


Is that what she tells you? She isn

t destitute you know, Tina. She could have made a home of sorts for you if she had chosen.


You don

t care for her, much, do you?

His lips twisted a little bitterly.


I

m a Pentreath. I know the breed,

he said.


You disparage each other?


Probably, but for different reasons. Now, let

s have no more of this nonsense, Tina. I want you to make Tremawvan your home for as long as you like, and with no feeling of obligation at all, and for that I

m prepared to accept responsibility for Belle, which is what you wanted, isn

t it?


Yes, but—well, I don

t see what you get out of it.

He smiled, the rare, charming smile which transformed his face to gentleness.


Perhaps I want to build a hedge round the cuckoo,

he said and her eyes widened and brightened with shy surprise.


To hold on to the spring? But, Craig, I—I can

t be important to you in that way.


Why not? How can you know what

s important to a Pentreath? We aren

t all mercenary and unperceptive, you know.


Oh, I never thought that you
—”
Her high forehead
creased in anxious perplexity.

Belle said I was to humor you.

He looked a little grim.


Did she indeed? I wonder what she meant by that. Well, Tina, shall we say that in return for your bed and board you will humour me at least in this whim and try and think of Tremawvan as home?

She began to cry, softly and without distress and he jumped to his feet with an exclamation.


Oh, my dear child, surely it isn

t a matter for tears! It hadn

t occurred to me that you might still dislike me.

She began to laugh through her tears.


I never disliked you,

she said.

Sometimes you just alarm me a little, that

s all. It wasn

t that, Craig.


What, then?

He stood over her, dark and frowning, and she took his outstretched hand and let him pull her up.


It was relief,

she said.

The knowledge that after years of uncertainty one can—lay one

s affections somewhere. Don

t you remember I tried to explain to you once about not getting fond of places? It

s no use when you don

t belong.


I see.

He did not sound flattered.

Home is where you belong, you told me. Do you think you do, now?

She was unsure of him, afraid she had given the wrong answer.


I don t know, she said,

but perhaps it doesn

t matter
any more. Craig
—”
Impulsively she threw her arms
round him as she had a year ago, and laid her wet cheek for a moment against his breast.


I

m sorry,

she said, drawing away at once.

But you did tell me once that I shouldn

t at my age have to walk round simple emotions with so much caution.


Yes,

he said a little dryly,

I remember perfectly. But don

t abandon caution too early, will you—at least with men you don

t know very well?

She felt abashed as if she had not behaved with the decorum proper to her eighteenth birthday. Belle would have been in hearty agreement.


No, Cousin—I mean, Craig,

she said aware of confusion at his sudden changes of manner.


Well, we

d better go back,

he said impassively.

Brownie, I know, has made squab pie for the occasion and a very magnificent birthday cake. You must do justice to both. Help me pack up the lunch basket.

I
II

To Tina, in
the
full realization that she and Belle were no longer guests in Craig

s home, the summer seemed to be a string of golden days designed purely for her pleasure. No longer did Brownie warn her to keep out of rooms which did not concern her. She came and went as she pleased in the kitchen and dairy, and even Craig

s study, although she never trespassed there unasked, was not the jealously guarded stronghold of a year ago.


Quite the little daughter of the house, aren

t you, darling?

Belle commented, watching with uncomprehending amusement a flowering which she thought simply silly in the circumstances.

Is it Craig who

s inspiring all this filial affection in you? He would be flattered.


Oh, Belle,

laughed Tina,

I can scarcely look on him as a father. Why, he

s only thirty-five!


When I was your age, thirty-five seemed as old as Methuselah,

Belle said a little shortly.

Don

t go getting funny ideas about our magnanimous home-provider, Tina. I assure you that to Craig you

re just a little girl.


Oh, Belle, how silly! I don

t get ideas of that sort. I

m just grateful.


Well, continue being grateful— at a respectful distance. I have a few plans myself.

For a moment Tina

s dear eyes were trou
bl
ed. She no longer took the casual mention of Belle

s preposterous plans very seriously, but she did not want her to be hurt. That afternoon on Tudy Down, Craig had made his opinion of his cousin uncomfortably plain.


Belle, you haven

t become—well, fond of Craig, have you?

she asked.

Belle yawned. The summer heat made her somnolent and she was bored with the whole conversation.


For heaven

s sake don

t go and get into a sentimental mix-up about either of us,

she said impatiently.

I told you before, the Pentreaths marry for sensible reasons and I

m in no danger of becoming fond of my cousin, as you put it. I think he

s a self-righteous bore, if you must know, but one

s got to put up with something. Now, go away and leave me to a peaceful snooze.

Tina went out to weed her garden. She was glad to think that Craig was in little danger from Belle

s halfhearted schemes. She would have hurt him very much.

Brownie was sitting in a deck chair in the shade, her hands idle for once, and Tina said:


Come down to the temple with me, Brownie. I

m going to weed my garden and you can sit in the shade of the magnolia.


Never could abide the place,

said Brownie, crossly, but Tina was used to her sharp tongue by now.


But it

s lovely,

she coaxed.

The nicest spot in the whole garden. Please come and keep me company. I

ll carry your chair.

Grumbling, Brownie nevertheless went with her. She was more bent than she used to be and the knuckles of her
hands were beginning
to show signs of swelling.


There!

said Tina triumphantly, setting up the chair under the spreading tree.

Don

t you think it

s beautiful with the magnolia branches twisting in the broken columns of the temple and all the flowers which Zachary has planted tor me. I don

t believe you

ve ever
seen
my garden!

Brownie looked about her slowly before she sat down and something in her puckered brown face made T
ina
say gently:


Do you really not like it? I

ll carry your chair back again if you wish.


No
.”
Brownie folded her hands and set her feet neatly together in the grass.

Dislikes, whether of people or places, are best got over if possible, as I try and tell myself when that stepmother of yours gets on my nerves. Aye ... it
is
beautiful ... I haven

t been here for ten years or more.


Ten years!

In the very act of pulling out a weed, Tina, on her knees, looked up, startled.


It was about then that Jessie died. You knew, didn

t you, that she had the temple built?


Yes, Craig told me. He said his father never cared for the place either.


But not for that reason,

Brownie said.

Though later, maybe, he came to give it a sentimental value out of a stricken conscience. You see, he never loved her and when Keverne was killed she had nothing left to live for. She just drooped and died.


She had Craig,

said Tina, her eyes accusing.


Craig was too like his father. Keverne took after her, even to her gentleness. Zion always said she ruined him, and so he had his own way with Craig

s upbringing. Even so, Keverne was his favorite.

Tina sat back on her heels and looked at Brownie angrily.


It was an unfair division,

she said.

Why should one son suffer for his parents

mistakes with the other?


You don

t know that he did,

retorted Brownie.

Craig was the better of the two, you know, and that may be thanks to Zion

s hardness.


No,

said Tina in passionate repudiation.

Hardness is not enough. When you are very young you miss affection if it isn

t there. It is true, Brownie, that the Pentreaths marry for material reasons? Have they really no fondness in them for their womenkind?

BOOK: The Dark Stranger
5.38Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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