Children Of The Tide Read online

  ‘They will stop coming anyway, William, now that your mother is no longer here,’ Ellen said softly. ‘She was the thread that kept us all together. Isaac likes to come, but Mildred and Anne hate the weather out here, they complain of the cold even in the summer. They only ever came under sufferance. You can’t blame Sammi!’

  ‘I wasn’t apportioning blame,’ he reasoned. ‘But you must understand, Sammi. The child can’t stay here.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’ She rose to her feet and burst out impetuously, ‘I don’t understand! They will put him in one of those terrible places. He’ll have no identity, no name, no-one he can call his own.’ She burst into tears.

  ‘Sammi! Sammi! Be still a moment and listen.’ Her mother came across to her and put her arm around her. ‘He won’t be sent to a charity home. I’ve spoken to Gilbert and he promised me he would speak to his father and to James; he said that something would be done; that they were wrong to let you assume the child’s care.’ She lifted her daughter’s chin so that she would have to look at her. ‘He is not your responsibility, Sammi,’ she said firmly. ‘You cannot become involved.’

  Sammi wiped her eyes as she followed her parents into the dining-room. Victoria gave her a look of sympathy, but Sammi put her head down lest she start to cry again. Victoria hadn’t seen the baby, therefore she couldn’t understand how vulnerable, how dependent, how beautiful he was, with his soft transparent skin and dark eyes. She gave a deep trembling breath. Mama and Pa are afraid for me. They think I will spoil my chances of marriage, that people will say the child is mine. She sat down at the table and stared at the soup dish in front of her. What can I do?

  She had always been the scapegrace of the family. Bold and impulsive, she had always drawn the others into her improbable schemes when they were children. Now, her parents were expecting her to behave in an adult manner. Her mother was constantly encouraging her to attend parties and dances where there were eligible young men attending, yet anxious, she knew, that she would make a love match, and not a marriage of convenience.

  But I’m not ready for that. I’m not ready to tie myself to a stranger. She stopped in mid-thought. The baby is a stranger, but I am involved. I feel bound to him, because no-one else seems to care. James won’t know what to do, she fretted. The baby will have to go to a charity home if Uncle Isaac refuses to help. He won’t want to cross Aunt Mildred. And why is she being so stubborn, refusing even to discuss the child? Refusing almost, his very existence! She will, I feel sure, abandon him.

  She finished her soup and waited for the next course: mackerel, freshly caught only this morning by one of the fishermen in the village and baked in a herbed crust of pastry with flour milled by her cousins at Tillington.

  I’ll go to Tillington and stay with Uncle Thomas. She was suddenly inspired. I will ask his advice. He said everything would turn out all right. That’s what I’ll do! I’ll ask if I can stay with them until I hear from James; they won’t be embarrassed by gossip or angry like Pa is, and while I’m there I’ll search for a good home for the baby myself.

  She looked up and gave such a sweet smile to her mother across the table, that it was answered by a crease of misgiving across her parent’s forehead.

  It won’t be as if I’m running away, she reasoned, as the idea took hold. They’ll know I’m perfectly safe with Uncle Thomas and Tom and the others. That’s what I shall do. I’ll go to Tillington.

  9

  Betsy eased back the bolt on the door and slipped out, closing it quietly behind her. It was five o’clock, and the dawn had already broken. Slender streaks of white and rose fingered the wide skies, and a chorus of blackbirds were calling in the elms behind the mill. There was a flurry of tiny wings as a wren flew busily in and out of a hawthorn hedge along one side of the yard, and from a neighbouring farm she could hear the barking of dogs.

  She had heard her father and brothers come to bed not an hour ago, when the breeze which had been blowing steadily all through the night, finally stilled. The sails ceased their gyrating, the creaks and groans of the rotating cap settled and the spin of the wallower bevel gear which drove the cast-iron shaft and the great spur wheel ceased, as the massive brake wheel was wedged securely to stop the sails; and the millers could dust themselves down and tumble into bed to sleep like dead men until she roused them again at six o’clock.

  She slipped into the garden behind the house and through the gap in the hedge onto the footpath which bordered the field behind. She glanced quickly behind her to make sure that there was no-one about, and then walked swiftly towards Redshaw copse.

  Will he be there, or was he only baiting me? She felt breathless with barely concealed excitement. Anyway, I don’t care if he isn’t. She was trying to convince herself, in case he didn’t come, in case Luke Reedbarrow was merely having fun with the miller’s daughter, as he so often called her. She had met him on the previous day in the village, where she had gone on a message for her father to the wheelwright. He was leaning on a gate, looking into a grassy paddock where sheep were grazing. He’d turned towards her as she passed and gave her a lazy smile, removing the grass stalk that he was chewing from his mouth. He was dressed as if for work with leather leggings and heavy boots, and he had a battered felt hat tipped on the back of his head. She’d merely given him a superior nod and looked away as she passed, but he’d put out his hand to detain her.

  ‘What’s tha hurry, Miss Betsy? No time to talk? Is tha frightened tha brothers might catch thee talking to common folk?’

  She’d stopped then and protested that she did as she pleased and would talk to whomsoever she wished. ‘I’d even talk to somebody like you, if I had a mind,’ she’d said in what she imagined a cutting manner. ‘But I haven’t.’

  He’d simply grinned back at her and chewed again on the piece of grass. ‘It’s a bit public here, Miss Betsy, half of ’village would have us married off if they should see us jawing.’

  She’d tossed her head and looked at him through lowered lashes. ‘Don’t act the village half-wit, Luke Reedbarrow,’ she’d said derisively. ‘You don’t fool anyone talking the way you do.’ He’d stood up straight when she spoke, and looked down on her. He was huge, bigger than any of her brothers. The top buttons on his flannel shirt were undone and she could see his muscular neck and the dark hair curling on his chest.

  She swallowed and felt herself blushing as he looked at her. He had a head of thick fair hair and she found that she was surprised that his chest hair wasn’t the same colour, nonplussed at the realization that she found the sight of it so pleasurable. He asked her to meet him, so that they could just have a little talk, he said. But she had, of course, refused. He’d persisted, and when she lamely said she was busy all through the day and couldn’t get away, he challengingly suggested meeting at dawn.

  ‘You said you could do whatever you wanted,’ he said, dropping the broad country accent which he always adopted when talking to her. ‘Go on. Just this once. If you dare.’

  The challenge was rashly accepted. She wasn’t going to be dared by such as him. Who did he think he was? She cared not a jot, but she would show him that she could do whatever she wished and meet whomsoever she wanted.

  She pulled her shawl around her. The morning was still cold, the sun had not yet any warmth, and she shivered. You’re a fool, Betsy Foster. What are you doing out here at this time of the morning? He won’t come. He’s been having a joke with you.

  The pathway down to the copse and beyond was deserted. Few people came down here unless it was to sow or reap the harvest, and now the fields were greening with young crops which were being garnered by flocks of partridge and pigeon. A low whistle attracted her; she glanced about her, her gaze going back towards the mill in fear that her brothers or father were up and about. It came again and someone signalled from the copse. It was Luke. So he had come.

  ‘You came then!’ Again he gave her that lazy smile, which turned up the corners of his mouth and crinkled his eyelids
in an amused manner.

  ‘I was awake,’ she said carelessly.

  ‘Aye, so was I.’ He gazed intently at her from deep blue eyes, his smile disappearing. ‘I haven’t slept all night for wondering if you’d come.’ He glanced over his shoulder into the shadow of the copse. ‘Come back in here if you like. Nobody will see us in here.’

  Her heart started to pound. ‘I’d better not,’ she whispered. ‘I’m only out for a walk.’

  ‘Aye, so am I.’ He took hold of her hand and drew her into the shelter of the trees. ‘But nobody would believe that if they should see us. Better not tek ’risk. We can talk just as well in here as in middle of ’footpath.’

  She allowed herself to be led a little way in. It was only a young copse, but already an under storey of shrubs was growing thickly between the young saplings.

  He took off his jacket and laid it on the ground. ‘Would you like to sit down a minute, Betsy?’

  She shook her head. She felt so strange, an excitement welling up inside her, tightening her throat, her pulses throbbing and making her feel quite lightheaded. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m not tired, why should I want to sit down?’

  ‘Well, folks often do sit down to have a bit of a jaw,’ he said patiently. ‘Still, if you’d rather stand.’ He stood looking at her for a moment and she could almost swear that a laugh was playing around his lips. She looked up at him defiantly and was about to say something cutting when he took hold of her, crushing her into his arms and kissing her forcefully on the mouth.

  ‘Stop that, Luke Reedbarrow. I didn’t come here for that sort of thing.’ She wriggled in his arms and tried to push him off.

  ‘What did you come for then, Betsy?’ Now he was openly laughing at her, but still held her fast. ‘You didn’t really come just to have a bit of a chat?’

  ‘Get off me, Luke. I have to get back. Stop fooling around.’

  He lowered his hands and put them around her waist, he spanned it easily with his large hands, and with his thumbs he stroked her abdomen. ‘I’m not fooling, Betsy. I wanted to kiss you. I’ve wanted to for long enough.’

  She stopped her struggling and lowered her eyes and inwardly smiled. I knew it, she thought triumphantly. I knew he’d always been sweet on me, hanging around the mill yard, casting sheep’s eyes at me. She felt a sense of power, a need to tantalize and invite, to provoke him with fire and then to spurn him. She lifted her head and gazed at him with what she thought was a look of allurement, but she hesitated as she saw an ardent eagerness in his eyes and wondered if she had, after all, made a mistake.

  ‘Don’t tease, Betsy.’ He licked his lips, the smile had gone. ‘You don’t know what happens to a man when a woman leads him on.’

  Again she felt the sense of control. This, then, was how to bring a man to his knees, to have him begging for just a kiss. She leaned against him ever so slightly, so that he would feel just the brush of her body, nothing more, and reached to fasten the top button on his shirt.

  ‘You’re not decently dressed, Luke Reedbarrow,’ she said softly, and was cut short as he stopped her hand with his and once more drew her close, his lips hard on hers and holding her face fast between his hands.

  She didn’t stop him. She couldn’t have stopped him even if she’d wanted to, which she didn’t, for kissing was, she decided, as she swam willingly into a haze of pleasure and desire and put her arms around his neck, a most delightful sensation. She didn’t stop him as he undid her bodice and cupped her breasts into his mouth, devouring and sucking each nipple in turn until she was gasping with pleasure.

  But she cried, ‘No,’ when his hand crept beneath her skirt and she felt the strength of his fingers pressing on her bare thighs.

  ‘No. Stop. Stop.’ She gasped and tried to sit up. They were lying on his coat and she had barely been aware of them gently sinking down on to it.

  He pushed her down again and strode across her, pinning her with his muscular legs. ‘Don’t say that, Betsy,’ he groaned. ‘Please, not now. I want thee. Please!’

  She licked her dry lips and closed her eyes. She felt as if she had been running, her breath was so short. I want you? What does he mean, he wants me? I’m here now; he’s kissing me, holding me, doing things which surely are wrong, but which are so wonderful, I don’t want him to stop. But I must say stop. I must go home, Father will be up and looking for me.

  ‘My father will be awake soon,’ she whispered. ‘I can’t stay.’

  He bent again to kiss her, his lips demanding against hers, and he forced them open with his tongue. When he released her he was breathing heavily and he held the lower part of his body as if he was in pain.

  ‘Come back later, Betsy,’ he begged. ‘When your da and the lads are in ’mill. Meet me later, please.’

  ‘All right,’ she said breathlessly, and sat up as he released her and started to fasten up her bodice. He bent once more and kissed her breasts and she thought she would explode with joy. Yes, she would come back. If she had known how wonderful the sensation of being kissed and fondled was, then she might have thought of tempting him before. She stood up and looked down on him and smiled. He was so very handsome. His face was weather brown, and his fair hair streaked blond.

  He smiled back at her and lay on his back. ‘Are you glad you came, Betsy?’ He reached out a hand and she stepped towards him and put out hers.

  ‘Yes,’ she admitted, feeling suddenly shy.

  ‘Come here, then. A bit closer.’

  She stepped closer, thinking that she might kiss him once more and stood nearer to him. He sat up and once more put his hands beneath her skirt and petticoat, sliding them over her nakedness towards her buttocks and hidden places and burying his head in her skirts.

  She took in several gasping breaths, and pressed her hands to her skirts to stop his exploring hands.

  ‘I’m not going to hurt thee, Betsy. I just want to hold thee.’ He gazed up at her, his lips parted and his eyes glazed. ‘Tha’s so beautiful. I want to kiss thee everywhere.’

  She could scarcely breathe, her throat and ears were hammering, her heart thundering, her whole body trembling and pulsating.

  He dropped her skirts and stretched out again, putting his hands behind his head. He smiled and she saw that one of his front teeth had a small chip in it. ‘Off you go, then, if you must. Back to your da.’

  She was taken aback, her passion brought to an abrupt halt. ‘Shall I – when shall I come back?’ she breathed. ‘Today, did you mean?’

  He looked up at her through his fair lashes. ‘Does tha want to, Miss Betsy?’

  She swallowed and pressed her lips together. Damn him! Yes. Yes. She did want to. She had an ache inside her body that told her that she did. And a confusion in her mind that told her that she shouldn’t. ‘I can do,’ she whispered. ‘If I can get out. Maybe this afternoon?’

  He sprang to his feet and stood in front of her, his legs wide apart and his arms folded across his chest. He nodded. ‘This afternoon then.’

  She wanted him to hold her again, but he made no move towards her. ‘Yes. I’ll try. I won’t promise.’

  He didn’t answer, but just stood looking at her. Impulsively she stood on tiptoe and offered her mouth to him. He bent his head and touched her lips with his, not hard or passionate like before, but softly and tenderly, then gently he kissed her neck and throat and ran his fingertips down her breasts and waist and around her hips. ‘Go on, then,’ he said huskily and pushed her away.

  Betsy didn’t know whether to run with joy or slink with shame at her scandalous behaviour. I should never have gone. I won’t go back. Never. I only said I would to get away. Oh, but I want to. Oh, please, please let the wind blow so that Da and the lads have to go into the mill. She clasped her hands together and thought of the strength of him, his big body holding her so close. He’s so strong, yet he’s so tender too. He makes me feel – he makes me feel so, so …!

  Never before had she felt as she did now, never before felt desire o
r sensual craving. She had kissed boys often, stolen kisses for a dare or a tease, but had never been so aware of her body as she was now. She walked briskly along the path, ignoring the gap in the hedge, not wanting to sneak through in case Tom or anyone was in the garden, and skipped into the lane and towards the mill gate. There she stopped abruptly and flushed in confusion as she was confronted by Sammi, who was struggling to open the gate and at the same time keep hold of the bridle of her horse. On the floor of the trap was a large carpet bag.

  ‘Betsy! Betsy! What are you up to, girl?’ Her father, washed and dressed, called from the doorway, and she and Sammi came running from the paddock where they had turned out Sammi’s mare.

  ‘Sammi? What’s tha doing here so early? There’s no breakfast of course – unless we make it for ourselves.’

  ‘Good morning, Uncle Thomas. Betsy and I will make breakfast in no time at all. She’s been helping me with Boreas.’

  Betsy heaved a sigh of relief as her father grunted and went inside. He would have asked some awkward questions if Sammi hadn’t been there, questions as to where she had been so early in the morning, which she wouldn’t easily have been able to answer.

  But coupled with her relief at reprieve was frustration, for if Sammi was going to stay as she had requested, then she wouldn’t be able to slip away to meet Luke as they had arranged.

  And he’ll think I don’t want to, she thought miserably. And I do. Oh, how I do!

  10

  Ellen Rayner lay wide awake at the side of her sleeping husband. It always amazed her that, no matter what his worries, he fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow. Unlike me, she thought, gazing up at the ceiling and watching the first dawn-painted fingers of rose and gold streak across it. She could hear the sigh of the sea as it washed on to the shore. It’s gentle today. Perhaps today we won’t lose any more land.