Authors: Tania Anne Crosse
Elliott shook his head. ‘No. You’re absolutely right. Some people caught out in the storm were lucky to survive and there’re shortages of food, water and fuel. It’s going to take a long time to get the whole region back on its feet. But read on. You haven’t got to the bit I meant yet.’
Ling frowned. She couldn’t imagine Elliott feeling anything but sympathy for the thousands of people who must have been affected by the storm, so she turned her eyes back to the print. And then she, too, smiled. ‘Mrs Huggins! Oh, they talked to her as well! It says, “Mrs Huggins stated that she felt no fear, as she had no doubt that when the weather had cleared she would find her way back to Tavistock.” Oh, bless her. What a plucky lady she is!’
Elliott’s face became serious as his eyes seemed to bore into hers. ‘I must go back to Tavistock tomorrow too. Walk if necessary. Fanny and Laura are doing well and Mrs Watts is quite recovered, but I’ll be needed in Tavistock with all this.’
A knot froze solid in Ling’s chest. This wonderful interlude was over. This interlude when Elliott had been able to relate to her his experiences in London: his tales, interesting and exciting; his company, close and intimate. It was all at an end. Her heart dragged with pain. Did Elliott know? Did he know how she yearned to be held in his arms? To have the ache of her life kissed away? He mustn’t. He was good and kind, and friendship was all there must ever be between them.
‘Oh, Fanny, she’s beautiful.’ Sam Tippet’s face creased into an enraptured smile. Not that it was by any means the first time he had seen little Laura. Could it be that he was beginning to see Fanny as a woman rather than the child she had always been to him? Ling smiled to herself. Sam had found an excuse to visit Fanny every few days since they had returned from the Hilsons’ hospitality three weeks ago, and Ling could not think of a more honest and trustworthy man as her sister’s suitor. And by the way Fanny was smiling at him now . . . well, who knew?
It would certainly be one weight off Ling’s mind. She had received a note from Dr Greenwood asking her to attend at two o’clock that afternoon. The appointment was for a Saturday because Elliott knew she was teaching all week and there would be embarrassing questions if she closed the school for a day apparently just to go into Tavistock! There was a horrible churning deep down in the pit of her stomach. The examination wouldn’t be pleasant, but Elliott had assured her that William Greenwood was one of the kindest and most understanding doctors he had ever met and a brilliant physician to boot.
But what would he discover? If he could find nothing obviously wrong, would she go on hoping, month after month, year after year, living continuously with bated breath? And what if he imparted to her the sad news that there was a definite reason why she could not bear a child? How would Barney react? He was a good husband, but she knew that he kept his own disappointments inside him and simply wasn’t capable of offering her the comfort she craved.
Arthur had been quite right. Their simple life wasn’t enough for Ling. She passed on her knowledge to her pupils, but, when they left at twelve years old, how useful was that? A rudimentary grasp of reading, writing and reckoning, enough to get by in life, but few of them had any interest in the history, geography or even nature lessons she prepared for them. And why should they? Just like her, they were trapped.
Elliott. When she was with him, it was different. During those days at the farm they had discussed all manner of subjects and seemed to share the same opinion on everything. Ling wondered if she might meet him at Dr Greenwood’s house. It would be a joy to see him, but, there again, that very joy would be wrong and would only add to the pain.
‘I must get to work,’ Sam declared. ‘Barney’ll be arter me seeing as he’s already started! But perhaps I can come back this arternoon, Fanny, as ’tis half day?’
Fanny’s angelic face lit up with a smile. ‘Yes, I’d like that, Sam.’
Ling had to hide her pleasure at what she read in their expressions. ‘And I must be off too,’ she announced, suddenly stiff with efficiency. ‘I’m going to Fencott Place to see Mistress Rose before I catch the train. And I believe the Bradleys will be there, and I haven’t seen them since last summer. Now, you’ll be all right, won’t you, Fanny? Mrs Rodgers says you can fetch her if need be.’
She stepped out into a pleasant, late April day. The mounds of drifted snow had finally melted, leaving the moor fresh and vibrant with the promise of spring. It had taken weeks of hard labour to unblock the water leats, to free up the roads and trains, and to have telegraphic communications fully operational again. The storm had affected the whole of Devonshire and Cornwall, but, walking into Princetown with the heady scent of spring gorse in her nostrils, it seemed to Ling that little had changed.
‘Ling, how lovely to see you!’ Rose came forward, grasping her hands. ‘We’re taking coffee. You got my letter, did you, so you know Adam and Rebecca are here?’
As usual, Rose spoke with such breathless ebullience that Ling had no chance to reply. The spacious hall was a tangled confusion of fur, tails wagging furiously and muted barks of joy at yet another visitor, and Rose laughingly pushed the dogs out of the way as she ushered Ling into the morning-room.
‘Ling!’
She was greeted all round by the good people who had taken her under their wing. The adults seemed unchanged, but Charlotte Bradley had grown into a young woman since Ling had seen her last and her brother James was not far behind. And then Ling spied Toby standing quietly by the window and felt a glow of pleasure.
‘Toby!’
‘Ling, what an unexpected delight!’
‘I didn’t expect you too. How are you?’ Her face split in a grin. It really was like seeing an old friend. Within moments, the room had erupted in noisy conversation again and Ling found herself seated next to Toby.
‘I heard you were caught on the train in the blizzard,’ he said with genuine concern. ‘It must have been appalling.’
Ling nodded wistfully. ‘It wasn’t much fun. But we survived, and others had it much worse. I expect you heard that lots of sailors drowned. Apparently, the shore was littered with wrecks, especially around Start Point. Driven on to the rocks and broken up like matchwood.’
‘Yes, I know. I was there.’
His voice was low, suddenly trembling, and Ling held her breath. ‘Oh, Toby,’ she finally whispered, but Toby gave her that hesitant smile.
‘It was the worst night of my life. But, you know, I learnt so much. I was with Father, you see. And, do you know, he
sensed
the storm before it came? The barometer was doing strange things and so he took us right out into the Channel. It saved the ship. The wind threatened to drive us shoreward like everyone else, but Father’s seamanship is superb. We couldn’t see a thing because of the driving snow, but he steered us out of danger. He was a real hero that night, but he was just angry that he couldn’t do anything to save others.’
Ling saw the admiration glinting in Toby’s eyes as he glanced across at Captain Bradley, who was deep in conversation with Seth. Yes. She was with leaders of men here. People who could make a difference to the world and to those less fortunate than themselves. Oh, yes. These were the sort of people she liked to be with, people who were fighting for the common good. Ling’s heart lurched, for, in a different way, wasn’t Elliott doing the same? Healing people and restoring them to health so that life was better for them?
‘Yes, it was a dreadful few days,’ Ling murmured. ‘Let’s hope we never see the likes of it again. But tell me, Toby, how are you yourself?’
‘Oh, very well, thank you.’ His naturally dark complexion deepened and he could obviously not prevent the broad smile that broke over his face. ‘Chantal and I are to be married next spring.’
‘You’ve set the date at last! Oh, congratulations. You’ve waited a long time.’
‘It was Father who wanted me to have reached a certain stage in my training. I’ll still have a long way to go before I get my master’s ticket, but I can at least claim to be an officer in the merchant navy.’
‘And won’t my big brother look dashing in uniform on his wedding day?’ Charlotte Bradley said with a grin as she came over. ‘Father has a uniform for his officers now on the Bradley Line. Maybe I’ll find myself a husband among them one day!’
Charlotte laughed gaily, drawing the attention of the two older couples, and the lively chatter turned to a discussion of the wedding plans. The hour Ling had allowed herself for her visit passed in a trice and soon she was heading back to Princetown Station, her spirits lifted. Only as she changed trains at Yelverton did her stomach begin to flutter again at the ordeal to come.
The examination was not nearly as traumatic as she had expected, Dr William Greenwood’s sensitive manner swiftly overcoming her embarrassment. She could see at once why Elliott respected him so deeply. The news was that the experienced physician could discover no obvious reason for her failed pregnancies, and he agreed with Elliott’s theory that the chemicals believed to be produced during pregnancy were at fault.
‘Unfortunately, we know so little about the subject,’ he explained. ‘In fact, there is so much we don’t know about the human body that being a doctor is one of the most frustrating occupations imaginable. I think Dr Franfield finds that hard to accept. But perhaps by the time he gets to my age there will be more answers.’
Ling paid the fee, which she found surprisingly small – though Elliott had told her that Dr Greenwood charged according to his patients’ means – and walked slowly back towards the town centre. People were shopping or calling in to the various establishments, carrying on their daily business while Ling was staring down the long, empty road of her future life. If only Dr Greenwood had found some small defect, something that could have been rectified . . . but now she was back where she had started. She had dear Barney, and she did still love him. But the sparkle had long gone from their childhood romance. Barney was no longer the carefree, joking lad she had loved. And she . . . well, just as the railway had, in different ways, opened her heart to new horizons, it had also led to even greater frustrations. Perhaps, if she hadn’t lost the child . . .
‘Ling! Oh, I wondered if I might see you.’
She was in Duke Street now, so lost in her own dejection that she had literally bumped into Elliott as he’d emerged from the narrow passage that led through to the market house. The muscles in her chest contracted sharply. What she felt in his company was wrong. But to see his caring, smiling face when her heart was torn to shreds was too much, and she threw caution to the wind.
‘Elliott!’
She let him shake her hand firmly while she watched the light shining in his green-blue eyes.
‘How was it? Oh, dear me, what an insensitive question. Will you . . .?’ He glanced around as if seeking inspiration. ‘No, I insist. Let us take afternoon tea.’
Before she had time to decline he’d ushered her into a tea room and they were sharing a pot of the hot, steaming beverage over a plate of freshly baked scones with home-made jam and clotted cream. Ling repeated what Dr Greenwood had said, and Elliott nodded positively.
‘Well that’s good news then!’
Yes, Ling supposed it was. Elliott’s very presence had rescued her from her own despondency. She smiled back, her mind lighter, and suddenly found herself ravenously hungry, not having eaten since breakfast. She bit lustily into a scone, and then, in response to Elliott’s enquiry, she updated him on Fanny and the baby’s progress.
‘And Sam Tippet, a friend who grew up with us,’ she explained, ‘is taking a great interest in them. And Fanny seems to be responding. It would be ideal. A lovely chap is Sam. He’d look after her.’ She nodded emphatically, and then tipped her head with a quizzical frown at the way Elliott was looking at her, his eyes dancing roguishly. ‘What?’ she all but giggled, his amusement infectious.
‘I diagnose a grave case of cream on the nose, Heather Mayhew,’ he announced in a serious tone as he battled to keep a straight face. ‘I would recommend a creamectomy. Swab,’ he commanded, slapping his serviette into his extended right palm. ‘No anaesthetic necessary.’ And then he leaned across the table and wiped the end of her nose. ‘There. I declare the operation a complete success.’
She couldn’t help but laugh aloud. How was it that Elliott made her feel like this? They had become so much better acquainted during those days at the farm, and yet she had always felt that she knew him so well, as if there was a special bond between them. He was smiling at her, his mouth stretched merrily revealing strong, even teeth. Oh, if only . . .
‘Are you in any hurry? If you can spare half an hour, there’s something I’d like to show you. I’m really quite excited about it, but it would be nice to share it with someone.’
Ling’s eyes opened wide. She wasn’t quite sure . . . But Elliott was apparently bubbling with anticipation, and, besides, she was curious. Elliott paid the bill, and then they were walking down fashionable Plymouth Road, Ling’s hand resting in Elliott’s crooked elbow. She felt so proud, walking beside the handsome doctor dressed in his smart suit, and she almost wished . . .
‘Where are we going?’ she enquired inquisitively, praying that Elliott couldn’t read her thoughts.
‘Don’t be impatient,’ he chuckled. ‘We’ll be there in a minute.’
They turned right by the school and then left into Chapel Street, Elliott’s stride lengthening.
‘Nearly there!’ Elliott cried with a boyish grin. ‘I live with my parents in Watts Road. Up there. In a very grand semi-detached villa in its own grounds.’ He nodded towards the steeply rising land to their right, a slightly deprecating expression on his face as if he didn’t particularly care for the opulence of his family home. ‘Well, not for much longer.’
He stopped abruptly by a little house in one of the terraces overlooking the back gardens of the prosperous dwellings they had left behind in Plymouth Road. From his pocket, he withdrew a key and waved it proudly before Ling’s nose. ‘I’d just collected it from the Bedford Estate Office when I met you. The street belongs to the Duke, but His Grace was persuaded to allow me to buy this one as it’s been untenanted for some time. I had to borrow the money from the bank, but I’ll be paying it back over several years. My mother was fed up with patients calling for my services at any hour of the day or night, so she’s glad to be rid of me. Though she does consider this a little beneath her dignity and says she will refuse to call on me here.’