The Emerald Valley (55 page)

The kettle boiled and Charlotte burned her mouth as she sipped her tea when it was much too hot. But still she couldn't stop shaking.

‘What are we going to do about it?' she asked.

‘We can't do anything. We shall just have to wait for our Ted to get in touch,' James told her.

‘Oh, I wish our Harry was here! He could go up and tell Dolly. And our Amy too!'

‘Calm down now, or you'll make yourself bad,' James advised. ‘They'll see it in the paper. And if they don't, somebody will tell them soon enough. One thing's for very sure – this is going to cause quite a stir in Hillsbridge!'

‘He's right, Lotty,' Peggy agreed.

‘If there's one person who ought to know, it's Rosa Clements,' James went on. ‘Didn't you say she was going down to see Ted next weekend? She ought to know.'

‘Oh, Rosa!' Charlotte snapped. ‘Never mind about his brothers and sisters as long as
Rosa
knows!'

James said nothing, withdrawing into himself as he always did if an argument was in the offing.

Charlotte was very blinkered when it came to Rosa, in his opinion, but he had no intention of telling her so. She wouldn't listen to him, so he might just as well save his breath. And as he had said, this news was big enough to travel without any effort on their part. Rosa would get to hear soon enough – if she didn't know already. Sometimes James thought that she knew more than any of them.

Rosa, of course, had seen the report for herself the moment the papers arrived at the Post Office Stores. But the shock she experienced had been quite different from that felt by Charlotte. For though to see Ted's face looking up at her from the front of the
Daily Mirror
had stopped her in her tracks, the surprise was made all the sharper by the realisation that the drama had happened yesterday at just the same time that she had experienced such a chill of fear.

While she had been on her knees praying in the only way she knew for his safety, Ted had been fighting for his life. And her prayer had been answered!

Ted was a hero, of course. He had risked his own life for that of some unknown boy. But it never occurred to Rosa to doubt that she had been instrumental in helping him – she was as certain of it as she had been when other results had followed her childish ‘spells'of long ago.

I may not be a witch, but there
is
a power in my veins along with my gypsy blood, thought Rosa. I must never misuse it, or it will desert me. But so long as I treat it with respect, I know it is a force to be reckoned with.

Even living with it as long as she had, this was an awesome thought.

If Hillsbridge was buzzing with the news that one of its sons was a hero, it was nothing to the stir that the drama had created in Ramsgate.

There was anger towards the foolish local lad who had been the cause of the whole ghastly business; there was sadness for the two brave men whose lives had been lost; and there was adulation for Ted, who had managed by sheer guts and determination to bring the boy to safety. His name was on every lip and wherever he went, someone wanted to shake him by the hand or slap him on the back. Reporters by the dozen turned up to interview him; photographers posed him again and again in front of the beach huts and beside the bathing chairs; total strangers offered him congratulations and gifts of cigarettes.

To his shame, Ted found that once he had recovered from the first shock of his ordeal and the loss of his mate, he was secretly enjoying all the attention. He had never been shy – how could the leading light of the Hillsbridge Concert Party be shy – but neither was he conceited and the people of Ramsgate warmed to the unassuming, easygoing Somerset man who seemed to them to embody everything a hero should be.

From the day of the rescue onwards, Ted never had to buy himself a pint in a pub; his landlady, though in floods of tears over Tom's tragic death, ensured that only the very best of everything found its way onto his plate; and the Ramsgate Corporation, for whom he worked, made it clear that they appreciated having a man like him in their employ.

Ted found himself recommended for an award from the Carnegie Hero Fund Trust and was glad to hear that the two men who had died were not to be forgotten either. The Carnegie Certificate, impressively framed, would not do them much good, he thought, but the grant of £25 each towards providing headstones for their graves was only right, and when he heard that his own grant would be less than half that sun, he did not feel in the least aggrieved. After all, they had lost their lives. He had lost nothing – unless of course he counted his salt-stained trousers!

But the repercussions of his act of heroism did not end with the adulation and the £10 award, welcome though that was …

It was the day of the inquest, held to establish the cause of death of Tom and the unknown holidaymaker. Ted had dreaded it – there was nothing to be enjoyed in reliving the tragic side of what had happened and the formal recognition of the deaths of two fine men, and for Ted the sombre Coroner's Court evoked too many memories of his own brush with the law at the Assize Court in Bristol.

As he emerged into the bright June sunlight he was feeling sobered, despite the words of praise from the coroner which still rang in his ears; at first when the stranger approached him he hardly noticed, then made to brush him aside.

‘I'm sorry – I've got to get back to work.'

‘I'll walk along with you then.' The stranger fell into step beside Ted, walking with a noticeable limp. He was a tall, well-made man, his lined face brown as a nut, his bushy-white eyebrows perfectly matching a thatch of snowy hair. His voice was deep, with an unfamiliar accent that struck chords in Ted though he did not recognise it. He had heard that voice before – and recently – though he could not place it.

A moment later the stranger jogged his memory. ‘I was there when you brought in the boy. I don't suppose you noticed me?'

‘Yes, I did.' That voice had been there on the edge of his consciousness when he had come round to find himself lying on the beach.

‘You did a fine job. I would have been in there myself if I were twenty years younger. Not now though … not with my leg.' His tone said that he regretted not taking part in the rescue, but was totally without either bravado or self-pity – simply a statement of fact.

‘You are wondering why I wanted to talk to you, I expect?' he went on. ‘Well, the fact is that I have a proposition to put to you. From what I gather, you have been a miner, but now you're working here as a chair attendant on a casual basis only.'

‘For the summer, yes.'

‘Why did you leave mining?'

Ted glanced at him, surprised by the question. ‘There didn't seem any future in it; I was a carting boy, and likely to be for the next ten years.'

‘A carting boy?'

‘Dragging putts of coal from where it's hewed to where it can be taken to the surface. A human donkey in harness, my mother used to call it. Anyway, the war came and I joined the army and never went back. I wouldn't be able to now; there are too many men after too few jobs and the bosses have got it all worked out.'

‘So what will you be doing at the end of the season?'

Ted shrugged. ‘I don't know. Joining the ranks of the unemployed, I should think.'

‘As I anticipated.' The stranger was not looking at Ted, but staring ahead with narrowed gaze, a habit gained from searching wider horizons, more open landscapes. ‘Ever thought of going to Australia?'

‘
Australia?
' Ted was almost speechless. ‘No – why?'

‘It's a great country. Mind you, I'm prejudiced – it's my home.'

‘You're Australian.' So that was the reason for the unfamiliar accent.

‘The name's Stuart Wells. I'm in copper. Have been for most of my life, and I've built up quite a nice little business, if I do say so myself. Anyway, the point is that when I saw how you handled yourself the other day I thought: Stuart, that's just the kind of lad you could use – plenty of guts and determination. Then when I heard you were likely to be out of a job soon, I made up my mind to have a word with you. I didn't know how to get in touch, but I guessed you would be at the inquest. So … here I am!'

‘You came especially to see me?' Ted asked.

‘That's about the size of it. The fact is that I'm offering you a job, if you're interested.'

‘What sort of a job?'

‘A position at the mine. You would start at the bottom, naturally, but once we see how you shape up, who knows? One thing about Australia is that there are plenty of opportunities for a man to get on if he wants to. Not like it is here. It's a young country, growing, not pulling in its horns for a depression. And copper's big business. I reckon I can guarantee you a good living and maybe more. It's up to you.'

‘I don't know what to say.'

‘Don't say anything for the moment. Think about it – only don't take too long! I'm only here for a few more days, then I'm in London for a week and after that I sail.' He pulled a card out of his pocket and scribbled on the back of it. ‘Here – this is the address where you can reach me. As I say, Australia is a land of opportunity and if you're the man I think you are, you'll be ready to grab it.'

Ted's mind was whirling. Australia! The other side of the world! But he liked the sound of it – the idea of travelling to an unknown country for an unspecified job appealed to his sense of adventure. And he liked the stranger too; there was a directness about him that inspired confidence. Besides, on the whole Ted was a trusting soul; his attitude towards people had always been to think well of them until they did something to make him change his mind, and generally he was not disappointed. It came to him that this was the kind of opportunity which presented itself only rarely – the door that slammed shut if you failed to walk swiftly through it. And hadn't he been wondering what the hell the future held for him and Rosa?

‘Supposing I was to take up your offer – would I be able to bring a wife?' he asked.

The stranger looked at him sharply. ‘You're married?'

‘No, but I want to be. There's a girl I've kept waiting too long.'

‘I see. I was expecting you to be able to travel light. Women get homesick and they can be a burden.' He spoke with the air of a man who has long since discarded any such fetters.

‘Rosa's no burden,' he said, ‘She would go wherever I went.'

‘It may be rough to begin with,' warned the Australian. ‘Housing, for instance, is very primitive.'

‘I don't think she would mind that. She's been raised the hard way, like me.'

‘Well, that's up to you. As I say, think it over. Talk about it with your girl – Rosa, you call her? And then let me know.'

‘Right,' Ted said. ‘I will.'

After they had parted company he looked at the card. The printed side gave the name: ‘Stuart Wells. Queensland Copper Inc.', with an address in Brisbane. On the reverse, the man had written the name of a Ramsgate hotel.

What's he doing here anyway? Ted wondered, but it was a fleeting thought only. His mind was too busy turning over the possibilities the suggestion offered. A new life in a new country, thrown at him just like that. It was incredible, and yet …

It could be the answer, Ted thought, excitement beginning deep in the pit of his stomach. He had always liked a challenge – and this was a greater challenge than he had ever faced before, greater even than his battle with the sea. Then he had leapt in without thinking to save the boy. This situation gave him time to consider and the conclusion he reached could alter the whole course of his life – and Rosa's too.

Deep in thought, Ted made his way back to his lodgings. But already he was fairly certain what his decision would be.

Two days later Rosa arrived in Ramsgate. She had booked into a sea-front boarding house and Ted, taking time off from his work with the bathing chairs, met her at the station.

‘Ted!' She dropped her cases and flew into his arms. ‘Ted – oh, it's so good to see you! I've been so worried about you!'

‘There's no need, I'm all right.'

‘Yes, thank goodness! But you might not have been. Oh, when I think about it …'

‘Don't! Listen, I've got so much to tell you.'

‘Yes, I want to hear all about it.'

‘Not about the drowning. Something else. But not here …' He took her case.

‘What, then?'

‘About us.'

‘What
about
us?'

‘Don't be so impatient; it doesn't suit you.'

‘How can you say don't be impatient? Tell me, Ted, please!'

‘All right. How do you fancy going to Australia?'

‘
Australia!
You're joking!'

‘No, I'm not. I've had the offer of a job in Australia. We could go if you like.'

‘Australia!' She felt as if someone had knocked all the wind out of her. ‘It's crazy! How would you get the offer of a job in Australia?'

‘It's a long story. I told you it ought to wait until we were somewhere quiet.'

‘But you must go on now! You can't tell me this much and then just stop!'

‘All right. We'll get a cup of tea.'

They turned into a cafe Ted knew and when they were sitting either side of a corner table, he lit a Woodbine.

‘This is the gist of it, then. I met a bloke – an Australian himself. He waylaid me after the inquest they held on Tom and the other chap who got drowned; it seems he was there when I brought in the boy. Well, the upshot is that he offered me a job.'

‘In Australia?'

‘He's in copper, in quite a big way by the sound of it. They mine it out there like we mine coal here, I suppose.'

‘And what would you be doing?'

‘He didn't really make that clear, but he did say I would be able to work my way up.'