The Sea Shell Girl (2 page)

‘Of course, if you were to marry someone like Nicco, you'd never have to worry about money,' Jenna whispered, as ever picking up on her friend's thoughts. ‘He's taken a real shine to you, Merry. What with him being set to take over the fish factory when his father retires, if you were to be nice to him, well …' She winked outrageously and Merry shuddered. Nicco with his oily black hair and staring eyes gave her goose bumps.

‘Need to concentrate, Jenna,' she muttered, not wishing to be drawn, for hadn't her mother said much the same, only she'd put it more delicately, of course? The one good thing about the pilchards being late was that she didn't have to encounter him. Knit two, purl six and twist the wool, she silently intoned as she began forming the little shells that had become the mark of her work. With fingers flying and their pins clacking, the little group were
hushed as they pondered whether to try to meet the extra target or resort to damping down, as Kelys suggested. They all knew what the penalties were if they were to be caught fiddling.

A jab in her side jolted Merry from her thoughts.

‘Look who's coming,' Jenna whispered, jerking her head. As Merry followed her gaze, she saw the ebony-haired Nicco strutting up the hill towards them. Her heart sank. And she'd thought the day couldn't get any worse.

‘Must go,' she muttered, jumping to her feet and disappearing into the warren behind.

Hurrying into their little cottage, Merry wrinkled her nose as the all-too-familiar smell of fish broth greeted her.

‘That knit frock doesn't seem to have grown much. Suppose you've spent your time gossiping,' her grandmother grunted, as Merry unclipped the wooden fish, which supported her work, from her skirts and threw her knitting down on the stool.

‘We had lots to talk about, Grozen,' she said. ‘The agent's son has taken over and he's increased our target.'

‘What?' her mother gasped, looking up from the fancy frock she was finishing. Out of all of them Karenza was the most talented and Merry could only marvel at the way the intricate cable pattern flowed naturally from her fingers, although even with her skill, it was a race to meet the deadlines.

‘And that's not all. Apparently, we're to receive half our pay in goods from the shop he's setting up at Killie Mill.'

‘But he can't resort to that. Trucking's illegal now,' her grandmother sniffed.

‘We can barely make ends meet as it is,' Karenza muttered, biting her lip.

‘Kelys says we could always resort do damping down to make the target. Apparently, her mother used the extra wool to make socks and …'

‘Over my dead body,' her mother's usually calm voice
cut through the room. ‘I've brought you up to be honest, our Merry, and won't have you resorting to low tricks like that.'

Trying not to flinch under her mother's direct gaze, which seemed to reach her very soul, Merry nodded quickly. It was true. Her mother prided herself on being truthful and impressed the importance of honesty upon Merry seemingly every day.

‘And what if the agent were to do a weigh check?' her grandmother pointed out. ‘He'd spread word that we was cheats and our contract would be taken away. Why, I remember when Clara Broad got caught. Old man Muther threatened to cut off her right hand with an axe if she didn't make up the shortage. Never worked again, she didn't.'

Merry shuddered. ‘Well, what are we to do? We can't possibly knit another two frocks each every month, can we, Mother?'

‘Is that what he's demanding?' Karenza gasped.

Merry nodded.

‘May the Lord help us, the rent's due and we have nothing of any worth left to sell,' Grozen moaned, staring around the spartan room.

Karenza idly toyed with her necklace, its blue glass heart catching the light from the fire. ‘I'd even sell this if I thought it would fetch anything.' Merry's eyes widened in horror, for that necklace had been a present from her father and her mother hadn't taken it off since the day he died. She said wearing it brought her a small measure of comfort. Things must be dire indeed if she could even consider selling it. ‘You can see why I said marrying well would be …'

‘Don't worry, I'll think of something,' Merry jumped in quickly, eager to divert her mother from what seemed to have become her pet subject.

The room fell silent as, supper forgotten, her mother and grandmother stared glumly into the fire. The strained faces of the two women she loved tugged at Merry's heart and she knew she couldn't let them risk losing their cottage. Humble it might be, but it was their home.

‘Apparently there's an agent in Plymouth who pays a fair price and all of it in cash,' she ventured, remembering what else Kelys had said.

‘Plymouth! But that's nigh on a day's round trip. Besides, you've never been out of the village before,' her mother spluttered.

‘Then it is high time I did,' Merry declared stoutly, feeling a heady mix of excitement tinged with apprehension at the thought.

‘But the town's a big, bustling place, our Merry,' Grozen said, frowning.

‘Well, I've got to do something and, who knows, I might even like it,' Merry answered, excitement bubbling at the prospect.

Her mother gave her a level look. ‘That's what I'm worried about,' she muttered.

‘We're only just managing as it is,' Merry pointed out. ‘And with no sign of the pilchards yet, do we have any choice?'

Merry rose early and, careful not to wake her mother and Grozen, dressed suitably in her Sunday best, then crept downstairs. Slipping pattins on her feet to keep her skirts from the mud, she hoisted the parcel of knit frocks onto
her back, clipped the wooden fish supporting her current work around her waist and slipped out into the pearly grey of the morning. Fearful of the iron rims on her pattins making a noise as they struck the cobbles, she stole past the stone cottages with their lime-washed walls where her friends were still sleeping. Then, excitement mounting, she quickened her pace as she made her way up the steep hill that led out of the village. Her mother had warned her not speak to any strangers but how was she was meant to do business if she couldn't talk to anyone new?

Although she had a long walk ahead of her, she was fizzing with anticipation at the thought of seeing what lay beyond the village. It would have been good to have some company but everyone had a reason why they couldn't come with her. In truth, they weren't willing to risk upsetting the new agent and she couldn't blame them. When word got back to Sharp junior that Merry had taken her work elsewhere, he'd refuse to deal with her in future. Just for a minute she wavered, then hardened her heart. Grozen and her mother worked long days and often well into the night as it was, and there was no way she was having them cheated out of a fair price. The man must be a shark if he thought they could produce more than they did already.

At least she was doing something constructive, she thought, veering right onto the path that would lead to Logh and then on to Plymouth. Here stunted trees rose above the hillside, bowing their heads away from the prevailing winds. Despite the cold spring, the blackthorn was ready to blossom and soon the countryside would be treated to a froth of white. Everywhere was burgeoning
with fresh life and Merry couldn't help feeling she was on the cusp of something new herself. To her right waves pounded the cliffs below and she could smell the tang of salt on the wind. Even its sting on her cheeks couldn't detract from her sense of exhilaration.

Busy walking and knitting, she didn't hear the soft fall of hooves behind her until the donkey and cart drew level.

‘Morning, Merry. You're looking mighty bonny this morning,' the silky voice purred.

‘Nicco! What are you doing here?' she asked, staring at the young man in surprise.

‘Just so happens I've got someone to see in Plymouth. Jump in and I'll give you a lift.' He flashed his smarmy grin, teeth gleaming against the olive of his skin.

Her heart sank and the morning lost its brightness. Was it coincidence, him appearing like this? She eyed him suspiciously. As she stood there dithering, the easterly wind freshened, tugging tendrils of hair from beneath her bonnet so they curled around her face in white spirals.

‘Come along,' he urged, impatiently. Knowing it would be churlish to refuse, she shrugged off her bundle and threw it into the cart. Deliberately ignoring his proffered hand, she climbed up beside him.

‘Who said I'm going to Plymouth?' she asked.

He grinned. ‘Well, you're wearing your best clothes and that's where this road leads – unless you were turning off to Logh, of course,' he said, quirking his brow. She frowned but refused to be drawn. ‘It's a long trek so you must be pleased I happened along this early into your journey.' He sounded so cocky and sure that she shot him a sharp look, only to receive another grin.

There was no denying it would be quicker by cart. It would do no harm to be polite for the journey and she could lose him as soon as they arrived. She could use the extra time to explore, she thought, her spirits rising again.

As Nicco chattered away, she stared around, taking in the scenery as the track twisted and turned. Here and there splashes of bluebells and golden primroses brightened the hedge-banks, and rock pipits bobbed and swooped low, gathering twigs and moss for their nests. Then the landscape opened up to fields, seemingly spreading forever. It was all very different from the confines of the village.

‘So what do you think?' Nicco's voice interrupted her musing.

‘Pardon?' she asked, turning to face him. His dark eyes were sparked with irritation. ‘Hmm, yes, of course,' she said quickly.

In a flash the grin was back. ‘Wonderful, I know just the place.'

‘Place?'

‘For supper on the way home.' He shook his head. ‘You are surprised that I, Nicco Neaple, should invite you to accompany me? Truth to tell I have had my eye on you for some time.'

And don't I know it, Merry thought, suppressing a shudder, but he was in full flow and oblivious.

‘Be hard not to notice you, Merry. With your flaxen curls and sea-blue eyes you stand out from the others,' he continued. Merry cussed under her breath. Her colouring contrasted starkly to the dark-haired girls she'd gone to school with, and had long been a puzzle to her. When
she'd asked her mother about her white hair, she'd admitted Merry favoured her father, but then she'd clammed up, saying it brought back painful memories.

‘We are well on our way now,' Nicco said, patting her hand. ‘It is lucky I happened along, eh?'

Merry darted him a searching look but he just gave his smarmy grin, whilst the smouldering look in his dark eyes sent shivers through her. Deciding she'd had enough, Merry yawned.

‘Would you think me awfully rude if I snatched a nap?' she asked. ‘I had an early start and think it's caught up with me.'

‘Yes, you need your beauty sleep,' Nicco grinned.

Not knowing whether to be offended or grateful, she closed her eyes. The next thing she knew she was jolted awake by the rattling and bumping of the cart. Staring around, she saw they were passing over a stone bridge spanning an expanse of rushing water.

‘So Sleeping Beauty's awake,' Nicco quipped.

‘Have we reached the ferry already?'

He laughed. ‘No, this is the River Logh. Over there's the town,' he said, pointing right. ‘We have to go up the hill and further along the coast, passing through a hamlet or three before we reach the Tamar.'

‘Oh,' she said, trying to quell her impatience. ‘Will it take long?'

‘Long enough, so settle back in your seat and enjoy the ride. It would have been some walk, though, eh?'

She nodded and he lapsed into silence as the donkey laboured up the steep incline. When they finally gained the top, Nicco pulled onto the verge and jumped down.
He fed the donkey a carrot, then pulled a knapsack from the back of the cart.

‘Come on,' he urged, pushing his cheese-cutter cap to the back of his head, then holding out his hand to help her down. ‘We'll have a picnic whilst Dozy here has a rest.'

Feeling decidedly hungry, Merry perched on a rock and watched in amazement as Nicco took out two bread rolls, two chunks of cheese and two pasties. It was a long time since she'd seen such a feast and her mouth watered.

‘Here you are,' he said, holding out one of each.

‘Funny how you've got two of everything,' she commented, looking him straight in the eye.

‘Well, if you don't want them …' he shrugged, making to take them back.

Her stomach grumbled as she stared at the golden pastry and floury bread. Unable to resist, she snatched them up and began munching ravenously.

‘Anyone would think you hadn't eaten for a month,' he laughed.

‘Well, I haven't properly,' she admitted. Only last week she'd had to poke another hole in her inkle tape to keep her fish from falling when she walked. Surely he must know the situation in the village was dire.

‘I guess we've been luckier than most,' he commented. ‘Perks of Father's position and all that. Of course, they could be yours too if …'

Not liking the direction the conversation was taking or the suggestive look he was giving her, Merry jumped up and shook the crumbs from her skirts.

‘I appreciate you sharing your meal, Nicco, but I do
need to get to Plymouth in good time,' she said quickly. For a moment she thought he was going to protest but, to her relief, he shrugged nonchalantly.

‘We'll talk over supper then,' he said, throwing his bag into the back of the cart then climbing in.

Oh glory, how was she going to get out of that?

The track ahead was narrow and deeply rutted so that Nicco had to concentrate. Relieved, she stared around, taking in an old church with its crooked gravestones facing seaward, the hotchpotch of cottages and never-ending fields, until finally they came to a great expanse of water ahead. Her mother had explained that she'd need to cross the Tamar but she'd never dreamed it would be so wide or this busy. Nicco spoke to the man at the ferry and for the first time since he'd appeared that morning, she was glad of his company.

As he steered the nervous donkey down the ramp and onto the deck, Merry marvelled at the black and white sailing ships anchored in the turgid water, their masts towering up to the sky. Beyond them, smaller boats with faded brown sails scurried up and down the river, being imperiously hooted at by bustling steam tugs if they dared to cross their path.