Summer Loving (9 page)

‘You were boys,’ Jess grinned at him. ‘It goes with the territory.’

Rob leaned down and kissed her cheek. ‘Thanks, Ma,’ he said softly.

Waving until they reached the end of the path and disappeared down the road towards the car park, Jess went back inside and closed the door. There was trouble brewing.
It wasn’t her business.
But Rob was her son ...
That did not give her the right to interfere
.

At least he had left looking happier than when he arrived.

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J
ess spent Saturday afternoon on research. Looking up William Joseph Spencer’s birth certificate via Familysearch.org, set up by the Mormons, she learned he was born in Virginia to Joseph Warrick Spencer, born 1886, and Ethel Vickery, born 1898.

The phone rang. Jess lifted the receiver. ‘Hello?’

‘It’s Linda Trewearn. I hope you don’t mind me ringing, Mrs Trevanion.’

‘Of course I don’t. And please, call me Jess.’

‘That’s good of you, dear. I aren’t trying to rush you or nothing, but I was just wondering how you’re getting on.’

‘More slowly than I hoped. Would you mind if I looked more deeply into your mother’s ancestry?’

‘You do whatever you got to. All I want is to find an explanation. Karen have taken the baby and moved back in with her parents. We’re telling everyone it’s because she need more time to get over the birth. A girl need her mother at a time like this. But the truth of it is Karen said she can’t stay with Scott if he don’t believe her.’ Her voice broke.

‘Oh, Linda, I’m so sorry.’

‘Scott’s in some state, dear of ’n. He think she should try to see it from his side. But like I told him, having a baby is hard enough when everything goes right. She had this long labour then at the end of it there was this terrible shock.’

‘What about the baby?’

‘Good as gold he is, and growing like a weed. Karen always planned to breastfeed. I thought she might have changed her mind. But like she said, she know he’s Scott’s son. They waited a long time for ’n and there’s no telling if she’ll have another. So she’s going to give ’n the best start. But when he’s sleeping I’ve heard her sobbing her heart out.’

‘I can’t imagine what they are going through. I promise I’ll get back to you as soon as I have any news.’

‘Sorry if I interrupted you –’

‘No need to apologise. I wish I had more to tell you.’

‘I know you’re doing your best. I leave you get on. ’Bye, my bird.’

That evening Tom phoned. ‘Come sailing with me tomorrow? Forecast is good.’

Jess leaned back in her chair. She had been gazing at her laptop screen for so long her eyes were sore and felt as if they had sand in them. Being out on the water was a tempting prospect. But she remembered Linda’s voice breaking, and pictured Karen and Scott living apart, both wretchedly miserable.

‘I can’t.’

‘I wasn’t thinking for you to come all day. Well, I was, but I know you want to finish this thing for Linda Trewearn. We’ll just go out for a couple of hours in the afternoon. High tide’s quarter past four so there’ll be enough water in the river to sail from the yard and back again. Jess, you need a break. You’ll get on a lot better with a change of scene and some fresh air.’

What he said made sense. ‘You’re right. I’d love to.’

‘Proper job.’

‘Shall I bring a flask and food? Daft question. Forget I asked. How many of us will there be?’

‘Just you and me.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘Your choice. If it’s not too choppy we can go across the bay. Or we can stay in the Roads and sail up to Tolverne. See what you feel like tomorrow.’

‘Thanks, Tom.’

Jess helped haul up the big gaff mainsail then, as Tom released the boat from her mooring and pointed the bow towards the river mouth, she raised the foresail and wound the sheet in a figure-of-eight round a cleat.

‘Right, my lover. Where to?’

Jess looked past the lighthouse and saw yachts of every size in the bay. ‘Let’s stay in here.’

She sat on one side of the stern seat, Tom on the other with the polished wood tiller between them. She stretched her legs out and leaned back, closing her eyes and raising her face to the sun’s warmth. It was only as she began to relax that she realised how tense she’d been.

‘This was such a good idea.’ She smiled across at Tom.

‘I’ve been known to have them.’

Wind sighed through the halyards, the mast creaked, and water hissed against the hull. Gazing at the sea as the boat cut through it, Jess was entranced by the varied shades of blue and green and the streaks of glistening white foam from the bow wave.

She could hear the rhythmic beat of music from a marquee at the top of a field. The mournful mew of gulls floated on the breeze.

They passed sprawling bungalows surrounded by landscaped gardens. Some had private jetties and boathouses. On the opposite side of the estuary, recent hay-cutting had left some fields pale. In others, ripe wheat rippled in the breeze and the faint roar of a combine came from over the hill. A patch of gorse-covered moorland sloped gently down to rocky coves where white-edged waves lapped at crescents of sand.

They anchored up one of the inlets and ate the ham and salad rolls Jess had brought.

‘You’re very quiet,’ she remarked, realising neither of them had spoken for a while.

‘I’m enjoying your company, and being away from the yard and the phone. Anyhow, that was the point of bringing you out, so you’d have a rest from people telling you their troubles.’

‘You are a dear.’

‘I try.’

The breeze had strengthened, making the boat heel over so the sail back was exhilarating. When Jess took the tiller the boat felt alive as it dipped and rose, knifing through the choppy waves towards calmer waters of the river. Spray dampened her face and her lips tasted salty.

Tying the boat to her mooring, they clambered into the dinghy for the short row to the yard slipway. Then Tom drove her home. Holding the bag while she unlocked the door, he followed her inside.

Jess went to the kitchen and switched on the kettle. ‘Tea?’

He dropped the bag on the worktop and slid his arms around her waist. ‘I’d rather have you.’ His nose against her neck, he breathed in. ‘Smell lovely you do.’

She turned and linked her hands behind his head. ‘I’ve had a wonderful afternoon, Tom. I didn’t realise how much I needed it. Being on the water was such a treat.’

‘I want us to be together, Jess. And don’t say we’ve just had a whole afternoon. That’s not what I mean and you know it.’

The kettle boiled and she moved away to fetch mugs from the dresser. ‘Please don’t, Tom. This isn’t the time. Anyway, I’m happy the way things are.’

‘Well, I’m not. It feels like you want to keep one foot on the doorstep.’

‘What on earth makes you think that? We’re a couple. The whole village knows that. Why do you want to change something that’s working perfectly well?’

‘Hark at you,’ he teased. ‘Isn’t that usually the man’s line?’

‘I wouldn’t know. There have only been two men in my life, you and Alex, and my marriage to him turned out to be a total sham. I don’t want to ever go there again.’

‘I’m not Alex, Jess.’

‘I know that. I’m also as sure as I can be that you would never do what he did. This isn’t about you, Tom. It’s about me.’

‘That’s just an excuse.’

She folded her arms, protecting herself and shutting him out. ‘I don’t want a row, Tom. You want something I don’t. You getting angry with me won’t change how I feel. I’m flattered that you –’

‘Bloody hell, woman! This isn’t about buttering you up.’

‘Sorry. I didn’t mean – That was the wrong word. I do love you, Tom.’

‘You got a funny way of showing it.’

‘Because I won’t give in and do what you want?’

He shoved a hand through his curly hair in frustration. ‘Listen to yourself. I love you. I want to wake up next to you each morning, and for your face to be the last thing I see each night. That’s why I want us to live together. I like being with you. I like hearing about your work and telling you about my day.’

‘I enjoy that too.’

‘Then why won’t you live with me?’

‘Where?’

‘What?’

‘Live with you where? Are you going to move in here and leave Chris on his own? No, of course you can’t. We both know that. So what you really want is for me to move in with you.’

‘All right, yes, that is what I want. Look, I know the place is a bit – OK, no two ways about it, it needs doing up. I haven’t had the time. And I s’pose I’m so used to it I don’t notice. But you could do what you want. I wouldn’t interfere. You got a good eye for colour –’

‘I worked as Fred and Jase’s labourer for six months to turn this place from a derelict hovel into a home. It wasn’t that long ago. Why would I want to go through all that again?’

‘I didn’t mean for you to do it yourself. We could have them in to do it.’

‘It’s your house, Tom. Ask them for a price. But I won’t be supervising. I already have a job. Actually I have two.’

‘If you moved in with me you wouldn’t need to –’

‘Stop,’ she cut in. ‘That wasn’t a complaint. I love what I’m doing. Word is spreading, more people are making enquiries, and I’m starting to make some money.’

‘I’d never try to stop you.’

She rested her hand on his arm. ‘I don’t think you would, not consciously.’

‘I’ll be straight with you, Jess. It would be a load off me if you took over the yard paperwork. I’d pay you a proper wage.’

‘It’s not just the money, Tom. If I did as you ask I’d have hardly any time for my genealogy.’

‘But we’d be working together for
our
future.’

It did sound tempting. But if she was living and working in his house while he was out in the yard or on the water, guess who would be preparing the meals?
Was that such a big deal?
She had to eat, and it was as easy to cook for two – or three – as there was Chris as well.

What about laundry, cleaning, and shopping? Nor had he answered her concern about lack of time for her genealogy. It was all too easy to foresee her life, and the business she was proud of and had worked so hard to establish, taking second place to the demands of the yard.

‘I’m sorry, Tom. I’m not ready.’

‘Fair enough. All I’m asking is for you to think about it.’

‘I will. I do. A lot. But –’ She shook her head. This wasn’t the time. ‘Look, if you want me to get your paperwork up to date, bring it round.’

‘Like I said, I’ll pay.’

‘Too right you will,’ she shot back, grinning. ‘At least my fee is tax-deductible. You’ll have to wait until I’ve finished Linda Trewearn’s enquiry though.’

He hugged her. ‘Thanks, my lovely. Let’s have that tea then I’ll leave you get on.’

Twenty minutes later she walked him to the door, glad they had avoided a quarrel. ‘I appreciate your understanding, Tom.’

As he turned, his expression was more serious that she had ever seen it. ‘I’m doing my best. You want time? You got it. But I won’t wait for ever, Jess. That’s not a threat. I’m just saying how I feel, like you did. Thanks for coming out this afternoon, bird. Been lovely it has.’ He dropped a kiss on her cheek and left. She stood in the open doorway, watching him walk down the path, but he didn’t look back.

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A
fter a shower to wash off the day, she raked a comb through her towelled hair, flicked it into shape with her fingers, and put on a short-sleeved cotton jersey maxi-dress that was loose, soft, and comfortable. Its green and blue pattern reminded her of the sea. But that made her think of Tom and what he was asking.

She whipped up scrambled eggs on toast and had raspberries and cream for desert. Then, dishes done, she switched on her laptop.

Billy-Joe’s grandfather, William Joseph Spencer, was born in 1838 in the town of Chillicothe, Ohio, to Elizabeth Ann, nee Vickery, and John Spencer. Jess’s gaze returned to the name. William Joseph’s wife was a Vickery. Was it a coincidence, or an error? Making a note, she read on. But when she checked the census return of 1840 they were no longer on it.

Looking up the history of the town, Jess learned that it had begun as the chief settlement of one of the five major tribal divisions of the Shawnee people who had lived in the territory for thousands of years before Europeans set foot on American soil.

They arrived after the American Revolution in 1812 when the United States won freedom from Britain. Migrants from Ohio and Kentucky moved west along the Ohio river in search of land. Chillicothe was the state capital on two separate occasions until the state legislature decided to move the capital to the town of Columbus. Located near the centre of the state, Columbus was easier to reach for most of the population.

Many of the migrants who came to Chillicothe were free blacks who helped build a thriving community and worked with white abolitionists to aid escaped slaves from Kentucky and West Virginia. These escapees crossed the Ohio River to freedom, then continued up the Scioto River hoping eventually to reach Canada.

But after the passing of the Fugitive Slave Act of 1850, slave hunters began moving into Ohio. Receiving payment for every fugitive they recaptured, they had no qualms about kidnapping and selling free people as well, knowing few had means of proving their status.

Excitement stirred in Jess as she realised that if fear for their family was the motive that had driven John and Elizabeth to leave the town, it was entirely possible that one or other of them was a freed slave. She already knew that children born to slave mothers were automatically classified as slaves even though the fathers were white plantation owners and the child’s ancestry might be – and often was – three-quarters white.

Obviously they would have headed north, but to which state? Jess began searching census returns. She found them in Madison, state capital of Wisconsin, where they were running a hotel.

William Joseph, Billy-Joe’s paternal grandfather, served as a Union soldier in the American civil war. But his unit was not one of the 163 designated for blacks. That meant he appeared to be white and was accepted as such. Following the end of the war in 1865, which also signalled the end of slavery, he married Cynthia Warrick Butler in 1868.