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A
‘Was there something else you wanted?’ she asked.
‘I’d like to see Freddie please. Is he here?’
‘No, he isn’t,’ said A
Kate looked disappointed. ‘I’ve only got half an hour before my train back to Gloucestershire. I can’t stay. Will you tell him I called?’
‘Oh yes. I’ll tell him.’ A
‘I did so want to see him,’ she said, and her eyes glistened with some secret she wasn’t sharing. ‘But I’ve got a long journey home, and I must get back to my parents. Daddy is so ill, and they’re grieving, we all are. My sister Ethie was drowned in the River Severn.’ Kate’s voice went down and down, to a whisper, and A
‘I’m sorry about your sister,’ she said.
‘Thank you.’ Kate looked into A
‘He is now,’ A
‘That would be lovely,’ said Kate warmly, ‘but I’ve a train to catch so I must go.’
A
Kate stepped out into the garden and her mouth fell open in astonishment.
‘Night and day he’ve worked,’ said A
‘This is unbelievable.’ Kate stood looking around at the display of stone carvings. There was an owl, a squirrel, a collection of stone faces, and a tiny singing bird. She looked closely at the statue of St Peter, marvelling at the way Freddie had carved the peaceful face, the drape of his robe, the bunch of keys hanging from his belt. ‘It’s marvellous. I can’t believe Freddie has done all this. How exciting! I’m thrilled to bits. How wonderful. You must be so proud, Mrs Barcussy.’
A
‘And what’s under that cloth?’ Kate asked in a stage whisper, her eyes very bright as she walked round something on a pedestal, completely covered in a dark blue embroidered cloth. Her fingers itched to unveil it.
‘Ah – I’m not to show you that,’ said A
‘Ooh I do LOVE mysteries!’ Kate smiled at A
To A
She couldn’t wait for Freddie to come home.
‘Guess who came here?’ she’d say tantalisingly, and when he asked ‘Who?’ she wouldn’t say ‘that Loxley girl’ she’d say, ‘Kate’ as nicely as she could manage.
‘That’s a good ’un,’ said Herbie, smoothing the chunk of freshly quarried alabaster Freddie had loaded onto the back of the lorry. ‘Got plenty of pink in it. That’s what you want, that deep rose pink, ’tis hard to find in a stone. Want a fag?’
‘No thanks.’ Freddie took off his cap, rolled up his shirtsleeves and plunged his face into the stone trough of clear spring water that welled up from the hillside. He cupped his hands and drank, then splashed it over his hair. ‘Beautiful water this,’ he said. ‘’Tis a mystery where it comes from.’
‘An underground lake,’ said Herbie, lighting up his fag and sitting up on the back of the lorry. ‘Look at yer shirt – soaking wet. My missus’d be after me if I did that!’
Freddie didn’t care. It was steaming hot in the alabaster quarry, a suntrap deep in the hills where the rare translucent stone was being hacked out by teams of men, and hauled away down the wooded lanes, covering the trees in dust. At the end of the day the workers were stacking their picks in the long shed, and leaving on an assortment of bicycles or hitching rides on the stone carts drawn by heavy Shire horses.
‘You’re steaming like a pudding now,’ laughed Herbie as Freddie sat beside him on the lorry.
‘I gotta get back,’ said Freddie.
‘Ah – you go
‘I don’t want to make the same mistake again,’ said Freddie.
‘Pah! Mistakes,’ said Herbie fiercely. ‘I made plenty of they. And if I hadn’t I wouldn’t have learned nothing. You gotta give love a chance, lad. You win some, you lose some. Don’t you let mistakes stop you.’ He ground his fag end into the dust.
Freddie looked at him gratefully, thinking that Herbie’s rather brusque friendship had done more for him than any of his family. He’d helped him discover his gift for stone carving. Every time he needed a push, Herbie seemed to be there, encouraging him, and now he was reinforcing what Freddie knew in his heart. He had to respond to Kate’s letter. Forget Ian Tillerman, and give love a chance. But first there was something he needed to do.
At the end of the hot afternoon he stood outside the pawnbroker’s shop looking in the window, searching for something he couldn’t see there. He pushed the door open and went in. A woman was in there haggling over the price of a silver teapot she was pawning. Freddie padded around, waiting and thinking about Herbie’s advice. He hadn’t yet replied to Kate’s letter. It needed thought, and he was being cautious, holding back his feelings. He didn’t want to upset Kate any more, and he didn’t want to make the same mistake again. Until he knew about Ian Tillerman, he wasn’t going to bare his soul.
He was busy, helping A