The Four Swans by Winston Graham

Author:Winston Graham [Graham, Winston]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub, mobi
Tags: Sagas, Fiction
ISBN: 0330463349
Google: 8RWK9GtZnUYC
Amazon: B005I4UBRK
Publisher: Pan
Published: 2011-08-18T13:00:00+00:00

III

Since the day she had left in. Sam’s company Drake had seen nothing of Emma Tregirls. He himself seldom went away from his forge and anvil. This was his work; the craft fascinated him; it was what he had been brought up to do; it was what he could do best; and he owed Ross and Demelza a duty to succeed. In spite of his grief he sometimes looked round his property and found it good. Every hour he worked on it made it better and every hour away from it was a wasted hour because there was nothing outside his work that interested him.

And if he needed company the company was here. His social life was his customers. A farmer would bring his horse to be shod and would gossip away while the work was being done, or a plough would need a new handle, or the wall of a cottage would need an iron cross for support, or a miner would bring a shovel in need of a new haft. Caroline Enys had taken a fancy to the tall pale youth and sent over any work she could. Sometimes she came herself and strolled about the yard talking to him and tapping her, skirt with her riding crop.

But not Emma Tregirls. Then one Wednesday afternoon in early October, her half day off, she arrived with a kitchen hook used for suspending a kettle over a fire. It was badly bent and needed reshaping, but Drake wondered that a handyman at Fernmore could not have done the job himself,

`Will ye wait?’ he asked.

`I’ll wait,’ she said, and took a seat on an upturned box and watched him.

There was silence while the hook was heated to a proper temperature. She was dressed in her usual scarlet cloak, scarf, blue dress - her Wednesday best - sturdy boots, knees crossed, one ankle, surprisingly slim, swinging free. Drake decided he didn’t dislike her face. Its boldness had a freshness about it, a frankness, unaware or careless of prohibitions. You could see how the men would be attracted to a girl who made no pretence of shyness or dissimulation. Yet in the end they would come to accept the general verdict; of other women, of the community in general, and despise her.

`Got a nice place here,’ Emma said.

`Yes, tis looking better now.’

`All tidied up. Cleaned up proper. Done it all yourself, have you?’

`Yes.’

`Don’t Brother never come over t’elp?’

`Once in a while. But he’s got his own living to make.’

`And all that praying. Was you ever a praying man yourself, Drake?’

`Yes. Still am betimes.’

`But you keep it in its place, eh? Not like Brother who can scarce open his mouth wi’out calling on God.’

`That’s as maybe. We’re all made different.’

`Yes;’ said Emma, and the conversation lapsed.

The hook was red hot, and he picked it from the fire, put it on the anvil, and began to tap it back to shape. She watched his long slim arms, sleeves rolled above elbow, his intent face.

She said: `Drake.

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