‘What goes on here, Jack?’ he enquired, while Jack reached for Gereint’s reins. ‘Most of these labourers appear to come from one family.’

After giving his former master a brief outline of Luke’s plans, Jack repeated the details Miss Cordelia had learned about the six men unloading the building materials.

‘Cecil Doble never married, I’ve heard tale of his litter. All sounds well thought out. The house is a noteworthy prospect.’ Oliver looked inland. ‘You can see St Agnes Beacon, Cam Brea and Carn Marth.’ He pointed up the coast, ‘That’s Trevose Head.’ Then down coast, ‘And that’s Navax Point. Hidden beyond it is St Ives.’

‘Where they catch great big fish?’ Jack’s eyes widened at his education. Before his great adventure with Luke he had lived in a radius no bigger than two or three miles. St Ives had once sounded like the other end of the world.

‘As big as houses.’ Oliver grinned. ‘Are you enjoying living here, Jack?’

‘Yes, sir.’ Jack deemed it disloyal to say he had, at first, missed his own little cottage and duties on the Pengarron estate. ‘My wife’s not so sure. A cottage along the cliff top burnt down last week. No one was hurt and Luke’s promised the tenant he’ll have another, better one built, but she sees it as a bad omen. Won’t walk that way, no matter what.’

‘Otherwise she is well? And all else?’

‘Yes, sir…’ Jack was smarting over strong words he had exchanged with Luke over his and Cal Barbary’s request to build a Methodist meeting house. ‘I’ll not have dissenting rabble on my land!’ Luke had snarled. ‘Forget that nonsense and see that the weasel of a curate puts right our proper place of worship.’

‘You want to confide in me, Jack?’ Oliver eyed him closely.

‘Oh, no, sir. Mister Luke’s out writing today. First chance he’s got since we’ve been here. Only going to write indoors when the weather’s bad, he says. I’ll go fetch him for ’ee.’

‘No, Jack. Let him be. I’ll wander about on my own.’

A short time later, standing alone on the cliff, gazing down solemnly on his son’s dishevelled village, Oliver reflected grimly that Kerensa and he should be here together to view this.

Fifteen

Luke was sitting on a carpet of springy grass, so close to the cliff edge that his feet were suspended in air. He looked up from his writing, at the only thing which could hold his attention from the world he was creating in his head and on paper: the Atlantic Ocean, stretching away to the horizon.