Chapters (52)
- Cover
- Margaret Dickinson
- Dedication page
- Contents
- Part One
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Part Two
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Sow the Seed
- Note
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- Copyright page
‘Oh no, I ain’t. I ain’t started yet.’ She turned back to Kate, thrusting her face close to her daughter’s white one, in which the only colour was two red fingermarks along Kate’s jawline left by Esther’s stinging blow.
‘Who is it? Is he going to marry you?’
Kate, too numb to speak, shook her head.
Esther stared at her for a moment, long and hard. ‘Don’t tell me – it’s him!’
Kate blinked. ‘W-who?’
‘Danny. It’s Danny’s, ain’t it? Yar bastard’s his.’
‘No.’ Kate shook her head, so violently that her hair swung from side to side. ‘No – I promise you that. It’s not his.’
‘Then – who?’
‘I can’t tell you . . .’
‘You little trollop . . .’ Esther began again.
Jonathan caught hold of his wife, putting his arms around her. ‘Esther, just calm down . . .’
But she was struggling against him, her glare never leaving Kate’s face. ‘Do you mean,’ she spat, ‘you don’t know who the father is?’
Kate gasped. ‘Of course I know. But – I can’t tell you.’
‘Why?’
‘Well then – I won’t.’
Now mother and daughter glared at each other, some of Kate’s spirit returning. She faced the three of them and raised her head high. ‘I’ve made a mistake, I don’t deny. And I’m sorry to have caused you pain. But I won’t – involve the father, nor get rid of the child . . .’
‘Why won’t he marry you?’
‘Because he – he can’t.’ Her voice dropped to a whisper but the three listeners in the room heard plainly. ‘He’s already married.’
Suddenly the fight seemed to drain out of Esther. She sagged against Jonathan as she looked at her father. ‘History repeatin’ itsen’,’ she murmured, and then closed her eyes and groaned.
Then, for Kate, came the worst shock of all. Esther turned in her husband’s arms, buried her face against his chest and began to cry, great tearing, rending sobs as if her heart would break.
Tears blurred Kate’s vision and blindly, she turned and ran from the house; across the yard and the lane, under the elder trees and up the slope of the dunes, then down the other side and across the open marsh, as always seeking the sanctuary of the lonely beach.
But it was barred to her. Coils of barbed wire still blocked her way on to the east dunes. She wandered back to the westerly dunes and sat down amidst the thick spiky marram grass beneath the elder trees. Hugging her legs to her, she dropped her head to rest on her knees.