Pengelly's Daughter by Nicola Pryce Page A

down, fanning herself vigorously. ‘And have you caught them yet?’
    â€˜No, but we will – they’ll be caught and hung.’
    â€˜How did they break in, Mr Tregellas?’ Mother looked shocked.
    â€˜Through a window in the back of the house – Miss Pengelly’s old room, I believe.’
    My heart was thumping, my stomach tightening. He has no proof , I kept repeating in my mind. I must not give myself away. He may have his suspicions, but he has no proof. I needed to keep calm, keep my breathing steady.
    â€˜I hope you get everything back. Was it worth a lot of money?’ Mother must have been wondering whether it was something that had once belonged to her. She looked wistful but Mr Tregellas ignored her, addressing me instead.
    â€˜You look tired, Miss Pengelly. Are you unwell?’
    â€˜No, very well, thank you.’
    â€˜You look pale. Have you been overdoing things recently?’
    â€˜No, I’ve been very quiet. I think it’s the heat.’
    â€˜Do you still row? I remember you used to scull with your father. I remember him telling me you were a powerful rower.’
    I tried to laugh. ‘Oh no, my rowing days are long over.’ I looked down in what I hoped was a demure fashion. ‘I don’t imagine I’d have the strength to row these days.’
    He stared at me, a pulse twitching in his forehead. His eyes were cruel, I could see that now – cruel and treacherous and dangerous beyond belief. He must have dressed in a hurry; his cravat was badly tied, his hair rufed. His movements were restless, the rolled-up paper in his hand constantly slamming against his thigh. Reaching for his fob watch, he checked the time. ‘Good day,’ he said abruptly.
    â€˜Good day, Mr Tregellas. I hope you catch the thieves,’ I managed to say.
    â€˜There’s no doubt of that, Miss Pengelly. And I shall watch them hang.’
    He was halfway across the courtyard before Madame Merrick remembered her need of a kettle. She ran quickly after his receding gure, calling him to stop. I reached for a chair, my legs no longer able to stand, and watched them through the window. They seemed to be arguing, Mr Tregellas shrugging his shoulders a number of times, Madame Merrick shaking her head and counting on her ngers. It did not look as if they were discussing the need to serve tea and, with a fast cutter at his disposal, my guess was that they were discussing the missing invoices.
    Their conversation at an end, Madame Merrick walked sedately back up the steps. Arranging her chu more comfortably around her shoulders, the blue jewel glinting in the light, her composure seemed completely restored. A look of triumph ashed across her face as she stared down at Mr Melhuish.
    â€˜From now on, ladies, we shall offer tea to all my customers.’

Chapter Ten
    F osse is a morning town. It faces east, catching the promise of every new dawn. By six, or seven, the sun dips behind the cliffs, leaving the town in cool, dark shadow. Porthruan is an evening town. It faces west, bathed in the setting sun, the warmth lingering on the houses, turning them a golden red. As we climbed the steep cobbles to the cottage, Mother and I were enjoying the last of the sun on our backs. The carefully cut pieces of her new dress were heavy and we stopped to catch our breath. She seemed preoccupied, turning to look down to the harbour, across to the cottage where I was born.
    â€˜I can’t imagine living anywhere else,’ she said wistfully.
    â€˜Nor me. Nor should we have to.’ We watched the gulls swooping round the harbour entrance. I was desperate to tell her about the ledgers, but what could I say? I was a thief and had trusted a thief? No, I had to wait. I had to hope Jim’s parting words meant our paths would cross again.
    â€˜Rosehannon, I’ve been that worried, all day.’ Mother looked serious, her voice slightly