Open Writing

Robert hired a carriage and pair and drove himself and Beth along the turnpike to Helston. After they’d gone through the tollgate at the village of Layton she said, "Now I'm Beth, again."

The road passed beneath a railway viaduct that stretched across the valley on 38 imperious stone arches. It had been built since he was in America and he gazed at it in amazement and wondered at the speed of progress in his absence. Perhaps, if he came back in another four years, there would be a balloon service to Liverpool.

They travelled through open countryside and the villages of Berry Royd and Brockley before the road went through bluebell woods and dipped to run alongside the river at Upperbridge. In parts, it was heavily rutted and in need of repair.

"Old Backache would have something to say about this," he commented.

"If he’s still alive," said Beth.

"I saw him yesterday on the tops. Same stone house, same stone face."

"I last saw him in The Old Aquaintance, just before your mother died." She laughed. "Said he had a secret but he wouldn't say what it was."

"Of course not," said Robert. "If he told, it would no longer be a secret."

Helston, with a population of 2,000, was situated at the foot of three great hills in the valley of the River Lumb. The river ran down from the reservoir passing through the mill villages of Moorfield, Moorbridge, Thonglea and Hinge, through Butterley, Upperlea and Lowerlea, until it finally rushed through the The Narrows into Helston itself. Once through the town, the flow was less powerful as the land levelled all the way to Bradfield.

The town had three bridges and a parish church with a tower containing six bells. The peculiar topography meant that houses, shops and businesses had been built up the steep cliff-like sides of the hills, so that inhabitants of the upper slopes looked down upon the house of God.

Heads turned when they entered the town and Beth enjoyed the attention. Her dress was modest but new and her shawl expensive and she wore a bonnet whose brim framed her face. With Robert by her side, she knew they cut a dash.

The family shop was near the Victoria Bridge, opposite The White Hart, and its rear overlooked the river. Her parents and sister were delighted at their unexpected arrival and came out into the street as Beth alighted from the carriage. Gertie giggled and made eyes that asked if anything was going on between Beth and Robert and her father grinned broadly and would have been happy to stand in the street and bask in the wonder of the neighbours for ever.

Customers from The White Hart came out, with pots of ale in their hands, and Arnold Pallister introduced Robert to the aproned landlord, a barrel of a man with a beaming face, called Bill Dyson, and to other drinking associates.

"And this is Sam Smith, he keeps the Toll House," said Arnold.

"Mr Smith." Robert shook hands.

Arnold continued to make introductions, oblivious to his family who waited on the other side of the narrow street.

"And this is Henry Bird, he has the tailor's shop in Hollowgate."

"A pleasure, Mr Bird."

Beth's mother shouted, "Father," with exasperation, and Arnold looked up with surprise that he had done anything wrong and Robert excused himself and went back across the street.

Mrs Pallister was torn between pleasure at their arrival and worry that their home was too humble in which to receive Robert and she came dangerously close to a conniption, being caught between attempting a bow and a curtsie, until Robert, laughing loudly, picked her up in his arms for all to see and kissed her on the cheek and said, "Aunt Bessie, I have travelled 6,000 miles for one of your scones. Don't disappoint me. Tell me you have some."

All flustered, she blushed and laughed and tied her apron in a knot.

"Of course I have," she said, as the crowd watched. "And you shall have jam on it."

At which, the gathered throng cheered and broke into applause and Beth smiled because Robert had played his part and made her family's day and been what she said he was, a returning hero, and all this he had accomplished with a broken heart. She wondered whether she might help mend it.

**

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