Her father, surprised by her question, looked down at her.
‘No. Why would you think that?’
Grace lifted her head, but did not have the courage to look into his eyes. She would see the truth in them and perhaps living with a lie was not so bad after all.
‘Because I look like him.’
‘You look like your mother, Grace.’
‘My red hair comes from his side of the family.’
Her father straightened and shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘His hair was light, not copper.’
‘But I do, don’t I?’ She looked at him. Her father stared intensely at the horizon as if searching for the answer there. This time she would not look away. She needed to know the truth, even if it was painful to hear.
‘Father?’ It was the first time she had called him that since the discovery. A muscle worked in his jaw, his voice husky when he finally spoke.
‘I was afraid I would. Afraid I would catch an echo of his arrogance in the tilt of your chin or hear his words coming from your lips. When you were first born I couldn’t bear to look at you.’ He dragged his gaze from the horizon and looked down at her. ‘But from the first moment I held you, I realised that we, me and you, had more in common than he could ever claim. From that moment you were my daughter. And as I watched you grow, I saw my stubbornness in you, my stride in your walk and my softer side in your soul. I saw those qualities more in you than your brother or sisters.’ He took her arm and threaded it back through his. ‘Neither of our starts in life were how we would have wished, but we have come through it . . . you and I. I wouldn’t let my past define me, don’t let yours define you. Your name is Grace Kellow. In my heart and in my mind, you are my daughter. I don’t look at you and see him. I look at you and see you, my daughter, for you are you, as I am me.’
Tears of relief slid down Grace’s cheeks, their salty taste proving to her that this moment was real. The father anddaughter bond was as strong as ever and nothing had really changed.
She wiped the sleeve of her dress roughly over each cheek and shivered. Ominous grey clouds were beginning to form and the wind began to rise.
‘What shall I do?’ asked Grace.
Her father slipped off his jacket and placed it about her shoulders. It smelt of milk, horse and sandalwood soap, the heat of his body instantly warming the chill from her.
‘Go to him and explain what you have told me. Tell him about the promise you made to Amelia, your past and how Henry threatened to expose it. Given time, he will understand. And if he loves you, he will be able to forgive anything.’
‘And if he doesn’t?’
Her father wrapped her in his arms and rested his chin upon her head. ‘Then we will be here waiting for you and you will know that you have done all that you could.’
* * *
Talek counted out the coins as the last worker waited patiently to be paid. The afternoon had dragged, unlike the previous month when he had distributed the wages with Grace. Then it had been both well organised and, he had to admit, enjoyable. Of course, at the time he wasn’t aware she was keeping secrets from him. The memory of her betrayal still hurt and he wasn’t sure if that pain would ever go away. Despite the manner in which Grace had left, she still had the forethought to calculate the wages for the end of the month and leave him a list. He was grateful for that. He wasn’t sure that if he had been ordered to leave, he would have been so generous. If only she had thought ahead regarding the repercussions of her own lies and omissions. He dropped the money in the bag and folded it. He missed her, despite what she had done. Perhaps employingsomeone to be Amelia’s companion and to do the accounting would help fill the practical void she had left, if not the emotional one. Something had to be done. Henry was still missing and Talek could not envisage working with him again. He placed the wage in the worker’s hand without looking up. When the worker did not move away he finally lifted his gaze.
‘Is there something you wish to say?’ he asked.
Alfred nodded. ‘I ’ave something to tell you, sir, and if you don’t want me to tell anyone else, it will cost you to keep me quiet.’
Chapter Nineteen
The rising wind and dark clouds grew in strength, offloading its rain in fierce, sudden downpours. The storm raged for two days and left a trail of destruction in its wake. Rivers breached their banks and flooded low lying fields, whilst fallen branches from wind battered trees hampered travellers journeying by road. The simplest outdoor task became a struggle and resulted in a delay in the clay produced in the clay lands. It also put Talek in a foul mood. Even the clear blue morning sky, which welcomed his arrival at the pit, did nothing to soothe it.
Despite Talek’s extensive enquiries, Henry was still missing. His partner’s betrayal had shocked him to the core, and although he had acted swiftly to limit any further damage his fraudulent activities could inflict, Talek was still struggling to understand and accept the new landscape of his business. He had immediately contacted the potteries, informed them what had happened and agreed to pay them compensation. It had taken all his skills in negotiation to persuade them to continue to do business with him and come to an agreement, yet he felt no joy in the final outcome. It should never have happened in the first place. He could only hope that the potteries did not change their mind and decide to sue.
Talek looked about him. He had not visited the site for several days and was keen to see what damage the storm had done. The workers were hardy and at their posts, but he could tell from their rounded shoulders that they were weather-beaten and exhausted from just maintaining the site against the wind and the rain over the past two days. Some raised their caps when they noticed him and he was glad to learn that the steam engine, which had fallen silent due to some much-needed repairs, was finally ready to work again. Just as he was informed of this, it came to life in the distance. The familiar noise shouldhave lightened Talek’s mood, but it did not. He was missing Grace and, as much as he despised her duplicity and hated her betrayal, he missed seeing her face over the breakfast table and by Amelia’s side.
The young kettle boy, Billy, tipped his cap as he ran by carrying a large kettle in his hand. From the swing of the kettle it was empty and he was returning to refill it. Talek smiled at his enthusiasm. He wished he felt the same energy, but his recent worries had taken their toll and now his body felt as weary as an old man. He straightened and gave himself a mental shake. He had mining families relying on him and he must do what had to be done to salvage their livelihoods from the chaos Henry had left behind.
Talek followed the path to the main pit. It took several minutes to climb the hill to be able to look down in it, but he knew that at the top the industrial landscape laid out before him was worth the effort. The crater was large, its south facing side peppered with men and threaded with streams of water flowing down its surface. The miners’ work was heavy and hard and no one noticed his arrival, which allowed Talek to observe the milky rivulets of waterwinningthe clay in peace.
‘Captain, may I ’ave a word with yer?’
Talek turned and looked into the weathered eyes of Tommy, who was as part of this landscape as the clay itself.
‘Yes. What do you want?’
