Grace shrugged. ‘I like to keep myself busy.’
‘You will wear yourself out if you continue like this. You are working longer hours than Daniel and no one does that.’
‘Until now.’ Grace reached for the stock book, but Molly slipped it behind her back.
‘Take the afternoon off. Go for a walk. You used to love roaming the moors.’
‘That was then, this is now.’
‘And what is the difference?’ Molly shook her head sadly. ‘You think you are fooling us all by working so hard, but you are fooling no one. It’s because you’ve not heard from Talek and you are missing him.’ Molly hooked her arm through hers. ‘Everyone needs a break and I insist you take one now. Come on. Get outside and take in some fresh air.’
They fell into step as she slowly escorted her out of the curing room. They met Widow Smyth, who smiled before hurrying about her work.
‘She doesn’t know that you were the one who used to leave her food and secured her a job here. You should tell her,’ whispered Molly after she had passed.
Grace shook her head. ‘I don’t need her thanks. Seeing her supporting her family and mixing with others is all the thanks I need.’
Her aunt gave Grace’s arm a little squeeze. ‘I hate to see you sad, but we do all understand. You are not the first to fall in love and end up hurt.’
There was no point denying it. Her aunt always had a way of seeing through her, just like her mother. Was she so transparent? His silence could only mean one thing, that he had rekindled his relationship with Margaret.
‘He met the widow of his business partner at Amelia’s funeral. She will be in need of his protection and guidance. He used to love her. I think he will again . . .’
‘You cannot know that for sure.’
‘As Henry’s widow she will inherit his shares. Amelia’s death means that they will be joint owners of Celtic Clay now. She is beautiful, Molly. They will have to meet often. It is only a matter of time before Talek falls in love with her again . . . that is if he ever fell out of love with her in the first place.’
‘So what if he does? Let them live their life surrounded by clay. You will fall in love again one day.’ Molly turned Grace to face her and slipped one of her stray curls behind her ear. ‘How could a man not fall in love with this pretty face and warm heart?’
They exchanged sad smiles and resumed their walk to the door.
‘You don’t want to live in a land of pits and clay tips when you can live here.’ Molly wrinkled her nose as she realised they were surrounded by the pungent smell of cheese. ‘This place does have its failings but you can’t beat the beauty of the moors.’
‘I liked living at Roseland in the centre of the clay lands. There is a strong sense of community there, but they welcomed me, a stranger, at a time I felt quite lost. I was grateful for that.’
‘Why did you go to the funeral if you were unsure how Talek would receive you?’
‘I intended to pay my respects standing in line with the miners and their families, but when they noticed me they thanked me for helping at the pit and encouraged me to go to the service to represent them. They saw me as an employee to the family. I felt I couldn’t refuse them so I did.’
‘It also gave you the perfect excuse to see Talek again.’
They paused at the door. The yard bustled with wagons and men preparing to deliver the next batch of cheese and butter to the local shops.
‘Yes it did.’
Molly smiled sadly. ‘Go to Hel Tor. Let the breeze there take your troubled thoughts away.’
Grace watched her walk away before turning her gaze back to the isolated tor. Her last meeting with Talek remained at the forefront of her thoughts, despite its beauty.
The memory of seeing him was both painful and exquisite at the same time. If only it had not ended so soon or in the manner that it did. She turned her face into the breeze that flowed from the moor. Hel Tor beckoned for the first time since her return.
‘I met your mother there once.’
Her father’s voice startled her. She turned to find him standing behind her, his hands deep in his pockets as he admired the view. Grace could tell from his clothes and boots that he had come straight from the fields.
Grace shielded her eyes from the sun to look up at him. ‘Was it before you were married?’
‘Yes.’ He stepped forward so his shadow protected her eyes from the bright rays of the sun. That was just like her father, protective in his own quiet way.
