* * *
Drake turned the page in the hope it would ignite his interest, but it was not long before his mind had begun to wander again. Instead of trying to memorise a list of Latin plant names, he was thinking of Evie. It had been a frustrating month. He had been allocated to work with Mr Timmins. An excellent learning opportunity, but it meant that he was unable to meet Evie in secret as she took her daily walk. Today, feeling the separation as keenly as he did, she had dared to visit him as he worked in the glasshouses. She sought him out under the pretext of sampling some strawberries, but he was not alone. Timmins stood between them like a cuckoo in their nest. Their conversation was formal, but beneath each word they spoke was a silent heartfelt message.
‘You look busy,’ she said.
When can we meet again? I miss you.
‘Yes, Miss Evelyn. There is much to keep the gardeners busy.’
I want to see you, but Timmins has me working here and I cannot get away. I miss you too.
She addressed Timmins. ‘I hope you are not working your staff too hard, Mr Timmins, or they will leave us,’ she cautioned him with a smile.
You are spoiling things for us. Allow Drake time off so we can meet.
‘Vennor needs my guidance, Miss Evelyn,’ Timmins replied solemnly, ‘or he will not achieve all that he is capable of achieving.’
Stay away Miss Evelyn or you will ruin his future with your games.
Evie and Drake stiffened, as if they were rabbits caught in a lamping light. Did Timmins know? His reply hung between them like a warning, until Drake defiantly picked up a basket of strawberries and offered her one — right under his nose.
Drake closed the book with a thud. It held no interest for him tonight. He was reliving the moment Evie had reached to sample a strawberry and their fingers had touched. It had taken all his strength not to take her hand and pull her towards him right in front of Timmins. In front of the whole damn lot of them. He hadn’t and now he ached with frustration at not doing so. He raked a hand through his hair. He was not sure how much longer he could continue like this.
The bothy boys entered, making Drake sit up again and feign interest in the pages in front of him. Abel Hicks knocked his chair as he passed, but the rest of the bothy boys ignored him, as they usually did. One by one they climbed the ladder to the loft above, leaving Drake alone to listen to their voices above.
‘I’m telling you the truth,’ said Mark. ‘Saw it with my own eyes.’
‘What were you doing there?’ asked Luke.
‘Fetching the shears old Murphy repaired.’
‘That was last week.’
‘Aye. According to Murphy he’s been visiting every Thursday for the past month.’
Drake closed the book and made for bed, only half listening to the gossip above his head. He stepped onto the first rung of the ladder, but climbed no further.
‘Old Timmins is like the rest of us after all,’ scoffed Abel.
Abel started to laugh, followed, no doubt, by a lurid re-enactment. Another burst of laughter rang out above his head, which was joined by the other bothy boys.
Drake smiled too. Old Timmins was not so old after all.
‘Who’s the unlucky woman?’ asked Matthew. Drake tilted his head, listening intently. It was the question he would have liked to have asked.
‘This is the best part,’ replied Mark. ‘She is the local lay preacher’s widow. She spends her life opening her heart to God, but on Thursday night she opens her legs to Timmins.’
As more laughter rang out above his head, Drake remained at the bottom of the ladder, unnoticed and in shock. They were talking about his mother.Hismother. He should confront them and force them to take back their lies, yet he could not move, fearful that their gossip was grounded in truth. He clutched the rung of the ladder even tighter and stared at his blanched knuckles and bulging veins that threaded beneath his skin. The pain from the effort told him this was real, but he did not want it to be so. He rested his head on his fists and closed his eyes to shut out the world. It was a lie. It had to be. More laughter broke out above.
‘Hey, Vennor, wasn’t your old man a preacher?’ Abel’s voice became clearer as he approached the hatch. ‘Is Timmins sticking your mother?’ Drake did not move. He could not move. ‘How desperate must old Timmins be?’ Abel asked his friends as he gloated over Drake’s bowed head. The mocking laughter that followed ignited Drake’s anger. He suddenly lunged upwards,with the aim of dragging Abel through the small hatch. He wanted to break every bone in his body. He wanted to silence him forever. Abel darted away from his desperate reach and joined the others, their raucous laughter quickly bursting out again above his head. Drake could take no more. As bile rose in his throat, he ran outside for some air.
* * *
Drake stood opposite his old home, watching. The hour was late and there was a night chill to the air. Only a stray dog searching for food and the soft glow from a candle in the upper window indicated any signs of life. So Mother was still awake, that meant nothing, thought Drake. Even so, a sense of unease continued to linger in every fibre of his body.
He silently crossed the road and opened the door, careful to muffle the sound of the latch. He carefully climbed the steep, narrow stairs. He knew every creaking floorboard, every uneven plank and was able to avoid them with ease. A chink of light spilled onto the floor at her door. He heard her soft murmur and her turning in bed. Still hopeful that the gossip had been wrong, he swallowed and eased open the door.
Tangled sheets, naked limbs, two lust filled bodies exploring, invading, oblivious to everything but their own carnal needs. Drake blinked, his gaze settling on his mother’s enraptured face. Bile rose in his throat at their betrayal. He thought he had earned the right to be an apprentice. He thought Timmins had seen something in him. He believed Timmins when he thought he had the gift. In reality, Timmins was open to bribery and his mother was willing to pay by lying on her back. He had lied. They both had.
