Talek may have not been as welcoming as she would have liked, but he had still opened his home to her.

‘Most of the ledgers relating to the wages are kept at the mine office in St Austell. You would have to travel to the town.’ He answered his own question as if she was not there. ‘I have a spare trap and a driver who can take you.’ He rubbed his brow briefly. ‘You’ll need full access to everything. Henry will be recovering for several weeks and the main accounts will need to be kept on top of.’ He glanced up at her. ‘Would you be willing to do that too?’

Grace nodded, pleased he was willing to trust her enough for more than just wages. ‘Yes, of course.’

Talek still appeared reluctant. Grace held her breath, aware he could snatch the offer away again at any point. This was what she had been missing — being able to contribute to something bigger than herself, which incorporated the community and their livelihood. The position as a companion failed to stimulate her brain and was a stark reminder that her arrival was unplanned. She watched Talek as he struggled to accept her offer. He drained his glass with a sharp tilt of his head. Grace fancied that she felt the warmth of the spirit moving through him as surely as she had drank it herself.

His hazel eyes met hers. ‘I’m the sort of man who likes to be in control . . . but your skills will help me greatly.’ The corner of his eyes creased slightly as his resigned smile reached them. ‘Thank you, Grace. Your help would be appreciated.’

* * *

The expansion of St Austell town, since the discovery of clay in the previous century, had been rapid and incessant. The neighbouring port of Charlestown, which was built to ease the transportation of clay by sea, ensured that the mining companies made the town their base. Banking, administrative and legal services, sprung up like eager shoots to cater for the new industry, marking their presence by raising impressive buildings to line the narrow sloping streets. The main road, which cut through the centre of the town, was used to transport mineral laden wagons to the port and tramway network beyond. Extra horses were brought in to help pull the loads up the steep, long inclines, causing a strangely organised chaotic confusion as both man and beast worked together to carry the loads through the town.

To Grace’s eye, who had spent her childhood running on the barren landscape of Bodmin Moor, the town was a strange mix. The dirt and noise of industry, and the starched clothes and fancy architecture of commerce, both played out their roles amongst the hustle and bustle of ordinary town folk living out their lives. Wagons from the numerous mines, which scarred the surrounding area, converged on the city as she arrived. Men, women and children respectfully made way as they navigated the steep hill that led to the turning for Charlestown. Although the white gold dirtied their town, the inhabitants were happy to tolerate the invasion, after all it had rescued them from poverty due to the decline in metal mining and earned them a monthly, albeit meagre, wage. Clay was the blood that pumped through their countryside and gave life to their villages.

Talek escorted Grace to their main office, an imposing brick building nestled between the offices of their competitors. Office and land space was at a premium, but its proximity to the main bank was an advantage to all. All the legal documents relating to their mines were kept here. Lease documentation, wage ledgers, invoices and deeds lined the shelves. Grace had thought they were kept at the office in the sky, but now she could see that only a small fraction was stored there. She surveyed the daunting array of shelves and files and wondered if she was up to the task.

She felt Talek’s light touch in the small of her back. It was meant as a comforting gesture, gentle and controlled as if reassuring a child, but it did little to calm her and, to her surprise, inspired the most intimate daydream.

‘Grace?’

‘Yes?’ said Grace, startled.

‘I asked if you still want to do this?’

She turned and saw her doubts reflected in his hazel eyes. She nodded decisively to reassure him.

‘I’ll need a few days to customise myself to Henry’s method of working.’

‘Of course.’

‘Without interruptions. I may need to bring some documents to Roseland so I can continue to study them later in the day.’

‘I will provide you with a key to the office.’ His hand fell away from the small of her back. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise I was—’

‘No matter,’ she replied, crisply. Grace let her hand trail across the untidy desk for want of something to do. It would give them both a moment for the heat in their cheeks to fade.

Talek cleared his throat. ‘You can have free access to our trap for transport and come and go as you please.’

She glanced at him, smiled in gratitude and turned her attention back to the desk in the room. They both studied the desk in embarrassed silence.

‘I am sorry I cannot help you with this. I do not have a head for figures. My skills lie elsewhere.’

Grace suspected they did and wondered if he was experiencing the same tingling sensation as she was in the small of her back. She noticed him flex his hand and hoped that he did, before feigning a deep interest in an invoice on the desk.

* * *

Henry’s handwriting was untidy, but his record keeping appeared methodical, if only she could understand it. She rose early and worked until late, often bringing the wage ledgers home so she could continue to work after their evening meal. The end of the month was quickly approaching and she was eager to prove her worth to Talek and to herself. After several days study, Grace was finally able to calculate the hours, number of shifts and relate them to the jobs, age and gender of the workers. Finally she was in the position to start preparing the wages.

She started with the miners of Stenna Pit, as they were fewer in number and the workforce consisted mainly of men. Bothick Mine was more complicated, but she gradually worked her way through the long list of workers. Alfred Petherbridge’s wage was the last one she calculated. She stared at his name as her stomach churned. His presence was a constant threat, as he could spread his poisonous news here too and ruin the reputation she was slowly beginning to build. She would have to make sure that he didn’t see her when the wages were handed out.

The day arrived and Grace accompanied Talek to the utility building at Bothick Mine, where his office was situated on the second floor. They were to be on the ground floor. A small, serviceable table waited for them at one end of a large draughty room. Talek offered her the chair next to him. She sat down and he did the same, his thigh brushing against hers as he did so. A frisson of nervous energy surged through her as they both moved their chairs further apart. She wasn’t sure if it was due to the task ahead or that the table was far too small, but she was unable to relax. She busied herself organising the wage ledger, pen and ink. Talek did the same with the small parcels of money she had prepared for each wage. The task done, they sat in awkward silence.

‘Are you warm enough?’ he asked.

‘Yes, thank you,’ she replied, surprised she no longer felt the draught sweeping into the room through the open door. She felt his elbow accidently brush hers and knew the reason why.

Finally the miners began to appear, forming an orderly queue. It gave her something else to focus on other than Talek’s close proximity. She searched the faces for Alfred’s, but he was nowhere in sight. The first name was called. The task of handing out the wages had finally begun.

After the first few wages were distributed a well-oiled system developed between Talek and Grace. To her surprise, they made a good team, as they cross-referenced and checked off each packet of money. At one point Talek smiled at her, giving her the distinct feeling that she had impressed him, so when most of the wages were handed out and Grace noticed Alfred in the distance, she felt confident enough to offer an excuse to briefly leave the room. Grace slipped outside by a side entrance and waited for Alfred to leave. As soon as she saw him walking away she returned to her seat. Talek asked her if she was well and she reassured him she was, grateful that he seemed none the wiser.

The task was repeated at Stenna Pit. Everything ran as smoothly as before and at the end Grace was relieved she had not let Talek, Henry and Amelia down. It was a much-needed boost to her confidence. As they were about to leave, three miners returned to complain they had not been paid their overtime. Puzzled, Grace began to search Henry’s records, aware Talek was watching her. Had she miscalculated? She had tackled the wages for the Stenna miners first. Although sharp-eyed and motivated to do it well, she had still been learning Henry’s system at that point, so it was possible she had missed something.

Talek was more amenable than she dared hope he would be.

‘How much do they say they are missing?’ asked Talek. Grace told him. ‘Pay them. I’ll not have them out of pocket.’ She withdrew the amount from Talek’s money bag and gave it to them. She had failed. Talek may not have said that, but she still felt it all the same. Talek came to stand beside her as she watched the miners leave.

‘I’m sorry for my mistake. It was good of you to not argue the point and show me up.’

‘If I don’t pay them what they feel is their right, it will unsettle the rest of the workers. I can’t afford such tension at the moment. Another shipment of clay is due to leave for Caradon Potteries and I can’t risk a delay. You made a mistake. It doesn’t surprise me.’

She raised an eyebrow and looked at him. His remark may be partly true, but it was also uncalled for. ‘Because I am a woman?’

‘No, because you had little time to prepare. I’ve seen Henry’s method of working and fail to understand it myself.’ Realising what her question had inferred, he looked down at her and frowned. ‘You thought I was being condescending rather than understanding, didn’t you? Do you always jump to conclusions so quickly . . . or do you save the impulsive side of your character for just me?’

He had a point. Grace looked away and stared at the open door where the miners had gone. ‘I’ll do my best to hide it in future.’

‘Impulsivity I can take . . .’ Grace looked at him, surprised, to find his steady gaze still on her ‘. . . but only in small quantities. It’s the jumping to conclusions, with no evidence, which is harder to understand.’

Grace wanted to look away, but couldn’t. Was he wanting an answer or was it just a rhetorical question. At this point, when he looked at her so directly, she really didn’t know.

‘Perhaps it is best if I don’t try,’ he replied, quietly.

‘Try what?’

‘To understand you.’ He looked down at their table, scattered with books, brown paper, ink and two pens. ‘We should pack this away. Your skills are needed for the invoicing and bills,’ he glanced at her, ‘if you are still willing to help.’

* * *

The next day, Grace turned her attention to the mounting bills and invoices that needed to be paid or sent out. This was a more daunting task, made harder by Henry’s coding and her poor knowledge of the industry. However, despite her earlier mistakes, Talek still had confidence in her skills and she was determined to prove him right. Grace decided to look back over the previous six months of records to match his coding to the invoices sent out and the bills that were paid. Gradually, page by page, she worked her way through and learnt his system, taking notes as she went, so she could refer to them if she needed. Soon discrepancies began to emerge. The odd mistake was inevitable, but when a large quantity of lime was not accounted for Grace was determined to find out why. Dare she ask Talek? His attitude towards her had thawed considerably, but was it up to the task of her questioning his accounts? Perhaps it was best to find out what the lime could be used for? If it wasn’t for business purposes, it would explain why it was not recorded? Yet it had been paid for from their business account. She closed the ledger. She was determined not to jump to any conclusions and decided to ask someone else who knew everything there was to know about mining clay.

* * *

Grace waited in the shadow of the village town hall doorway as the miners left Bothick Mine. Alfred, with his soot covered face and blackened hands, marked a strong contrast to the miners splashed with white clay. The sight of him always reminded her of everything she had lost. Her identity, her home, the man she believed to be her father, had all been taken from her thanks to his aunt’s vile words. Grace turned her face away, fearful that he would see her. What would Talek think of her, if he knew she was a result of a brutal rape? He would be concerned that Amelia would be tainted by her association with her. His opinion of her would change too. He’d wonder, as Grace did herself, if she carried the same character flaws as her birth father did. I must stay strong, thought Grace, I mustn’t let the sight of one man undo everything that has mended over the last few months.

When she looked again, Alfred was gone. She looked up and down the road. It was covered in tracks of white powder, made by the wheels of the wagons as they travelled to the port of Charlestown. It was quieter now, with just a few straggling miners. Grace saw Tommy’s face amongst them. Despite his age, his hearing was good and he immediately turned to her when she called his name.

‘Good to see you, Miss Kellow,’ he called out to her. ‘Bit late for shopping. ’Itchens shuts ’is doors at four and will be roasting ’is toes in front of ’is fire by now.’