‘To tell you the truth,’ said Saul, his excitement growing, ‘Mount House will be perfect. I want to get up on to the moor by Cox Tor, just behind it.’
‘You wanna wotchit, mate,’ said the van driver, with a grimace. ‘That escaped prisoner’s prob’ly roamin’ around up there.’
‘I know. The problem is, a friend of mine, a young woman, is stuck up there in a cottage all on her own.’
The young man let out a low whistle.
‘Quite!’ said Saul. ‘I want to get up there as quickly as I can. I’m really grateful that you stopped.’
‘Sorry I can’t go no quicker, mate. But we’ll get there. You’re on yer own arter that.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Saul, as they drove through the town and out on to the Princetown road, ‘I’ll manage.’
‘This road’s not so good,’ said the driver. ‘You won’t find much movin’ up here.’
‘I shan’t use the road,’ explained Saul as they turned through the gates. ‘I know a short cut up the back.’
As the van chugged up the drive, he stared out at the snow-covered playing fields. Small boys ran to and fro, throwing snowballs, building snowmen and generally enjoying themselves.
At the top of the drive, as the van swung to the right, Saul gazed up at the great house where he had passed five years of his life. Today, it seemed like several lifetimes ago. Boys thronged, cheering, round the slowly moving van and there was a soft thud as a snowball hit the back door.
‘Glad someone’s enjoyin’ it,’ observed the van driver as he pulled into the car park. ‘This do you?’
‘Perfect,’ said Saul, who did not want to be seen by anyone who just might recognise him. ‘I’m really grateful.’
‘ ’Ope yer girlfriend’s OK,’ said the young man. ‘Take care.’
‘I will.’ Saul got out and shouldered his rucksack. ‘Thanks a lot.’
He hastened away down the back drive before some of the older boys could question him and let himself out through the gate. Unfortunately, here he had no tractor tracks to walk in and he knew it would be hard going from now on. Stopping to have a pee and to refresh himself with a sandwich washed down with coffee, he straightened his shoulders, took a deep breath and set off towards the moor.
CHRIS WAS EXTREMELY SURPRISED to see Michael standing on the doorstep. ‘Good heavens!’ he said. ‘Michael! Whatever are you doing here? Oh Lord, it’s not Harriet or . . . ’
‘No, nothing like that.’ Michael was kicking off his boots while fending off the friendly attention of two large golden retrievers who had accompanied Chris to the front door. ‘Harriet and the baby are fine. Is your phone still on, Chris?’
Chris stepped back to let Michael into the hall. The dogs followed him. ‘ ’Fraid not,’ he said, closing the front door. ‘It went off just after you phoned this morning to tell us about the baby. What’s the problem?’
‘What I didn’t tell you this morning was that Polly came over last night to look after Hugh while I took Harriet into Plymouth. And now she’s all on her own up there with this wretched prisoner on the loose.’
‘Ah.’ Chris led the wav into the large warm untidy kitchen and the dogs went back to their positions by the Rayburn. ‘Yes, I see. I suppose, if I thought about it at all, I’d have assumed that you’d taken Hugh with you.’
‘I wish to hell we had!’ said Michael feelingly, ‘Harriet knows nothing about the prisoner yet and I’m praying that nobody tells her. She’ll go spare. I was hoping to get home and sort things out but I’m stuck now. Some bloody fool woman driver pushed me off the road by Anderton Farm.’
The kitchen door opened and Kate came in. She wore her usual old guernsey and a tweed skirt that had seen better days. ‘Who was that, Chris?’ she asked. ‘Good grief! Michael! Whatever are you doing here. It’s not Harriet . . . ?’
With a sense of déjà vu, Michael reassured her and explained.
‘Oh, Michael. How awful,’ said Kate. She looked worried. ‘And he sounds such a horrid man, too. And his car was found at Merrivale. Oh, dear, this is very bad.’ She looked grave. ‘What shall we do?’
‘To tell you the truth,’ said Michael, looking uneasily at their anxious faces, ‘I don’t know much about him. I’ve only heard about it second-hand. What’s the exact story?’
By the time they had finished explaining, Michael was looking as worried as they did. ‘Yes, I see,’ he said. ‘This makes things much worse. Oh, hell! If I’d had any sense I’d have phoned the police in Plymouth and they could have got someone straight out.’
‘If they can get out,’ said Kate. ‘The roads will be impassable up there, surely?’
‘Well, I’m going to have to try,’ said Michael firmly. ‘Even if I have to walk, I must get there somehow. If Polly’s seen the television, she’ll be terrified.’
‘What about Phil’s Range Rover?’ Chris looked at Kate. ‘He’s always telling us how bloody wonderful it is. That might get us up there. What do you think?’
‘Worth a try,’ said Kate.
‘But would this Phil just lend it to you?’ asked Michael. ‘Perhaps he’ll want to come.’
Kate shook her head. ‘He’s just getting over flu,’ she said. ‘Tell him,’ she shouted after the departing Chris, ‘that if he’ll let us borrow it he can have a free puppy from the next litter!’
She smiled as the front door slammed behind Chris. ‘That’ll get him!’ she said. ‘Now, I’m going to make you a hot drink while we wait for Chris. Did you get any lunch?’
‘No. But I’m not hungry. Some coffee would be wonderful. Oh, God, Kate. What a thing to happen!’
‘It’s bloody,’ agreed Kate, pushing the kettle on to the Rayburn’s hotplate, ‘but don’t panic yet. Polly may not have even seen the television. We were cut off quite early and she would probably have had her hands full with Hugh, and even if the prisoner turns up, which is most unlikely, she’s got Max and Ozzy.’
‘Mmm.’ Michael didn’t sound convinced. ‘I’m not sure how good they might be in that situation.’
‘Oh, well. You know how I feel about that. I’ve been telling you for years that you should get yourself decent dogs instead of overweight asthmatic hearthrugs. I’ll book you one from my next litter.’
This was an old, much-enjoyed argument and Michael smiled. ‘First this Phil, now me. If you go on giving puppies away at this rate, you won’t make anything at all out of your next litter.’
‘Who said anything about giving?’ countered Kate. ‘I wish you’d eat something.’
‘I really couldn’t but I wouldn’t mind a pee.’
‘Well, you know where it is.’
Kate made the coffee, her face thoughtful. As she poured in the milk she thought she heard the sound of an engine. She hurried up the hall and opened the door. Sure enough, there at the gate was Chris with the Range Rover. He grinned triumphantly as he climbed out. Only too willing to help,’ he called to her. ‘Didn’t even have to bribe him with a puppy. He was just cross that he wasn’t well enough to come with us. Margaret put her foot down. Just as well, he looks terrible.’
‘Brilliant!’ Michael spoke over Kate’s shoulder. ‘That’s brilliant, Chris. Bless you. Do I gather from your conversation that you’re going to come with me?’
‘Of course he’s coming!’
‘Try to stop me!’ said Chris. ‘Just let me get some sensible gear on.’
‘You can drink your coffee while he’s doing it,’ said Kate, steering Michael firmly back into the kitchen.
‘Look, Kate. I’ll have to get back to the hospital tonight. If anyone’s told Harriet about this man she’ll be having fits and it’s not even as though I can phone her to tell her we’re all safe. Can I bring Polly and Hugh back to you?’
Of course you can! You don’t have to ask!’
‘Ready?’ Chris appeared dressed in all-weather gear. ‘Let’s get on while we’ve got the light with us.’
The dogs got up, tails wagging, hoping for
a walk, but Kate shut them firmly in the kitchen and followed the two men out.
‘Be careful,’ she said, as Michael put on his boots.
‘I know you’ll be quite safe with the dogs,’ Chris said to her, ‘but when we’ve gone, go in and lock the doors and don’t let the dogs go out again. We’ll be as quick as we can.’
FROM THE WINDOW OF her workroom Thea stared out to the moor. The sky was lightening from the west and the snow gleamed gold on the shoulders of the hills. She could not keep bothering George with her fears for Polly. He had been very patient and understanding but she could sense that both these emotions would begin to wear thin if she kept talking about it. So she had come away on the pretext of getting on with some work but in reality she was thinking about Polly and wondering how she was coping. Thea suspected that she would, by now, be totally cut off and could imagine how frightening it must be for her. She was also weighed down by a sense of foreboding that was better dealt with alone.
She saw George below her on the platform. He had Amelia, well wrapped up, in his arms and was walking up and down with her. She could see Amelia’s fists waving and her cries of excitement floated up, mingling with George’s deeper rumble. Jessie ran ahead, sniffing at the snow and making forays into the deeper drifts. Thea’s own happiness and security seemed selfish in the face of what Polly might be going through and she told herself for the hundredth time that Michael was almost certainly with her. So why this feeling of unease—even dread? The depth of her affection for Polly quite surprised her. They had become so close, such good friends, and she simply couldn’t bear the idea of her frightened and alone.
After a while she realised that her anxious worryings were fruitless and resorted to the comfort she always sought in times of stress or fear. She took some deep breaths and calmed her mind. The Ninety-first Psalm was the one her father had always recommended for times such as this. She couldn’t remember it all but some of the verses slipped quietly into her thoughts . . . I will say unto the Lord, Thou art my hope . . . in Him will I trust. For He shall deliver thee from the snare of the hunter . . . He shall defend thee under His wings . . . thou shalt not he afraid for any terror hy night . . . it shall not come nigh thee . . . He shall give his angels charge over thee . . . they shall hear thee in their hands . . .
She added a prayer for Polly’s safety and realised that she was cold and that George and Amelia were no longer to be seen. She shivered, wrapping her arms about herself, and looked again to the moor where strong winds were blowing the snow in drifts like smoke across the granite tops. Golden light from the west filled the sky and her heart lifted a little and she turned and hurried downstairs.
WHEN JON COULD KEEP his eyes open no longer and agreed to go upstairs to sleep, Polly felt a great sense of relief. He had sat for some while, looking more and more exhausted, until his watchful stare had begun to glaze and his head to nod.
‘Why don’t you go and have a rest,’ asked Polly. ‘I’ll read Huge a story and we’ll do a picture for Michael. When you wake up we’ll have some tea.’
At last, reluctantly, he agreed and went slowly upstairs. Polly drew a deep breath. Her nerves were at full stretch. She realised that, since Friday morning, she had barely been alone for a second and, for someone who spent most of her days alone, she was beginning to feel the strain that the company of others imposes. Hugh, who had been playing under the kitchen table, crawled out and looked at her. She summoned up a smile. After all, he was being very good with both his parents gone, the snow keeping him penned up inside all day and, to top it all, a strange cousin who hardly spoke but stared all the time turning up on the doorstep. Polly knelt down and pulled him to her.
‘What would you like to do, Huge?’ she asked him. ‘Like to do a picture for Daddy? Or would you like me to read you a story?’
‘No,’ said Hugh who, although a quiet child, always knew his own mind. ‘Want to make a snowman.’
Polly sat back on her heels and looked at him in surprise. Obviously he had stored up her earlier words and remembered them.
‘Oh, but Huge . . . ’ she began, glancing out of the window, and then stopped. The grey dullness had cleared and she noticed for the first time that there were bursts of sunshine between the hurrying clouds. Suddenly she felt a great urge to be outside, to feel the wind on her cheeks and to see the sun on the snow. ‘Why not?’ she said, giving him a quick hug. ‘Let’s get our things on and go out. The dogs can come, too. We’ll all go together but we must be very quiet till we’re outside. We don’t want to wake Jon, do we?’
Hugh shook his head, the brown eyes so like Michael’s, fixed on her face.
‘Come on then.’
Max was waiting for them and they went through the kitchen, crossing the hall quietly, with the dogs following behind. In the porch, with the door to the house firmly closed, Polly perched Hugh on the little bench, took off his slippers and inserted his chubby little feet into his red gumboots. Standing him down again, she helped him into his warm jacket and pulled up the hood. ‘No gloves, Huge,’ she said. ‘They’d get soaking wet with snow.’
She opened the outside door and Hugh waded into the garden; Ozzy, his tail waving, padded behind him. Max followed more slowly. Polly pulled on Harriet’s gumboots and took down a sheepskin coat. There was a woolly hat in one of the pockets and she dragged it down over her ears and picked up the spade.
‘OK,’ she said, joining Hugh. ‘First we must make the snowman’s big round body.’
She cleared a space with her spade and began to make a start. Hugh, who really had no idea what she meant, gathered snow between his hands and then threw it up into the wind, chuckling with glee when it landed on Max’s surprised head. Polly patted her snow into a big round ball and banged it firm with the spade. Then she started on a smaller ball for the head, stopping every now and then to watch Hugh, who seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. She put the head in place, giving it a few thumps to wedge it firmly, and nodded. Now all it needed was a few features to give it character. In the porch she found one of Michael’s caps on a peg, and took it out to perch it on the head. The problem was that the wind kept blowing it off and finally Polly was obliged to take off her own hat—or rather, Harriet’s—and pull it over the snowman’s cold head. She stuffed Michael’s cap in her pocket and stood back to survey the result. ‘Huge!’ she called. ‘Come and look.’
Hugh came to look. He stood for a moment. ‘Mummy’s hat,’ he said at last.
‘That’s right,’ said Polly and then grinned. ‘It’s a snow mummy,’ she said.
Hugh continued to stare. ‘I haven’t finished it yet,’ Polly told him. ‘She’s got to have a nose and some eyes. Come and help me find some eyes.’
Hugh, however, still not understanding, went back to his own games and Polly wondered whether some chippings of wood might be the answer. It was while she was collecting up some pieces of the right shape that she heard Hugh’s wails. He had jumped into a drift of snow and tumbled over. He was frightened rather than hurt but his roars gave the impression that he was half killed. Still clutching her pieces of wood, Polly ran out of the shed but, even as she did so, the front door opened and Jon appeared. He had put on his wet shoes but had no coat. He raced across the snowy garden to pick Hugh up. Hugh screamed even louder at this and Polly hurried up the little path that she had dug earlier.
‘Huge!’ she cried. ‘Are you OK? What have you done?’
‘You stupid bloody woman!’ said Jon quietly. ‘Don’t you know how to look after a small child?’
The controlled iciness of his anger was in direct contrast to Hugh’s penetrating screams and empurpled face and Polly felt fear and her heart beat fast. Hugh, kicking furiously, stretched his arms towards her and Jon was forced to put him down lest he should twist from his grasp and fall. Hugh ran to her and she fell to her knees and gathered him to her.
‘I don’t think that he’s really hurt,’ she said, staring up at Jon. Her voice was high and thin. ‘He�
��s just frightened. We were making a snowman.’
‘You shouldn’t have left him.’ Jon’s voice was flat and Polly had the oddest sensation that he wasn’t speaking to her at all. ‘You shouldn’t have gone off and left him.’
He looked about him and saw the spade. For a moment his eyes widened and then creased into that peculiar spasm of feature that seemed to pass for a smile. A great wave of terror engulfed Polly. She clutched Hugh, whose sobbing had subsided, and felt herself to be trembling uncontrollably.
‘He’s all right,’ she cried in the same high voice and then she swallowed convulsively. ‘He’s perfectly all right now. He was frightened, that’s all.’
Jon bent down and picked up the spade. ‘You’ll have to be taught a lesson,’ he said. He looked at her. ‘You know that.’
Polly stared back. Jon lifted the spade above his head and took a step towards her.
‘Let the child go,’ he said softly and, as he spoke, two things happened at once. Max, who had been pottering round at the back of the cottage, reappeared. Seeing Jon, he started to bark as he floundered through the snow towards him. But Ozzy was quicker. As he bounded towards them a vehicle’s horn sounded a fanfare from the bottom of the track. Jon whirled round to face Ozzy and Polly screamed. Two figures had now appeared on the track and again Polly screamed. Jon glanced round, dropped the spade and bolted into the porch with Ozzy on his heels. He slammed the porch door in Ozzy’s face and Hugh began to cry again.
Freddie and Jon vaulted the wall and waded through the snow to Polly, who stared up at them in terror.
‘Polly!’ cried Freddie, hauling her to her feet and holding her tightly for a moment. ‘What is it? What’s the matter? What on earth are you doing here? Are you all right? Why were you screaming? Where did Michael go?’
Polly, shivering from head to foot, stared from him to Jon and tried to control her shaking lips. Freddie released her and bent down to pick up Hugh.
‘Hello, old chap,’ he said. ‘You remember Freddie, don’t you? Where are Harriet and Michael?’ he asked Polly.
A Friend of the Family Page 27
