by Sara Craven
'You owe money?' Rowan felt as if she was reliving an old nightmare. 'But, Antonia-why? How? It's just not possible!'
'It's more than possible.' Antonia sounded sullen. 'Heavens, Rowan, I've got to have some pleasure. Carne coaldn't just shut me up here and expect me to exist from one of his visits to the next, knowing no one except those dreary Listers.'
Rowan's heart sank further. When Antonia had begun, she had assumed this was some debt left over from their London days which Antonia had either forgotten at the time, or chosen to ignore, but now it seemed that she had contracted new obligations. And a chord of memory sounded, faintly.
She said, 'It's to do with Keswick, isn't it? I thought I saw you there one day. You were going into a big house.'
Antonia nodded, her face set and hard. 'That's the one. I didn't intend to get involved this time, really I didn't. After all that unpleasantness with Celia, I'd learned my lesson, and the stakes were much lower, of course, or they were when I started playing. In recent weeks, they've gone up.'
Rowan said with a groan. 'Not bridge again? Oh, Antonia!' .
'You needn't take that bloody pious tone! I'm not used for this sort of life, mouldering away on a mountainside. I need to be in the middle of things, meeting people of my own sort. I really thought I'd go mad, and then I met Louise in the hairdressers--our appointments were at the same time--and we started to chat. She invited me to her house, introduced me to her friends-it was like a lifeline. And then we started playing, I won. The first few times I was incredibly lucky, and. then the run of cards turned against me, and it's been against me ever since.'
Rowan said levelly, 'How much do you owe them?' 'Somewhere in the region of five hundred pounds.'
'Oh, God!' Rowan felt sick. 'I haven't anything like that amount saved.'
'Then let me have what you've got.' Antonia's eyes were very bright as she fixed them on the younger girl's face. 'I'll pay you back-you said yourself the next quarter's allowance is nearly due. Only I must have the money nowand Carne mustn't know. It would spoil everything.'
Rowan looked down at her hands, clenched together in her lap. The words had a familiar ring, echoing other small borrowings in the past when they lived in London. Only there had never been any repayment, just a series of vague excuses whenever Rowan had tentatively broached the subject, and, wise now, Rowan knew why. Because there had always been more debt. And she knew too that however sincere Antonia's intentions might be at the moment, her promises were nebulous in the extreme. And now there was more deception. She wouldn't have been here if Antonia had not told Carne that ridiculous lie about her age, and the other lies since. Was there never to be any end to this mountain of half-truths and distortion?
She said in a low voice, 'Toni, I worked hard for this money. If these people have waited this long, surely they'll wait a little long r. And you can't go on just keeping things from Carne when you feel like it. If-if you're going to marry him, he's bound to find out what's going on anyway. Wouldn't it be better to tell him yourself than allow him to hear gossip, perhaps?'
'But if you give me the money, then there won't be any gossip.' Antonia was leaning forward, her shoulders hunched tensely. 'The other things, the accounts in the shops I can settle myself, but I must pay Louise and the others. They're treating me coolly already as it is.'
Rowan thought it was a pity they hadn't done so from the outset, but she supposed they could be excused for thinking that Antonia was in the same comfortable circumstances as themselves. Mrs Winslow of Raven's Crag, with her smart, expensive clothes and definite aura of Knightsbridge, did not give the impression of comparative poverty.
She tried a new tack. 'But if I did help you out, would you stop seeing them? Daddy always said that a good card player needed luck as well as skill, and I don't think you're lucky, Antonia.' I
'Of course I'll go on seeing them. They're my friends all that makes life here bearable. Don't you preach your bloody little sermons at me, my girl! And don't bring your father into it-not if you're going to talk about luck. If he'd been a little "luckier" in his business deals, I shouldn't be in this fix now.' Antonia's voice held a note of faint hysteria.
'Perhaps.' Rowan turned back to the dressing table, picking up the discarded glosser and putting it in her bag with fingers which shook slightly. 'Or perhaps we're just not a very lucky family. It's certainly not a star I'd be inclined to hitch my waggon to.'
In the mirror she saw Antonia make an impatient gesture with her cigarette. 'Never mind all that. Are you going to help me or not?' .
'I don't think I can.' Rowan felt cold. 'The person to approach is the man you're going to marry. Try being honest with him for once, Antonia. It might work wonders.'
'If you think that,' said Antonia as she got up, then you're even more stupid than I gave you credit for. No man likes to have his ideals shattered, not even a cynical bastard like Carne. Perhaps you should remember that.'
'Fortunately I'm not the focus for his ideals, or lack of them,' snapped Rowan as she shut her bag.
Antonia came to stand behind her. 'So you won't help me?'
'I can't. I haven't anything like the sum you need, and I have my own future to think of. When this summer is over, I have to become self-sufficient. I shall need every penny I can get and· more.' Rowan's tone was short, but she was shaking inwardly. This was the first time she had not allowed -herself to be coaxed and wheedled or bullied into doing what Antonia wanted, and it was not easy. It would have been much simpler to have gone into Keswick after the weekend and drawn out her savings and handed them over, at the same time kissing them goodbye forever. But this time she couldn't do that. Antonia's future was settled with Carne. Hers was anything but secure, and it was desperately important that when this endless summer at Raven's Crag was over, she should be able to achieve a measure of independence.
There was a short, electric pause, then Antonia said venomously, 'My God, I'll make you sorry for this. I'll make you sorry you ever came here!'
Rowan bowed her head. She said, 'It's too late for that, Antonia. I'm sorry already,' but her stepmother had already gone, banging the door viciously behind her.
CHAPTER NINE
IF Rowan was rather silent on the drive to Arnthwaite, her companion did not appear to notice. In fact David seemed on top of the world, even bringing a reluctant smile to her lips with his extravagant compliments; and chattering nineteen to the dozen about his classes. Much of what he said did not demand a response, and Rowan was left in peace with her own disturbing thoughts.
She hadn't liked the implied threat in Antonia's parting words, but really there was very little her stepmother could do that she hadn't done already, she told herself ruefully, except make her miserable in even more ways. And if she did start on some kind of campaign of petty persecution, it would be an even greater incentive for Rowan to leave.
She wondered if Antonia would take her advice and go to Carne with her troubles, but doubted it. She gave a little smothered sigh. At least when they were married, Carne would take his wife on his travels with him, and there would be less opportunity for her to become bored, or seek dangerous relief from that boredom. And that was the only real advantage she could see coming from the marriage. She found herself· remembering how alone Carne had looked, standing looking down over the valley he loved, and which Antonia hated. What kind of compromise would they ever reach over that--or over the problem of Sybilla? Perhaps Carne intended to learn from the ravens on the fell, she thought ironically, and was prepared to do anything to please his lady-love, even to the point of sacrificing his home and his principles.
Not that it made any difference to her, Rowan tried vainly to remind hers61f. By the time Carne and Antonia came to resolve their differences in whatever way seemed best to them, she would be long gone.
The small car park at the back of the village hall was filling up by the time they arrived, and David parked the van in the shadow of an overhanging tree in the corn
er. There were a number of motorcycles as well as cars parked there, and Rowan found herself wondering, slightly troubled, if Jeff Wainwright had arrived. It had been a day of strange encounters from the beginning, but she hoped she would be able to forget about most of them' in the noise and movement of the dancing.
She left her wrap in the small cloakroom and went out to find David. A bar had been set up in the entrance hall, selling soft drinks as well as alcohol, and he was waiting for her here.
'Can I get you anything?' He gestured towards the counter.
She smiled at him. 'It's a bit early. Shall we dance up a thirst?'
'Great.' He took her arm, and they went through the swing doors into the dance. Up to then the sound had been muffled, but now it burst upon Rowan, and instinctively she put her hands to her ears, squinting up at David in mock horror.
'You'll get used to it,' he bawled in her ear. 'Let's find a table while there still is one. These discos usually get packed out.'
Before an hour had passed he was right, and there were still more people arriving. Rowan, on her way to the cloakroom, saw that one of them was Jeff Wainwright, but he was standing at the bar and didn't see her as she edged past.
She found she was enjoying the dancing. The rhythm was irresistible, and her own natural grace did the rest, making the music part of her. The only problem came when the pulsing beat slackened and softened, and David reached for her to draw her close into his arms. She didn't want to dance held close against him, but at the same time she didn't want to hurt his feelings, and she could tell her lack of response bewildered him as she held him gently but firmly away from her. At last, on the pretext that she was tired, she persuaded him to sit down, and told him she'd like that drink now.
'A Coke, please,' she added.
She had expected him to make a similar choice, but when he returned, the glass he was holding unmistakably held alcohol, and she glanced at him quickly.
'It's only shandy,' he said rather defensively, putting her Coke down in front of her.
They were not alone at their table for long. David seemed to know most of the people at the disco, and they were soon joined by several other young couples, most of whom appeared to be at school with him, and were also enjoying a brief respite before the onset of the examination season. They were pleasant and cheerful about the coming ordeal, and Rowan enjoyed listening to the constant wisecracking between them. When the music started again, someone else asked her to dance and she agreed, feeling guilty because it was such a relief not to dance with David all the time, and become established in everyone's eyes as his personal property for the evening. He was dancing too, she was glad to see, with a pretty girl wearing jeans and an enormous Snoopy tee-shirt. When eventually Rowan returned to the table, David and some of the others had disappeared to get more drinks.
'I've brought you another Coke,' he said when he returned. 'Or did you want something stronger?'
'This'll be fine.' She supposed that was another shandy he was holding. He stood beside her, but she could sense he was restless, his glance constantly shifting round the room, and she guessed her aloof attitude while they were dancing' hadn't pleased him. She was sorry about it, but she couldn't help it. Allowing him to paw her on the dance floor could only lead to more embarrassing scenes later on when he took her home. She supposed it was inevitable that dating him would lead to an end of the easygoing relationship they had enjoyed up to then. He was young, virile and physically attractive, and her determination to keep him at arms' length would have been a blow to his vanity which he wasn't mature enough to cope with yet.
They danced again, but there was constraint between them, and Rowan was quite glad when they were joined on the floor by the girl in the Snoopy tee-shirt and her partner, who was called Neil. It was shortly after supper-a lavish home-made buffet served by members of the local Young Farmers' Club--that David vanished. It was dark in the hall, and the flashing lights from the disco itself didn't aid visibility, but Rowan, peering round, couldn't see him anywhere, and as the time passed she began to grow uneasy, and finally a little angry. She had plenty of partners, but David's defection had been noticed, and she saw Penny in the Snoopy shirt and a girl called Jean exchanging smug and rather pitying smiles which rankled.
She began to wonder if he had been taken ill, but as Neil and some of the others visited the cloakroom and returned without making any comment, she could only assume they hadn't seen him. She peered at her watch, then got up and went out to the bar, ostensibly to get herself another drink. People were standing at the counter three deep waiting to be served, but David was not among them, and after a brief hesitation, Rowan returned her empty glass and went out of the hall.
The night air felt chilly after the overheated atmosphere of the disco and she shivered a little as she hesitated in the porch wondering where to look first.
Then, 'Good evening, Miss High and Mighty,' said a voice, and she looked up to see Jeff Wainwright grinning at her. 'Leaving so soon? We haven't had our dance yet.'
'I haven't the slightest intention of dancing with you,' Rowan said coldly. 'I needed some fresh air, that's all.'
'Of course it is.' He stood with his hands tucked into the pockets of his leather jacket, still grinning, and after a moment she turned on her heel and went back into the village hall, not waiting to see whether he followed. 'When she got back to the table, there was a sudden lull in the conversation, and she guessed that David and herself had been the subject under discussion.
Rowan was beginning to feel humiliated. At any moment she expected the swing doors to open and see David come in with Beth Wainwright. In fact that might have been an improvement on the present situation. At least then she would know where he was and with whom, she thought angrily.
When another half hour had stumbled past and there was still no sign of him, Rowan decided she had had enough. She said a brief goodnight to the other members of the party, who were now clearly as embarrassed as she was herself, and went to the cloakroom for her wrap. There was a pay telephone in the foyer, and she decided she would try and get a taxi home, although first, to satisfy her own' curiosity, she would see if the van .was still there. She couldn't really believe David would simply have gone home without her. Relations between them hadn't deteriorated to that point, or anywhere near it for that matter, but he might have gone joy-riding with someone more amenable to his advances.
However, the lights of another vehicle making an early departure from the hall revealed that the van was there under the tree, looking just as they had left it a few hours earlier. Puzzled, Rowan made her way carefully across the rutted ground, then paused. Inside the van she could see a shape, and a movement, and she was reluctant to go any closer. David, it seemed, had found company and was making hay while the sun, or rather the moon, shone.
She was on the point of beating an unobtrusive retreat back to the hall and the telephone, when she heard the sound of a muffled groan that stopped her in her tracks. Frowning, she went nearer the van.
'David?' Her voice was tentative. 'Look, David, are you all right?'
She waited, but there was no answer just another groan, and, worried now, she went to the van and jerked open the driver's door. The interior light came on, and she saw David slumped behind the steering wheel. Two things struck her immediately-that he was alone, and that he looked ghastly. He was very pale, his skin had 'a greenish tinge, and his eyes were closed.
She said his name, and as he rolled his head round to look at her she saw that he was having difficulty focussing, and at the same time she smelt the alcohol on his breath.
She said helplessly, 'Oh, my God! What on earth have you been doing?'
'S'all ri, Ro'on,' he muttered. 'S'all ri, really.' With an immense effort he produced the keys from his pocket and began searching for the ignition.
Rowan leaned forward and snatched them smartly from his grasp. 'You're driving nowhere, my lad,' she said grimly. Her brain was whirling. Surely a coupl
e of shandies, which was all she had seen him drink, couldn't have had this disastrous effect. Besides, it wasn't beer she could smell, it was spirits.
She took a tissue out of her bag and wiped his forehead. 'Who gave you the whisky?' She made it sound like a friendly enquiry.
He growned, concentrating with an effort. 'Jeff,' he said at last. 'Goo' 0l' Jeff.'
'Good old Jeff,' Rowan echoed ironically. 'Who else?'
She remembered their encounter earlier, and the way Jeff had stood there grinning insolently at her, daring her to pass him, which of course she hadn't done. Obviously it hadn't been convenient for her to find David just then. Probably they hadn't got him quite drunk enough for their purpose. She made a little muffled sound of disgust.
Now, it seemed, the priority was to get him home to the pottery as quickly as possible. She eyed him, wondering exactly how much he had had to drink. If Jeff and his buddies had been pouring whisky down him, then there could be a possibility of alcoholic poisoning, but somehow she didn't think even they would have gone that far, she decided, crossing her fingers surreptitiously.
Her first task was to shift David out from behind the wheel and into the passenger side, and for a while she debated whether to go and call some of his friends to help, eventually deciding against this. As he was under age, the fewer people who knew about this little escapade the better, she thought, and she would only seek assistance if he proved impossible to cope with.
Her liking for David and her affection for his parents were strained to the limits over the next ten minutes or so. David accepted her presence in the van quite amenably, but refused to grasp its purpose. He showed no inclination to be moved across to the passenger seat, and every inclination to become amorous as she tugged and pulled at him.
Eventually, totally fed up, she slapped his face, and after that things happened in quick succession. First he began to cry, then he was sick, and finally he passed out-which, Rowan thought, gritting her teeth, was the best idea he'd had so far.
