by Tania Crosse
I giggled as I skipped along beside him. We came to the railway halt and paused for a minute or two to absorb the glorious, familiar view. It all seemed so different from that long ago night when I had first alighted from the train and all was dark and menacing. Now it was friendly and beckoning. I felt vital and alive as we made our way up to Swell Tor quarry and the great gash in the earth that it formed, so different in shape and character from the double amphitheatre at Foggintor. But here, too, I fancied I could hear the calls of the workmen, long since gone, echo in the wind.
We clambered down to the old siding where the gnarled wooden sleepers still lay half-buried in the grass that had grown up between them. Beside them was the row of massive, half finished bridge corbels. They made a convenient seat for us to take a rest and breathe in our dramatic surroundings.
‘Meant for London Bridge, weren’t they, when it was being widened?’ Edwin asked lazily, running his hand along the smooth, dressed surface he was perched on.
I nodded. ‘That’s right. The story goes that someone measured them too short and only realised after they’d done all this work.’
‘Whoops! Someone must have been in trouble!’ Edwin pulled a long face and then grinned. ‘Still, London’s loss is our gain. Given us something to sit on. The grass would be soaking after all the rain.’ He tipped his head enquiringly at me, and I shivered with excitement. ‘Do you miss London?’
I shrugged my shoulders. ‘No, not really. I thought I would. But I fell in love with Dartmoor straight away. It may sound silly but it has a sort of healing effect on me.’
I had coloured with embarrassment so I was relieved when Edwin nodded. ‘Yes, I know what you mean. Peaceful.’ He paused, and I saw his eyes follow the course of the railway line as it coiled its way across the dip below us. ‘Do you think you’ll go back?’ he asked, meeting my gaze again. ‘To London, I mean?’
I considered his question before I replied. Was he thinking of the future? Our future, perhaps? Something plunged into the pit of my belly. ‘I don’t know,’ I answered cautiously. ‘I suppose I would if I had good reason to. But I’d rather stay here. I’ve thought of going back to visit my friend, Jeannie. We still keep in touch. Sort of. I write to her but she takes for ever to reply. Usually waits until Christmas or my birthday.’
Edwin gave a rueful smile. ‘That’s what happens. People move on. Which is what we should do if we’re not going to freeze solid.’
‘Oh, yes.’ I shivered. ‘I’ve suddenly come over cold.’
I went to wriggle from my seat, but Edwin jumped down in front to help me. The feel of his hands about my waist, even through my duffel coat, was enthralling. We struck out homeward, exhilarated, and in my case, not only by the exertion of the walk! But as we trudged back along the lengthy track from Foggintor to the main road, the wind was driving directly into our faces. It was unpleasant and made me breathless, and I was glad to get back in the car.
‘Actually, Lily,’ Edwin questioned me as he reversed round to face the road, ‘as we’re up on the moor, would you mind very much if we called in to see Daniel? It’s taking a chance that he’ll be in, but I would like to see how he’s getting on.’
Dismay suddenly dampened my euphoric mood. I really didn’t want to meet Daniel again!
‘Tell you what,’ I answered instead, ‘you can drop me in Princetown and I can call in to see my friends. I haven’t seen them for ages.’
‘Oh.’ Edwin sounded disappointed. ‘I rather thought Danny might like to see you again. After the way he rescued you. Wendy told me about it.’
I drew in a deep breath. It was the last thing I wanted, but I didn’t want to upset Edwin when we were getting on so well. ‘Oh, all right, then,’ I agreed, wishing I could have thought of a way to get out of it. ‘I can see my friends another time.’
‘Thanks, that’s great,’ Edwin nodded at me. ‘We’re all actually very distantly related to Daniel, you know, but only by marriage, not blood. It’s very complicated.’
‘Really?’ Now this was something I didn’t know.
‘Yes,’ Edwin began, changing gear. ‘I’ll try and explain. My grandmother – the one who lived at Foggintor – she was a protegée of Mrs Warrington, and she was Daniel’s great-grandmother. Then her daughter, that is to say Daniel’s grandmother, married a Pencarrow, and that’s what Daniel is. A Pencarrow. Their family still farm over at Peter Tavy.’
‘Oh, I’ve seen that on the map. On the moor north of Tavistock, isn’t it?’ I said, trying to sound interested. ‘But I don’t see how that makes you and Daniel related.’
‘That’s because it’s only half the story. You know my Auntie Mary is married to Uncle Michael?’
‘The captain in the Merchant Navy who’s about to retire?’
‘That’s right. His surname is Bradley, but his mother was a Pencarrow. They all knew each other because my grandmother from Foggintor stayed friends with old Mrs Warrington until she died, and the Warringtons, the Pencarrows and the Bradleys were all friends for generations.’
‘Oh, I see,’ I frowned. ‘Or at least, I think I do.’
Edwin chuckled as we drove past the daunting edifice of the prison. ‘I told you the connection was pretty tenuous! We’re three generations of doctors in our family, and they were three generations of sea captains in the Bradleys. Would have been four if my cousin hadn’t been killed in the war. He’d have stayed on in the Navy afterwards and was sure to have made captain in the end. Unlike his brother, the one in Australia who couldn’t wait to be demobbed.’
I shook my head as I gazed out of the window. ‘So sad for your aunt. No wonder she can’t wait for your uncle to retire.’
We had come into Princetown and Edwin turned up Tor Royal Lane onto the lonely road that ran out across the moor. I must have gone quiet as anything I might have said died in my throat. I was hardly breathing, causing my heart to pound in my chest. I just couldn’t believe how Edwin could possibly be friends with the gruff so-and-so who had behaved so ungraciously towards me when I had injured my ankle.
We turned in at the gates and I tried to stop my mouth from pouting sourly. The place seemed less dark and formidable than I remembered, the pine trees having been lopped back from the drive and the overgrown garden now cleared to reveal neat flowerbeds among the grass opposite the house. I noticed that the windows that had been in a sorry state of repair had received some attention as if someone had been preparing them for repainting.
‘Right. Here we are, then,’ Edwin announced, turning off the engine. ‘Let’s see if he’s at home.’
I hoped to God he wasn’t! But then I reprimanded myself. That was unkind. But I wasn’t looking forward to it one little bit!
I followed Edwin across the gravel in front of the old, rambling house. When Edwin knocked loudly on the front door, I heard what sounded like a young dog barking from somewhere inside. I waited with baited breath. Nothing more. Oh, thank goodness. And just as Edwin was about to turn away, there came the rasp of a stiff bolt, the turning of a key, and one side of the double door opened.
I hadn’t seen Daniel close up for some months and he looked different, probably because his hair had grown considerably and was now almost overlong, curling over his collar and falling in dark waves across his broad forehead. He obviously hadn’t shaved for a day or two, and beneath the stubble, his jaw was still lean, but he had lost some of the haggard look I had seen before. If those troubled eyes hadn’t been set in a scowl, he would have been strikingly handsome. I hurled the thought aside with acid resentment. But then as he stared, immobile, at Edwin for some seconds, his expression changed and his face crumpled.
The two men locked in an embrace, hardly moving except to tighten their hold. Daniel Pencarrow’s head was buried in his friend’s shoulder, and for a full minute it was as if time stood still. When they finally drew apart, Daniel took a step backwards and pushed the back of his hand over his mouth and nose, his glistening eyes narrowed.
‘Jesu
s, Danny, I’d have come before if I’d known I’d get such a reception.’
They were still gazing at each other, and then Daniel jerked his head as he noticed me for the first time. Edwin turned towards me and raised his hand.
‘Daniel, do you remember—’
‘Yes, I do. My little Carrot Top.’ He sniffed, and his face moved from the lost expression of a moment earlier to a hard mask. Indignation exploded inside me and I fought to tamp it down. And then to my dismay, Daniel stepped forward and held out his hand to me. I had no choice but to shake it, though I did so as briefly as possible.
‘Nice to see you again,’ he said impassively and then turning to Edwin with far more enthusiasm, he went on, ‘Do come in. You know the way. So how do you two know each other?’ His eyes shifted swiftly in my direction with a flash of mockery that only I could see. I was seething, but I couldn’t retaliate. Not in front of Edwin.
I hung back, a reluctant intruder at this reunion of two life-long friends. As we crossed the grand hallway, I noticed the smell of fresh paint. At least something was being done to restore the place to its former glory! But then my attention was caught by a snuffling that whimpered from beneath the kitchen door. When Daniel opened it, a wriggling bundle of black and white fluff hurtled out and bounced joyously about Edwin’s and my knees. I was as pleased to see the young dog as it was to see me!
‘Trojan, down!’ Daniel’s voice was firm but not raised. The dog at once lay down on its belly, but its tail still wiped the floor in vigorous sweeps and its head was held high, eyes alert and expectant.
‘Where did he come from?’ Edwin bent down and ruffled the thick fur.
‘A present from Great Uncle Joshua. He thought he’d be a good companion for me.’
‘You’ve got him well trained,’ Edwin observed.
‘Well, you have to start them young.’
‘How old is he?’ I finally found my tongue as the conversation seemed to have found a more normal level.
Daniel raised his eyebrows at me, almost as if he’d forgotten I was there. ‘Eight months,’ he replied dismissively, and then turned his attention back to Edwin. ‘I’ll make some tea. Or perhaps the occasion calls for something stronger?’
‘No, tea will be fine, thanks.’
‘Coffee for me, please,’ I put in more assertively. ‘Tea makes me sick.’
Daniel shot me a glance that seemed to question my presence, never mind my request. ‘I’ve only got
Camp, not the real thing,’ he growled. Camp was the only coffee I knew. It was all Deborah kept in the cupboard, too. I had no idea what the real thing was, but I wasn’t going to reveal my ignorance and provide more ammunition for him to ridicule me with. ‘That’s fine. Thank you,’ I added as an afterthought, feeling humiliated just the same as he turned away.
I sat down at the table on the first chair I came to, while Edwin followed Daniel across to the range where he put the kettle on the hotplate to boil. I was glad when the dog trotted up to me and I could entertain myself by stroking his beautifully domed, silky head. He was a border collie with lovely, intelligent eyes and his rough, pink tongue tickled as he licked my hands.
‘I was sorry to hear about what happened with Susan,’ I heard Edwin say in a low voice. ‘Jolly bad luck.’
‘Blessing in disguise,’ came the grunted reply. ‘Wouldn’t have made a very good marriage, would it, if she couldn’t wait to see if I’d survive before she went off with her fancy man? She couldn’t really have thought that much of me, could she?’
‘Some didn’t. Survive, I mean.’
‘You don’t need to tell me that. I was there, remember.’ The words were ground out with such bitterness that my curiosity was aroused. I felt I was eavesdropping and tried to pretend I couldn’t hear as I concentrated on playing with Trojan. He rolled on his back and I rubbed his warm hairy chest, but keeping an ear on the conversation at the far end of the room. So, it would seem Daniel had been engaged but his fiancée had broken it off. Very wise of her if you asked my opinion! But they were referring to something else that didn’t quite make sense.
‘And to lose Great Aunt Marianne as well. I know how close you two were. It must have been a terrible shock for you.’
‘It was. Thinking of her, of coming back to this place, was what kept me alive, you know. So many just gave up. We even called it give-up-itis. It finished you off. But I had here to cling to. And then to find she’d died and I hadn’t even known she was ill…’ His voice was so vehement, so broken, that I lifted my head before I realised it and was gazing across the room. Daniel’s shoulders were slumped, and Edwin put out a hand to comfort him, both seemingly oblivious to my presence.
‘I’m so sorry, old chap. Sixty-two was far too young to die. Dad did the best he could for her. Got her the best treatment available. But some cancers are so virulent…’
‘Yes.’ Daniel spoke on an intake of breath, held it for a moment and then even from the other end of the huge room, I heard him sigh. ‘I know. But I still felt so…so angry about it. As if I blamed your father for not being able to save her. I’m afraid I behaved abominably towards your parents when they came to see me at Christmas.’
Yes, I could imagine! William and Deborah were kindness itself, and Daniel Pencarrow was the most obnoxious, galling brute I had ever come across! But I suppose he must have loved this great aunt of his very much, and I still hadn’t worked out the circumstances…
‘Oh, sorry, Lily!’ Edwin suddenly turned to me. ‘This isn’t fair on you, we two talking away.’ I felt relieved, but noticed Daniel appeared to have deliberately turned his back as he made the drinks, leaving Edwin as a sort of go-between. ‘Lily’s living with my parents now. In Tavistock.’
‘Really?’ Daniel handed Edwin a mug and then carrying one in each hand, walked down the length of the table. He put one of the drinks in front of me and, to my displeasure, sat down opposite me. ‘Well, that’s good then. Means you won’t be walking out on the moor all on your own again.’
I felt the flush of anger at the memory of that day, and this time, despite Edwin’s presence, I couldn’t help answering back. ‘I told you then I was perfectly all right.’
‘Oh, come on, Carrots, you’d have been stuck if I hadn’t come along when I did.’
His face was perfectly straight, but I could see his eyes were glinting with mischief. Jeering at me. I tell you, if the width of the table hadn’t put him out of my reach, I’d have slapped his face! As it was, I had to content myself with a fierce riposte.
‘I’d have managed somehow. I’m not helpless. And will you stop calling me that!’
My voice had vibrated with fury and I saw that Edwin was taken aback. Daniel, too, blinked at me in surprise, but a second later, he threw his head back with a bellow of laughter.
‘Oh, you really are wonderful when you’re angry!’ He was grinning at me now, his wide mouth and strong teeth making him look so damnably handsome I could have punched him on the nose. Then he shook his head, eyes shut and the merriment gone. ‘I’m sorry. Please forgive me.’
I doubted his sincerity and merely glowered back at him. It was Edwin who came to the rescue, and I was so grateful to him.
‘I hear you found a sacrificed sheep at Down Tor row?’
‘That’s right. It was a pretty gruesome sight. It’s not surprising Lily was upset.’ Daniel threw me a sideways glance which I couldn’t quite fathom, but at least he was being serious now. ‘I didn’t exactly welcome it myself.’
There was a short silence and I noticed Edwin fix his eyes on Daniel’s face. ‘And how are you, Danny? In yourself?’
Daniel looked up sharply before lowering his eyes, his mouth set. ‘Trying to forget,’ he murmured. Then he gave a wry smile. ‘But all the better for seeing you. Both of you. But when do you go back to London, Ed?’
‘Tomorrow, I’m afraid. And I’m afraid Lily and I must be going or we’ll be late for dinner.’
Oh, thank goodness for that!
I had felt totally humiliated and was brimming over with relief as Edwin drove back across the moor. And what had irked me most was Daniel’s comment that he had been pleased to see me!
‘Poor sod,’ Edwin sighed as we took the sharp bend near Tor Royal again.
There was nothing poor about Daniel Pencarrow as far as I could see! But he was Edwin’s friend so I bit my tongue. I couldn’t think of a more appropriate answer, so I asked somewhat disinterestedly, ‘What was it that happened to him?’
‘Oh, God’s teeth, Lily, hasn’t anyone told you?’ Edwin replied, vibrant with self-recrimination. ‘He was a POW in Korea for over two years. Must have had a hell of a time. He was really lucky to survive.’
Chapter Thirteen
A spasm of shame tweaked at my conscience, but it didn’t alter my opinion of Daniel Pencarrow. To be captured and held prisoner in Korea must have been horrific, but it was no reason to take it out on good people like William and Deborah, or innocent strangers such as myself. I simply couldn’t forgive him for his ungracious behaviour towards me.
‘Now that his Great Aunt Marianne has died, I don’t suppose anyone knows Daniel better than I do,’ Edwin said almost apologetically. A group of Dartmoor ponies had congregated in the centre of Princetown, drawn by Easter visitors who were feeding them titbits, and Edwin had been obliged to stop the car until they ambled off again. ‘We’ve been friends since we were toddlers, even if Daniel was brought up in London.’
‘London?’ I was genuinely surprised. ‘But I thought—’
‘Oh, Fencott Place has been the Warrington family home since the eighteen seventies.’
‘Fencott Place? Is that what the house is called?’
‘Yes. Not that I ever remember there being a nameplate up anywhere. The Warringtons were pretty wealthy at one time. Made their money from worldwide investments, but particularly from the South African diamond fields. Ah, we can go now.’ Edwin put the car into first and we moved smoothly through the village and back past the prison. ‘But they lost a lot of money because of the Great War,’ he continued, ‘and soon afterwards, the old couple both died, not that either of them were that old. There was a son, but he was killed at the Somme. So that just left the two daughters. They were both eccentric, real characters. Marianne lived with her crippled husband at Fencott, but remember I told you Daniel’s grandmother married a Pencarrow? Well, he was more interested in business affairs than farming, so he left the family farm in his brother’s hands – that’s Great Uncle Joshua who gave Daniel the puppy – and took his wife and children to London to salvage what he could of the Warrington fortune.’
