Healing in the Hills

by Ruth Clemence

  She looked up as the faces appeared above her. ‘I’ve lost my hearing aid. Oh, come and help me quickly, please!’

  ‘It will have to be me,’ Ismay said as she saw Lewis take off his jacket and prepare for the descent. ‘That ledge will never hold you. And in any case I wouldn’t know where to go for help.’

  ‘But how am I to get you down there? It’s all of nine or ten feet. You know nothing about climbing and you can’t jump it. If you do the pair of you might fall right to the bottom,’ Lewis’s tones were stiff with anxiety.

  ‘Belts.’ Ismay’s reply was instantaneous. ‘You’re wearing a belt, and Anne’s got on her Guide belt. Quick, fasten them together and you can let me down. I reckon they’re just about long enough. Anne will stay at the top. If she keeps well back she’ll be quite safe. It will give Clare confidence to know she’s there when you go back to the car to fetch help. Come on, Lewis. My mind’s made up, so it’s not the slightest bit of good trying to talk me out of it.’

  By the time she had finished speaking Lewis had taken off his belt, and Anne had slipped hers out of the loops which held it to the top of her jeans. Rapidly he fastened the two together, twisting one end round his hand, and giving the buckle at the other end into Ismay’s clasp. ‘You’ll have to go over backwards,’ he warned her, and as she kneeled on the edge of the cliff her face towards him ready to ease herself over, Lewis suddenly kneeled too and taking Ismay’s face between the palms of his hands he said, ‘Here’s for luck, my brave, beautiful girl,’ and he kissed her once, long and hard on the lips, before he lay flat on his stomach and began to lower her over the edge.

  ‘You’d better lie across my legs,’ he ordered Anne as Ismay’s head disappeared from view, and then as she went down inch by inch hoping that her feet would touch the ledge before she had to let go of the belts, he shouted down, ‘Everything all right?’ Ismay felt the ledge with the tip of her toe and taking a big breath let go of the buckle, hoping she would not fall against Clare and knock her off their precarious perch. But fortune was with her, and she landed right beside the trembling child and in a moment Clare was in her arms.

  We’re okay!’ Ismay shouted as soon as she could loosen the stranglehold about her neck. ‘Get help as quickly as you can, Lewis. Clare is all right.’

  It did not take Ismay more than a second or two to pacify Clare. Feeling over the child’s body gently, she found that but for a graze here and there, she had suffered no injuries.

  But Clare was still shaken by the fall and when Ismay attempted to make them more comfortable on the ledge she only clung the tighter so that Ismay feared to make any movement until Clare had got back her confidence.

  As soon as the child’s clinging fingers began to slacken a little, Ismay took hold of her hand and rapidly signalled words of consolation and the news that Lewis had gone to get help. ‘They’ll have us out of here before you can say “Jack Robinson”,’ she signalled, and the tears stopped abruptly as Clare raised her head from Ismay’s shoulder and smiled rather damply.

  She made no attempt to answer and Ismay saw clearly that the girl had by no means recovered from her fall. She held her in comforting arms, stroking the soft hair, until Anne shouted down, ‘Are you sure you’re all right? You’re very quiet down there, Ismay.’

  Ismay raised her head to answer. ‘Keep back, Anne. It would be the end if you fell over too. We’re quite all right, but Clare’s still a bit scared, so I’ve been trying to make her understand that Lewis won’t be long and that he’ll soon be bringing help to get us up.’

  ‘You’re sure she’s all right? Has she broken anything?’ Anne called back.

  ‘No, there’s hardly a scratch. She’s just scared silly. Don’t worry, but keep well away from the edge. Lewis should be back soon.’

  Secretly Ismay hoped she was not being over-optimistic and that it would not be long before Lewis returned with men to get them to safety. The ledge was even narrower than it had looked from up above and the slightest movement sent a shower of crumbling stones tumbling down the hillside. Gradually Ismay managed to convince Clare that she would be much more comfortable if she turned and sat with her back to the cliff wall, and after a few minutes’ scared immobility the girl slowly obeyed.

  It certainly was safer, but on the other hand it gave them both a clear view of how far they would fall if they made any violent movements or if the narrow ledge disintegrated completely and sent them spinning downwards. Ismay found that she was praying silently as she gazed out on the void beneath. This was a view she would have been quite prepared to have missed. Panoramas were all very well if you were in a safe place to enjoy them, but sitting on a bare three feet of crumbling earth and rock brought a sickness she had difficulty in controlling.

  She was conscious of a feeling of immense relief as at that precise moment she recognized Lewis’s deep voice speaking to Anne on the path overhead. The next instant his face appeared over the edge of the cliff above and she turned her own head and looked up towards him. ‘We’re going to lower a rope,’ he spoke slowly. ‘I want you to put the loop round Clare’s body underneath her arms and get her to hold on to the knot. Then she’s to face the cliff and try to help herself with her feet. Do you understand?’

  ‘Perfectly,’ Ismay called back. ‘Give me a minute to tell her what you’re going to do, and then lower the rope.’

  It took Ismay two or three minutes to convince Clare that the next part of the rescue would not be quite so frightening as she anticipated and it took another few minutes for them to get gingerly to their feet. When Ismay shouted, ‘Right, lower away!’ the rope came down instantly to hang between them and the cliff.

  With the greatest care, Ismay eased the loop over Clare’s head and shoulders, and tightened the noose at her waist. She placed the child’s hands on the knotted rope and shouted to Lewis, ‘Clare’s ready. I’ll support her as far as I can, but she’s very frightened and she can’t hear what you’re saying, so be careful.’

  Gently and smoothly the rope tightened and inch by inch Clare was drawn up towards the top. Ismay found that she was trembling in her turn as the child’s body slowly disappeared from view.

  There was a short pause and then Lewis’s head appeared over the edge again. ‘Slip the rope on yourself now, Ismay. Clare’s quite all right. Anne’s taking her back to the car.’

  In a matter of minutes Ismay herself was back on top of the cliff, and thanking the two burly climbers who had helped Lewis to haul her to safety. ‘I was more than lucky,’ Lewis said as he introduced her to the two sunburnt individuals in full climbing gear, who were now occupied in rewinding their rope. ‘We met just as I got down to the car. It was the greatest piece of good fortune. Otherwise I’d have had to go all the way down to one of the farms before I could have got help and you might have been down there for some time.’ Lewis repeated his thanks, but the climbers, their faces even ruddier now with embarrassment, brushed off his words of gratitude and went hastily on their way. Immediately Lewis turned and said, ‘I really feel we ought to get Clare home right away,’ and putting an arm round Ismay he hurried her after the girls who were making their way slowly back towards the car.

  It was a silent foursome who drove back to Little Grange. Clare could not hear what was being said and there had been no point in searching for her hearing aid. It might have fallen yards away down the cliff, and in any case she had a spare one at home. She was still very pale and shivered so sharply from time to time, that Ismay sat with both arms wrapped tightly round her as they sped home.

  ‘I blame myself,’ Lewis said softly as they walked into the house and the girls ahead were just out of earshot. ‘I ought to have looked at your footwear before we set out.’

  ‘It was my fault too,’ Ismay replied. ‘I hardly know how I’m going to face Alec and Felicity.’

  ‘There’s no need,’ Lewis said, and he took hold of her by the shoulder and stopped her as they reached the hallway. ‘Clare’s come to no real harm. She�
��s had a bad fright, I admit, but she’ll soon get over that, and perhaps it will teach her not to be so silly in future. She knows plimsolls are not good for hill climbing. Stop feeling guilty. I’ll explain exactly what happened.’

  By the time Ismay saw Lewis alone again it was nearly eleven o’clock. Alec had been most understanding about the accident, but Felicity had taken the opportunity to play the heavy mother. She blamed Ismay for the whole unfortunate incident, deliberately working herself up until she was almost hysterical, and old Mrs. Kynoch and Ismay lost no time in hurrying Clare out of the room. Not that the child could hear what her mother was saying, but Felicity, had suited actions to her words and there was nothing wrong with Clare’s sight.

  By the time she had been given a bath, hot milk and biscuits in bed, and been generally pampered, it was late. When Ismay was finally free to go to her own bedroom she encountered Lewis coming along the corridor. He stopped and whispered quietly, ‘Everything all right?’

  Ismay nodded wearily. ‘There’s no time now,’ he went on in a low voice, ‘but when I get back from this trip you and I must have a long talk—you know that, don’t you?’ and he tried in the half light on the landing to get a glimpse of the expression in Ismay’s eyes. She merely nodded, too tired to answer, her hands on the handle of her bedroom door. ‘I can’t say more now,’ Lewis whispered as they both heard a door opening farther along the corridor, ‘but don’t forget, the minute I get back—’ and he dropped a brief kiss on her forehead before turning and walking quickly away.

  In the days which followed Lewis’s departure Ismay had a great deal to do, but although she was kept busy preparing the girls’ belongings for their holiday, she walked around in a warm cocoon of contentment. As soon as she heard that Ismay would not be accompanying Alec and Felicity on their holiday to France old Mrs. Kynoch quietly invited her to stay on. ‘Just for a few days,’ as she put it, ‘to get over all the fuss and bustle before you have to go home.’ Whether she guessed at the situation between Ismay and her son, even Ismay herself could not tell, but it was probable that the old lady saw a good deal more than the rest of them realized.

  The days seemed to Ismay to fly past. Lewis had told them before he left that he anticipated being away ten days to a fortnight at the very outside, and if that kiss on the cold wet windy cliff path meant what she thought it meant, perhaps after all her wildest dreams were about to come true and Lewis, far from being uninterested in her, was on the other hand just as much in love with her as she with him.

  Most of the new things Anne and Clare would need for their holiday had now been bought and Ismay had motored Clare into Carlisle to get a spare hearing aid when a day or so before their departure the telephone rang arid Alec came back from answering it to say to Ismay, ‘The call’s for you, Ismay, from Cambridge. I think it’s your father.’ As she went towards the door, excusing herself to old Mrs. Kynoch, Alec added, ‘Prepare yourself. From the sound of his voice I’d say it was bad news.’

  Ismay found her hand was trembling as she picked up the receiver and said, ‘Hello.’ Immediately her father’s deep tones reached her. ‘Ismay! I thought I’d catch you in at this time. I’m sorry if it’s going to mess up all your plans, but could you arrange to come home at once? Something rather unforeseen has happened and I really think you’re needed here.’

  ‘Not Mother?’ Ismay asked after a moment’s breathless pause.

  ‘Nothing like that. Your mother’s perfectly all right. So are Robin and I. I think I’d better tell you now, otherwise your imagination may run riot and you’ll have to know anyway as soon as you get home. The fact is that some girl has turned up from America and she claims to be Peter’s fiancée. What’s more, she’s at least six months pregnant. You can imagine the effect it’s had on Mrs. McNeil. I’ve had to have her admitted to the Faith Nursing Home. In the meantime your mother’s landed with this girl because we can’t leave her for Joe McNeil to look after on his own. Do you think the Kynoch’s will let you catch an early train tomorrow so you can get here some time during the evening?’

  Ismay was completely silent for a moment, trying to digest the shattering news she had just received. At last she found her voice. ‘Of course I’ll come, Dad. Don’t worry, The Kynochs will understand. And don’t bother to meet me. I’ll get a taxi home from the station.’

  After a few brief words of farewell she put the receiver down, but stood for two or three minutes gazing down at the instrument. The initial shock of her father’s disclosure had passed and she found that the news had caused her no real surprise. It explained so many things which had puzzled her—like the sparsity of letters when Peter had gone to America, the odd mood he had been in when he returned and she had met him at Heathrow and his refusal to spend even a few hours in London with her despite their long separation. And then the sudden turnabout when he got into the sphere of his home influence once more and the sudden decision to get married as quickly as possible.

  Somewhere along the line he and this girl must have had a misunderstanding before he left the States so that Peter’s sentiments had become confused. He had always tended to be self-centred, probably owing to the way in which his mother had spoiled him and made him feel he had no need to consider others. As she returned to the dining-room Ismay could feel no anger, rather pity that Peter should have been so confused that in his self-absorption he had had no thought for the feelings of others.

  The Kynochs raised no objections when Ismay said she was needed at home and did everything to help her to get away early the next day. She gave no reason for her hurried departure only the news that Peter’s mother had been taken ill while entertaining a visitor. It was nearly midnight before she had done all her packing and at last had time to sit down and write to Lewis. She did not want him to come home and find her gone with no explanation beyond the brief one that she had given to his family. When she had described the whole unhappy story she finished by writing, ‘I know you’ll get in touch with me as soon as you arrive home. I shall be longing and looking forward to hearing from you.’

  Ismay sat a moment at the table in her room and gazed thoughtfully at her letter to Lewis; then remembering that a stack of mail awaited his return on the table in the hall, she put on her dressing gown and went swiftly downstairs. She slipped her own letter into the middle of the pile and was standing holding the bundle of letters in her hands when a slight sound made her turn.

  Felicity Kynoch, wearing a long silk caftan over her nightdress, was watching her from the corridor leading to the kitchen where she had obviously been to make herself a late night drink. ‘And what may I ask, are you doing?’ she demanded as Ismay turned her head. Before Ismay could reply Felicity’s eyes went to the envelopes in Ismay’s hands. ‘So besotted that you had to cuddle Lewis’s letters before you left?’ she asked contemptuously.

  Ismay put the pile of correspondence back on the table and started to walk towards the stairs. ‘Sometimes I wonder how the Kynochs stand you,’ she said as she passed Felicity. ‘Alec deserves a better fate than to be saddled with a shrew like you,’ and with her back as straight as a ramrod she started to mount the stairs, leaving Felicity to watch her angrily through narrowed eyes as she reached the landing and disappeared from view.

  During the next few days Ismay had little time to remember that Lewis would be returning any day now and that she was really marking time until she heard his voice over the telephone. She had been prepared if not to hate the girl who had arrived so unexpectedly from America, at least to have nothing in common with her, but the moment she walked into the sitting-room to be introduced to the small shy-looking girl who sat on the settee Ismay found herself drawn to Jo-Anne Hadley. For all the surface sophistication, the clever make-up, beautifully coiffured hair, there was a lost look at the back of the girl’s eyes, and remembering the shock Peter’s sudden death had been to them all Ismay had some inkling of what this girl must be going through.

  It had been bad enough for herself, and s
he had not loved Peter. This girl must have been desperately in love, and getting no word from him it must have taken courage to come all the way across the Atlantic, only to be faced with the news that the father of her unborn child was dead and that at the time of his accident he was about to be married to another girl.

  What a scene must have taken place when Mrs. McNeil was confronted with a strange girl demanding to see Peter! If she had been bad enough for Dr. Carroll to send her into the Faith Nursing Home she must have been very ill indeed. Ismay’s mother, when questioned, had tried to make light of the matter so that Ismay could only guess at what had actually happened on Jo-Anne’s arrival.

  Now the onus of looking after both Jo-Anne and Mrs. McNeil fell on the Carrolls. Ismay or her mother went to the nursing home twice a day to visit and arrangements were made for Jo-Anne to have her baby at the local maternity home. There could be no question of her going back to America, since she had neither the money to get there nor a home to go to. Her parents, on hearing of her condition, it seemed had acted in true Victorian fashion and washed their hands of her. ‘I didn’t think people were quite so narrowminded these days,’ Mrs. Carroll said as she and Ismay washed up one night after supper. ‘And certainly not in America. But the poor girl assures me that her parents are very old-fashioned—I think she called it square. I’d have called it prejudiced myself. I’ve no time for parents who won’t stand up for their children when they get themselves into trouble. Of course Mr. McNeil’s prepared to meet all the costs of the confinement and I rather think he wants Jo-Anne and the baby to come and live with them as soon as Peter’s mother is well enough to come out of the nursing home. What puzzles me is how he’s going to get her to agree.’ ‘Perhaps the baby will do the trick. How soon is it due to be born?’