Larkrigg Fell

by Freda Lightfoot

  For the first time that afternoon Andrew seemed to show genuine concern. ‘Watch where you’re walking. It’s easy to get lost. It could turn into a blizzard.’ Then as if having finally convinced himself of a genuine emergency he reached for his coat and started to tug on his own boots. ‘I’m coming with you.’

  ‘There’s really no need, I can manage perfectly well on my own, thank you very much.’ She was startled by the quick flash of fury in his eyes as their gazes locked.

  ‘You could fall in a snow drift.’

  ‘I won’t.’ She was appalled to find tears choking her throat. ‘I know the way and I’ll keep to the track. I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.’ And she stomped off, determined to show she was her own woman.

  ‘Suit yourself,’ he yelled after her. ‘Don’t send for me then if you fall in a ditch.’

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’

  ‘Good.’

  And she heard the door slam shut.

  ‘Damnation.’ Andrew stared out of the window at the gathering swirl of snow. There was going to be a blizzard, no doubt about it. What the hell had he been thinking of letting her go off like that? Why did women have to be so damned stubborn? He must be out of his mind.

  Was it her fault if she fell in love with the wrong chap? Happen if he’d spoken up sooner about his own feelings, she might have looked at him different. Instead of which she had it fixed in her daft head that it was Tessa he fancied.

  He watched her small figure quickly being swallowed up by the whiteout and came to a swift decision. Wrong words between them or not, he had to make sure she was all right. He could follow her at least. Keep his distance but see she got home safe. He began to tug on his big wellington boots and reach for his waterproof. His dog was at his heels in seconds.

  It was a matter of moments to explain the situation to Seth, even so by the time he set out the snow was already forming ramps against the dry-stone walls, sculpted by the wind into strange formations. He couldn’t see the sky, could see little beyond the bouncing, swirling flakes and a few feet in front of him. His boots sank deeper with every step. At least it wasn’t freezing. Yet.

  Andrew struggled to keep a brisk pace, his eyes searching for a bright spot of colour which would tell him she was on course for Larkrigg. But as he trudged onward, sweating slightly beneath his waterproof he saw no such reassuring sign. He swept his gaze wider, in case she had wandered off track.

  He remembered an accident the previous winter when two girls had set off to walk a very short distance over Coppergill Pass to the dale below, on a crisp winter day with a blue sky and sun beaming upon them. It had seemed safe enough but they had stepped on to a drift of snow that had given way and dropped them into eternity. Nothing could be trusted in weather like this.

  ‘Seek, Toby.’

  He could kick himself a million times over for not stopping her from setting out alone. Why hadn’t he insisted on going with her? He would never be able to live with himself if anything happened to Beth.

  He stopped, the snowflakes crowding him, turning his face and shoulders to that of a snowman. He loved her so much. Why couldn’t she see that?

  If she wasn’t as sweet and innocent as she appeared, and how could she be with the way she’d been hot for Reynolds and was now living with that Italian lout in a manner he’d sooner not think of, he still loved her. He couldn’t help himself.

  Andrew quickened his pace and started to call her name, panic in his voice.

  The journey home was a nightmare. Several times Beth almost panicked as she felt sure she had wandered from the track, which had been quickly swallowed up by the billowing snow. She felt utterly alone in the world, blanketed by the silent snow melting on her cheeks to slide down her neck and make her colder than ever. Her gloves and knees were already soaking from the number of times she had slipped and fallen. Pads of it had slid inside her boots and she could barely feel her toes. Somewhere ahead was the comfort of Larkrigg and she must concentrate on where to put the next foot, only too aware there were parts of this landscape which dropped precipitously away, where she could slide down into a crevasse and never be seen again.

  Why had she been so stubborn? Why hadn’t she let Andrew walk her home? Why had they quarrelled in the first place? What she wouldn’t give now for the sight of his smiling face?

  The snow seemed to get deeper and deeper, far quicker than she had imagined it would, slowing her with every step. The guiding lines of the dry-stone walls had disappeared in a blur of white. She stopped to catch her breath and look about her, realising with a dreadful certainty that she was lost. Nothing but virgin whiteness met her eyes. No landmarks, no hills, not even a fox’s footprint to follow.

  She must find shelter. A dry-stone wall to hide behind, dig herself a cave in the drifting snow. She tried not to think of all the dozens of sheep who sought the same kind of shelter every winter and perished in it. What alternative did she have?

  Beth knew she was sobbing because she could feel her hot tears on her frozen cheeks. By nightfall the temperature would be well below freezing. She must keep moving. Doggedly she pulled one foot out of the deep snow and then the other, her breathing growing more laboured with each step. Her legs buckled beneath her and she collapsed in the snow, too tired now even to cry. She would rest for a moment. Gather her strength to carry on.

  She must be hallucinating. Someone was calling her name. Was it Sarah? No, not Sarah. Pietro?

  ‘Beth. Beth!’

  There it was again but she really couldn’t find the energy to call back. Why were they disturbing her? Somehow her soft bed no longer felt as warm and cosy as it should, even so she couldn’t somehow raise the energy to leave it.

  A warm breath on her cheek, a wet nose against hers. Someone was licking her face. A dog? In her bed? Reality returned to her in a rush. The blank whiteout, the freezing cold snow piling fatally upon her. And a dog’s excited nose snuffling into her cheek. She’d never been so pleased to be so comprehensively licked in all her life.

  ‘Hello, boy. Am I glad to see you,’ she managed, voice weak and cracked with fatigue.

  A dark figure bearing down upon her, lifting her to her feet, strong arms holding her, the rasp of a warm cheek against hers. Thank God, it wasn’t a mirage. She could hardly believe her good fortune. She was safe.

  ‘Andrew?’

  ‘Don’t worry, my love. You’ll be all right now.’

  And she knew that she would be. She leaned against him, clung to his solid form. ‘Oh, Andrew, I thought I was done for. I’m so sorry for being stubborn.’

  ‘Don’t talk. Save your breath for walking. You’re way off course. You can thank Toby here for finding you.’

  ‘Thanks Toby.’ She rubbed the dog’s head and it barked a joyous welcome, pleased by his own cleverness.

  Andrew half carried her the rest of the way, and even that was a strain. She really had been well off track.

  Then suddenly a rectangle of light was spilling out on the ground and she knew she was home. A figure stood in the doorway, dark against the light.

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Beth. Got lost in the snow.’

  ‘I’ll take her now.’

  ‘Let me at least bring her inside.’

  ‘No, you can leave her with me.’

  A second pair of arms were taking possession of her and she whimpered at being deprived of the warm safety of her rescuer, but really she was beyond protest. She turned to thank Andrew, to invite him in for a warming drink but the door was closing and she couldn’t seem to stop herself from collapsing in Pietro’s arms.

  Much later as she lay at last in the safety of her warm bed, she held a vision in her mind of stunned disbelief on Andrew’s face. She thought she would remember the agony in it for as long as she lived.

  By morning Beth woke feeling half way human again. She went to the window and found the weather was worse, the snow raging across the fells, blotting out everything. Did Andrew get home s
afely? She must find out.

  She showered and dressed as quickly as she could and ran downstairs. Pietro and Sarah were at the stove, giggling over some joke and cooking bacon and eggs. They both turned to smile at her. ‘You look better.’

  ‘Silly Beth, in trouble again.’

  ‘Thank you, sister dear, for those few kind words. Have you heard from Andrew? Did he get home OK?’

  ‘I am sure he must have or we would have heard,’ Pietro said with a shrug, breaking two eggs into the pan.

  ‘You didn’t leave him outside yesterday when I collapsed, did you?’

  ‘Do not fret, little one. You were the important one.’

  ‘But you could at least have given him a hot drink.’

  ‘He would not have wished to intrude.’

  No, Beth thought, he probably wouldn’t.

  ‘Whatever possessed you to go out in such dreadful weather?’ Sarah asked. ‘Are you absolutely loopy?’

  ‘It wasn’t snowing when I set off.’

  Pietro snorted with derision. ‘That man should not have let you try to come home alone. He is, as I said, a peasant, a fool.’

  Beth swallowed, feeling guilty over her refusal to accept Andrew’s guidance. ‘It wasn’t his fault.’ But Pietro wasn’t listening. He expertly flicked the eggs over and reached for the plates.

  ‘I think he want for to cause trouble for you, for us all. I never like the man.’

  ‘And you missed all the hard work yesterday,’ Sarah put in, in her most complaining voice. ‘We spent hours in the woodshed sawing those damned logs, didn’t we, Pietro? You can do your own logging next time.’

  Beth forebore to mention that she’d done her share over the last weeks, and chopping logs was nowhere near as horrible as being lost in a snow drift. ‘You shouldn’t pile them so high in the grate, then we wouldn’t use so many.’

  ‘Skinflint,’ Sarah retorted.

  ‘Someone has to count the pennies.’

  ‘Nag, nag, nag. You’re no fun any more, Beth.’

  Beth nibbled on her lip. She felt far too weary for another battle right now.

  There was no hope of them going anywhere that day, let alone to check on Andrew at Cathra Crag. The wind battered against the windows, piling the snow right up to the sills. The roof creaked ominously and it took every ounce of Beth’s energy to plough through the huge drifts to check on the poor hens and geese and replace their frozen feed and water. They were all snow-bound, in a siege against the weather.

  Something had woken her. Beth opened her eyes in the darkness of her bedroom, wondering what it could have been. Was it the wind? It came again, a terrible grinding and creaking, and then an enormous crash. She was out of bed like a shot, reaching for her dressing gown. The barn must have fallen down, or perhaps there were intruders.

  Confused, she tripped over a bucket, sending dirty water splashing all over her feet. Cursing silently for not having emptied, she sought the light switch. Nothing happened. Oh, lord, the snow must have brought some wires down, or part of the fragile roof. She scrabbled in her bedside drawer for a torch.

  It was freezing cold on the landing, making her shiver, and her bare toes ache on the wooden boards. The wind rattled the window ferociously, blowing along the landing as if there were no glass at all to stop it. The snow would be drifting worse than ever in this howling gale. Somewhere in the depth of the house a disaster had taken place, Beth was sure of it.

  Shivering with cold she hurried to Pietro’s door and pushed it open without knocking, calling his name in a soft whisper. There was no reply. The bed was empty. Where was he? Not still drinking wine in the kitchen, surely? She hurried out of the room and was at the top of the stairs when she heard the next sound, like a cry in the depths of the house.

  At first she put it down to the fierce north-easterly and started down the stairs. It came again and she crept back, to look thoughtfully along the landing.

  Beth found herself walking along it, like a ghost in her pale dressing gown, bare feet making no noise on the cold boards.

  The sounds were clearer now. That cry again, and a soft moan. Could it be the wind? Or Sarah crying, still grieving for Jonty? Beth could hear her own heart beating loud against her ribs as gently she turned the handle of her sister’s door and pushed it silently open.

  A single candle glimmered on the bedside table, giving off very little light but sufficient to halo in its glow the pale flesh of two entwined figures in the great bed. A gust of wind from the open door made it gutter and die, but not before they’d turned towards the door and seen her.

  Beth lay like a stone in her own bed for the rest of that night. She’d hurried back to it like a frightened rabbit into its hole and knew nothing on earth would persuade her to confront them right now.

  It was as if a part of her had been waiting for this to happen, as if this unspoken fear had been the true reason why she’d hesitated at committing herself. As if she’d needed to be absolutely certain it was truly her Pietro wanted, and not Sarah.

  Now her doubts had been proved justified.

  It wasn’t the small and rather plain sister he’d wanted at all, but the tall, sophisticated, sensual beauty. She’d simply been fooling herself in believing otherwise.

  If she slept that night, Beth had no recollection of it. She got up next morning feeling as if nothing quite penetrated her sense of unreality, sound-proofed as if by the snow. She discovered that the weight of the snow had indeed brought a portion of roof down through the ceiling in one of the back bedrooms. Splintered laths and plaster were everywhere. Bed, furniture, ancient carpet, everything was blanketed in a rapidly thawing mound. Through the cross beams could be seen a gaping hole, open to the rafters and a glimpse of innocent blue sky.

  Yet even this disaster seemed as nothing compared with the greater one which had taken place this night. A hole had been punched in her heart and through it shone her sister’s happiness.

  ‘You don’t really mind, do you?’ Sarah chattered, as she generously buttered herself a slice of toast. ‘You and Pietro were pretty well finished anyway, weren’t you? He says you’d completely lost interest in him.’ She was bubbling over with suppressed excitement, her face alight with a lovely radiance.

  ‘Did he?’

  Beth sat with her own toast untouched, trying to take in the full implications of everything which had occurred these last few days. and nights, and not quite getting to grips with any of it. Everything she touched seemed to turn sour.

  ‘You do understand how sorry I am? But it’s best out in the open, don’t you think? We’ve been wanting to tell you for simply ages. You’ve only yourself to blame, darling. You’ve ignored him for weeks.’

  ‘Have I?’ Beth marvelled at the steadiness of her own voice when inside she still felt numb with shock. She welcomed the numbness for she knew the pain would be worse when it faded. What exactly did Sarah mean by - wanting to tell you for simply ages? She opened her mouth to ask but Sarah interrupted her.

  ‘Pietro says he really cannot bear any more of your squabbling.’

  ‘Squabbling?’

  The violet eyes were luminous. ‘He is human, darling. He needs love and attention or he’ll wilt away. All men are the same, sweetie. Why can’t you realise?’ She gave an expressive shrug, her beautiful mouth curving into a smile of mischievous delight. ‘What a pretty coil though, eh? Pietro says he can’t help loving us both, because we are twins. Isn’t that sweet? And since you clearly no longer wanted him he came to me.’

  ‘You mean you took him.’

  Sarah pouted. ‘Don’t be a poor loser. And don’t blame Pietro, the poor darling couldn’t help himself. Neither of us could.’

  Something inside of Beth finally snapped and she stood up, white and shaking. ‘This isn’t a piece of jewellery, or favourite dress you’ve commandeered, Sarah. This is the man I love.’

  ‘Oh, phooey, don’t play the drama queen. You’re only pretending to be cross, I can tell.’


  The callous audacity of the selfish act was bad enough, Beth thought, but Sarah’s absolute certainty that she wouldn’t mind was utterly breathtaking. Yet she knew that Sarah never thought of anyone but herself. That was the way she was, the way she’d always been. She didn’t recognise any hurt except her own To expect Sarah to be any different would be to go against the laws of nature. ‘You know nothing about the way I feel. Perhaps you never have.’

  ‘Silly child, I understand you perfectly.’ The lilting voice took on a plaintive note. ‘I’m not like you, darling, all self-sufficient, sensible and contained.’

  Beth gasped. ‘Is that how you see me?’

  Sarah pouted. ‘You can be very bossy you know, in your own quiet little way. You could have had Pietro if you’d truly wanted him, as I could have had Jonty.’

  Beth wondered if that were true.

  ‘Besides, the whole thing is your fault from start to finish. If it weren’t for your appalling silliness and romantic nonsense I’d still have Jonty, wouldn’t I? The accident would never have happened. And you know how I need a man. I must have one. It’s essential to my health and well-being. And you owe me. You do see that, Beth darling, don’t you?’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Christmas was a misery. With no hope of reaching Broombank they had to make the best of things on their own. There seemed nothing to be done either about the roof, not until the thaw came, so Beth closed the door on it and hoped for the best. No carol singers came to their door. Few Christmas cards arrived since even the postman couldn’t get through. And the food they held in the larder was poor and not particularly festive. Beth put up a small tree and decorated it with scraps of coloured paper and tin foil, but it did little to cheer her.