By the time Beth had told her sister that she had no intention of ever having a baby for her, the tea was quite forgotten and left to cool untouched in the mugs.
Sarah, as expected, was outraged. ‘But I had it all planned. I’ve made arrangements with a clinic and everything.’
‘Then you’ll have to unmake them.’ The sound of the baby contentedly suckling brought both girls’ eyes upon her for a second and Beth’s heart sank. Was this the right decision? She did care for Sarah. She really did want her to experience the joy of bearing a child, as she had.
‘How can you be so selfish? How dare you refuse to help me? I need…’
‘Don’t tell me what you need, Sarah. It’s not my responsibility to keep you happy, not any more. I’m no longer the shy, awkward girl who always did your bidding because she was too afraid to protest. You can’t just make demands and expect me to provide, not now. I’m a woman, with a husband and family, and their interests must come first. In any case, Andrew would never agree.’
‘He would if you asked him.’
‘I’ve no intention of asking him.’
To Beth’s dismay her furious, haughty sister burst into tears. ‘You’d deliberately deprive me of happiness? My own twin sister?’
Beth sighed, feeling a sad exasperation at Sarah’s selfishness. ‘It’s not my fault, love. There are other solutions you could try. Have you seen a doctor? He might be able to help you. Or considered adoption? There are plenty of children in need of good parents.’
Sarah’s face set in mutinous lines. ‘Pietro would never consider adoption. You went up to see him yesterday, didn’t you? What did he say? Did you offer to run away with him?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘I know you still fancy him like mad.’
Beth sighed. ‘I simply wanted to make it very clear to him that this demand of his for a child was a non-starter.’ Now was the moment, Beth thought. Sarah herself had given her the opener she needed. She settled Emily to the other breast and then lifted quiet eyes to meet her sister’s furious gaze. ‘There’s something else I need to tell you. A confession, of sorts. About something which happened when we were all living together at Larkrigg Hall. Around the time when I thought I might be the one to ultimately marry Pietro.’ Beth felt her throat closing up, the words dying on her even as she struggled to find the right ones.
‘Oh, that,’ Sarah said, getting up and flouncing over to the little fireplace where she kicked at a piece of coal. Sparks flew up the chimney and smoke billowed out into the room. ‘I’ve known about your little fling with Pietro for ages.’
Beth was stunned into silence for a whole half minute. ‘You knew?’
‘Of course. What of it? At least you were a woman.’
Beth went very still. ‘What do you mean? At least I’m a woman.’
Sarah put back her head and let out a long and weary sigh, then thrusting her hands deep in her dressing gown pocket turned to face Beth. ‘All right, you may as well know. Pietro often prefers men, the younger and more nubile the better. He’s bisexual.’
A picture of two naked bodies caught in a pool of sunshine exploded into Beth’s mind. She saw that one of them had an arm resting across the back of the other. Why hadn’t that registered at the time? The three giggling girls they then were had been too busy worrying over being discovered peeping. Dear lord, then this must mean ... She felt herself start to shake. ‘What are you suggesting? It isn’t possible.’
‘Oh, its perfectly possible. Pietro had a mad pash for Jonty. Didn’t you guess? He was fearsomely jealous when Jonty and I were - well - at each other like rabbits, as they say.’ She laughed, a hollow, lonely sound.
‘But I thought he was jealous of Jonty because he wanted you.’
Sarah shook with laughter verging on hysteria, the tears rolling down her lovely cheeks. ‘Foolish girl, but then I made the same mistake, at first. He’s not averse to sleeping with me, but he grows quickly bored. Sometimes I have to almost beg. I think that rather turns him on. He enjoys the chase perhaps, which makes him feel good about himself, but on the whole he prefers men to a more conventional relationship.’ Her sobs choked her to a stifled silence for a moment, then she struggled desperately on.
‘But I still love him, Beth. I thought that if I could have a child, he’d marry me and love me the best. But I can see that it was a stupid idea. I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.’
‘Oh, Sarah.’ Beth could only gaze in horror as her proud, strong sister sank to her knees on the hearthrug, put her face in her hands, and sobbed.
‘Oh, Beth, what have I done with my life? What have I done?’
Quickly, Beth stowed the now replete baby safely in her pram, then gathered Sarah into her arms. It was some time before she became calm, Beth offering soothing words, assuring her all was not lost. ‘See a doctor. You might yet have a baby of your own, and find happiness.’
‘With Pietro?’
‘That depends on you, love. Is he worth the agony?’
After a while Beth installed her on the sofa with baby Emily in her lap, and went to make a fresh pot of tea. As they sipped the comforting brew they talked, quietly and calmly, sharing fears and hopes and dreams, finding them to be surprisingly similar. Both wanting a man, love, home and family, all the conventional things together with the need for personal fulfilment, though with different ideas how to achieve it.
‘We’ve both made mistakes. I had a romantic ideal of life at Larkrigg Hall, and hung on to my rose-tinted image of Pietro for so long that I was in grave danger of losing the one man I really love.’
Sarah said, ‘I think I’m finally learning that if you treat life simply as a game you hurt yourself, as well as the people you love best. I need to stop being so selfish.’
‘Well that’s something to be thankful for,’ Beth said with a wry smile, and they were in each other’s arms again, laughing and crying at the same time, and still talking, as they never had before.
Andrew had been walking for what seemed like hours, eyes scouring the distant horizon, seeking sight of a lorry, wheel tracks, or any place where fifty sheep might be gathered or hidden away. His heart raged with hatred. Why had the man come back? Why did he have to spoil everything? Perhaps their marriage hadn’t turned out as perfectly as he’d hoped, but it wasn’t his fault that he’d lost his job and become less of a man.
He recalled the sight of Beth as she lay in bed this very morning, cheeks flushed from sleep, her glossy hair spread upon the pillow. He’d longed to take her in his arms and love her there and then. He wanted to believe in the love she’d offered him. But how could he?
He’d crept from the room without disturbing her, without saying how he had seen her leave Larkrigg the previous day, happy and laughing. How he’d almost been able to smell that Italian on her when she’d got home.
Sometimes he almost hated her, as if he wanted the fault to be hers. Yet he couldn’t put all the blame on to her. His own family had brought them to this mess, yet somehow he couldn’t prevent himself from turning his grievances upon Beth. The result, he realised, of his own inability to accept that she loved him. He saw it only as pity, and he had no wish to take the crumbs from other men’s tables, or from her grandmother.
The clouds hung heavy and low, echoing his mood, and any hope of finding the sheep today was fading as rapidly as the weather. An hour later he was up by the tarn, seeing it shatter with the first spots of rain, as he’d predicted. He stopped to rest, leaning against a rowan, his heart sunk in gloom.
What else could he think but that his wife had become so disillusioned in their marriage she’d embarked on an affair with her first love. The fact that Sarah wasn’t married to that fancy idiot had obviously reawakened Beth’s longing for him. She’d be wishing she’d waited. Andrew punched his fist hard against the bark of the tree. Specks of blood beaded his knuckles but he didn’t even flinch. He only wished it was Lawson’s head.
A sound at his si
de brought him reeling. ‘Who the hell ... ?’
‘Only me. Wet through and feeling sorry for myself.’ Meg grinned at him and shook the rain from her waterproof, sending a shower of raindrops over them both. ‘Hell, I’m wet.’
‘Me too, now.’ He laughed.
‘Coffee?’ She dug in her backpack and brought out a flask. It was a welcome sight. Meg poured out two cups and handed him one. ‘I used to come up here when I was a girl. Rarely have time these days for walking for pleasure.’ She cast him a sideways glance. ‘Course, if I could retire it would be a different matter. I could have a proper rest then. Even doing part time would be a start. Better than worrying over lost sheep, I can tell you.’
Andrew’s face remained set tight, as always when the subject was raised, refusing to be drawn. He liked and admired Meg, but an awkwardness had grown between them since she’d offered them Broombank. A fact which Meg regretted. She was fond of Andrew, stubborn as he was, and of Beth, and could only hope they sorted their differences out soon.
They companionably sipped the scalding liquid in thankful silence for a few moments, letting it warm them through.
‘We’ll have to watch him like a hawk,’ Meg said at last.
‘Aye. We will.’ Their eyes met through the steam of fragrant coffee. ‘We need evidence of what he’s up to, in order to prove it to Beth, and to Sarah too. Make them realise he’s not the angel he seems.’
‘That smacks of interfering,’ Meg said. ‘Grandmothers aren’t supposed to interfere.’
‘No, but a husband can. I need your help, Meg. To save Beth from her own soft heart. We should run shifts. Keep a watch on the Hall and see what he’s up to. Follow him everywhere he goes.’
‘Aye, we only have to watch and be patient.’ Meg agreed. ‘No one hurts my girls.’
‘Let alone steal your sheep?’ teased Andrew.
Meg gave a wry smile. ‘That too of course.’ She gave him a measuring look. ‘You’ve been a good help to us on the farm. We value your assistance and wish you’d let us pay you for it.’
‘No. You’re Beth’s family. My family now.’
‘Can’t a family give each other things then? A house for instance? Or sell them a farm business at a reasonable rate?’ He remained mute and she shook her head in smiling despair. ‘Still too touchy for your own good, you daft lump. Yet you see how we can be friends when we put our minds to it. We both care about the twins, and are willing to take a risk for them.’
‘That’s different. That’s important.’
‘And Broombank isn’t?’
‘Broombank belongs to you. It has nowt to do with me. I’ll not accept charity.’
Meg bit back her impatience. ‘But it could be very much to do with you, if you’d let it. As you’ve just said, we’re family now.’
‘A farm is different.’
Meg sighed. ‘You tie me in knots. Broombank has been my life and I want to see it go to a caring owner. It’s a good farm. Modern and sound. Plenty of acreage. A Stock of near a thousand Swales and a hundred or so Herdwicks. Thirty beef cattle which I know you’re interested in, and could increase.’
‘Galloways?’
‘Aberdeen Angus Cross.’
She could see his interest, and smiled. ‘Our paperwork is all in order and you’d have no trouble getting a loan or mortgage for the stock and equipment. We’ll even be computerised before long, so we can check feed quantities and stock breeding more carefully. We could work together, make the change-over painless. Tam and I would like to continue working on a part-time basis, without the responsibility.’ She raised a querying eyebrow, wiping away the rain as it dripped from her hat, seeing he was sorely tempted. But then the obstinate line of his jaw tightened and she sighed again. ‘Are you always this stubborn?’
Andrew had the grace to give a shamefaced grin. ‘So I’m told.’
‘Have you considered Beth in all of this? It would make her happy to live at Broombank. She loves the place.’ Which, to her surprise and distress made the jaw set even tighter. She drew in a deep breath. ‘Cut your own nose off to spite your face, you would. Look, I’m cold, wet, and hungry for my breakfast. We’ll leave it for now, till this other little matter is sorted. You take the first shift up at Larkrigg this evening, and I’ll do the dawn watch. But don’t think I’ve given up.’
‘Do you ever?’
‘Not that I’ve noticed.’ Meg’s smile vanished. ‘Nor will I give up worrying over the loss of fifty good ewes. In this at least, we can be partners. Right?’
‘Partners it is,’ Andrew said, and they shook hands on the deal.
It was Ellen who proved to Beth that Pietro was the sheep rustler. She brought her from the workshop at Broombank and led her past Allenbeck, across the humped bridge and through the lower reaches of Brockbarrow Wood. Here she showed her a bridle path, little used and overgrown but wide enough for a vehicle to pass through. ‘It leads right over the tops up to the Hall. And see here, tyre tracks, plain as plain.’
Even so Beth fought it. If Pietro were a thief it would only distress Sarah all the more. ‘This means nothing. Except that a vehicle has driven over this track. We don’t know what vehicle, or why?’
‘I do.’ Ellen fixed her with a fierce glare. ‘I told you. I watch, and listen. Most folks never take the time these days. Sat all night behind this bridge, I did.’
‘Oh, Ellen, you’ll catch pneumonia.’
‘I’ll catch a thief. Saw him with my own eyes just before dawn, sitting beside the driver. A right cove he was an’ all. Didn’t see me, of course.’ She tapped one side of her nose. ‘Never let your quarry catch your scent. But I heard them laughing and saying summat about the fun they’d have again tonight.’
Beth’s heart sank, unwilling to believe the worst. However much Pietro might hate her family, however idiosyncratic his appetites, that didn’t mean they could blame him for every single thing that went wrong. Besides, Sarah loved him.
Ellen was issuing instructions in her blunt, no nonsense manner. ‘Get Meg, or better still Tam and Andrew, to wait here tonight and they’ll have him. See if I’m not right.’
Unable to deny the truth any longer, Beth agreed.
They waited for hours. Midnight came and went and still nothing happened. Tam, Andrew, and Beth, who had insisted on coming with them since she felt partly responsible. She’d left Sarah to take care of the children. Meg was taking a well earned rest, although she’d agreed to join them at dawn.
Beth was having difficulty staying awake and several times Andrew urged her to go home and get some sleep.
‘Maybe I will. Ellen was probably wrong.’
‘Ellen is never wrong. Not about things like this. If she says she saw Pietro in a lorry, then she saw him.’
‘Then I shall stay. I want to ask him why.’
Tam reached out a hand and stroked her hair. ‘Go and sit beneath the bridge, me darlin’, out of the breeze, and try and get a bit of shut-eye. We’ll wake you if the divil comes, then you can help us spit in his eye.’
Beth pulled up her coat collar and tried to do just that, managing to find a patch of turf against a dry-stone wall that was both dry and springy. But somehow she couldn’t relax. She felt as if there were two bright lights behind her eyes, making them feel all hot and sore. And Pietro’s face kept looming up at her out of the brightness. Somewhere in the background Sarah was crying, and all her senses were filled with a terrible sensation of doom.
Why would he steal from them? What fun did he mean to have tonight? Questions that tormented but for which she had no answers.
She must have dropped off, for she woke with a jerk, as if a hand had touched her, yet she was still alone and the wind had turned even colder. Beth shivered, one glance in the direction of the bridle path telling her that Andrew and Tam too had finally succumbed to sleep. She could see their two heads nodding, and hear Tam’s soft snores.
She smiled and stretched her cramped limbs. How long had she slept? It must ha
ve been hours for she could see the glow of dawn in the sky. Beth loved the dawn, that first pink flush of a new day. She looked up into the sky and smiled. Did a rose sky mean that it would be a beautiful day? What was the old saying? Red sky at night, shepherd’s delight, red sky in the morning ... She stopped, her sleep drugged eyes finally clarifying exactly what it was she saw. Not the pink flush of dawn at all, but an ominous glow which could mean only one thing. Larkrigg Hall was on fire.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Flames clawed like blood red fingers at a black velvet sky, poking through the gash of burst windows and finishing in a shower of sparks that filled the air like fire crackers. Everywhere was the pungent stink of smoke, black ash choking mouths and noses, filling lungs with a lethal swiftness.
‘Keep back, Beth. Keep back. It’s done for.’ Tam and Andrew had tried beating at the flames but the heat had driven them away, black-faced, coughing and exhausted. The fire engine had arrived as quickly as it could, but the distance from Kendal was great and they were too late to save the house. Larkrigg Hall was a ball of fire, a furnace of baking heat, and from it fell the burnt ashes of Beth’s dreams.
Yet that was the last thing on her mind right now.
‘Thank God I asked Sarah to stay with the children tonight. And that Meg is sleeping.’
Andrew slid his arms about his weeping wife and silently held her close.
She tried not to picture what had once been her lovely kitchen, the tiled walls cracking in the heat, the scrubbed pine table ablaze. In her mind’s eye she saw the elegant little drawing room, where they’d so enjoyed pasta suppers, reduced to a pile of blackened timbers. All that work, all that money spent on restoring it, for this. Andrew stroked her face and let her cry into his shoulder.
Yet inside of him burned a fierce fire of his own.
Was she crying for the loss of Larkrigg Hall? Or was her anguish the fear that Pietro was still in there, burned to a crisp. They’d searched for him, for as long as it was safe to do so, almost sacrificing their own safety. He’d had to drag Beth out screaming with distress that they couldn’t just leave him to burn, for all he was a calculating thief.
Larkrigg Fell Page 38
