by Lis Howell
Having forged a completely new life in Tarnfield, she could look back and see her old life quite differently. Nigel had been OK in another environment, surrounded by similar friends and constrained by common conventions. But he seemed quite wrong for her now. Real love didn’t depend on a context, she thought. It would work anywhere. The idea made her think of Robert and Mary, willingly defined by The Briars. Was that what Robert had really wanted?
On a whim, she called his number.
‘I can’t stop thinking about Yvonne. Have the police come back to you?’
‘Not yet.’ He sounded reassuring. ‘There’s a sense of calm in the village, isn’t there? You wouldn’t think there’d been a violent death.’
‘Maybe it’s the sunshine.’
‘Or the fact that Yvonne is hardly lamented.’
Suzy thought again about Monica Bell, how she had sounded irritated rather than shocked by Yvonne’s death. And how she had seemed so wary with her, but keen to talk to Jane Simpson.
‘Have the Simpsons and the Bells always been good friends?’ she asked Robert.
‘No, not at all,’ he said. ‘I always thought that Frank was rather contemptuous of Jeff’s lack of drive, and Jane and Monica are like chalk and cheese.’
Suzy laughed. ‘But I met Monica this morning and she couldn’t wait to leave me and rush to talk to Jane. Or maybe the weather just means everyone is out and about chatting for the first time.’
‘Yes. Makes you want to go striding out over the fells.’
Suzy thought for a moment. ‘I was going to take the children for a walk tomorrow, on the Scar. Why don’t you come with us?’
‘Oh!’ Robert sounded surprised. There was a long pause, and then he said, ‘Why not?’ He had nothing planned and it meant he could avoid feeling guilty about the garden. ‘I’d enjoy that. I like Jake.’
‘Only Jake?’
‘And the rest of the family, of course!’
Suzy laughed. It had been an attempt at flirting and there was something lighter in Robert’s tone. ‘You sound cheery for someone whose vicar is virtually giving him the elbow!’
‘Well, I’ve been worrying for months about Melling doing this. Now I know where I am. But he can’t hurt Phyllis any more, and I’m more concerned about Yvonne and the hellebore leaves than Melling and his reforms.’
‘Maybe we can talk about it tomorrow? The weather forecast’s good. We’re taking a picnic and leaving at about eleven thirty. Shall we see you at the car park?’
Robert stopped himself agreeing too quickly. Suzy waited for his answer, aware she was holding her breath. When he said yes, she exhaled. She was really pleased that he’d agreed.
And the day improved. That night, Rachel called Suzy to say she was coming up for the weekend.
‘Hey, you sound better!’ she said.
‘I feel better too,’ Suzy said. ‘Not so spooked.’
‘But you still think there’s funny goings-on at Cold Comfort Farm?’
‘It’s not all like that, Rache. I know it seems a bit over the top when you’re not here . . .’
‘A bit? It sounds completely bonkers to me. Dead women and messages in leaves! Are you sure this isn’t just an excuse to get together with your gorgeous widower?’
‘He isn’t gorgeous. And he sure as hell isn’t mine.’
‘Not yet!’
‘Oh, get lost!’
But the thought lingered, and Suzy went to bed that night looking forward to the next day more than she had to any day since they had first come to Tarnfield. Even her dreams were full of well-being.
33
Wednesday and Thursday after Trinity Sunday
Beloved, let us love one another: for love is of God.
From the Epistle for the First Sunday after Trinity, 1 John 4:7
The next morning she packed up the picnic things and they all set off in the car. Jake had perked up with the news that Robert was joining them. He’d been pretending that he didn’t want to go out with his mum and sister, but he was secretly looking forward to running about on the fell top. He’d brought a kite that had complicated strings and streamers, and reckoned Robert would be good at getting it to work. Suzy doubted whether it would fly in the light breeze but it gave the outing a focus.
Robert was waiting for them at the car park. It was another beautiful day, with blue sky as far as the eye could see, the fells like a soft sage duvet with pockets of heat lurking in sheltered spots like in an unmade bed. The leaves were fully out now, giving the impression of privacy where there had been bleak spindly skeletons in winter. Suzy felt as if she was in a bubble where things were safe and warm.
‘Hi! Where shall we go?’
‘If we walk over on the footpath to the Tarn Valley there’s a wonderful view over the Scar down to the river. Do you know it?’
‘No. This is our first trip into the deep countryside.’
The footpath looked like a parting on a green scalp, and led more or less straight to the edge where a fuzzy fringe of low stunted trees clung to the ridge of the Scar. Thirty feet below them the Tarn began to flatten and swell out, growing from a rushing stream into a mellow, broader river. Tarnfield was three miles to the west. To the east the hills rose up, still round and upholstered with gorse and heather but showing signs that the rocky outcrops which marked the start of the North Pennines might push through like brown jagged teeth. Suzy put the groundsheet down in a sheltered spot and Jake and Molly immediately clambered back up to the ridge and tried to get the kite up.
‘It isn’t too steep, is it?’ Robert asked.
‘No, it’s just nice.’ The path went down to their left in a series of bumpy steps to the bottom of the valley. It was darker and muddier down there, but where they had put the groundsheet it was dry and the ground was covered with springy grass.
‘Where does it get really sheer?’ Suzy asked.
‘Just a few hundred yards further along the river. The water slices through the Scar to get to the plain. Then it merges with the Eden at Brampton this side of Carlisle.’
‘It’s lovely. I can’t believe it’s so empty.’
‘You hardly ever see anyone here. Mary and I used to come out a lot for walks on a Sunday.’
He looked away, lost in thought. Suzy felt a tiny constriction in her chest, and realized it was jealousy. How strange and annoying, she thought. Why should I envy him his memories? But she had wanted this family day out to be something special for Robert, not just a pale replacement of the past. That’s arrogant of me, she thought, wanting to make a difference.
‘Have some wine, Rob. It’s just half a bottle. It’s in the cool box and we can make it last.’
‘Thanks.’ Robert pulled himself back from the thought of that last awful row he had had with Mary, out here on the hills on a day like this when he had warned her that she was playing with fire. They had yelled at each other, free from the ever-present feeling in Tarnfield that they were on display. Even when there was no one around, Robert still sensed Mary’s father and mother in The Briars sometimes. But on the fells they had really let rip.
‘Here it is. Sancerre. Yvonne Wait’s favourite.’ Suzy laughed and handed him the glass.
‘God yes, Yvonne. That’s always lurking, isn’t it? I’ve been struggling with it over and over, but I can’t make head or tail of it. What was it you were thinking about the Bells and Simpsons?’
She told him about her visit to the wood yard and how she’d overheard Frank and Monica arguing about talking to Jeff and Jane.
‘And why are the sons so close?’ Suzy asked.
‘They both come from families where there’s money, but not really much attention. Matthew’s spoilt materially but his mum and dad have always been wrapped up in the business. And Jeff has never been that close to Russell.’
‘How old was he when Russell was born?’
‘In his fifties. Russell was sweet-natured as a boy, but he seemed to go downhill later. His dad was too old to be very int
erested. Jeff was middle-aged at thirty. Jane and Jeff had been married for years with no children and then Russ came along.’
‘That can happen. People’s hormones change in the menopause.’
‘Well, for Jane it was all in the nick of time. Jeff was a bit of a lady’s man in those days — don’t laugh. So when Jane failed to produce a son people thought he would dump her. Then along came Russell.’
‘Very handy!’ For a second Suzy wanted to ask him why he and Mary had no children, but she didn’t. It was a shame, she thought. He was good with Jake and Molly. She smiled at him, a smile from nowhere, which was nothing to do with what they’d been saying and was everything to do with the sunshine. They could hear the children whooping above them. Suzy sipped her wine and waited for the slightly light-headed effect. It was good not having to talk.
After a few minutes she said, ‘How’s Tom Strickland?’
‘He’s OK, I hear. Hasn’t Sharon been reporting back to you?’
‘I haven’t seen her much lately. I don’t need her at the moment. I haven’t been to work for about six weeks.’
‘D’you like being a full-time mum?’
‘All mums are full-time mums.’
‘OK, OK. But you know what I mean.’
‘Well, in answer to your question, it’s not exactly been a normal time, has it? First of all I was working like crazy to try and get the Whitsun Festival off the ground, and then there was Yvonne’s death, and Jake’s little trip. There was Tom’s accident, too.’
‘Yes. I suppose I should go and see him.’
‘Oh.’ Suzy sat up. She’d been lolling on the groundsheet, face towards the sun. ‘One thing Monica Bell did say to me when I met her outside Lo-cost was that George Pattinson had been to see Tom on Monday.’ She glanced sideways to see Robert’s reaction.
‘Really?’
‘Yes. Sounds like he might be on the mend. George Pattinson, I mean. And what about you?’
‘On the mend?’ Robert sounded a little surprised.
‘No, idiot. Going to see Tom Strickland.’
‘Oh, that. I was thinking of going tomorrow.’ They laughed, but Suzy thought, it wasn’t so odd to ask Robert if he was recovering too. She couldn’t imagine losing a partner you loved, but then she couldn’t really imagine loving a partner. She sighed. Nigel would be coming on Friday to take the kids to Newcastle again. This little oasis would be over. She passed Robert a packet of crisps.
They heard Jake yelling in excitement as the kite caught the summer breeze and lifted above the children’s heads. ‘Hey, Mum, Robert, come and look at this!’ Suzy stuffed her plastic cup into the heather and scrabbled to her feet. Robert looked up at her. She was always moaning about being a few pounds overweight but looked slim to him, and she was quick too. There was something spontaneous and joyful about the way she leapt up, keen to see what was happening.
‘Come on, Rob!’ she said, bringing him in.
They scrambled up the hill to the brow where Molly was standing transfixed, holding the kite’s controls. ‘Look, Mummy, it’s trying to escape!’ she shouted.
‘Here. I want to show it to Mum. Look, Mum, you can make it dance!’ Jake went to grab the line from Molly and in his enthusiasm he dropped it. The wooden reel fell to the ground, bounced, then skittered along. The kite lifted, and then dived. All of them scurried after it, running recklessly along the cliff top. With a superhuman pounce, Jake managed to catch the toggle and he turned, followed by Molly, to run back up the hill, the kite still swooping and soaring.
Suzy couldn’t stop. She dug her heels in and skidded down. Grabbing at bits of gorse and stray branches she slid until she stopped, gasping and laughing, a few yards from where the path, steeper now, wound down the Scar into the valley. Above them a bare sandstone rock jutted out, the start of the Scar proper. Robert was right behind her. He couldn’t stop either. I’m going to crash, he thought. He tried to stop himself, arms flailing, but he thumped into her and they both slid into a stunted oak.
‘Sorry!’ he gasped, pulling himself away.
‘It’s OK,’ she laughed. Suddenly it seemed very still around them. The few trees on the ridge opened out here into a tiny clearing, with smooth green grass. A lark sang above them. The children were still laughing and calling, but their voices seemed miles away. The sunshine dappled through the few leaves on the tough little trees. Robert looked up at the pure blue sky.
‘It’s lovely here,’ he said. ‘Just a few yards away from the path and it’s gorgeous. I never came here before.’
‘It’s a find.’ Suzy stretched her arms out. ‘It’s beautiful. Makes you happy to be alive.’ Without thinking too much, she grabbed Robert by the shoulders and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Great!’ she said. ‘Come on, the kids will wonder where we are.’
He watched her scrambling back up the path, hands and knees in the dirt. It was the first time in two years he had been touched by a woman who didn’t pity him. She had smelt fresh and active and she had been unembarrassed. His face tingled.
In the distance they could hear another engine burst into life in the car park.
‘That’s the first car we’ve heard for ages,’ Suzy said.
‘You can often come here and see no one else,’ Robert answered.
But someone else had seen them. The car executed a sharp three-point turn in the car park before heading back to the village. It jerked and took the corners a little bit too sharply. Everything about its movements seemed angry. It flew past the turning to The Briars and was soon lost among Tarnfield’s shops and houses.
Robert was quieter in the afternoon, but Jake and Molly wanted lots of attention until the kite finally gave up, and was bundled up for home in a tangled heap. They ate their picnic in fits and starts, dozed in the sunshine, and then made for the car.
‘It’s been a lovely day,’ Suzy said at the car park.
‘Yes. Thanks for asking me,’ Robert replied.
‘We should do it again sometime?’
‘Yes, why not?’
As he drove home, a few yards behind the Spencers, he felt Suzy’s kiss on his face. She had said they should be happy to be alive. It seemed the greatest disloyalty of all, but it was true. He was.
* * *
The next day, Robert drove to Carlisle to visit Tom Strickland in hospital. Tom looked shrunken and even grumpier with his blue striped pyjamas hanging over his bony frame. He wasn’t in bed when Robert arrived, but sitting in a high-backed armchair at the end of the ward, watching racing on the TV. Typically, he failed to say anything at all welcoming, but then announced he was getting back into bed.
‘They’re letting me out on Saturday,’ he said. ‘I’ve had a fractured rib, punctured lung, bruising, and cuts on my arm and my head. Plus signs of hypothermy whatsit — but I’m OK now. Vera will have to do some work on me and the district nurse will have to come round, but I’m not staying here eating this muck. It was some sort of curry today. Curry! Who wants that crap?’ He shuffled towards his bed.
Robert followed him. ‘Well, you’ve had quite a lot of cards, Tom,’ he said. He was rather surprised. There was an enormous flowery thing to ‘My Dear Husband’ which had to be Vera’s astonishing contribution, and there was a card from the Bells, and the Arthurs, and another from Alan and Stevie, pushed to the back. Robert was touched to see that Suzy, Jake and Molly had sent a home-made one too. And then his eye was caught by the message inside a simple notelet with no ‘get well’ on the front. In block capitals it just said, ‘ISAIAH 5:11.’ Robert inhaled sharply.
‘That’s a funny message,’ he said conversationally.
‘What? Oh that.’
‘Who’s it from?’
‘I dunno. Melling, I suppose. It’s a Bible reference, isn’t it? I haven’t looked it up. Can’t be bothered. It was a messy card, though. All these bits of flower fell out. Typical Melling! He’s a bit of a nancy-boy, if you ask me.’
‘Flowers? You mean bits of flower inside?’
‘Have you still got the flowers? What were they like?’
‘Nah, of course not. What d’you think I am? Another shirt-lifter? There’s enough dirt around here without keeping bits of dried marigolds. I don’t want to get a ruddy superbug.’ Tom heaved himself laboriously into bed, wiped his nose on the back of his hand and rubbed it on the covers.
‘No. No, of course not,’ Robert said soothingly.
Isaiah 5:11. He had to remember that. He tried to make conversation with Tom for the next fifteen minutes, but all he could think about was the card. He had to check out the Bible reference. And talk to Suzy about it. Marigolds. What could they mean? Tom’s eyes were more closed than open now. After a decent time, Robert thought, he ought to go. Then suddenly the older man’s eyelids shot open, and his head swivelled round like a tortoise.
‘Oh good,’ he said unkindly. ‘Here’s someone I really want to see.’
Robert turned to see George Pattinson, followed by his wife, coming into the ward. Despite everything, the former parish priest had presence. He had lost weight but his big head with its crest of silver hair, and his tall frame supported on a black stick, gave him an air of significance.
Oh no, Robert thought. I’ll have to speak to him.
George Pattinson saw Robert but did not break his stride down the ward. ‘Tom,’ he said, his round deep voice sounding confident again. ‘Here I am again, as I promised. How are you? And Robert! Good to see you!’
Robert stood up. ‘How are you, George?’ he said civilly.
‘Better! Surprisingly better. Robert, we should talk.’
