The weather had changed completely overnight as only the weather in Britain can. Today it was warm and sunny, birds sang in the branches of the apple trees and some bulbs in the front garden were beginning to push aside the weeds. It was the kind of day when it was good to be young and alive, when you thought about packing away your winter woollies and getting out your summer dresses. At this thought Kirsty looked at her grubby working clothes and gave a rueful grin; pretty dresses were definitely out for her for quite a while.
Going out of the gate, she began to walk briskly down the lane, but then her footsteps slowed as she stared at the hedge. Where she had expected to see ten yards or so still waiting to be done, it was now uniform and even. She stared at it in perplexity; surely she couldn't have come to the end last night without realising it? Admittedly she had been exhausted, but not that dead on her feet. As she walked further along, Kirsty saw a definite line where someone else had taken over. The difference was so marked that it made her part look ragged and clumsy, whereas the last few yards looked so neat that she strongly suspected it had been done by a machine. The road had been swept too, and the clippings cleared away. It didn't take much imagination to realise who was responsible; there was only one man who had the facilities and labour available to do the job so quickly. Gyles Grantham had said that he was going to help her whether she liked it or not, and he had started with a vengeance. But he was right about one thing; Kirsty didn't like it, not one little bit I
Shouldering the ladder again, she began to walk back to the house, wondering grimly how many men it had taken to finish the hedge before she had even got up that morning. Briefly she speculated on whether he had foreseen her resentment at his high-handed action and had made sure that the job was done before she could interfere, as she most certainly would have done if she'd known about it.
She was still simmering with anger all that day, and having the time now to catch up on the housework did nothing to alleviate it. There were several reasons she could think of why Gyles Grantham had taken it on himself to help them, and none of them appealed to her. If he had done it as a sort of atonement for being wrong about them and now expected everything to be all square between them, then he was dead wrong, because Kirsty wanted nothing to do with anyone who had been as hateful as he had been. She was more inclined to think, though, that he had done it simply to make her feel grateful to him, but if that was what he wanted, she thought as she poked viciously at the coals in the range, then he was in for a rude awakening. And that evening she sat down and wrote him a terse letter informing him that the hedge was her property and that if he, or any of his employees, touched it again she would report the matter to the authorities. Which authorities she hadn't the faintest idea, but when she'd finished she looked at the letter with some satisfaction; that would show him that she meant what she said.
Kirsty supposed he must have got the letter, but she received no reply and didn't know whether to be pleased or sorry. A couple of times she caught a glimpse of him going by in his car, and, now that the hedge was cut, she saw him go up the lane on horseback, his dark hair hidden under a riding-cap. He looked towards the cottage as he passed, but Kirsty hastily whisked herself away from the window and she didn't think he'd seen her, but she found the idea of him being able to look into the garden vaguely disturbing.
Penny's health improved every day and she soon became fretful for something to do while she was tied to the house, so Kirsty drove into Barham and bought some pretty material to make curtains for the bedroom. She cut them out, and Penny, who was good with a needle, sewed them up on the machine. Unfortunately, though, they made the rest of the room look even shabbier and made Kirsty realise that she'd just have to start decorating. With the help of a book from the mobile library, she made a start in the other bedroom, stripping the walls and paintwork and repairing the cracks. By dividing her time between this and the garden, she found that the days just flew by and a fortnight was gone before she knew it.
April was a beautiful month, and for the first time
in her life Kirsty was in the countryside and able to watch the spring unfold around her. She thrilled when birds built their nests in the garden and didn't mind that they pulled out pieces of the thatch to make them with. Diligently she planted tarragon, chives and parsley, and ran excitedly to tell Penny when she saw the earlier seeds they'd sown coming through strong and healthy.
Thanks largely to Mrs Anderson, she got to know more of their neighbours and struck up a friendly acquaintance with Dave Pagett, the owner of the garage, when she took the broken secateurs there to see it. he could fix them.
He took the pieces from her and said, 'You must have lost the nut off the back. If you wait I'll see if I can find one that fits.' After rummaging around in a box he eventually found one and put the tool back together again. 'How's your sister now?' he asked. 'They told me in the shop that she was ill.'
'Much better, thanks. But she's still got to take it easy for quite a while yet, and I'm afraid she gets rather bored when I'm working in the garden.’
The young man looked up. 'Perhaps she'd like some magazines to read, then? I've got a pile of Reader's Digests she could have, if you think she'd be interested.'
'I'm sure she would," Kirsty replied, smiling warmly. "We've got nothing but seed catalogues and she's been through those about ten times already.'
He laughed at her exaggeration, his friendly, good-looking face breaking into a broad grin. 'I'll get them for you, if you'd care to wait a few minutes while I wash my hands. I only live upstairs in the apartment over the garage.'
He went to move away, but Kirsty said impulsively, 'Look, don't bother now. Why don't you bring them round yourself later on? This evening, perhaps? I'm sure Penny would love to have someone other than me to talk to for a change.'
'Okay. I'll do that.' He seemed pleased at her suggestion and promised to call about eight, refusing to take any money for repairing the secateurs.
Penny, however, wasn't very pleased when Kirsty told her. 'Oh, no, Kirsty, how could you? I look terrible and my hair's a mess.'
But after Kirsty helped her to wash her hair and blow-dried it for her, she consented to make some scones, and then got carried away and made a couple of dozen cakes, some shortbread, and a quiche as well.
'Mmm, delicious!' Kirsty came in from the garden at tea-time and helped herself to a piece of shortbread still hot from the oven.
Penny pretended to slap her hand and said, 'Leave it alone. You're worse than a child I' And they both burst out laughing.
Kirsty licked her fingers and said, 'Seriously though, you really are a good cook. Much better than I am.'
'It's the range, it's tons better than an electric cooker.' Penny glanced wistfully out of the window. 'I can't wait to get outside in the garden again, I feel so frustrated not being able to help you.'
'You must get your strength back properly first," her sister warned her. You were very low when—when we came here, otherwise your illness wouldn't have pulled you down so much.'
Penny's face became bleak. 'You mean when I was made a fool of by a married man. Why don't you say it? We both know that it completely messed up both our lives,' she said with bitter self-reproach.
Kirsty came to put an arm round her. Tor a little while, perhaps. But I certainly don't feel as if my life is messed up now, she said stoutly. 'I wouldn't have missed this spring for anything, especially as everything seems to be going right for us now.'
'I wonder why. Perhaps the Squire's just biding his time and will spring something really nasty on us, Penny said pessimistically.
'Oh, I think we've seen the last of him, Kirsty reassured her. 'Now that he knows there are only the two of us and we don't hold regular orgies every weekend, that is.'
Penny looked at her in surprise. 'He knows? I wonder who told him.'
"Well, as a matter of fact, I did. We sort of met— well, not met exactly, it was more of a head-on collision —when you were ill.'
'What did he say?' Penny asked, intrigued.
'Well, he didn't go so far as to apologise, of course, but he admitted that he'd made a mistake while at the same time implying that it was ray fault for having misled him in the first place! Kirsty told her lightly.
'And he promised to leave us alone?'
'Not exactly. He seemed to think that we needed taking under his wing, but I told him in no uncertain terms that we weren't interested. That's one hen whose wing I definitely don't want to be taken under.'
Penny gurgled with laughter. 'Haven't you got your genders wrong? You mean rooster, surely?'
Kirsty looked at her in comic surprise. 'Yes, I suppose I do.'
Dave Pagett's visit was an unqualified success. He had an easy, pleasant manner and they soon felt completely comfortable with him. He stayed for a couple of hours and sampled all Penny's cooking, bringing a flush to her pale cheeks when he enthusiastically complimented her. It was obvious to Kirsty from the start that he was interested in the younger girl, and he put himself out to draw her out so that Penny was soon talking eagerly about their plans and laughing at his jokes, but it wasn't done in a blatant way and Kirsty at no time felt as if she was playing gooseberry. But she looked on this new development with mixed feelings; there was nothing she wanted more than for Penny to be happy, and Dave seemed nice and sincere enough, but she was also terribly afraid that her sister might get hurt again. Tonight, however, she was content to let things take their course. It was sufficient that Penny had some colour back in her cheeks and was happy and laughing like the teenager she was.
The next day Penny insisted that she was well enough- to go for a walk, and it was so warm and fine that Kirsty agreed straight away. They set off down the lane and found a stile leading into a meadow that sloped upwards to a hill. It was so warm that soon they had taken off their jackets and walked along in just their skirts and blouses. They had gone only about a quarter of a mile, however, before Penny stopped to rest.
'Phew, this hill is steeper than I thought!'
"Are you sure you're all right?' Kirsty asked anxiously. 'You look exhausted.! really think it would be better if we went back. After all, it is your first day.’
However much she hated to admit it, Penny had to agree that she'd had enough and they retraced their steps, but at the stile Penny turned and said, 'Look, I know you were looking forward to this walk, so why don't you go on alone? I can manage perfectly well from here. I shall just sit in the lounger in the sun and probably fall asleep.'
'But I ought to come back with you and——'
'I can manage, honestly!'
This last was said a little snappily, so Kirsty didn't argue any further. 'All right, I'll see you later. Save me some scones for tea.'
She set off across the meadow once more, the sun warm on her bare arms. It felt good to wear a skirt again; the pretty pale blue material falling from a gathered waist made her feel feminine for the first time in weeks. It was too early for most wild flowers, of course, but there were plenty of dandelions and coltsfoot among the new grass, and Kirsty thought that perhaps she might bring a basket some time so that she could gather the flower heads and make some dandelion wine. Penny, she knew, would enjoy doing that. There was another stile at the end of the meadow and she climbed nimbly over into a piece of open country. The hill was steeper here and she was panting a little by the time she reached a thick copse of trees perched, rather incongruously, right at the top.
From here she had the most superb view of the countryside. She could see Briar Cottage nestled in the valley, and past it the village looked peaceful and serene as it slumbered in the afternoon sunshine. The only sounds were those of tractors working in the fields and the bird songs that had become so much a part of her everyday life now that she hardly noticed them. Her glance swept on and came to rest on the Manor. She could see it properly from here, and realised that it was much larger than she had thought, with a wing at each end of the back of the house and also several out-buildings in the beautifully laid out grounds. She studied it for some time; it looked so solid and timeless, as if all the world-shattering events that had taken place since its erection were mere casual intrusions that had hardly touched the peace and prosperity of the place.
Had Gyles Grantham's family owned the estate very long? she wondered. For a moment sheer envy filled her at the thought of knowing one's ancestry for hundreds of years, of having roots that were solidly planted , in this beautiful English valley and of having one's name forever stamped across the pages of history. Had Grantham’s fought in the Civil War? Had their men folk put to sea with Drake and Nelson ?
Kirsty gave herself a mental shake; no good envying someone else's past when she had her own future to think about. She wandered along the edge of the trees, found some violets nestling among the undergrowth and was unable to resist picking a few and putting them in the top buttonhole of her blouse. There was a stretch of smooth ground at one point and she lay down on it in the sun, chewing a piece of grass and letting her mind wander.
She had phoned Simon regularly a couple of times a week, but he had made no mention of coming down to the, cottage, instead suggesting that she come up to London for a weekend when Penny was better, and Kirsty was beginning to suspect that he wanted to show her what she was missing and pave the way for her to go back there permanently. Eventually, she knew, she would be faced with a decision: if she wanted to marry Simon she would have to leave Briar Cottage, and that meant selling up and taking Penny back to London with her, or else leaving her sister here alone’ to run the herb farm. Kirsty sighed wearily, turning the problem over and over in her mind. Why did life have to be so complicated? And she was still worrying about it when she drifted off into sleep, the sun enfolding her like a blanket'.
The sound of a horse's hooves woke her, and for a moment Kirsty couldn't think where she was, but then the gentle snorting sound of the animal dose by brought her fully awake and she sat up quickly. Gyles Grantham was sitting astride a beautiful palomino which pawed impatiently at the ground only a few yards away. His eyes ran over her, taking in her tousled hair and rumpled clothes. Kirsty suddenly realised that her skirt had ridden quite a long way up above her knees and she hastily pulled it down.
His eyebrows rose mockingly. 'I didn't realise I was going to find Sleeping Beauty up here.'
She got quickly to her feet, immediately on the defensive. 'Don't you mean Beauty and the Beast? And I'm not referring to the horse!’
To her surprise he laughed, and it was like coming face to face with a complete stranger; his eyes crinkled up at the corners and he seemed somehow younger and more human. Kirsty was so taken aback that she hardly realised that he had dismounted and left the horse to graze until he crossed the grass towards her. She immediately backed away.
'I suppose this is your land and you've come to order me off ? she said challengingly.
Leaning against a tree trunk, Gyles casually took a cigarette case from the pocket of his sports shirt and offered her one. They were most unusual cigarettes, black instead of white, and with a gold band just below the filter, she noticed. Silently she shook her head, watching him coldly. He shrugged and took one himself, drawing on it slowly before he answered.
'As it happens the land does belong to me, but you, and all the rest of the villagers, are welcome to walk here as often as you wish. And I don't send out letters telling people to keep away from my property,' he added sardonically.
Kirsty's chin came up. 'I told you I didn't need your help and I meant it. I could have managed perfectly well alone.'
His mouth twisted cynically. 'How's your hand, Kirsty?'
Flushing, she looked away, then realising what he had called .her, said angrily, 'I don't remember giving you permission to use my name."
'You didn't.' Dropping the cigarette, he carefully ground it out under his heel. 'But as we're neighbours and will obviously be seeing a lot of each other, it seems reasonable for us to be on Christian name terms.
He came nearer and his left eyebrow rose quizzically. 'Or are you going to persist in this childish attitude you've adopted?'
'How dare you? I am not a child!'
He let his eyes run slowly over her in open appraisal., 'You certainly don't look like one! he agreed.
At that the fragile hold on her temper snapped and Kirsty raised her hand to slap his face, but he caught her wrist and his features hardened.
'And when you start behaving like a responsible adult maybe you'll get treated like one!' For a moment his dark eyes glared angrily down into her violet ones, then he gave an exasperated sigh and let go of her wrist. 'Look, I know we started off on the wrong foot and no one regrets that more than I do. But if you think I'm going to beg your forgiveness for putting obstacle’ in your way, then you're mistaken. I'd do the same again if I thought there was any danger to this village. Most of the people here are my tenants and I do my best to take care of my own. I thought you and your friends constituted a threat and so I acted accordingly. If you'd behaved like an adult and told me the truth straight away, I'd have been more than happy to welcome you to Motley.' He paused, trying to read
her expression, but Kirsty was looking at the ground, her eyes veiled behind her lashes. 'So let's start again, shall we? Admit that we both over-reacted in the heat of the moment, but blame it all on the circumstances prevailing at the time.'
Kirsty didn't answer for several minutes, then slowly raised her eyes. 'All right, I'm willing to give it a try.'
Gyles gave a rather crooked grin. 'Meaning that you're going to reserve judgment until I've proved myself a friend instead of an enemy, I suppose. Well, it's . a start at least." Abruptly he changed the subject putting Out a long finger to couch the violets at her breast. 'Do you like flowers?"
Sally Wentworth - Garden of Thorns Page 7
