‘I think we’ll see the calves instead,’ she said abruptly.
Davy was in a predicament. Silk and Satin of the wet noses and insecure legs or his best friend? His best friend would still be his best friend, he must have decided, but Silk and Satin grew every time you looked at them, and soon, according to Dom, they would be almost as big as their mother, the bull calf even bigger. Davy said judiciously, ‘I think Crag will understand,’ and agreed to be led instead another way, also to co-operate with deep breathing.
While he fondled the twins, the mother looking on implacably, Dom showed Pippa the gymkhana programme for the forthcoming Southern Highlands Pony Gathering.
‘I’ll be entering in practically every event,’ he said, ‘and I’m counting on you to stable for me.’
‘I’m glad you didn’t say ride. I didn’t do so well last time, did I?’
‘This wouldn’t be down a valley,’ he smiled, ‘but in the parklands of the Pony Club, which are as smooth as a billiard table. Also, the owners of the ponies will be doing most of the riding themselves. Nevertheless there will be some events, Pippa, that perhaps—’
She smiled back and half-agreed, then joined Davy in the adoring of the small animals.
On Doctor Burt’s insistence a nurse had been brought in for Uncle Preston. Pippa had heard Rena protesting to Glen that she could manage her father herself, but he had stood firm, suggesting gently but adamantly that she was too close to Preston Franklin to be of real impersonal value, and in nursing an impersonal approach was a very essential thing.
Rena had been unsure whether to pout or take the doctor’s ruling as a compliment to her as a devoted daughter, and while she had hesitated, Glen Burt had contacted a nursing bureau and succeeded in engaging Sister Bruce, a reliant person with sufficient years to assure Rena that her hesitancy had been a right move.
Rena now concentrated on Davy, and was always with him whenever the doctor called.
It was simply too much, Pippa thought. Surely Rena, an intelligent girl, must see that she was overdoing it, must sense eventually that she could never win with such obvious tactics. Undoubtedly if you loved a man you had every right in the world to fight for him, but when was possessing a fair fight? Then did Rena really love Glen? Did Rena?
Pippa could not have said why she held that doubt, Rena had said a hundred times how she felt to Glen, but still the feeling persisted, that feeling that Rena was forcing, or trying to force, the issue, forcing it with more urgency than emotion, and because of this when the young doctor spoke to Pippa as he did, Pippa did not feel so distressed as she might have had she felt that her cousin really cared.
Glen drew Pippa into the garden following one of his visits ... Rena on the mats she especially had sent for and doing gradual push-ups with Davy, and looking, and no doubt aware of it, very lovely as she did so ... and began with a tentative: ‘What do you think of this exercise regime?’
‘I suppose anything that builds up strength must be of some benefit,’ Pippa said.
‘Yes.’
There was a pause, then:
‘Miss Bromley... Pippa...’
‘Yes, Doctor Burt?’
‘Could you Say Glen?’
Yes, Glen.’
‘I ... Well...’ Another pause.
‘Yes, Glen?’
‘It’s difficult to put into words.’
‘Davy?’ she said hollowly. How often had she said her brother’s name tonelessly like that?
‘Oh, no.’ He hastened to reassure her. ‘It’s—Rena. Much as I dislike any such move I—I feel I must give up your uncle and your brother as my patients.’
‘But, Doctor—but, Glen—’
He poked at a blade of grass with the toe of his shoe. He seemed wretched, but nonetheless determined to say what had to be said.
‘Why does she go on like that?’
About to pretend that she didn’t understand him, instead Pippa said quietly: ‘Rena?’ She knew he was aware that she understood his trend.
‘Yes, Pippa. She ... oh, this is very embarrassing for me.’
‘Can love be embarrassing, Glen?’
‘Rena doesn’t love me, any more than I love her, but for some reason she—well, she—’
‘Yes,’ nodded Pippa. Again she spoke quietly.
‘But, Glen,’ she said presently, ‘you’re a doctor, your work comes first. Oh, I can understand how you feel, but well—’ She searched for words, found none, so made a little helpless gesture towards her brother.
‘I can’t work as I want to work with Miss Franklin acting as she does,’ he said bluntly. ‘I’m a dedicated person, Pippa, I always have been. I have no time for all this.’ He spread thin sensitive hands.
‘Rena could find you time.’ Pippa felt she was entitled to say that, for hadn’t Rena already said it? ‘She has enough to let you follow the path you want to, Glen.’
‘But I wouldn’t want it. Not without...’ He turned to Pippa. ‘You see, there’s someone else. She was at university with me. Nothing has ever been said between us, otherwise I would have said it to your cousin, but the way I feel about Jennifer and the way I sense she could feel about me ...’
There was a pause, then Glen Burt spoke again.
‘We never actually discussed things, but we both knew what we wanted from our years of study, and I believe we both knew whom we wanted it with. It’s Jennifer some day, I hope, Pippa. It has to be Jennifer.—So you see how I feel now.’
‘You said before that Rena was only playing a part with you, then wouldn’t that make it easier for you to tell her what you have just told me?’
He gave another movement of his hands. ‘Is anything easy with Rena?’ he asked. Then he said the same as Crag had said. ‘How can you tell her when she’s running away?’
‘Running away, Glen?’
‘I feel that. I suppose I’m crazy.’
‘Someone else said it. But—but from whom?’
Almost as if answering the question Domrey Hardy joined the two of them on the lawn.
They talked a while, then, believing that Dom wished to consult Rena on farm matters, Pippa nodded to the two exercisers, but Dom did not even glance in that direction.
‘It was you I wanted to see, Pippa, that is if the doctor is finished...’
‘I’m finished.’ There was the slightest sigh in Glen’s voice as he turned back to Rena and Davy again. What an odd position, Pippa thought, here was a lovely and a richly-endowed girl, yet neither of these two men—Rather grateful herself to get out of the tangle, even if only temporarily, Pippa walked beside Dom back to his office.
‘What is it, Dom? More blessed events?’ There were still unfulfilled dates on the calendar.
‘No, Pippa, nothing immediately imminent. I just want to speak with you about the forthcoming show.’
‘The Pony Gathering.’
‘Actually it’s more than that, it’s a bit of everything, though I must admit the horses dominate it. There’s the usual events, the usual judging, also a dog section, a cat division, and those delightful displays of jams and cakes competing for blue ribbons.’
‘Is that what you wanted to tell me about, Dom?’ she laughed.
‘No, but you’re entitled to enter,’ he assured her. ‘How are you on scones with wings?’
‘They invariably crash,’ she told him ruefully, ‘my aunt did the cooking.’
‘Well, perhaps the handiwork,’ he smiled. ‘Seriously, though, I’ll be calling upon you to help out in some of the events.’
She nodded that she would, adding, ‘But nothing fancy.’
‘I did hope to put Suzy in the Steeple. Oh, it’s a very restricted steeple,’ he hastened to reassure her.
‘Still too wild for me.’
‘That’s a pity. Suzy’s a born hunter.’
They had reached the office by now, and he drew up a chair and handed Pippa a programme of events. They were very comprehensive. She noted, too, that the gathering was everything Dom had said. It went
from flowers and produce, preserves and children’s handwriting right through the usual gamut to finish up (after pigs, dogs, cats and cattle had been dealt with) at the real reason for the gathering: horses. There would be, Pippa read, the expected stalls and sideshows, coconut shies and wood chops. Even a merry-go-round was offering, Dom smiled, for the less heroic equestrian. He looked obliquely at Pippa as he said this, and, seeing his trend, she protested again that she would help him out in every other way but that she still didn’t feel skilled enough for a steeple.
‘Minor steeple.’
‘It’s still a jump. What about this event? And this? I’ll even try this one.’
The morning of the gathering dawned blue and gold. It gave an early promise to grow into one of those flawless, brilliant days that the mild Southern Highlands so often puts on. Already there was a breeze with a pleasantly exciting edge to it that would flutter all the ribbons and flags. It would also tatter the tossed lolly wrappers and peanut shells, Uncle Preston said typically as Pippa said good-bye to him, but he had a smile about him for all his acid words ... a satisfied smile that Pippa was to remember later.
Childlike, Davy was almost hugging himself with delight. Feeling the old magic of all-fairs-wherever-they-be herself, Pippa held the little hand in hers and squeezed it as they passed through the turnstile.
The pony events were not programmed until after lunch, so Pippa and Davy did the rounds of the mouthwatering cake marquee, the mysterious fortune-teller, the fascinating fat lady, the frustrating Aunt Sally. Pippa was just heading for the handicraft, having bribed Davy who was not so keen on this with a cornet of spun sugar, when her small brother glimpsed something ... or somebody as Pippa soon discovered ... and darted away.
As she might have known the attraction was Crag Crag, even more wonderful to a wide-eyed small boy today in his black singlet, white pants, white boots and standing by an axe.
‘Davy, come back!’ she called urgently.
Crag, waiting beside a block of wood as were five others in the small arena, smiled at her and assured her, ‘It’s all right, the scrubber won’t come to any harm. I’ll send him off at Seconds Out, for I reckon he’s my second. Are you, scrubber?’
‘Oh, yes, Crag. What do I do, Crag?’
‘You can pick up those few chips around my block, see to it that my sweat rag is ready.’
‘Davy—’ feared Pippa.
‘He’s all right,’ Crag assured her again.
‘But when you start chopping ... you are going to, aren’t you?’
‘Reckon that’s what I’m here for. Don’t worry, Pippa, there’s no danger, the stewards will put round a cordon, and anyway, woodmen place their chops.
‘But you’re not a woodman.’
‘No,’ he agreed, ‘but I do a bit up top, and it’s on harder stuff than this.’ He looked down at his log.
Pippa restrained herself from crying out ‘Davy’ again when her brother busily dusted the axe. The little boy was blissful, he fussed around Crag like a mother hen, but for all his excitement when the stewards called ‘Seconds Out’, he went at once at a nod from Crag to Pippa’s side.
The adjudicator warned, ‘Three seconds, gentlemen. One. Two...’ Then the chop began.
Crag was slow off the mark and when he did start he seemed to have a stolid pace. There was none of the quicksilver of the other competitors, the effortless rhythm, he just lumbered along.
‘Crag,’ Davy was calling, ‘Crag!’ And all at once Pippa heard herself calling it, too.
Then something happened. The lumbering pace changed to a swinging cut. Instead of standing upright, Crag now almost crouched over the log. By the time he reversed he had passed two of the other five and his chips were flying fast.
‘Crag!’ called Davy.
‘Crag,’ called Pippa. ‘Crag ... Crag!’
For a breath of a second, so infinitesimal it must have been imagination, the man looked up and across at Pippa, then at once the great chunks of wood were rising, the racing axe was flailing through the air as though wielded by a machine and not a man.
Then he was through.
Even had he not jumped apart to prove it, everyone would have known by Davy’s shouts of joy that he had won. Pippa’s, too, only she was not aware of them.
But she was aware of Crag coming across with a trophy and putting it in Davy’s hands, of his saying, ‘Thanks, scrubber, I reckon the way you shouted for me it was you who won it.’
But looking at Davy’s sister.
They had lunch together in the tea pavilion, Davy refusing to be parted from the large silver cup and having difficulty in managing his lemonade and sandwiches with its gleaming bulk enclosed in one protective arm.
After the break the gymkhana began. Pippa left Davy with Crag and took up her duties for Dom Hardy. A sheepdog trial, a tent-pegging, a camp draft were staged, then the races began.
Pippa won a red ribbon and two yellow ones for Dom’s stable in age classes, but once again refused the steeple. He smiled and took it philosophically, but she felt he was disappointed.
She went out to see if Davy was still with Crag, and after much searching found the pair of them leaning over the course railing and shouting encouragement to Rena. Rena was with the other steeple entrants at the starting post. On Suzy.
‘What’s Rena doing—’ Pippa began, but the pistol stopped her query. The chase had begun.
Right from the beginning Rena left the others well behind. She rode faultlessly. She also rode contemptuously, and Pippa glanced up at Dom who now had joined them by the fence, and saw his tightened lips.
Her cousin won with ease. She was off the mount and handing him carelessly to Dom, when Pippa, remembering her strapper duties, came hurrying across.
‘No falling off this time,’ she heard Rena say in a hard bitter voice, ‘no mistakes and no reckless words to be corrected by Mr. Hardy.’
‘Rena—’ Pippa heard Dom say tensely back. ‘Rena—’ What would have happened then? Pippa was to wonder this afterwards. Would Dom have gone on from that tense ‘Rena—’ ... would he have—
But she was not to know, for through the loudspeaker someone else called for Rena, called: ‘Wanted at the office urgently, Miss Franklin. Miss Franklin, please.’
It was Crag who came up to Pippa to say quietly: ‘Go with her.’
‘But—’
‘Go, Pippa,’ Crag repeated. He assured her: ‘I’ve got the scrubber.’
By the time Pippa reached the office, Rena had been told. Told that a message had come from Uplands. Her father had died.
CHAPTER FIVE
There could be no doubt about Rena’s grief. Pippa, who often had felt herself instinctively withdrawing from her cousin because of her apparent callous lack of relationship with her father, now saw that it all had been a facade, that the bond had been so tight that it had needed no word, no gesture, no daughterly embellishment.
Hours after the gymkhana announcement, and after the exhausting floods of tears had been released, Rena had sat up in the bed in which Pippa had placed her and said woodenly, ‘We were one, Pippa; now he’s gone I’m not whole any more, it’s an amputation.’
Pippa, murmuring the usual consolations, was stopped imperatively by Rena’s impatient hand on her arm.
‘One,’ she repeated. ‘I’m as selfish as he was. We both thought only of ourselves.’
‘You’re wrong, Rena, Uncle Preston thought all the time of you.’
‘Then he was thinking of himself, for we were the same. And now...’ Again the tears flowed.
Pippa felt those tears could do more for her cousin than she could, and went out quietly. She was relieved that Crag had taken Davy to stop at Ku. Uplands was no place just now for the child, not with Rena’s grief so evident. Not with the close association of death.
Death. She stood in the garden and thought about it ... and Davy. She was sad for Uncle Preston. For all his brusque ways, the occasionally awful things he had said, she had liked
him. But Uncle Preston had not been a little boy who had only known a handful of springs. Tears stung at her, and she was crying softly and brokenly when Dom Hardy found her.
He put his arm around her and guided her to the bam; he seemed to know instinctively the needed thing to do. In the barn they spent some time on Silk and Satin, and Dom told her how he expected the other blessed events at any moment. It was good therapy, and she soon was talking back with him. Then suddenly, without any warning, he broke into their exchange with a terse: ‘How is she?’
‘Rena?’
‘Yes.’
‘Taking it hard.’
‘I expected that.’
‘I didn’t.’ Pippa had found by this time that she could be frank with Dom. ‘I thought—’
‘That’s Rena,’ he nodded. ‘But it’s all a veneer, Pippa, and under that skin...’ He stopped abruptly to catch a quick breath. From the look in his face there was pain in him.
‘Dom—’ Pippa began, but Dom was on the stock again, talking briskly, and she knew she could not break in.
Doctor Burt had not been out to Uplands since his last attention on Preston Franklin, but sedatives had arrived for Rena, and the nurse had stayed on for a further period.
A message had come for Pippa from Crag that he was keeping Davy with him, and she was grateful about that, for the funeral had been set for the following day.
After it was over and the girls back in the house again, Pippa carried tea to the sun-room and sat with her cousin. She had previously steeled herself to say: ‘What now, Rena?’ for after all she had to know her future. She had Davy to think of.
‘Daddy,’ Rena shrugged, ‘always said there was no money.’ She gave a little disbelieving laugh. ‘That would be typical of Preston Franklin, my parent was always cautious. However, I don’t believe it. There may have been a moderate recession, but there would still be a fair amount. Also there’s this house.’ She glanced around her.
‘Yes, I don’t think you need worry about finance, Rena.’ Pippa meant that. For all his statements to the contrary, she had never taken seriously Uncle Preston’s plaints of impending disaster, only his standards of disaster.
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