Til Morning Comes

by Lisa Ann Harper

  For herself, getting outdoors, being absorbed in manual labour, there was so much to do around the place, was a perfect anodyne to the stress of her counselling hours. She knew she had chosen the right profession, but the work was intense, the resolution to each case requiring its own singular and specific solution. There were no standard formulae to be trotted out. Also, as a public sector agency, the emphasis on accountability was heavy; paperwork was mountainous and the need for exhaustive application paramount. Her days at home allowed her to recover; recharge her batteries she would say.

  For some reason, Jellie did not understand the logic, she didn’t go on to tell Mal of the possibility that Connor might come calling again. There was no time for her to dwell on this since Mal had news of her own and anyway, they were almost ready to eat.

  * * *

  It was as soon as Wednesday that she received the call. Connor had picked his timing carefully. Jellie was in high spirits, thrilled at the prospect of going out somewhere smart for lunch. She felt the warmth of anticipation as Connor ‘T’d it up for the following Tuesday.

  A week later her excitement was extreme. That morning she spent considerable time trying to get just the right note for a special outing. In the end she felt she couldn’t go wrong with her brown flecked, tweed suit. The jacket was formal, but the skirt was feminine; neat pleats opening out from the hips. She had her pick of credit cards and used them selectively. She also had a wide selection of finely tooled, leather footwear for shopping trips with Mal. Her final decision went with her two-tone, brown boots. They were high-topped and shiny, starting from the hem of her skirt all the way to their pointy toes. She had wanted to buy a patent leather handbag to match, but Mal persuaded her that young women her age would rather be seen with something slung casually over the shoulder. She topped the outfit off with a silk scarf and soft leather beret, both buttercup yellow, letting her hair hang free. When it was loose it waved gently to well past her shoulders. As soon as the chimes sounded her heart gave an extra lurch as she raced to the door, snatching up her matching gloves on the way.

  “Oh! Pretty as a picture,” Connor exclaimed in delighted pleasure. In the reflected light from the window, her eyelashes stood out against the pallor of her skin, emphasising the colour of her eyes, complemented by the beret. He had spent his morning clearing his desk to make time for this.

  Jellie locked the door, thinking how handsome he looked in his broad-shouldered overcoat; the dashing scarf slung loosely about his neck. Together they walked the blowy distance to the car, each head inclined against the weather. The skies were leaden with heavy clouds and a slight flurry of soft snow flakes swirled boisterously about them, adding to the fun of the trip. As Connor wheeled into the lane that took them to Knowle Jellie settled herself back to enjoy the luxury of the ride, asking politely how he had been, followed by the inquiry as to where they were going.

  “I know this really cool spot. In the old days it was a hostelry … it’s a restaurant now.”

  “In the village?” she exclaimed in surprise. She had never noticed one.

  “No. We’re going to Kenilworth. Have you been there?”

  “A long time ago when I was a little girl, I …” She stopped abruptly.

  Connor threw back his head and let out his shout of laughter, full-throated, as he expostulated: “Not so long ago Lovey, I know your age.” He gave her an appraising glance. Really she became more beautiful every time he saw her – if that were possible.

  The chance slip alerted her to be careful. She was so used to Mal knowing everything about her – so unused to strangers. She must remember to guard her tongue. To move on she asked him to tell her more.

  “I hope you’ll like it. It’s been done up in the period and I believe rumour has it Guy Fawkes met there once with his co-conspirators. Anyway, we’ll find out all the history when we get there. That apart, they do a very good roast duck.”

  The drive became quite magical. The snow continued to fall, landing so softly that as they drove across country, everything became delicately outlined in white. What had been an ordinary rustic scene was transformed into an enchanted grotto. She was content to watch the unfolding conversion while Connor concentrated on the driving. He had needed to turn on the lights and the wipers by this stage, but now they were almost there. He could just see the sign up ahead: The Hare And Hounds.

  Jellie was happy, he’d been right – the restaurant was charming, the sense of history was not only in the building with its bubble glassed muntins, but in all the furnishings too. Dark, heavy timber tables and chairs on highly polished flagstones; burgundy coloured, velvet drapes with gold tasselled tie-backs. A plaque, prominently displayed at the entrance, through which they had had to stoop, blazoned its claim to fame. Looking about, they saw there were already a good number of patrons comfortably ensconced, enjoying a pre-prandial drink in the congenial surroundings; patrons for whom each day is an unhurried experience. There would have been a few on a business lunch perhaps, but most looked to be well settled for the afternoon.

  “Mr. Mitchell …? Right this way, Sir.”

  They followed the Maitre d’ to a table for two, on the far side of the room, almost opposite a crackling fire in the massive stone hearth. Connor watched her take it in. “Yes, I thought you’d like that.” They settled themselves then he asked what she would like to drink.

  “A glass of apple juice would be lovely, thank you.” She leaned on her elbows, chin in hand, observing the other people, like them out for a pleasant lunch.

  “You’re not serious Nigella,” a curt note definite in his voice. One could carry the jejune too far.

  Her eyes swung back to him: “What was that?” not sure if she had heard disapproval just then. It hung in the air, incomplete and left her slightly shocked. Connor took control of his temper, although his face reflected his mockery as he tried to soften his tone. “Join me in a glass of wine, surely,” and added his boyish grin for good measure. Nigella had looked unexpectedly vulnerable, almost crushed.

  “No really, I don’t drink alcohol,” she replied her face tight, devoid of animation. Ah – ah, that’s it! She’s in recovery. Fair enough. He had her number. He suppressed a slight smile.

  They both enjoyed the roast duck with jus d’orange and al denté vegetables. Jellie followed her main with a Raspberry Compote and whipped cream. Connor decided on the sticky date pudding and custard. His disposition remained convivial throughout the meal and their conversation flowed as easily as before. Jellie found herself responding even more positively. Today he brought recollections of Lionel Shoebridge to mind. He had a sense of humour like his, but the unpredictable mood swings were more like Ambrose. She laughingly told Connor at one stage how like her brother he was. This did not go over too well, but he swallowed his irritation. He wanted to ferret out more personal details and showing impatience was not the way to go. There had been no mention of siblings; in fact no reference to family at all. Now a brother in the mix…. “What does he think of Driftwood Acres?” he asked, narrowing his smile.

  Jellie’s face fell with her mournful response. “He won’t ever see it,” she said slowly. He chose not to pursue this tack. No point in upsetting her if he’s out of the picture … or dead. No cause for concern there. He knew from her dossier she was an heiress, but under Miss Mason’s guardianship. There had been no information as to the circumstances, but he guessed it had to do with drug and/or alcohol issues. Perhaps this was what made her seem so different from the others. Could she have been left with some brain-damage? Not slow exactly, but no ‘valley’ girl. Quite shy really and easily manipulated. But man she sure is pretty enough; and perfect for my needs.

  As the afternoon wore on he did uncover some significant facts. She was interested in learning more about mobile phone technologies. If she could, she would like to develop her computer skills. He was happy to be of service in any way he could. Ha! More excuses to be in touch.

  “No problem. I can set you
up on face-book and twitter too, if you like. Look, give me your E-mail address and here’s mine.” He pulled out a small note pad and wrote quickly. “Next time you’re at your desk and you have a problem, let me know. There’ll be times when I can drop by and we can do some ‘hands on’. He smirked to himself at his joke, but she didn’t pick it up. By the time Connor thought to make a move the restaurant was almost empty. Staff were re-laying tables for dinner guests, the sconce lamps, strategically placed around the walls, had been lit. The previously overcast sky had darkened to an ominous shade of grey, intimating a serious threat of ugly weather. Quickly, scraping back the legs of his chair he rose to pay the bill and that taken care of, retrieved their belongings from the Maitre d’.

  Outside, they were shocked by an unexpected sharpness to the air. A thick blanket of snow wrapped them in silence. He took her arm and guided her past the drifts. The wind had picked up, whistling through the trees and swirling about them with a bite that cut like a scythe. The impending storm had become a reality.

  “No drama. This is what four-wheel-drives are all about,” he declared confidently as he unlocked for her. He then took out his scraper and went thoroughly over the front and rear windows, with an extra touch to the mirrors. Once inside, he started the heater and demister and soon they were barrelling along. She had no misgivings about the journey itself, but concern did begin to close in when she realised how late in the day it had become. She had not wanted to be away when Mal arrived home.

  “Do you think we’ll be long getting back, Connor?” Her normally composed features were distorted with alarm.

  “No. We’ll be fine. There’s extra traction in these tires.”

  She had to control a rising disquiet and try not to worry, but it seemed to be getting darker and visibility poorer by the minute. If they had been on a major highway, perhaps conditions would not have been so bad, but as it was they were out in the country, on narrow lanes and the snow piling up. Trying to ease the clenched tangle developing inside her, she let out a long breath.

  “Don’t worry, Nigella. I’ve driven through a lot worse than this. Take it slow and steady is the secret.” It was not until they reached the outskirts of Knowle that Jellie felt the vibration of her phone and heard the Christmas music, which she hadn’t yet changed for the New Year. She opened up, her expression of anxiety deepening. Mal was home: “Hello!”

  “Thank God!” She caught her breath, her voice rough. “I’ve been trying to reach you for an hour. Where are you? Are you all right?” She was barely holding on.

  “Yes. I’ll be home soon. We’re only about fifteen minutes away.” She looked over to

  Connor for verification and he nodded. “Don’t worry,” she resumed, following a sudden awareness of how much anxiety she had caused. She had heard it in her voice. “We’re fine. Just this weather has made us a bit slow, that’s all.”

  “All right, I’ll see you then,” she concluded as jerkily she broke off, the loop of tension within her making her hands stiff. She had been frantic. With the weather closing in and the forecast predicting this to be the first serious snow storm of the year, it had been decided at the hospital that everyone should get safely to their homes before major roads became choked and minor ones cut off. Consequently, she had arrived home early with Jellie nowhere to be found. The central heating was on low, but no fire had been laid in the grate. When a search had been fruitless she had tried phoning, then texting. Still nothing! Then the neighbours, but they were sorry, they couldn’t help. She had just been about to contact the police, when she thought she would try Jells one more time and she had struck it lucky.

  The whole while, with her stomach knotted enough to make her sick she had tried to think what on earth could have happened. In her agitation she had tramped out to the horse paddocks, eyes stinging with unshed tears; circled the perimeter, heart thumping in her ears her adrenalin level so high. Had she fallen somewhere? Her mind envisioned a broken and bleeding body, sprawled at the bottom of a ravine. She had been close to melt down. The chimes rang and she whipped open the door. Jellie and Connor Mitchell stood under the porch. Connor!

  “Oh Jells! I’ve been that worried.” She drew her in and hugged her close. Jellie returned the embrace with feeling, knowing how distraught she would have been. Connor followed them.

  “Oh darling, thank God you’re safe,” she murmured through choking breaths. Her emotions had been overwhelmed by fear and now it was relief, but she looked across at Connor, a question in her strained eyes.

  He was concerned at the turn of events, but believed in ‘all’s well that ends well’, so tried to downplay the seriousness and said, a little too off-hand: “The storm wasn’t that bad. My Pathfinder’ll get through anything. She lives up to her name all right.”

  Mal knew she shouldn’t take it out on him and tried to push her affronted feelings down, but what she had just gone through had wrung her out. She guided Jellie to a seat and asked why she hadn’t let her know she was going out?

  She looked up and saw the dark shadows of fatigue around her disturbed eyes and a convulsive tremor ran through her. “I’m so sorry Mal” she said subdued, solemn in the acknowledgment of her fault.

  “You could’ve told me or sent an SMS.” She tried to keep the reproach out of her voice, but couldn’t hide it from her eyes. Jellie could only look back woefully, through an internal disorder of self-reproof. It had come to her that this episode, taking off on her own, well almost on her own, had made her feel un-caged; liberated. It had felt so good, like how she remembered she used to be. It had been a long time since she had experienced the lightness of heart of that young girl. At last she was doing something independently; making her own decisions. But she had not wanted to upset Mal. She had thought she would tell her all about the adventure afterwards. She had not expected anything like this.

  Connor could see this developing into a ‘woman thing’ and thought it timely to make his exit. In an overly hearty voice he declared: “No harm done. Package returned safe and sound, eh?” Jellie turned to him and in a rather small voice expressed her thanks for lunch … and everything.

  “No problem. I enjoyed it too. Shall we do it again sometime, perhaps somewhere closer to home?” His beaming smile took in both of them; anxious to leave on good terms.

  Mal had no desire to clip Jellie’s wings. It was the not knowing that had caused so much apprehension. But she knew her nerves could not stand more of this. “I’m sure she would enjoy that … and thank you for taking her out.” She stood and turned her body toward the window. “Are you sure the conditions are fit for driving?”

  “Oh yes. The maintainers will be out in force by now. I’m sure the major routes will be clear. It was doing the cross-country thing that slowed us down.”

  Jellie stood too and they both saw him off. Quickly, they closed the heavy door against his receding back and the ranting storm’s gathering charge and clamour.

  “You find something comfortable Jells. I’ll get us drinks and stir up the fire.”

  On her return, wearing cosy track pants and her favourite Fair Isle sweater, just like Mal’s only in green to match her eyes, she joined her in front of the fire which now burned with a brilliant glow. She noticed how the flames highlighted the corn-coloured strand of hair which had fallen free and as she turned her head, the cobalt eyes, with their irresistible power. All this disruption and emotional upheaval had brought home to her how precious this woman was. Others may not see it, but to her she was like the unblemished drop of dew, at the moment of illumination, by the sun’s morning rays. “Will you forgive me for being so thoughtless?” She coloured as she accepted the glass, feeling once more how she had let her down.

  “I’m just so relieved you’re home safe and not hurt. My imagination ran away with me there for a while.” Her eyes misted briefly as she gave her a big hug, then pulled back, charged with a too intense reaction only smiling the love in her heart.

  Side by side on the rug, Je
llie leaned her body against Mal, but she was aware of a curious, unaccountable and incomplete atmosphere in the room, as if something had been left unsaid. She shook the notion away and asked what she wanted for dinner adding: “I’m not really hungry, but I’ll get you whatever you like.”

  “That’s OK. I’ll pull something out of the freezer,” then she hesitated, trying to make a decision. She turned toward the girl. “Jells, I must say this.” Her face was drawn and weary, the eyes too bright. “I know everything turned out all right, but at the end of the day I’m the one responsible for your welfare.” Jellie’s large eyes regarded her gravely; this was it, but she said nothing. “I’m not angry, but I do need you to let me know your whereabouts, if you’re not going to be at home.” Jellie saw her face twist with embitterment, only for an instant, but it gave the lie to the words. “You know what I mean, I’m not saying ‘no’, but I must be kept informed.”

  “Yes, yes of course,” she responded fervently. “I’m truly sorry to have caused you so much worry. I promise I won’t do that again.” Jellie’s contrition was burning her up inside. She would never knowingly have put her darling Mal through such an ordeal. She felt so unworthy. Her eyes filled, but she wiped them quickly.