by Ivy Ferrari
Matt frowned. ‘Don’t make mysteries out of nothing, Tina.’
‘You never visit Charlie Marshall, then?’ she demanded.
His shake of the head was angrily abrupt ‘No, and I’m not likely to just now. If he wants to see me he comes here. Jamey’s a fool to go to the farm so much. It could make talk, especially after that old affair.’
‘Perhaps the talk’s justified. How do you know he just sees Charlie Marshall?’
Matt turned his face from her. There was a brief silence before he said: ‘I don’t. But I do know Adam Copeland keeps a close eye on what goes on up there.’
‘Adam Copeland isn’t infallible.’ Yet Tina spoke with the despairing knowledge that he was, or as near as made no difference.
‘Let’s not argue, Tina.’ Matt pleaded. ‘Have you seen the bairns anywhere?’
‘Rosie’s on her way. She’s been playing in the tree house.’
Matt seemed to relax, glad of the change of subject. He spoke of the impending visit of the school doctor. ‘It’s a good thing she’s having a going-over. And it’ll upset her less than taking her along to our own doctor. When all the other bairns are lining up she won’t think a thing of it.’
Tina was uneasily silent. Should she warn Matt that Rosie was already showing alarm?
‘Why should going to the doctor frighten her?’ she asked.
‘Oh, there was a bit of a scare when she was five. She’d a bad chest inflammation and the doctor spoke of taking her into hospital. She was a wild wee thing then and had hardly ever seen a strange face. They did take her in, just for a few hours, for treatment, but she was so upset—the poor bairn was nearly demented with fear. That’s why she’s still scared of doctors and hospitals.’
‘So that’s really why—’ Tina broke off, understanding having dawned.
‘Why I’ve let things slide a bit?’ He nodded, a little ashamed. ‘Only it was a toss-up. It seemed wrong to put her through all those fears again unless she was really ill.’
‘Most people would have felt the same, Matt. Anyway, you can relax now. She’ll have a proper examination.’
‘Aye, that’s right. And ten to one we’ll find we’ve been bothering about nothing.’
Rosie arrived then, flushed with running and looking so normal that Matt and Tina exchanged rueful smiles. On her heels came Bobby and as the children went to shut up their rabbits Matt walked with Tina to the yard gate.
It was still scarcely dusk, the thickets of gorse sending long blue fingers of shadow over the pale moor.
‘I wish I could walk up with you, Tina, but ‘I’ve the bairns to chase off to bed.’
Suddenly he found her hand, seized and held it. ‘It’s been great, Tina, you coming here. Though what you see in us all I can’t think.’
‘I see Bruno’s friends.’ she said quietly. ‘Please don’t put me on a pedestal, Matt. I’m not good enough, and it would spoil our friendship.’
He released her hand. ‘I’ll try, then. But to have a girl like you walk into Quarry Farm—it doesn’t happen every day, you know.’ His smile was wistful.
‘Just as well.’ she teased. ‘You’d have no time for the pigeons!’ With a parting wave she ran up the slope of the moor towards the darkening woods about Hadrian’s Edge.
Two days later Adam detained Tina as she was leaving the office. ‘Have you been to Housesteads or Cuddy’s Crag-yet?’ he asked.
‘No, not yet. I was waiting for a spare afternoon. We’ve been pretty busy on the dig these last few days.’
‘Don’t tell me you’ve found a whole new Roman bath-house or granary?’
‘No.’ She hesitated, said cautiously: ‘Only in the south-east corner we’ve come across some rather strange signs. It could be something important—some big break-through, or nothing much after all. But it’s—exciting.’
‘You won’t miss much in one afternoon, surely?’ There was a touch of mischief in his glance. ‘Three shovelfuls of soil and half a Roman hairpin?’
Tina flushed. ‘The three shovelfuls of soil might contain the most significant clue so far ... And you seem to forget, the mere fact that I’m following up my brother’s work means a lot to me.’
‘Sorry, I did forget But I was going to suggest you come up to Housesteads with me this afternoon. I’ve a call to make on a farm close by.’
Tina was startled ‘You mean you want to show me round?’
‘Why not? Just because I don’t believe in getting coated to the eyebrows in clay doesn’t mean I’m not interested in Wall history.’
‘Thank you.’ She was conscious of inner turmoil. ‘I’d like to come. I’ll just have to take a chance they don’t unearth something marvellous at the dig.’
He smiled. ‘Your chances are pretty good, I’d say. It so happens I’ve teased you rather unmercifully about your cardboard Wall model. I also insisted I could teach you so much more. The time seems to have come to implement my words.’ He glanced at her feet. ‘Oh, and strong shoes or boots, please—it’ll be rough going if we follow the wall westwards from the fort. Right I’ll have the car outside at two o’clock sharp.’
At lunch with Carrie, she mentioned the outing.
‘Oh, Adam’s taking you, is he? Good. He’s much better informed about the local stretches than Chris.’
‘Better than Chris! But he’s an expert.’ Tina protested.
‘Granted, he’s an expert on Wall history. But he hasn’t got the feel of it the way local people have. And remember Adam’s seen it in all weathers and conditions.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Let’s just hope the weather holds.’ Carrie began to pour the coffee.
‘Seen Sandy lately?’ Tina asked.
‘Yes, I met him up the top lane last night—by accident, of course—playing those wretched pipes of his. He actually had the nerve to ask me to a fancy dress dance at Elswhistle!’ Carrie looked heated.
‘Why not? It would be fun.’
‘It never seems to enter his thick head that I’m not interested in dancing. And fancy dress, of all things!’
‘But you could watch. It means getting out—meeting people. Closing the hangar doors.’
‘Ah well, I’ve my own ways of doing that. I don’t suppose he meant a word of it, anyway. You know Sandy and his practical jokes.’
‘But supposing it wasn’t a joke?’
‘Like to bet?’
Tina did not press the point. At two o’clock she was waiting in the front doorway, in blue trousers and anorak, zip-sided boots and a forget-me-not hair-ribbon.
The Land-Rover drew up. Adam Copeland surveyed her. ‘You look about sixteen with your hair tied back ... Those boots are a bit fancy, aren’t they? Don’t blame me if they get cut to shreds.’
‘I can always buy some more.’
His smile was sardonic. ‘I forgot—poor little rich girl! Come on then. Put a move on while the sun’s shining!’
She got in beside him. He hummed calmly to himself as the car switchbacked westwards along the Military Road. She decided to speak when spoken to. The consciousness of a whole afternoon in his company was a burden on her nerves and breathing.
She knew that Housesteads fort, or to give it its Roman name, Borcovidum, was the most spectacular of all the preserved Wall forts. When Adam pulled in at the small car-park on the roadside she could see the exposed ruins about half a mile away on the crest of the Whin Sill. Adam led the way to a footpath climbing the sheep-bitten turf. Fat lambs bundled from their path. Half way they met two returning visitors, but as they mounted away from the road the peculiar silence of the heights enveloped them.
It was a grey afternoon, the skies a moving mass of ragged cloud, and a feeling of rain on the wind. ‘We’ll leave the museum in case it turns wet.’ he announced, and having paid the entrance money they climbed on into the fort itself.
It was a site of five acres, the north wall of the fort edging the Whin Sill escarpment, and was laid out on the usual plan, four double ga
teways with one-time towers and guard-houses, the usual headquarters building, commandant’s house, barracks and granaries, all well exposed to a height of six feet or so above the ground. Tina, thrilled at seeing it in reality for the first time, forgot Adam Copeland’s intimidating presence, and ran about identifying the various buildings. He followed her with an indulgent smile. ‘I must say that plaster model of yours was quite something. But come over here with me—what about this?’
He pointed to the ground in the east gateway. There, in the stone base-work, were the deeply worn marks of Roman chariot wheels. Tina was stilled and awed. ‘All these centuries—it’s hard to believe, isn’t it?’ She turned shining eyes to his face. ‘I knew about this—but actually seeing it—’
Words failed her. She had even to blink away a tear, which she was certain he saw. He said softly: ‘Your countrymen have made certain we who live on the Wall shall never forget them. I’ve something else to show you.’
Walking eastwards, he began pointing out the complicated system of water supplies and latrines. The intricate stone channels had formed a precise and careful sewage system. ‘And remember all the water had to be somehow brought up from the Knag burn at the foot of the hill there—not an easy plumbing feat. ‘That is one thing I do admire about the Romans. They were centuries ahead of their time in domestic and health matters. Once their civilisation had fallen it wasn’t until the nineteenth century we even approached proper plumbing again.’
They paused at the eastern wall of the fort. ‘And there you see the most famous view of the Wall.’ he told her. ‘Icing’s Crag and the heights of Sewingshields. And down there you can see the Knag Bum, still flowing through the gap built for it in the Wall. You realise how steeply the Wall falls here before it climbs the crag again. This fact and the water gap made it one of the weakest points to defend—hence Housesteads itself.’
Tina made murmurs of consent. Though she knew most of this information anyway, she sensed the pleasure he found in showing his local stretches of the Wall. Her eyes were misty again as she watched that grey ribbon rearing at fantastic angles up Sewing-shields Crags.
He laid a hand on her arm, ‘Listen—a cuckoo. First I’ve heard this year. And can you pick up those other sounds, the peewits and the sheep, a lark or two over the moor—and of course the crows?’ He pointed as a dark swerving mass rose from the rookery over King’s Crag. ‘They’re all the noises you’ll ever hear on the Wall. And none of it has changed in sixteen centuries. Except that man’s work has fallen into ruin.’ He looked significantly at the fort. ‘Make no mistake, though, we locals are proud of Housesteads. The way we go on about it, especially in the pubs hereabouts, you’d swear we’d built it ourselves.’
Tina laughed. Gradually, as they wandered in the ruins, the rain came. They visited the museum, where Tina pored over the finds discovered during the excavation. They were amused by a stone relief of three hooded deities, looking exactly like old wives gossiping at a cottage door. Then Adam paused at a statue of Nemesis.
‘Do you believe in fate, Tina?’
‘I don’t quite know.’
‘You prefer to think us all responsible for our actions?’
‘Yes, I suppose I do.’
‘Nothing worked out in advance?’
‘I think we make our own fates,’ Tina said.
‘Your countrymen thought otherwise.’ He pointed to the English translation of a stone inscription. ‘ “To the Gods who dwell in this place.” No people were more superstitious than the Romans.’
She said pertly: ‘You must allow us to have learned some wisdom over the centuries.’
He laughed. ‘Come on, the rain’s stopped. I want us to try to get as far as Hotbank Crags.’
At the north-west corner of the fort they found the Wall again and mounted to the path along its crest. Here it plunged into a wood, perched on the crag’s edge, tawny with dead rushes and bracken, the ragged Scots pines rearing above their heads. As they moved on in single file, Adam leading, the Wall nudged the very edge of the precipitous drop.
Tina’s steps faltered. Adam was gaining on her. She had never been good at heights. Her knees buckled as she saw ahead the curvings of the Wall on the very lip of the ravine. This was worse than the Wall at Crag Lough, and a blustering wind made her even more uncertain. At last she stumbled and cried out.
Adam’s voice was blown back to her. ‘This is Cuddy’s Crag. We’ll go on to Housesteads Milecastle, in the dip beyond the woods, then up to Hotbank. You’ll get your first view of the Solway there, the end of the Wall...’
She called faintly: ‘Adam, please stop!’ doubting if he could hear. A black dizziness came. She staggered, tried to cry out and wondered as oblivion came whether she was pitching into that dreadful airy nothingness below.
She came to consciousness again to find herself half lying on the Wall, supported by Adam’s arm. His dark face, intent and serious, was within inches of her own. He was trying to unscrew a small flask while still holding her, and now crammed it to her lips.
‘Drink,’ he ordered.
She drank, coughed, felt a surge of life in her veins. ‘I’m sorry—I was faint—no good at heights—’
‘Save your breath—easy now! You won’t be the first who baulked at sight of that drop. I should have checked you were all right, or suggested you walk below the Wall on the other side. Trouble is heights don’t bother me and I tend to forget they worry other people.’
She was conscious of his physical nearness. A trembling assailed her. She remembered again his punishing kiss on the occasion of her first trip to Thornriggs. ‘I think I can stand up now.’
Those green-flecked eyes examined her face, concerned, almost gentle. He helped her to her feet. ‘If you could just help me down into the wood, I’ll be all right to walk on.’
His arm still encircled her in a firm grip. ‘Certainly not. No more walking on today except down to the car and then home for some shock treatment—hot sweet tea.’ He jumped down to the floor of the wood, lifted her from the Wall. ‘I’m sorry, Tina, I was thoughtless. Perhaps because your countrymen must have had nerves of steel to build the Wall in such conditions, I forgot not all Romans might be equally endowed.’
‘I’m sorry too, for spoiling your afternoon. And I was enjoying it so much.’ Her words were faltering, for he was still holding her imprisoned between the Wall and his body. She heard his sharp indrawn breath, a sudden tightening of his grip. He seemed to sigh as he released her.
‘There are always other afternoons.’ He tucked her arm in his. ‘Now, take your time. We’ll walk back slowly.’
They emerged from the wood. The clouds had lifted, a shaft of sunlight crept stealthily over the northern moor, turning dun shades to gold in its path. Above Broomlee Lough, under the shadow of King’s Crag, the clouds still trailed grey scarves of rain.
‘Think you can make it all right to the car?’ Adam turned to survey her critically.
‘Of course. ‘I’m fine now.’
And in a sense it was true. Now that she had recovered from her faintness, apart from a marked weakness at the knees her overwhelming sensation was the memory of his arms about her, confused moments when she had been aware of concern and tenderness. Yet she asked herself if it was any more than the gentleness he would show to a sick animal if the need arose.
They reached the car and he helped her in, but he seemed in no hurry to start. He gazed ahead up the Military Road, and at last said:
‘Sorry again about your fainting spell.’ He turned abruptly to face her. ‘But apart from that, did you enjoy the outing?’
‘Yes, I did.’
He bounced a restless fist on the driving wheel. ‘It is much pleasanter when we drop the barriers. Wouldn’t you agree? Tina, why not be sensible? Why don’t you drop all this animosity concerning your brother?’ He spoke directly and firmly. ‘I have managed to quieten the gossip. Most people now believe the mysterious girl to be a hitch-hiker who took fright. And your
stay as a guest at my house has looked after the rest. Tina, don’t you understand what I’m trying to say?’
A frigid misery came. ‘I’m—not sure.’ she said, wanting him to commit himself further yet afraid of the outcome. His expression was guarded now.
‘What I’m trying to say is this. Need you insist on this business of clearing Bruno’s name? I’ve already told you, the gossip is over and forgotten. Why go on punishing yourself, digging for a nonexistent truth? It’s going to do about as much good as throwing yourself against that Wall up there. No one condemns your brother now. So why not let him rest in peace and start living again?’
‘You say no one condemns him. Does that include yourself?’ she asked shakily.
He hesitated, his eyes sombre. ‘All right, I’ll be honest with you. I still hold him responsible for my sister’s unhappiness. We both know there was that letter from the hotel. You can’t expect me to exonerate him altogether, however much I’ve tried—and believe me, Tina, I’ve leaned over backwards to still the gossip. I’ve also striven to smooth things over on the surface between us.’
‘You ask me to forget?’ She was sick and roused now. ‘You expect me to accept it like that, all comfortably smoothed over, as you put it, while all along I know you still condemn him!’
He said quietly but with a touch of harshness: ‘Is my opinion so important, then?’
She was silent, trapped.
He too was roused now, the old arrogant glint in his eyes. ‘Come on, Tina, I asked you a question. Why should you care? Why turn your days upside down fretting over what I think?’
‘I don’t know.’ She spoke wildly. ‘But I’ve got to change your opinion—I’ve got to! For his sake if not for mine ... And now, please, may I go home?’
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have started all this. It was just that, for an hour, the barriers seemed to be down. The wall you built between us seemed to be crumbling just like those ancient stones up there.’
‘If there’s a wall you built it too,’ she said bitterly. ‘And come to that, you laid the foundations in the first place. Never forget that!’
