by Ivy Ferrari
‘Perhaps I was. Do you wonder at it?’
‘I can’t say I was too keen on you getting entangled with that lot, but excepting Francey, you seem to have impressed them all. You’ve even got Rosie eating out of your hand.’ He paused, his voice softened. ‘And you can’t fool children, after all.’
Tina was silent. His flattery, such as it was, hurt almost as much as his former criticism, she couldn’t think why.
‘Oh, by the way.’ he went on, ‘your friend Chris Irwin seems to have taken to squiring Francey around. I’ve seen her in his car a time or two.’
‘Does it annoy you?’ asked Tina, greatly daring, as the Land-Rover grated to a stop in the front drive.
He laughed easily. ‘Why should I mind? My interest in Francey these days is confined to the welfare of her family.’
‘But you were in love with her once?’
He looked with a fixed gaze through the windscreen. ‘I prefer to call it an animal attraction. And flames like those die as suddenly as they flare. Being in love, now—’ He swung to face her, eyeing her boldly. ‘You must agree that is a different emotion altogether. There must be a linking of the spirit too—’
He broke off. ‘Haven’t you found it so?’ His voice was now deliberately light. ‘Or perhaps you haven’t been in love yet?’
Tina’s gaze locked with his. She felt powerless, her breath gone. The long moment was unbearably tense. Then—‘I don’t know.’ she said lamely.
A shadow crossed his face. ‘You’ll know, when the time comes.’ But his tone was abrupt to the point of coldness, and after she got out, his manoeuvring of the Land-Rover held a hint of savagery. Shaken, she found refuge in the house.
Though Tina wondered at intervals the next day how Rosie had fared with the health visitor, she was much too busy and absorbed on the dig to have time to make any enquiries, even if she had felt it wise to visit Quarry Farm again so soon.
Further intensive excavations had revealed without doubt the outlines of a former Mithraeum temple, possibly rebuilt once and then destroyed in a later century. Chris was now sure enough of his discovery to allow news leakage to the press, and in the next few days it was expected that several eminent archaeologists would descend on the site to give advice and form opinions.
At supper that night both Tina and Carrie were tired. A day of alternating suspense and discovery, of feverish work and abnormal excitement, left them both drained and quiet. Adam had heard of the new discovery and shown a satisfactory if scarcely fanatical interest. But he also had news of his own to impart.
‘I’ve just phoned the health visitor. It seems she gave Rosie a good going-over and discovered her tonsils and glands were in a pretty bad state. That little hussy must have concealed a good deal of pain at times. Anyway the upshot is hospital and the removal of her tonsils. The health visitor made no bones about it and it seems Rosie took it rather well.’
‘You mean she seemed to?’ Tina asked. ‘Surely she’s clever enough to conceal her feelings as well as her pain?’
He gave her an exasperated glance but remained silent.
‘Poor little thing.’ said Carrie. ‘She must have suffered quite a lot. I suppose this was why she was eating badly?’
‘Obviously. Also it seems the girl who sat beside her at school, Alice Tate, had the operation last year and made great drama out of it, thereby scaring Rosie more than ever ...A pity Matt or Francey hadn’t the gumption to guess the trouble, but there it is. I admit myself there were times when the child seemed perfectly normal.’
After the meal, Adam disappeared to his office and Carrie and Tina lingered over coffee. Tina thought the moment might be propitious to further Sandy’s cause and mentioned the fancy dress dance again.
‘When is it, Friday?’ Carrie asked carelessly. ‘I said I might go, but would let him know the night before. He doesn’t seem to understand just how involved I am with this terrific discovery at the dig. I wouldn’t mind betting he’s never heard of Mithras or his bull.’ Her tone was clearly derisive. ‘And when he does, he’s sure to make some awful pun about it.’
‘It’s just his way, Carrie. He says he can’t seem to chat women up any other way—just has to tease them and make clumsy jokes.’
‘Well, he needn’t practise on me.’ Carrie said decidedly.
‘You might go to the dance, then?’
‘I doubt it. But no harm in making Mm sweat a bit. Serve him right for poking fun at the dig.’
‘Poor Sandy!’
‘Poor Sandy my foot!’ Tina thought it best to desist.
On Thursday Carrie eventually sent Sandy a note begging to be excused from the dance.
Yet on the Friday evening, as she and Tina sat by the fire in her den, she seemed restless and kept alluding to it.
‘After a day on the dig like we’ve had, it’s just as well I didn’t arrange to go.’ she said. ‘I’d have been a wet blanket.’
Silence for a few minutes, then: ‘I don’t say I’ll never go to one of his dances, though. But I’ve too much on my mind at the moment.’
They were both tired enough for bed by eleven o’clock, but the fire proved so soothing they lingered. It was nearly midnight when Carrie announced she would have a last cigarette and then go to bed.
She scrabbled in her bag. ‘Oh, blast! I haven’t, have I? Yes, I have, though. Left my lighter on the dig. I know just where it is too—on a stone ledge in my section.’
‘It’ll still be there in the morning, won’t it?’ Tina was surprised to see Carrie get up, obviously perturbed.
‘I daresay. But I think I’ll take a torch and find it now. I know you’ll think I’m crazy, but I’ve had it a long time. It was a present.’
Tina guessed at Lofty and understood. There would be no sleep for Carrie that night until the lighter was safe.
‘Want me to come with you?’ she asked.
‘No, thanks. It’s misty out. You’d better stay by the fire, or go to bed. Besides, you know me. I rather like the Wall after dark. I don’t suppose I’ll be above twenty minutes.’
‘I’ll wait up for you.’ Tina said. She stretched out in her armchair, only now as she relaxed realising how tired she was. She switched off the standard lamp. The clock ticked gently, the firelight danced off the shining models of Carrie’s aeroplanes. Her eyes closed and she sank into a delicious state of half sleep.
She was awakened abruptly by the door crashing open. Carrie stood there, pale to the lips, yet with a triumphant shining in her eyes. Alarmed, Tina shook off her drowsiness.
‘Carrie, what is it?’
Carrie shut the door and leaned against it, still in her old raincoat. She seemed to be struggling for breath. ‘I ran all the way home to tell you ... I still don’t believe it But I saw it, Tina—saw it with my own eyes—’
Tina went over to her. ‘Carrie, please come and sit down. You’ve had a shock, haven’t you?’ She was more concerned than curious at that moment, intent on getting Carrie to a fireside chair and helping her off with her coat.
‘A shock! I’ll say I have!’ Carrie leaned back and closed her eyes until her breathing came more evenly. When she sat up and looked at Tina again that shining triumph was still evident.
‘I told you, didn’t!’ she said at last, ‘that things were seen along the Wall on moonlit nights that no one would believe. I’d always, hoped, dreamed, that some time that veil would lift and I would see something ... but this!’
‘But what, Carrie?’ Tina knelt beside her, still concerned but now stirred to curiosity.
‘I’ll tell you, all in good time. Just give me a minute. Hand me those cigarettes first ... Oh yes, I got my lighter all right. This happened afterwards—’
‘Carrie, what was it?’
‘I’m coming to it. I told you it was misty, didn’t I? Well, so it is—ground mist in patches, actually, but the moonlight comes through quite clearly here and there. It was pretty eerie on the dig, I can tell you, with all those dark woods at the back
. Only the sound of the wind in the trees and owls calling. I found my lighter first go off. Then I put my torch out—I don’t quite know why.’ Carrie gazed at her in what was almost despair. The trouble is you’ll never believe it, never in a million years. But I swear I saw it. You know me—I’m not one of your hysterical sort.’
She took another drag at her cigarette. ‘I was just standing there, on the west side of the dig, looking at the Wall. You know how it humps up over the rise there, then disappears into the hollow and then you see it climbing up to the sky again over Ewe Hill?’
‘Yes, yes.’
It was there I saw him.’ Carrie’s voice dropped in awe. ‘A white figure on top of the Wall, marching down the slope from Ewe Hill.’
‘A—figure?’ A shiver ran like a mouse down Tina’s spine.
‘Yes, but that’s not all. I was petrified from the first because he seemed to be wearing a helmet. The moonlight picked out the flash of the metal. Then he disappeared into the dip. It took him a few minutes to walk that bit I just couldn’t move. I don’t think I even breathed. Then—Oh, my God—’ she covered her face. ‘I wanted to run, Tina, but I was rooted there. He—he breasted the rise of the Wall and came down the bit where it joins the northwest corner of the dig. He—he was a Roman soldier, Tina—a sentry. I even recognised the uniform. The First Cohort of Tungrians—you know they were stationed at Housesteads.’
Tina gazed at her, speechless.
The First Cohort of Tungrians!’ she repeated dazedly.
‘That’s right. The helmet, the folding of the toga, the breastplates and the crossed sandals ... Tina, how do you think I felt? I couldn’t see his face properly. He was just like a wraith under the moon, but I could hear his feet—this was the most eerie thing—just the sound of his feet marching. And then—he left the Wall where it crumbles away and just Walked on along its line, into the woods ... Don’t you see, Tina, what I saw was the ghost of a Roman sentry—’ Carrie’s voice sunk in awe—‘patrolling the Wall between Housesteads and Chesters, just as he must have done sixteen centuries ago.’
‘A ghost, Carrie?’ Tina was still trying to cope with utter disbelief.
‘What else? Oh, this’ll beat everything Everard-Kipps says he’s seen. He’ll never better this.’
Tina shook her head. ‘I don’t get it—Carrie, are you sure?’
‘Meaning you think I dreamed it all.’ Carrie shook her head. ‘You’ve got to take my word for it—I saw him plain as if—as if he’d been on television.’ She turned to the telephone. ‘I’ve a good mind to ring Everard-Kipps now. He’s never in bed until the small hours...’
While Carrie, still breathless and starry-eyed, began to dial, Tina was conscious of a strange disquiet. There was something teasing her mind, some connection with a part of Carrie’s story. But it wouldn’t come...
Neither could she rid herself of a strong sensation of trouble in the air. Even Carrie’s understandable hurry to contact the pompous Everard-Kipps seemed unwise.
‘Is that George Everard-Kipps? ... Yes, I’ll hang on.’
Tina seized her arm. ‘Carrie, should you? I mean—just now, when you’re so worked up about it. In the morning you—’
Carrie gave her a withering glance. ‘You think I’ll call myself all kinds of a stooge in the morning, thinking I dreamed it all. Oh no, Tina—now, please, I’m trying to speak ... George, is that you? Carrie here. Now, just hold your horses. I’ve got something that’ll really give you copy for the North Tyne Chronicle—’
Tina gave’ up and left the room, still oddly disturbed. Most ghosts, she believed, had a rational explanation. And there was still that strong feeling that something about Carrie’s story rang a distant bell of recognition.
But no, she couldn’t think what it was...
She decided to leave Carrie to Everard-Kipps and go to bed. Half way up the stairs Adam hailed her from the office door. ‘What was all the excitement about?’
The door of Carrie’s den was a little open, and the heightened pitch of her voice, though not the words, must have reached him.
‘Carrie—well, she made another discovery. She’ll probably tell you herself.’ No point in spoiling Carrie’s story, she considered.
‘Oh, you mean on the dig?’ He shrugged resignedly. ‘I just wondered ... Good-night, Tina.’
‘Good-night.’
Tina slept badly, haunted by Carrie’s ghost, by a host of possible explanations, and still with that teasing knowledge that somewhere there was a tiny clue.
She woke early, reminded herself it was Saturday. And last night was Friday...
And then, in a flash, she knew! There could be no lying in bed now. The house was still quiet as she ran downstairs, the dew heavy on the lawns as she ran towards the woods. She was glad to see Sandy’s chimney smoke against the trees. Her tap at the door brought him out, pipe in hand.
‘Hallo, pet! What’s up?’
Tina was breathless from running. ‘Can I come in a minute? It’s—important. Something about Carrie.’
‘Not hurt—ill?’ She saw fear settle in his vivid blue eyes.
‘No, she’s fine.’
‘Better come in, pet, and have a cup of tea. I’m just busy with my breakfast.’ He moved the newly-opened copy of the North Tyne Chronicle and set out another mug. ‘There, and help yourself’ to sugar. Sit down, hinney. You’re all of a shake ... Why, you’re laughing. What is it—some kind of a joke?’
Tina controlled herself. ‘Sandy—last night, did you go to the fancy dress dance—on your own?’
‘Why, aye! I was playing there. I’d promised to give a turn on the pipes while the band had their supper.’
‘And you went dressed up? As a Roman soldier?’
That’s right.’ His eyes glowed, then faded. ‘It was to be a surprise for Carrie. Yon book you saw—’
‘I know, Sandy, I know.’ Tina groaned. That’s how I guessed—I remembered it was open at a page of Roman uniforms—’
‘Aye, and it looked a treat, pet. Here, look—’ He snatched up the paper. Tina’s mouth was twitching almost uncontrollably, to Sandy’s amazement.
‘Just a minute.’ she begged, pushing the paper aside. ‘Did you by any chance walk along the Wall—over Ewe Hill?’
He stared. ‘Aye, I did. And I’ll tell you why, though it beats me how you know. My old car conked out at Dyke Farm crossroads, and I couldn’t get her started, so I just left her there and took the quick cut home. It was wet underfoot, and I just had yon cardboard Roman sandals I’d made—left my own shoes in the car. So I got up on the Wall for drier walking.’
Tina made a strangled sound and hid her streaming eyes. ‘Oh, Sandy, you don’t know what you’ve done!’
‘What do you mean, pet?’ He was alarmed now.
‘Only that Carrie went to the dig last night, to find a lighter she’d lost. And she saw you!’
Sandy sat transfixed, his mug poised in the air.
‘Don’t you see—’ Tina pleaded almost hysterically. ‘She saw you, but she had no idea it was you. How could she? She thought you were the ghost of a Roman sentry ... I just guessed what had happened this morning, but I’m too late, anyway. Last night she rang up that man on the North Tyne Chronicle—’
Sandy set down his mug with a crash. His mouth dropped open. ‘Oh no, hinney!’
‘That’s why I’m here.’ Tina hurried on, still fighting a threatening convulsion of laughter. ‘If you keep quiet about it—about your fancy dress, I mean, there’s just a chance she won’t hear about it—’
‘But it’s too late, pet!’ he exploded. ‘Look here!’
He folded the paper and handed it over. Under the caption ‘Fancy Dress at Elswhistle’ was a picture of some of the revellers, Sandy well to the fore in his Roman outfit. The smaller print read: ‘One of the most striking costumes was that of Mr. Sandy Armstrong, dressed as a Roman legionary...’
‘Oh no!’ Tina slumped back in her chair.
Sandy took the pap
er from her, sat folding it with intense concentration, then raised his eyes to hers. A wild merriment sparked between them. Sandy threw back his head and roared. Tina ached and choked along with him.
‘It’s so f-funny and yet so awful.’ she gasped at last. ‘Poor Carrie, if it gets out that you were her ghost she’ll be the butt of the district.’
‘Aye, she will.’ He sobered again. ‘And if I know it, I’ve put paid to my chances now. This’ll finish her with me.’ He began to look positively gloomy.
‘But it wasn’t your fault.’ Tina too had controlled herself by now and was all ruefulness.
‘It wasn’t my fault—and yet it was. For I planned a surprise for her, and it was a surprise she got, right enough. Only the wrong kind.’ He paused a moment. ‘Do you get the Chronicle up at the house?’
‘I’m afraid so. And Carrie always reads it at breakfast.’
‘Couldn’t you make away with it? Lose it or summat?’
‘No use. Isa has her own copy and she rakes it from cover to cover. It’s sure to get out one way or the other. Better let her know and get over it.’
‘Aye, maybe that’s best.’ He gave Tina a resigned grin. ‘It’ll maybe teach her to come to the dances when she’s asked ... I’ll tell you another funny thing. It was because I was that disappointed she hadn’t come I left the dance early. A trick of fate, you might say.’
Tina got up to go. ‘Poor old Sandy! And you meant so well.’
‘Aye, but that’s poor comfort. Here now, you’d best be away. It doesn’t do to be seen visiting a bachelor before breakfast I wouldn’t like you to get yourself talked about ... Oh, and Tina, if you get the chance, tell her I’m right sorry, and that I’ll be seeing her to explain.’
Tina nodded and left the cottage. Her feet dragged on the return journey and she walked into the dining-room in some dread. Her worst expectations were fulfilled. Carrie, with a face of doom, was staring at the photograph in the North Tyne Chronicle, while Adam supported himself against the sideboard, wiping his eyes, his broad shoulders heaving.
‘Carrie, you’ll be the death of me! First Cohort of Tungrians, eh? A Roman sentry doing guard duty! And all he probably had was an old sheet and some cooking foil!’
