Windy Night, Rainy Morrow

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Windy Night, Rainy Morrow Page 18

by Ivy Ferrari


  ‘I tell you it was misty!’ Carrie slammed the paper ‘down, turned to Tina. ‘And what are you smirking about? ... Now, wait a minute. Wait a minute! Last night ... did you know?’

  ‘Not then. It was this morning I remembered about Sandy having a book on Roman uniforms—and about it being the fancy dress dance last night—’

  Adam’s shoulders heaved again.

  ‘He’d planned it to please you, Carrie.’ Tina pleaded.

  ‘Please me!’ Carrie echoed, her face crimson. ‘Why, the great stupid, blithering stooge! I’ll never speak to him again as long as I live—and that’ll be too soon! ... To think I told the whole tale to Everard-Kipps! Wait till he sees that photo. He’ll spread it all over the district—’

  She broke off, lost for words. Mopping his eyes, Adam sat down. ‘Poor old Carrie! And it couldn’t have happened to a nicer person. But you’re right, of course.’ His tones were mock-solemn. ‘This’ll go down in Wall history for all time. You’ll be a local legend!’

  ‘And don’t you start!’ she threatened. ‘It was bad enough babbling the whole thing to you—and then you had to open the paper and show me that ... and you may be sure that phone’ll go any minute—Everard-Kipps trying to gloat. There, what did I tell you! I shall let Isa answer it.’

  Tina’s eyes were drawn to Adam’s, almost reluctantly. The depths of laughter there attracted her. His welling sense of humour, growing as the situation deepened, marched along with her own. She had to whip her gaze away before disgracing herself by further laughter which could only have hurt Carrie.

  ‘You haven’t started your breakfast, Carrie. Have some coffee.’ she urged.

  ‘Couldn’t eat or drink a thing.’

  Adam gave Tina an approving glance. Tina’s right. Come on, Carrie, it’ll only be a nine days’ wonder, after all. Worse things happen at sea.’

  ‘Yes, but you don’t have to live through the nine days. If ever a woman put up a black—’

  Isa poked her head round the door. ‘It was yon man.’ Everard-Kipps. I’d my egg on frying, so I told him you were still in bed.’

  ‘Good old Isa!’ said Carrie.

  ‘No texts this morning?’ As Isa disappeared again Adam’s mouth twitched. ‘If Isa only knew what an opportunity she missed for improving the occasion. A little something from the Epistle to the Romans, perhaps?’

  He ducked as a bread roll flew violently in his direction.

  ‘I know you’re my employer, Adam Copeland.’ Carrie glared, ‘but there comes a time—’

  ‘Oh, do please feel perfectly free to cast your bread upon the waters.’ He grinned again. ‘Sorry, Carrie. I just couldn’t resist it.’

  Carrie looked about to explode, but suddenly collapsed into hysterical laughter. ‘It’s no use ... I’ve just got to see the funny side. S-silver paper helmet and a cardboard spear—but why in heaven’s name was he walking the Wall?’

  ‘To keep his f-feet dry!’ Tina explained in a smothered voice, and filled in further details. This time all three were overcome again. Isa brought in the post and stood watching them in amazement, almost deafened by Adam’s deep diapason of laughter, Carrie’s gasping yelps and Tina’s uncontrolled giggles.

  ‘The post’s come!’ Isa shouted. And as no one responded she drew herself up, intoning:

  ‘As the crackling of thorns under a pot, so is the laughter of the fool. Ecclesiastes!’ She slammed the door behind her.

  This convulsed them all again. But at last Carrie subsided.

  ‘There now, no one can say I can’t laugh at myself! But that doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven him. He needn’t come round me any more with his pipes and his “Cushie Butterfield”.’

  ‘But, Carrie, he did ask you to the dance.’ Adam reminded her. ‘If you’d gone—’

  ‘Well, I didn’t.’ Something in her tone made Tina straighten her face. Carrie pushed back her plate, showing a lightning change of mood. ‘It’s not being made to look a fool I mind so much—people think I’m pretty odd as it is.’

  ‘What do you mind, then?’ Adam demanded. He too had sensed Carrie’s sudden depression.

  Carrie sat staring at the table. ‘For years now I’ve wished for three things. One was to make a big find on a dig ... Well, that happened with the Mithraeum temple. The second was to have a psychic experience on the Wall—to catch a glimpse of the past. And last night; it seemed I’d got my wish, that the veil of the centuries had been lifted and...’ She paused. ‘Instead I’ve made an all-time fool of myself, falling for some old tinfoil and a cardboard spear ... Well, now I know, don’t I? Miracles don’t just happen in this day and age. Least of all to me.’

  She threw down her napkin, snatched a handkerchief from her pocket and blew her nose furiously.

  ‘And the third wish?’ Adam asked quietly. But Carrie had gone blindly from the room.

  His gaze met Tina’s. ‘And just what was all that about?’ He sounded genuinely bewildered.

  Tina shook her head. But she thought she knew, for all that. The third wish concerned Lofty. And Carrie might well have reasoned that if the spirit of a long-dead legionary could come to life, there might still be a chance of the third miracle—the return of Lofty.

  But she said nothing. ‘Poor Carrie.’ Adam said musingly. ‘We weren’t too unkind, were we?’ And his look plainly told her that in that shared laughter they had entered into a strange new fellowship of feeling, that for those few hilarious moments she had been one with him in mood and enjoyment.

  She shook her head. ‘I think Carrie knew we were laughing with her, not at her.’

  ‘Exactly. I felt sure you would have given anything not to have to tell her. But she’d already found out, as it happened.’ He paused. ‘We must all make a bit of a fuss of her until she’s over it. Heaven knows, she deserves it.’

  Tina had told herself exactly the same. And as Adam left the room she felt a distinct sense of loss. How near they were to each other in many things, after all. Yet the difference that separated them was as wide and deep as ever. No superficial understanding could really bridge it.

  A few days passed in which Carrie was notably quiet, and made no further reference to the unfortunate ‘haunting’. That George Everard-Kipps had spread the story was only too evident, for Isa heard it from the travelling butcher, who got it down at the Brown Cow, where it was relayed to a fascinated saloon bar by a sales rep. from Hexham, who had heard it in the County Hotel.

  Whether Carrie had seen Sandy and had it out with him was another matter, but she revealed nothing and Tina respected her silence while at the same time following Adam’s injunction to ‘make a fuss of her’.

  Carrie had endured the extra attentions for a day and a half, then rounded on Tina quite fiercely. ‘Oh, for Pete’s sake, girl, I’m not ill. Stop dancing attendance. All right, so I’ve got things on my mind. It doesn’t make me a drooling invalid, does it?’

  ‘Sorry, Carrie.’

  ‘I’m the one who should be sorry—just a crotchety stupid woman with middle-aged fancies. That’s what they’ll be saying, you know. It’s her age—’

  ‘Why, Carrie, age has never worried you, has it? You always said you were as young as you feel.’

  ‘Quite right, so I did. Well; now I feel about a hundred. I can’t even get excited about the Mithraeum temple right now. And no wonder, when I’ve upset one of the best men who ever—’

  She broke off, conscious of having said more than she intended. It was a bright spring evening, the coloured moor calling to Tina with all its freedom. White-winged peewits wheeled over the undulating distances, and fat Iambs grazed peaceably with their mothers beside the unfenced track. She decided to walk to Quarry Farm and find out for herself how Rosie was reacting to the hospital plan.

  To her surprise she found the house and farmyard deserted, though the back door was well ajar. Jamey and Francey’s absence was understandable at that hour of the evening, and the twins must be out playing. Possibly Matt had gone to round them
up.

  She called softly up the stairs of the pigeon loft, just in case he was quietly awaiting the return of some of his birds. No answer came, but there was a flash of white wings over her head. A snowy pigeon had just fluttered through the bob-stays into the trap.

  Odd, Tina thought, as no bell gave warning. Matt couldn’t have been expecting this bird, then. Was it a stray from a previous race, perhaps? So many things could happen to delay a pigeon, she knew.

  She ran up the stone stairs and into the loft Just as she had seen Matt do, she threw a handful of maize to the birds clustered in the trap. As they picked daintily she slipped in her hand and carefully lifted the white pigeon. For without doubt there was a tiny message roll attached to one pink leg.

  Tina detached the strip of paper, gently replaced the pigeon and closed the door of the trap. Perhaps the message would solve the mystery of the lone bird. The slip of paper was only one inch wide by three long, and held a very short message. Yet Tina’s gaze remained transfixed for some minutes.

  ‘Dear Matt,’ she read, ‘I’ll watch it, don’t worry. Love, Helen.’

  Her heart seemed to contract Helen and Matt, after all! And this was how they kept in touch!

  It was fantastic, yet so simple. By this means, centuries old, Matt had continued an effortless communication with Helen despite Adam’s policing methods. Matt need only send a basket of pigeons up to the farm with Jamey, whose deliveries would go unremarked, and Helen could launch a bird at any time from the farm buildings.

  She remembered that other message Matt had read here, how he had lied over it. Still rigid, her mind racing, she saw again the creamy flutter of wings over the Thornriggs trees. So that was how Matt knew she had been there. Pigeons could fly faster than a car could ride.

  Come to that ... Tina counted the narrow pecking heads of the birds. Yes, three of them were strange to her. Matt would certainly have told her of any new acquisitions, so these could be pigeons from Turret Farm, forming a two-way system...

  A shadow fell beside her. With a little ay she spun round Matt had come silently up the stairs in old canvas shoes. He leaned against the wall just inside the door, his chest heaving as if he had been running.

  ‘I saw the bird from over the moor.’ He held out his hand. ‘And m thank you for that message, Tina. You’d no right to read it.’ He took the slip, read it at a glance and twisted it up.

  ‘I know that—now.’ A chill stole over her at the cold anger in his eyes. She backed clumsily against the trap, causing a rubbery commotion of wings. ‘I was curious—I just thought it was race news. You once told me—’

  ‘Aye, I did. Well, now you know.’

  Her chill was now a distinct nausea. ‘You—and Helen? And you were Bruno’s friend or professed to be.’

  He eyed her steadily, his gaze still kindled. ‘Think what you like. Remember I knew her long before you Rutherfords ever set foot on the Wall.’

  ‘But she was engaged to Bruno!’

  That doesn’t mean she has to give up old friends, does it?’ There was a certain chosen deliberation about the words.

  ‘I still can’t believe it.’ She found herself trembling. ‘You both deceived him, all along.’

  Matt shook his head. ‘It wasn’t really like that, Tina. You don’t understand.’

  ‘Then tell me.’ She was tearful now. ‘Matt, you don’t mean you’re hiding something from me about Bruno?’

  He shook his head

  ‘You lied to me before. How do I know what is the truth now?’

  ‘My first loyalty is to Helen—try to understand that, Tina. And believe me, I hated lying to you—you of all people. But a promise is a promise.’

  ‘And you’re meeting her—still seeing her—’

  He shrugged. ‘Don’t read more into that note than it actually says.’

  ‘Perhaps I can read between the lines.’ She still felt weak and shaken, but struggled to calm herself. ‘Matt, you know I can’t keep quiet about this, don’t you—that I’ve got to tell Adam Copeland. You must realise I’ve got to notch up one thing on Bruno’s side. Adam believes Helen to be blameless. Now I can prove she isn’t. Can’t you see how important this is to me?’

  ‘I see only one thing.’ Matt lowered himself to a box and folded his arms about the knees of his faded jeans. ‘You can tell him about the pigeons and the message, yes. What you can’t do is prove I had anything to do with Helen while she was engaged to Bruno ... Well, can you?’

  ‘No, I can’t.’ Tina felt her weak knees would scarcely support her any longer. She too pulled up a box and crouched there, still with that clenching chill in her body. ‘But Adam’s no fool. If there’s more to learn he’ll get it out of you.’

  Matt made an impatient sound. ‘You might think he always wins. Not with me he doesn’t ... All right, Tina, you tell him. But I warn you you might send Helen back to square one as far as her health is concerned.’

  Tina stared. ‘Why, is she so frightened of her brother?’

  ‘No, it’s not that.’ Matt’s head drooped over his bare arms. The sunlight picked out the fine fair hairs running in a groove from wrist to elbow. ‘Tina, when you were a kid did you ever play that game with the pile of matches—where you had to pull out the bottom one without disturbing the others?’

  Wondering, she nodded.

  ‘Well, that’s just what you’ll be doing if you tell Adam Copeland about that message. And believe me, Tina, the pile won’t stand. It’ll topple about all our ears.’

  He stood up. ‘You’d better go. And I’d advise you to think hard before you say anything. Think hard, Tina. And I’m not asking you for my sake—remember that.’

  She stumbled to her feet, gave him a long look of doubt and misery, then brushed blindly past him and down the steps.

  She scarcely remembered her walk across the moor. In the hall at Hadrian’s Edge, still flustered and shocked, she almost blundered into Adam, who had stooped to caress the dog.

  ‘Hallo, you’re in a tearing hurry! I don’t think supper will be ready yet.’ He smiled at her. ‘Isa had an upsetting interview with a gipsy at the back door and has already burned one batch of potatoes.’

  ‘Yes, I can smell them.’ Tina lingered politely, yet longing to escape to her room.

  ‘I’ve got news for you,’ he went on. ‘I’ve just been on the phone to Helen’s doctor. It seems she has made so much improvement she can come home next week.’

  ‘Oh!’ Tina’s heart raced.

  ‘Unless, of course, she happened to have a setback.’ he finished.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘So this means.’ Tina stammered, ‘you won’t want me to stay at Hadrian’s Edge after next week?’

  Adam straightened, gave her a long direct look. ‘Whatever put that idea into your head?’

  ‘I thought you didn’t wish Helen and me to meet?’

  ‘While she was ill, no. There’s no reason now why you shouldn’t. She’s made such progress that the risk of upsetting her is over. That is, of course, if you behave as I fully expect you will making every consideration for her position.’ It was the old domination in full sway.

  ‘And if I don’t?’

  His eyebrows lifted, creasing his forehead in a way she found unbearably endearing. ‘If you don’t? But that won’t arise. Your sense of a guest’s responsibilities has always been acute—with perhaps a few exceptions.’ Tina knew he meant the two abortive attempts to reach Turret House. ‘Of course’—he paused—’you may prefer to leave. If so I shall be very sorry, but that’s something you must decide for yourself.’

  Sorry ... He would be sorry. She nursed the thought, all others scattering before it.

  ‘Well?’ There was something of impatience in his tone.

  ‘I should like to stay, thank you.’

  ‘Good!’ He walked into his office, leaving her confused and uncertain. Why had he assumed she might want to leave? Because her efforts on Bruno’s behalf had failed? Yet something told her she
was so near the solution. Perhaps she could persuade Matt to tell her more. Even Helen herself might reveal something of the truth.

  She escaped to her room with much food for thought. What exactly was Matt’s relationship to Helen? And what did Adam really feel about his sister’s return, with all its attendant responsibilities?

  With a sinking heart she realised that Hadrian’s Edge would never be quite the same again, that Helen’s return would destroy the magic which for her had grown about this house. For the girl whom Bruno had loved was still a stranger to her, would seem almost an interloper. It was unreasonable, unfair, but she couldn’t help her feelings.

  Next day on the dig she sought out Chris and asked if she could lunch with him. ‘I’ve brought sandwiches.’ she explained. ‘Something’s happened, Chris—something I think you ought to know.’

  Chris, who was abnormally busy at his rough table in the tarpaulin shelter overlooking the site, looked at her first unseeingly. Before him was a welter of photographs, drawings, unanswered correspondence and labelled objects from the dig.

  ‘You’ll be lucky!’ he said at last. ‘I don’t know that I’ll be having any lunch. I’m up to the eyes with this lot. Then I’ve got that expert on Mithraeum lore coming at eleven, and another study group from the museums after that. The news is spreading, you know. Everyone wants to be in on it. As it is I’ve had to leave supervision of that last layer to Carrie—though I’d give anything to be down there using a trowel instead...’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘Is it really important, Tina?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Well, I’ll try to spare you ten minutes. I suppose I’ve got to eat. Now run away, there’s a good girl.’

  Tina was not unduly despondent. She knew that the last week or so had been a crucial point in Chris’s career, that on his handling depended the whole success of the excavation. He was doing not only his share of the work but Bruno’s too, she reminded herself, and freely forgive him for his impatience with her personal problems in the immediate past. Even he must see the importance of her discovery concerning Matt.

 

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