Windy Night, Rainy Morrow

by Ivy Ferrari

  At first she had been too absorbed in finding Rosie to notice the wind, but now it sounded on a new high note of howling chaos. Even in their sheltered position each gust shook the rough hut, whipped the branches against its roof, swirled dead leaves and twigs under the lintel of the door.

  She tried to explain the position to Rosie, as casually as she could. ‘There are lots of people out looking for you, Rosie, but I was the only one who thought of coming here. We can’t move you, so we’ll just have to wait until we hear someone calling—’

  A faint hope, she thought.

  Rosie snuggled up to her. ‘How did you come to think of here? It was my secret.’

  ‘Just a guess, Rosie.’ She questioned her about her own way in to the maze of bushes. Rosie was a little scornful.

  ‘My, you are daft, Tina, coming down the stones. If you’d gone the other way there’s a landslide—it comes straight through to the hut.’ She huddled closer. ‘Listen to the wind—it’ll blow all night, likely. We’ll get our deaths of cold here.’

  ‘No, we won’t. We’ve still got some more brandy. And here, you take my anorak—you’ve got to remember your sore throat. I’ve got a thick sweater.’ But Tina shivered as she removed the layer of padded nylon which had kept out every draught ‘We’ll pretend we’re camping.’ she told Rosie. ‘It’ll be quite fun.’ Rosie gave her such a look of misery her heart nearly stopped. ‘We’ll be all right, darling. As soon as the wind drops I’ll go out and keep calling for help.’

  Rosie sniffed a little. ‘I’m not feared—not now you’re here.’

  ‘What is it, then? Are you worried about Matt being angry? We all know you’re not looking forward to going into hospital, Rosie. I’m sure Matt will understand you just panicked.’

  Rosie stared. ‘The hospital?’

  ‘Yes, wasn’t that the reason you ran away?’

  ‘No, ’course it wasn’t!’ Rosie’s tone was scathing. ‘I’m no’ feared of the hospital any more.’

  ‘How is that, then?’

  ‘ ’Cos of Daring Denise. She was in hospital this week—in my comic.’

  ‘Oh!’ Tina began to see light.

  ‘Aye, she had a great time.’ Rosie warmed to the subject. ‘She was let to take the trays round. An’ the doctors, they gave her rides in the wheelchairs. An’ when the cross Sister made all the bairns unhappy Denise sorted it all out ... An’ Denise, she liked Nurse Loveday best, ’cos she was pretty. Nurse Loveday was in love with Doctor Strangeways, but she thought he was after the staff nurse. So on the night of the hospital ball Denise pretended she’d had a collapse, to keep Staff on the ward, an’ Doctor Strangeways, he danced with Nurse Loveday all night an’ they got engaged. So Doctor Strangeways, he bought Denise a brand new bike—just what she’d always wanted!’

  ‘Really?’ Tina was divided between amusement and new concern. After Rosie had prattled away at some length about Daring Denise she said quietly, ‘Rosie, why did you run away?’ She remembered now those earlier incoherent words—‘I don’t care what she does to me.’

  ‘Was it Francey—was she cross with you?’ she pressed.

  Rosie stared again. ‘Francey? Why, no, it wasn’t Francey.’

  ‘Don’t you want to tell me, then?’

  Rosie was silent. Tina heard a desolate sniff. Then:

  ‘What’s it like in prison, Tina?’

  ‘Prison! Rosie, what are you talking about?’

  ‘Not prison really, but those homes for naughty girls—re something.’

  ‘Remand homes?’

  ‘Aye.’ Rosie’s voice was muffled with tears now. ‘She said she would have me sent there.’

  ‘Who? Who said that?’ Tina was disturbed. There was no doubting the fear in the child’s voice. ‘Come on, Rosie—you can tell me.’

  The thin arms tightened about her. A new gust of wind, buffeting the front of the hut, sent a swirl of debris under the door. Rosie was shivering. ‘It was her—Helen Copeland. And she’s coming back tomorrow. That’s why I ran away to hide.’

  ‘Helen Copeland! Rosie, do you know what you’re saying?’

  Rosie hid her face. ‘She nabbed me, scrumping apples from Hadrian’s Edge. She said naughty girls who stole apples got put in homes. But I didn’t think she meant it—not then.’

  Tina was puzzled. ‘When was this?’

  ‘Oh, before Bruno came. But it was after that I saw—’ She broke off. ‘I wish I’d never seen them.’ she said passionately. ‘But I couldn’t help it. I was in the tree house, an’ I pelted them with acorns, just for fun. But she saw me.’

  ‘Wait a minute.’ Tina’s mouth was suddenly dry. ‘Whom did you see? Helen and—’

  But Rosie shook her head. ‘I’m feared to tell you. She’ll find out.’

  ‘No, she won’t. And even if she did, I wouldn’t let her hurt you. Rosie, who was it?’

  Rosie said slowly. ‘It was yon man—Mr. Irwin from the dig. They were kissing when I saw them.’

  ‘Chris—Mr. Irwin from the dig? Rosie, you’re sure?’ Tina was stunned.

  ‘Aye, it was him. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen them, mind. They kept meeting in the woods. I saw them from some of my other hidey-holes too. Bobby saw them as well. We used to track them.’

  Tina sat silent, fighting a sick horror. Chris—Bruno’s friend. The treachery of it was almost unbelievable.

  ‘But this was when Helen was engaged to Bruno, you mean?’ she asked.

  ‘Aye, it was. Bobby and me, we wanted to tell Bruno, but Helen, she waited for me out of school and said if we ever told a mortal soul she’d go to the police about the apples. She said Mr. Copeland would send me to a Home ’cos he’s a magistrate and he wouldn’t be able to let me off. She—she said they’d shut me up all alone if I was bad.’

  Tina’s anger almost overcame her shock. ‘And all the time since you’ve been frightened? Is that why you wouldn’t eat?’

  ‘I felt sick a lot, thinking about it. And some nights I couldn’t sleep. Bobby said she couldn’t do it, but he was all right—it wasn’t him who was nabbed wi’ the apples.’

  Tina was silent. How simple, how fiendishly simple the whole mystery was becoming. Rosie’s behaviour, Chris’s strange reluctance to dig for the truth concerning Bruno. But even so, this was only the beginning.

  ‘Rosie, is that all? Is there anything else you have to tell me? Anything about Bruno?’

  Rosie nodded. ‘Bruno found me crying in the woods. He made me tell him. I was feared, but he said he wouldn’t let anybody hurt me. So I told him and he was right angry, but he said to keep quiet till he’d looked into it. Then—’

  The child paused. ‘Then what, Rosie?’ Tina heard her own voice sharpen with anxiety.

  Rosie began to sniffle-again. ‘Bruno had yon accident just a few days after. An’ when he died I knew I’d no one on my side again, so I was still scared—of her. An’ even when she went up to Thornriggs to stay, she sent a message to me by Jamey to say not to forget the apples an’ that she’d see me when she got home again.’

  ‘And that’s everything?’ Tina asked.

  Rosie nodded. ‘But she’s coming home the mom! I’m feared, Tina.’

  Tina tried to pull herself together. Time enough, if Rosie slept, to mull over the horror of what she had heard. The first thing was to reassure the frightened child at her side.

  ‘Listen, Rosie. She can’t send you to a Home. And Mr. Copeland would never do such a thing. Why, how could you think so? Hasn’t he always tried to help you all? Didn’t he get you a council house? Doesn’t he worry when you miss school and fall ill? Didn’t he pretend not to see your tree house and shut his eyes to all kinds of things? Why, he probably knows all about the scrumping, anyway. Nothing goes on round here that Mr. Copeland doesn’t know about.’

  ‘Aye, but she might ask him to—make an example of me. That’s what she said.’

  ‘Rosie, I promise you he won’t. She was only trying to frighten you to keep quiet. Now you’
re to stop worrying and try to get some sleep. The wind’s not so strong again. ‘I’m going to stand outside and call for help. They may be searching the woods very near here ... Why, Rosie, don’t you know it was Mr. Copeland who organised the search for you? He’s out there now, you know, in all the wind and the rain, and he won’t give up until he’s found you.’

  ‘Is that right?’ Rosie sounded awed.

  ‘Of course it is. Now lie down, and let me put my anorak over you. Close your eyes and try to sleep. Promise?’

  ‘Promise,’ Rosie said drowsily, and curled into a ball, hugging herself with her arms for warmth.

  Many times that long night Tina stood shivering outside the hut door, often drenched with rain, calling and calling, hearing her voice tossed to silence on the wind. Many times too, she crouched beside Rosie, unable to sleep, hearing the endless creaking of the rotten walls, like a ship at sea, watching the leaves driven in droves under the door.

  Chris—and Helen ... The one solution she had never guessed, would never have known but for Rosie. When had it begun? she wondered Possibly even before Bruno arrived. Hadn’t Chris stayed six months at the dig on preliminary arrangements before Bruno came to Hadrian’s Edge? And had it ended yet, or was it still going on? Was this why Bruno had taken another girl on that fatal journey? It seemed so, and in her heart he was entirely justified. It could have happened so easily. Bruno’s feelings had always run high. Sickened and enraged by Helen’s treachery, he was quite likely to do something reckless and unthinking...

  And she herself had thought that Matt was the man! Now she knew the meaning of Matt’s parable about the matches. He knew, then? But what had been his part in this tangled affair?

  Her thoughts roved wildly, her brain was battered and exhausted by thinking, by trying to imagine happenings in which she had no part She was sickened by treachery, aghast at her own simplicity, angered for Rosie and her long ordeal of fear, saddened most of all for Adam, whose own blindness and resentment had kept him from the truth...

  Tina’s head nodded, she dozed in a half-conscious state that gave her mental rest but did not entirely blot out the cold and discomfort She tossed and groaned a little, then was roused by. Rosie whimpering with the pain in her foot. A faint light penetrated the dirty hut window. The wind had almost gone and she thought she heard far shouts from high in the woods.

  ‘Hush, Rosie ... I think someone’s calling!’

  The voices sounded nearer. She called again outside, waited. There came a crashing in the thickets, then Adam’s voice:

  ‘Where the devil are you, Tina?’

  Her heart bounded. ‘In the old hut—with Rosie!’

  More crashing, a curse or two, then Adam and Matt burst through the tunnel and stood before her.

  ‘Tina, are you all right?’ Adam grabbed her shoulders, looked intently into her face.

  ‘Rosie—’ Matt began, but wasted no more words and entered the hut. She heard Rosie’s squeal of joy, was aware that Adam had shaken her. ‘Tina, for God’s sake! Were you out of your mind, coming down there in the dark?’

  He was dirty and unshaven, his clothes torn, and one eye bruised and blackened. ‘Oh, Adam—’ she faltered. ‘I’m sorry—I just had to come—I had a hunch about this place—’

  He put back her tangled hair with a gentle hand. ‘You might have been killed—you know that?’ His voice was anything but gentle. ‘I don’t know how you did it—you of all people. Is Rosie all right?’

  She nodded, feeling faintness. How had she done it? She remembered the noisome stink of the burrow, the terrors of the limestone stop. She had come through it somehow, but to think of it now was to see the sky spin. Adam’s face swaying strangely. She cried out as his grip tightened. And as darkness came she heard him say:

  ‘I’ve got you, Tina. You’re all right. You’ve been wonderful ... I was all wrong about you—’

  Her last conscious moment was of strong arms bearing her up, of the dampness of his jacket against her face, of a feeling of absolute safety and joy...

  She came to a half-consciousness of swirling mists, in which she was being carried, of a fierce strength bearing her up through the clawing thickets, of voices and lights before an injection bit into her arm and she slept. She woke to find herself in her own bed, with Carrie’s face appearing in her line of vision.

  ‘Ah, you’re awake? Feeling better? It was just a faint and exhaustion. Not to worry.’ Carrie held her hand as the weak tears welled into her eyes.

  ‘Is Rosie—’

  ‘She’s fine. They took her straight into hospital for observation before her op. Adam’s gone to have a bath and sleep. The doctor gave you a jab ... You’re quite a heroine, you know.’

  Tina gave her a tired sidle. ‘Helen—is she back?’

  ‘Not yet I fancy Adam’s bringing her over later, when he’s rested. But you don’t need to worry about her—’

  ‘But, Carrie—’ A rush of memory came. So much to think about, to agonise over. Helen was coming and Adam didn’t know...

  ‘No more talking.’ Carrie ordered. ‘You just dose your eyes again. Oh, and Matt sent his love and thanks for what you did for Rosie.’

  Tina closed her eyes, not expecting to sleep again. It was suddenly all too much, her exhaustion, the stinging pain in her hands and arms, Rosie’s horrifying disclosures, the knowledge that for Bruno’s sake Adam must know, the further conviction that she didn’t want to tell him, to increase his burden, the memory of his arms about her, fierce, possessive...

  She cried a little, then slept.

  Waking again, she knew by the look of the sky that it was late afternoon. The pallid spring sunlight had a sleepy quality. Now she felt physically normal again and quite rested. Her bandaged arms and hands felt comfortable, but her mirror showed her dark-ringed eyes and a scratched face.

  She dressed and went downstairs, meeting Carrie at the stair-foot who exclaimed: ‘Tina, do you think you should be up?’

  ‘I’m all right Has Adam brought Helen?’

  ‘Not yet, but he’s on his way. Come on, a cup of tea is what you need. I’ve got it all ready in my den.’

  Tina was very quiet as she drank her tea, aware that Carrie was watching her anxiously. Her thoughts still revolved in a tight inescapable circle. She knew half, at least of Bruno’s story, enough to partially vindicate him for the girl in the car, but only if she revealed to Adam the sickening truth about his sister’s treatment of Rosie Finch.

  ‘Sure you’re all right, Tina?’

  She smiled and nodded. Carrie went on: ‘I nearly had a dozen fits when I found you’d gone last night. I rang all round the farms to try to contact Adam—ran the searchers to earth in the end at Moorhope. He nearly hit the roof when he heard you were out. I had to hold the phone a yard away until he stopped shouting ... He said’—she hesitated, smiling—‘he said: “She’ll be no more use out there than a child—she hasn’t a clue when it comes to country dangers...” ’ Carrie cocked her head, listening. ‘There’s the car—they’re back.’

  Tina felt a chill steal over her. ‘I’ll wait here, Carrie. You go and do the honours.’

  Carrie left. Tina heard Adam’s deep voice, a girl’s laugh. Bruno’s girl, the girl who had broken his heart. She clenched her sore hands. She couldn’t meet Helen, she couldn’t.

  Carrie came back. ‘Adam asked if you were up. He says will you come and meet Helen? ... Tina, are you sure you feel all right?’

  ‘Yes, thanks.’ She got up, feeling weak about the knees. Adam had asked for her and so she must go.

  She followed Carrie into the living-room. Adam stood near the door, the bruise over his eye now livid. It gave him a curious swashbuckling appearance, she thought. He came forward to take her hands in his. ‘Tina, are you feeling better?’

  She met the stern concern in his eyes, felt the grip of his hands tighten. ‘I’m fine, Adam.’ she almost whispered, overcome again by his nearness. Looking down, she saw that his hands were redly and
cruelly scored by bramble spines. She remembered how he had carried her through the thickets, in the cold light of dawn. Then she realised she was slipping into a spell. She pulled her hands away, turned to face the girl who stood behind him. ‘This is Helen, Tina.’ he said quietly, and stood aside.

  So many times she had imagined this meeting, but had never guessed Helen was so lovely. The photograph had done her less than justice. For though Tina saw the same even features, the same dusky shoulder-length hair, Helen’s real beauty lay in a strange allure no camera could capture. Her eyes were the same green-flecked grey as Adam’s, made huge by make-up and thickly fringed lashes ... But no, it wasn’t just the eyes either, but a subtle bewitchment to turn all men’s heads. Now Tina could understand how Bruno had worshipped this girl, until the cold moment of truth in the woods with Rosie.

  ‘So you’re Tina?’ Helen smiled, her voice husky and attractive. ‘Poor Tina, I’m sorry we had to meet this way. It was all going to be so different.’ Her eyes were guarded.

  Yes, so different. But she mustn’t think of Bruno now or the tears would come. She struggled to concentrate as Helen spoke of Rosie’s rescue. ‘How brave of you going down there in the dark! I couldn’t have done it.’

  Tina eyed her steadily. ‘Rosie was badly frightened.’

  Helen’s eyes shifted fractionally. ‘Oh yes, scared of going into hospital, wasn’t it?’

  Tina was silent. She turned to Adam. ‘I think Carrie’s gone to see Isa about tea for you both.’

  ‘You’ve had yours?’ He seemed disappointed. Then, eyeing them both, he said: ‘I hope you’ll soon get past the polite conversation stage. Helen hasn’t many friends, I’m afraid.’

  Tina saw a flash of amusement in those dark-fringed eyes. Helen said carelessly: ‘How is it going on the dig? I believe you’re another fanatic. I suppose Chris Irwin’s still turning up Roman wonders? What’s this I hear about a Mithraeum temple?’

  As if you didn’t know, Tina thought, and couldn’t resist saying: ‘Why don’t you ask him?’

  ‘Ask him?’ Helen spoke airily, with a shrug. ‘My dear, I scarcely know him. He’s too dedicated for words—makes me feel quite stupid!’