Windy Night, Rainy Morrow

by Ivy Ferrari

  Her eyes were restless now, almost trapped. Tina detected a trace of that instability which had been such a burden to Adam. Helen might be recovered from her breakdown, but basically she would always have neurotic ways. It was a thing one saw and knew instinctively, rather than from any reasoned facts.

  Adam sent a curious glance to each girl in turn, as if he sensed some kind of verbal fencing he did not understand. But at that moment Isa panted in with the tea-trolley, and Tina took the opportunity to excuse herself. ‘You must have a lot to talk about,’ she said.

  Again she sensed Adam’s surprise and disappointment, but knew she must escape. When she reached her room she began to tremble with tension.

  How ironic was Adam’s hope of friendship between herself and Helen! Little did he know they were all sitting on a keg of gunpowder and that she was in charge of the fuse.

  She lay down for a while, feeling a reaction of exhaustion after her meeting with Helen. Snuggled under her eiderdown she was on the verge of sleep when she heard raised voices downstairs.

  She sat up, apprehensive. What was happening? One thing was certain, she could no longer rest

  On the upper landing she paused to listen again and could now detect Adam’s voice, raised in anger, Helen’s low and swift—and another, surely Matt’s?

  There seemed to be some kind of a showdown going on. If so, perhaps this was a good moment to join in. It could be Matt had already opened Adam’s eyes.

  She walked into the living-room, saw an arrested tableau of three figures, Adam facing an obviously hysterical Helen, Matt sullen and thunderous by the window.

  ‘Is anything wrong?’ Tina asked. ‘Shall I keep out?’

  ‘No.’ Adam rapped. ‘In a way it concerns you, Tina. Sit down—you still look pasty-faced. And you’re certainly in for a shock or two. Matt has just been telling me why Rosie ran away.’

  ‘A lot of nonsense—child’s exaggeration!’ Helen flashed. She was leaning against the table, smoking a cigarette with jerky movements.

  Tina sat down in an armchair by the fire. ‘Rosie told you, Matt?’

  Adam let out an exclamation. ‘Tina, you knew?’

  ‘Rosie told me too.’

  Matt said grimly: ‘You might say I got it out of Rosie. And she thought, having told you, Tina, it didn’t matter much anyway.’

  Helen spun round to look at Matt ‘And you took her word—against mine? You know she’s a little liar, always has been!’

  Matt said stonily: ‘She has told lies, yes. All children do to get out of trouble. But she’d no need to lie about this. You threatened her, Helen, you can’t deny it. You stole her sleep and made her sick. You frightened her to death. And all to keep your secret about Chris Irwin from your brother here.’

  Adam came to stand before Tina, magisterial in his anger. ‘Tina, you knew about Chris Irwin?’

  ‘No ... Not until Rosie told me.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me—earlier today?’

  ‘I—don’t know.’ Her own gaze fell before the blazing question in his eyes.

  Adam turned again to Matt. ‘I don’t quite see where you come into all this, my lad. There’s been something between you and Helen, hasn’t there?’

  Matt looked distinctly sheepish. ‘Aye, there has. It started long enough ago, when Helen and I were just kids. We had this secret affair, boy and girl stuff. You remember you’d had that trouble with Jamey hanging about her, and as far as Helen was concerned you gave us both our marching orders. But we kept on meeting in secret. I wasn’t like Jamey.’ He paused. ‘I loved her.’

  Helen laughed and stubbed out her cigarette. She went to perch on the arm of the chair opposite Tina, her movements graceful and studied. ‘We sent each other messages by pigeon post.’ she said. ‘At the time it seemed terribly exciting. And we used to meet in the woods and think ourselves very romantic, didn’t we, Matt?’

  Matt didn’t return her smile. Adam said brusquely: ‘I remember—you had a sudden yen to keep a pair of pigeons. And I gave in to you, thought it would keep you happy.’

  ‘Oh, it did!’

  ‘So there was this boy and girl affair.’ Adam took a restless turn down the room. ‘Then when did Chris Irwin come into the picture?’

  Helen examined her pearly nails. ‘When he first came here.’

  ‘It didn’t worry you that he was a married man?’

  Helen flinched a little at Adam’s rough tone. ‘Separated from his wife. Surely not quite the same thing.’

  ‘And you mean to tell me you began another affair with this man, all those months before Bruno came?’

  ‘Yes.’ Helen met his stare defiantly. ‘I was serious this time—I knew that what I felt for Matt was kid’s stuff. This was real. I also knew that if you found out you’d do all in your power to separate us, so we managed to keep it secret.’

  ‘Go on.’ Adam said. ‘Then Bruno arrived. And you—had another change of heart?’

  The contempt in his voice made Tina wince. Helen coloured wildly. ‘All right, then, I did. Chris and I—it had all gone rather stale by then. We weren’t getting anywhere. I wanted him to run away with me, but he refused.’

  Adam said bitingly: ‘He showed a little more moral sense than you, then. But we were talking of Bruno. You transferred your attentions to him?’

  Helen spoke in a low distressed voice. ‘Yes—I couldn’t help it. To begin with, he fell madly in love with me. And there was this physical attraction—I found him fascinating. He was gay, too ... Chris had always been on the serious side. I decided I wanted Bruno as much as he wanted me. For once you approved of a man in my life. I know you think I don’t know my own mind, that I’ve been flitting from one man to another like a butterfly ... But it wasn’t like that. What I felt for Matt—that was one thing. Then my feelings for Chris—they were deep enough at the time. But with Bruno it was love at first sight. And whatever I did afterwards I was crazy about him at the time and longed to be married to him.’

  Tina slowly raised her head. For the first time she detected a note of genuine emotion and distress in Helen’s voice. Could it be true, then, that during that short time of her engagement Helen had given Bruno a taste of true happiness, of rapture even?

  ‘What happened then?’ Adam pressed.

  ‘Rosie saw Chris and me in the woods. You’ve got to understand this, Adam—’ She spoke passionately. ‘Though I’d fallen out of love with Chris—or thought I had—he wouldn’t leave me alone. He was jealous, almost out of his mind about Bruno. He threatened to tell you the truth if I didn’t keep meeting him ... That was how Rosie saw us. That was when I did everything I could to make her keep quiet All right, so maybe I overdid it. But I was desperate, not only to keep you from finding out, but Bruno too. Only he found Rosie crying and got it out of her.’

  ‘So you and Bruno had a showdown? What happened?’

  Tina held her breath. At last the gap was to be filled, the hiatus of time which had held only mystery for her.

  Helen said slowly: ‘Bruno made a terrible scene. Then he gave me an ultimatum. He said if I really loved him I had to prove it, to run away with him and get married at once. He said it was that or he wouldn’t wait for the wedding. He said he wanted to be sure of me.’

  ‘And you agreed?’ Adam said.

  ‘Yes. It was a way out. It would stop Chris eternally pestering me. And I would have Bruno ... Only everything went wrong.’ She flung a hand over her eyes.

  ‘Yes.’ Adam agreed grimly. ‘He went off without you, didn’t he? He took someone else!’

  Helen gazed at him in bewilderment ‘Went without me? What do you mean, Adam? I went with him.’

  The gaze of all three listeners was riveted on her face. She became almost hysterical again.

  ‘Don’t you understand? I was the girl in the car! I was with him when the accident happened.’ She covered her face. ‘It was horrible. Once I knew he was dead I just panicked. I’d seen it coming and as soon as he braked I managed to fl
ing the door open and was thrown out All I had was bruises—and shock, of course.’

  She took her hands from her face, her lovely eyes stony with unbearable memories. ‘I phoned for the ambulance and began running down the road towards home. I just wanted to blot it all out, to pretend it never happened ... I knew I could never face you with the truth, that we were running away—not without Bruno. My one thought was to get back to Hadrian’s Edge before you’d found I’d gone. That’s where Matt came in—’

  Adam swung to look at him. ‘You were in on this?’

  Matt nodded. ‘I was driving across the main road, making for Quarry Farm at the crossroads there. I nearly ran into her in the fog. She was soaked and terrified—nearly out of her mind. She told me everything ... Well, I’m not like other people. I’d always been loyal. She knew I’d never give her away, that I still loved her. She threw herself on my care that night. I took her home, helped her to get in the house without anyone knowing. And when the news of the mystery girl came out I advised her to keep quiet. I could see she was on the verge of a breakdown anyway. All I wanted to do was protect her. Bruno was dead and the gossip seemed less important than protecting her. It was only after Tina came’—he turned his head slowly to look at her—‘that my conscience began to bother me.’

  ‘The pigeons.’ she said. That was why you were keeping in touch?’

  ‘Yes. I had to warn her you were looking for the truth.’

  ‘Pigeons again!’ asked Adam sarcastically. ‘Not surely at Turret House?’

  Helen turned on him passionately. ‘All right, so it was childish, like spy games. But what else do you expect? You clamped down so hard on me. You read my letters, you vetted my callers, you made me almost a prisoner—’

  ‘For your own good, and acting on the consultant’s advice.’ Adam rasped. ‘You needed rest and quiet. There had to be no risk of you being upset. But knowing you, my dear, it needed constant surveillance.’

  He turned to Matt. ‘So you got round all this. Pigeons, eh? Now wait a minute, I begin to get it Didn’t Charlie Phillips keep pigeons at the farm?’

  ‘He does,’ said Matt ‘Jamey didn’t know it, but he was the go-between. I couldn’t trust him not to talk if I sent letters by him, so I used to ask him to take a few birds up to Charlie when he made his farm deliveries. Then Charlie would give him some to bring back. Charlie knew what was going on, right enough, but doing it that way he had none of the responsibility of it. For it wasn’t in his interests to fall out with Miss Coxon, as he only rents the farm from her. So that’s how we kept a two-way message system going.’

  ‘Oh, so Charlie Phillips knew—and showed a blind eye?’

  Matt smiled wryly. ‘He’s sweet on Francey—if that explains it.’

  Adam’s voice held a hint of controlled violence. ‘And this was how you repaid me for trying to help your family?’

  Matt flushed an angry red. ‘Maybe it was because of it. I’ve always had to touch my cap to you, in a way of speaking. There hasn’t been a time since I grew up when I haven’t been beholden to you for something. Did it ever occur to you I might resent it? Not to mention the way you treated our Francey.’

  ‘Francey?’ Adam rasped. ‘I’ve never treated Francey badly, whatever you may think. I admit that at one time it may have begun to look that way, but as soon as I realised there was talk I dropped her pretty quickly.’

  He turned a shoulder on Matt. ‘We’re digressing too much. Helen, I haven’t finished with you yet. Where does Chris Irwin come in the picture—now?’

  Helen paled a little. ‘I’ve been seeing him again ... Don’t look at me like that, Matt ... You surely didn’t expect—Oh, but I suppose you did. You thought things were getting back on the old footing, didn’t you, back to pigeon post and romantic secrets. You’re a fool, Matt! Since Bruno died there’s been no one but Chris. He still loves me. He moved heaven and earth to see me, to ask me to marry him. His divorce will be through soon and nothing you can do will stop me, Adam—’

  She paused for breath. Adam’s jaw was tightly set. ‘You mean he’s been seeing you—at Turret House?’

  She gave a defiant smile. ‘I used to go to bed early, but my bedroom was on the ground floor, remember? It wasn’t too easy to give Miss Coxon the slip.’

  ‘You mean he drove up there—late at night—and wasn’t heard?’

  She smiled again. ‘Charlie Phillips again, I’m afraid. He showed Chris a back way in to the farm through Thornriggs plantation. You see, Chris was doing him a favour too. He used to drive Francey up with him sometimes. I’m afraid she’s given up hope of you, Adam. It’s Charlie Phillips now. And of course it all helped to keep your suspicions off Chris—seeing Francey in his car.’

  Adam drew a deep breath. ‘So you were too clever for me—I admit it, my dear. And how long will it take you to tire of Chris Irwin, whether you marry him or not?’ The contempt in his voice was scorching.

  Helen said sombrely: ‘I won’t tire of him, Adam. Chris can look after me—better than you can. We’ve come very close again through Bruno’s death. Why not, since we both loved him? Chris loves me and I need him and want to be his wife. Anyway, I shall be twenty-one in a few months, and your guardianship of me will be over. You’ll be powerless.’

  ‘As you say, I shall be powerless.’ Adam threw his cigarette end in the fire. ‘And now perhaps we’ve had enough of explanations to be going on with.’ He turned to Matt. ‘Thank you for coming, Matt. And I appreciate all your kindness to Helen, mistaken though it was. But you showed less than friendship to Tina, deceiving her as you did about her brother’s good name. Don’t you think you owe her an apology?’ And he gave Tina a look that almost stopped her heart.

  Matt tore his eyes from Helen. He was pale and Tina knew he had not recovered from the shock-of her last disclosure. But he made an effort and said quietly: ‘I’m sorry, Tina. We were friends and I treated you badly. It was on my conscience all the time, but I suppose I was just weak where Helen was concerned. I don’t expect you to understand all that. I just couldn’t help myself.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Matt,’ she said softly. ‘I think I do understand.’ For if Matt’s feelings for Helen were anything like her storm of emotion for Adam she could forgive him anything. She was remembering too the pathetic naming of his pigeons. ‘Dark Joy’ and ‘Hope On’. She understood so much more about him now. And she pitied him deeply.

  ‘And thank you again for all you’ve done for Rosie,’ Matt said gruffly. ‘Last night—and all the rest of it. She thinks the world of you and always will.’

  Now he faced Helen and at the expression in his eyes a dead silence fell on the room. There was guilt and even pity in her eyes, but an underlying defiance too. ‘I’m still trying to make allowances for you, Helen, for what you did to Rosie.’

  ‘How was I to know she would take me so seriously?’

  ‘I think you did know, or you wouldn’t have tried it on. As for Chris Irwin—’ He broke off as if the name had choked him. A slow flush crept up his fair-skinned face. ‘You were right, Helen, I did believe we were getting back on the old footing—playing pigeon games again and all that ... As you say, I was a fool. Blind and stupid too. You were just using me, weren’t you, even having a secret laugh because I was so easy to deceive. But it’s over now, Helen. You’ve cured me. And I can even thank you for it. Otherwise I might have wasted more years of my life on you. You’re not the Helen I once thought you were. Perhaps you never were.’

  He swung to face Adam: ‘As for you, Mr. Copeland, you meant well, but you tried to do too much. I’ve always had a deal of pride and I’ve counted a lot of your ways plain interference, kind though it was. You never did rightly understand us.’

  ‘Maybe I understand more than you know,’ Adam said in a low voice. Again his glance found Tina’s. ‘And all thanks to Tina here. She has bridged a gap between Hadrian’s Edge and Quarry Farm. She proved that by Rosie’s trust in her. I hope it need never be broken again.’
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  Matt hesitated. ‘Well, we’ll see, Mr. Copeland. There’ll be all kinds of changes coming, what with Francey courting and—’

  He broke off and made for the door, but he turned to give Helen a long sorrowful look, as if imprinting her face on his memory. Then, suddenly drawing himself up straight, he gave them all a grave ‘Good-night’ and left the house.

  Helen yawned and reached for another cigarette. ‘Poor old Matt! He was always so faithful. But he’ll soon find some willing girl who doesn’t mind living at his pace.’

  Tina, uneasy now there were only three of them and with a queer wild panic that she might be left alone with Adam, now got up. ‘I think I’d like to go back to my room now, if no one minds. I feel—’

  She swayed a little, in a wave of dizziness. Adam made a swift movement to steady her. ‘Tina, are you all right?’ She nodded. ‘I have so much to say to you,’ he finished.

  Yes, she knew, thee proud, the arrogant Adam Copeland would have to humiliate himself to her, to admit he was wrong, to ask her forgiveness. And she couldn’t bear it. It might be all owing to her, but it would be pain indeed to see this man reduced so before her eyes.

  ‘In the morning, Adam, please.’ she whispered. ‘I can’t take any more tonight I’ve so much to think about, too.’

  He released her, his eyes sombre in the fading light. ‘In the morning, then. Good-night, Tina.’

  The gentleness in his voice almost unnerved her again. Under the watchful eyes of Helen she left the room and escaped upstairs, shaking with nervous exhaustion.

  Much later Tina woke from a troubled sleep to hear the sound of a car, then the opening of the front door and Chris’s voice. What was happening now? It must have been an hour later that, still awake, she heard the car leave again.

  Sheer weariness overcame her again. It was only six-thirty by her watch when she woke next morning. She got up and dressed, knowing she must be alone and out in the air for a while to calm herself. By seven she had passed Sandy’s cottage, skirted the deserted dig and climbed up a little way to the mounting ruins of the Wall. Ahead it swung steepling up into the mist towards Sewingshields, holding a strange nebulous quality in the uncertain light.