Across the Sands of Time

by Kavanagh, Pamela

  In the vast chimney breast, the Aga burned in that comforting manner that spoke of diligent refuelling.

  Growing more mystified by the second, since this was clearly none of her father’s handiwork, Thea went through to the dark-beamed passage that led to the front of the farmhouse. Voices from the sitting-room grew steadily louder as she hurried along it.

  ‘Hi, Mum. It’s me … oh!’

  Three astonished faces turned towards her from where the family were gathered round the hearth. Mum – looking much improved, Thea noticed – and Dad, and—

  ‘Bryony! Well, what a surprise!’

  The irony in her voice wasn’t lost on any of them. Chas began to bluster.

  ‘Aye, well. It was my idea to fetch her over, Thea. Your mum being so poorly and that.’

  ‘And very pleased I was to see her,’ Mae cut in firmly. ‘I’m feeling so much better. It’s nice to be pampered a little.’

  She couldn’t have said a worse thing. Thea’s chin came up fiercely.

  ‘I did offer to give the weekend a miss, Mum.’

  ‘I know you did, darling, but I wouldn’t have had your plans ruined for the world. Thea, what are you doing back so early? We didn’t expect you until late tomorrow.’

  ‘Obviously. Oh, well, it’s nice to be missed! If I’d known how it was here I might have stayed over in Ireland for the duration.’

  ‘Oh, get a grip, Thea!’ Angry colour swept Bryony’s pretty face. ‘Why shouldn’t I be here? Woodhey’s my home, after all.’

  ‘Huh! What miracle occurred for you to work that out? Let me guess. It wouldn’t be due to Geoff?’

  Mae put her hand to her still throbbing forehead.

  ‘Thea, please!’

  ‘Come on, Thea, lass,’ Chas said with an anxious glance at his wife. ‘You’re upsetting your mother. She’ll be bad again if we’re not careful. This isn’t like you at all.’

  Thea stood, her fists clenched, looking from one parent to the other.

  ‘Dad. Mum … I’m sorry, but Bryony and I have got to have this out.’

  ‘Then go and do your shouting in the kitchen and stop upsetting your mother,’ Chas said in the sort of voice he had used when they had misbehaved as children.

  ‘Good idea.’ Bryony stood up. ‘Come on, Thea. I guess I had this coming to me. Let’s get it over with.’

  She stalked out of the room and Thea, who was now calming a little and feeling the first pangs of guilt, made her parents a helplessly apologetic little gesture with her hands and followed her sister out, closing the door purposefully behind her.

  Chapter Ten

  ‘So, go on!’ Thea faced her sister accusingly across the flagged floor of the kitchen. ‘Let’s hear what you’re doing here after all this time.’

  ‘What’s it to you?’ Bryony snapped.

  Her manner was an irritating reminder of the headstrong girl who had flounced out of the house several weeks earlier, causing so much upset, and only served to rile Thea further.

  ‘Bryony, you make it perfectly clear you want nothing more to do with any of us, then I walk in and find you chatting away with Mum and Dad as if nothing had happened. It doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘Of course it does. If you weren’t so obsessed with your own life you’d see that.’

  Bryony took a deep breath, as if struggling hard for calm, speaking in slightly more moderate tones.

  ‘It was Dad who asked me round. I came once before when you’d gone off for the weekend and saw to the ponies for him – you know how he hates it when they play him up. This time he was worried about Mum. I think it had all got on top of him. Anyway, he wanted me here so I came.’

  ‘I don’t believe you. Dad was incensed when you upped and left. He wanted nothing more to do with you or Richard.’

  ‘Oh, come on! Dad’s like that! All bluff and bluster. He doesn’t mean half of what he says. Once he’s had a good shout and got things off his chest he’s generally fine.’

  ‘And is that what you counted on? Forgive and forget? Dear little Bryony, Daddy’s favourite, the one who could do no wrong?’

  The moment the words were out, Thea regretted them. What was happening to her? Why was it that she, the rational one, could no longer seem to keep in control? The very sight of her sister standing before her, the pretty face flushed and defiant and blue eyes sparkling, made her want to deliver it a good slap! In her mind’s eye she saw Bryony and Geoff in the café together, when Geoff to all intents and purposes was supposed to be engaged to her.

  Their heads had been bent together, close, intimate. And then there had been the gossip Bryony had spread about Thea and Dominic, with no foundation to it at all at the time.

  ‘You’re jealous,’ Bryony cried. ‘Clever, golden girl Thea! Jealous of pathetic little me! What is it, Thea? Are you miffed because you think I snatched Geoff from under your smug little nose?’

  ‘Well, didn’t you?’

  ‘Actually, no.’

  ‘Oh, I think so. You always did like him. So at what point did a silly teenage crush become a sly campaign to get him for yourself? It was blatantly obvious what you were up to. Toadying up to him and to Helen. Making yourself indispensable at the farm. Bryony Partington, milking cows? Since when?’

  ‘Hasn’t it occurred to you that I might enjoy it? I like working with the stock. And while we’re on the subject of animals, take note that I’ve spent hours today mucking out your ponies while you go off enjoying yourself—’

  ‘Girls! Stop this!’

  The two of them spun round to find their father in the doorway. His hands were clenched, his face tight and troubled.

  ‘What’s got into you both? You can be heard all over the house. Your mother’s weeping. She’s not well, or had you forgotten?’

  Bryony’s face puckered.

  ‘Oh, gosh. Poor Mum. I’m sorry. I … oh, it’s no good. I might as well go. Better push off and get my things together.’

  She made a distressed little cry in her throat and shot off, her feet pounding on the bare oak treads of the back-stair. Thea listened to the sound of her sister’s departure getting fainter, then the click of the bedroom door closing. Swallowing hard, she faced her father. The silence stretched on and on.

  Chad shook his head in disbelief.

  ‘What in the world were you thinking of to lose your rag like that? All that yelling.… Your mother was on the mend, for pity’s sake. This is enough to put her right back again.’

  Thea struggled with tears.

  ‘I know and I’m sorry. Dad, I couldn’t help it. She’s caused so much trouble. These past weeks have been dreadful. And then I come in and find her sitting here as if she’s done nothing wrong and everything is hunky-dory again. Then she tells me it was you who asked her to come.’

  ‘I was worried sick about your mother. She wouldn’t hear of you cancelling your plans and after what the doctor said I needed some support. Bryony happened to be around. That’s all there is to it.’

  ‘Is it? Is it really? Oh, don’t look at me like that, Dad. What do you expect me to think? If I had been the one causing all the trouble it would have been a different matter! Would you have been as quick to call me home to look after things? I don’t think so.’

  ‘Thea, that’s not true.’ Chas breathed heavily as he struggled to frame the right words. ‘You’re upset. I accept it’s been hard for you lately. My goodness, your mother’s told me often enough! But you and Bryony—’

  ‘Are two very different people,’ Thea flung back bitterly. ‘Don’t I know it!’

  ‘I wasn’t going to say that. I was about to tell you how much I love and respect you. You’re my firstborn. Our wonderful girl who sailed through school and did so well at university. Your mum and I were so proud at your graduation we nearly burst.’

  ‘That was then. And anyway it’s all down to type. School and university. It was easy. Bryony’s got a more practical nature.’

  ‘Aye, that’s right. Isn’t that what
she was trying to tell you just now? Life moves on, Thea. Your sister’s been good to Geoff and his mother when they most needed it. There’s nothing wrong in that.’

  ‘Isn’t there?’ Thea looked at her father and fury washed over her afresh.

  ‘Goodbye to the lot of you!’

  Whirling round, she seized her coat, stumbled blindly for the back door and ran out into the cold winter’s night. Her breath streamed in the frosty air as she sped across the farmyard and down the frozen lane between bare black hedgerows to the field and her ponies.

  Crossing it, she arrived at the big, timbered field-shelter where, fetlock deep in straw, the six mares and three spring-born filly foals stood at the hay-rack, chomping contentedly. Heads turned as she entered, small ears pricking, wisps of hay hanging from their mouths, large eyes flashing a liquid gleam in the dimness.

  ‘Hello, darlings,’ Thea greeted, treating each one to a mint from the pack she always carried with her. Soon the air rang to the sound of munching, the smell of mint mingling with the strawy sweetness of the stable.

  The foals were growing fast and at an inquisitive stage, and pulled at Thea’s clothes for more. Pushing them gently away, she went to sink down on a straw bale by the manger to rest and gather her scrambled wits.

  It was warm, with the heat generated by the animals and the thick bedding at her feet. An aching tiredness stole over Thea. It had been a long day. When she had delved into the deep pocket of her quilted coat for the mints she had felt the tiny pebble there, her talisman. Now, she drew it out, curling her fingers round it in a kind of desperation.

  Things would work out, wouldn’t they?

  The ponies had returned to their hay. Soothed by the knowledge that in here all was safe and well and by the comfortable sound of the ponies munching, Thea allowed her eyes to close.…

  John Royle stood looking about him at the quiet square flanked by gracious Georgian dwelling houses. He had stabled the hired horse at the Bear and Billet, an ancient part-timbered coaching inn on Lower Bridge Street, and walked the last leg of the journey through the bustling streets of Chester to Stanley Place, where Polly now resided.

  Finding the number of the house, he mounted the flight of steps to the glossy black-painted front door and pulled the bell rope. His summons was answered almost immediately by a pert little housemaid in a neat, dark-blue gown and white apron and cap.

  ‘Good afternoon,’ John bid her. ‘My name is John Royle. I believe this is the Kendrick residence. I wish to speak to the master – Jerome Kendrick Esquire?’

  ‘Have you an appointment, sir?’

  ‘I have not.’

  ‘Then I’m sorry, Master Royle. The master isn’t at home to casual callers. I’ll bid you good day.’

  She made to shut the door but John forestalled her.

  ‘I’ve come to see Polly. Polly Dakin? She is nursery maid here. I’ve come all the way from Parkgate. I must see her.’

  Curiosity vied with the discipline of rigorous training in the girl’s round blue eyes, and won.

  ‘Oh, sir,’ she blurted out. ‘You’re too late. Polly’s gone.’

  ‘Gone?’ John’s heart beat faster. ‘Gone where?’

  ‘That’s the trouble, nobody knows. Look, sir—’ The maid darted an anxious glance over her shoulder. ‘I mustn’t be found talking on the doorstep. Why don’t you come round to the kitchen and Cook will tell you all she can.’

  She pointed the way and John departed, hearing the door click closed in his wake. His mind churning, he made his way to the rear of the property and the less imposing environs of the servants’ quarters.

  The maid had not lost any time. In the steamy warmth of the kitchen, Cook launched readily into an explanation.

  ‘This all blew up over a pin belonging to the mistress. It went missing and Polly was accused of stealing it and sent packing.’

  ‘What?’ John was astounded. ‘Never! Polly’s as honest as the day.’

  ‘So we all said at the time. Not that Upstairs would have taken notice of us. It’s now come to light that Master Harry was involved in the matter somewhere.’ Cook’s face tightened. ‘He’s a wild one, is Master Harry. Anyway, it’s too late for Polly. Seems she’s vanished.’

  ‘But … she can’t have. Chester’s a big city. She must have found employment elsewhere.’

  ‘With no references?’ Cook folded her plump arms, head slowly shaking. ‘No decent household would take her on. No, my guess is she’s made for home. She wouldn’t have had much in the way of savings with not having been here long, so she’d not have been able to afford the coach fare. She’d have gone on foot.’

  John was silent. Vagabonds, thieves and rogues roamed the highways. What chance was there of a girl alone reaching her destination in safety?

  While they had been talking, the kitchen had echoed to the chink and rattle of best china and silver, the maid who had answered the door being employed in setting up the afternoon tea tray.

  ‘Let me take that through,’ Cook said. ‘This young man here needs help, and I was fond of Polly. A word in the Master’s ear might be no bad thing.’

  Presently, John was being shown into the library. Jerome Kendrick was seated at a large, polished desk by the window. John stood awkwardly in front of him, cap in hand. Painfully aware of his dishevelled appearance from the dusty ride along potholed highways, he straightened his back and explained the reason for his visit.

  ‘I make no secret of the fact that I think a lot of Polly. I have to find her. Please, sir, if you can give me any clue as to her whereabouts, I’d be grateful.’

  ‘I only wish I could,’ Jerome replied.

  Picking up an uncut quill, he twirled it absently between his fingers. These past days had not been easy. The children querulous and grieving for their nurse, his wife missing the girl in countless different ways, brought home to him exactly how much Polly Dakin was missed in the Kendrick household.

  The devil take Harry, the young pup! All right, a fellow needed a spot of fun. Jerome accepted that. It was all part and parcel of the growing up. He was prepared to make allowances for a little gaming and carousing.… This time, however, the boy had overstepped the mark.

  ‘This … misunderstanding that cropped up has turned out most unfortunately, not least for Polly. I have written to her aunt … you are acquainted with Miss Platt?’

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘Quite. I have sent Miss Platt an explanation as to what happened with my sincere apologies and an offer for Polly to be reestablished here if she so wishes. So far there has been no reply. Of course, we have to allow for the idiosyncrasies of the postal service. Perhaps you should wait a few days more.’

  ‘Sir, I cannot. Polly has been gone for over a week. Even if she were to travel on foot, she would have reached her home at Parkgate by now. A lift with a carrier’s cart would have halved the travelling time. Only today I have ridden from Parkgate myself and there was no sign of her, neither in the village nor on the road here.’

  ‘Mayhap the girl has not headed home. Have you thought of that?’

  ‘Where else would she go?’ John was scathing. ‘Sir, I do not like it at all. Where can she be?’

  ‘You might try a different route. There’s more than one way to reach the coast’ He suddenly leaned forward. ‘How did you get here? Hired hack? Hmm, we can do better than that. I can provide you with a decent horse, plus a meal before you leave, of course. Other than that, I fear I am powerless to help. I am sorry.’

  John thought fast. The hired nag was slow and hunger gnawed at him. The only other option was a door-to-door search for Polly.

  ‘Your offer would be most welcome. My thanks, sir.’

  ‘Not at all, young fellow. It’s the least I can do.’ Relieved to have the matter so easily resolved, Jerome rang to have John shown out. ‘One more thing. Remember, should you find Polly, you might convey to her my message that she is welcome to resume her position here.’

  Sending the man
a brief bow in acknowledgement, John left the room.

  As he followed the maid back towards the kitchens and the food that awaited, John’s thoughts spun. He badly wanted Polly for his own. She had loved him once and might do still. But when he found her he would feel honour bound to tell her what Kendrick had said.

  Having glimpsed the sort of life she had led here, the surroundings luxurious compared to what she had known, the master and fellow staff fair-seeming and honest, he now found himself in a quandary.

  A husband, and whatever life he could offer her, or this. The choice had to be Polly’s. Always supposing he could find her.

  Some miles away, Polly stirred on her pallet to the clatter of pots and pans. Her head throbbed, her mouth was dry. Her whole body felt on fire. Forcing open her sweat-slicked eyes, she strove to look about her. But the room swam sickeningly before her gaze and she uttered a small, croaking sob of sheer helplessness.

  At once there was the rustle of skirts and the delicious whiff of herbs. A cool, dampened cloth was placed on her brow.

  ‘Easy, my maid,’ The voice seemed familiar. ‘Easy, now.’

  One of the ponies raked an impatient hoof against the manger. The sound reverberated throughout the wooden structure, jerking Thea to wakefulness. Chilled and shivering, at first she thought she was Polly, gripped in the confusing throes of fever. But then she realized where she was and, berating herself for having dozed in such uncomfortable surroundings, she pulled stiffly to her feet.

  That was when she discovered that the small white pebble she had clutched in her hand was no longer there.

  Anxiously, she searched the straw where she had sat, hoping for the glisten of white crystal. To her sorrow the pebble did not come to light, and giving a hopeless little sigh, she cast the now-resting ponies a final glance and left.

  To Thea the loss of her talisman felt monumental. It had been symbolic of her relationship with Dominic, a fragile thread holding them together. Now, that thread was snapped. Could it signify an ending?