Across the Sands of Time

by Kavanagh, Pamela

  ‘Tonight, then,’ he said, coaxing. ‘I’ll be waiting there for you at the Thatch.’

  ‘Right. I must go or I’ll be late. ‘Bye, Dominic … oh, and best of luck for today.’

  ‘Thanks. I hope the concert goes off OK, too. See you later, then, Thea.…’

  His words seemed inadequate. He wanted to say so much more but she’d gone. Putting his phone away, scowling at the sudden sting of raindrops on his face, Dominic set off for the modern precincts of the veterinary centre he had left. It seemed an eternity ago. So much depended on the work that lay ahead of him.

  Inwardly he was nervous, yet he knew that once he had begun surgery his mind would empty of all thought bar the task in hand. It had to turn out a success….

  Thea was at the Thatch just before nine, weaving her way through the Thursday night crowd, nodding a greeting here and there, pausing briefly to exchange a word with the barman, who was a friend of her father’s.

  Spotting Dominic, she came across to the fireside table where he sat, her thick plait of dark-gold hair ruffled by the still-buffeting wind.

  He stood up to greet her, noticing the smudges of fatigue shadowing her eyes and the strain on her fine-boned face.

  ‘Thea … sure, it’s good to see you. Come and get warm here by the fire and I’ll get you a brandy – no argument, now! You’ve had a long day.’

  He knew he was jabbering and silently berated himself. Thea, however, directed him a brief smile of gratitude and sank down by the crackling logs, holding her hands to the blaze.

  ‘Thanks, Dominic. A small brandy would be great, but plenty of soda, please.’

  ‘Brandy and soda it is, then. We’ll have a bite to eat afterwards. Don’t go away.’

  He strode off to the bar. When he returned with the drinks she had unwound her long white scarf from her neck, taken off her coat and was sitting back in her chair, looking pale but composed.

  ‘Thanks.’ Accepting the glass, she held his gaze. ‘How did today go?’

  ‘The repair job? All according to plan, I’m glad to say. It’s early days yet, of course, but the mare bounced round from the anaesthetic, and that’s always a good sign.’

  He settled down opposite her with his own drink, feasting his eyes on her. How lovely she was. His beautiful, lovable Thea.

  He cleared his throat.

  ‘Well then. What about the carol concert. How did that go?’

  ‘Oh, fine, all over for another year.’

  Thea sipped her drink, catching her breath as the fiery liquid slipped down her throat.

  ‘Dominic, I’m sorry to come straight to the point but you have to tell me how we stand. We were getting so close and then – nothing. Was the fault on my part? Did I say something I shouldn’t have? You didn’t even answer my text congratulating you on the outcome of the inquiry.’

  ‘I know and I’m sorry.’ He sighed. ‘What with one thing and another it’s been quite a time lately.

  ‘You always say that,’ Thea said dismissively. She frowned, as if something had just occurred to her. ‘Where’s Trina?’

  ‘I’ve left her back at the hotel in Wexford. Remember Sue O’Hare, the proprietor’s wife? She’s looking after her for me.’

  If anything, Thea’s face went a shade whiter.

  ‘You mean, you’re going back to Ireland? You’re not stopping here? But I thought once the case was finished you’d be free to take up your life again.’

  ‘And so I am. Thea.…’ He leaned closer, taking her hands. ‘This isn’t going to be easy. Look, I’ve been offered my old job in Ireland. It’s a thriving practice with no less than five horse specialists and I stand to occupy a senior position.

  ‘It’s my sort of work, Thea. I’d be a fool to turn it down. There’s the matter of working out my notice here, but I’ve been speaking to Freddie Barnes. He thinks he knows of a vet to fill my place, in which case he’s willing to waive the contract. That’ll leave my way clear.’

  ‘I see. And … us?’

  ‘Thea, this is why I wanted to see you. I love you, you know that. You’re like no one else I’ve ever met, and for that reason I have to let you go.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Thea said flatly.

  He reached over and took her hands.

  ‘Thea, I can’t help thinking I’m no good for people. Wherever I go, whatever I do, things go wrong around me.’ He grinned ruefully. ‘I have an uncanny knack for it. I can’t risk dragging you into all that.’

  ‘All what?’ Thea bristled. ‘I can’t make any sense of what you’re saying. Are we talking about destiny? If so, then it’s my belief that we make our own.’

  ‘I’m telling you, it happens. Look at the Ferlann Ridge débâcle. Look what happened at the practice here. My mother would have called it the black dog of fate snapping at my heels.’

  ‘Dominic, you were simply a victim of circumstances. It can happen to anyone. It was all just a knock-on effect. All this talk of fatalism … it’s just not true and you’ll never convince me otherwise. ’

  Dominic’s hands had tightened unknowingly over hers and now she disengaged them, rubbing back the circulation.

  ‘So what other excuse have you for going back to Ireland without me?’

  ‘You’d be lonely. It’s all so different over there from what you’re used to. It wouldn’t be fair on you.’

  She drew in a disbelieving breath.

  ‘That’s a good one! I’m not a child, Dominic. I’m a grown woman. I’m perfectly capable of making friends and settling down. We’d be together. Hasn’t it occurred to you that might be all I want?’

  ‘And give up all this?’ In an almost angry gesture he embraced the crowded floor and bright faces around them. ‘These are your friends, people you’ve known all your life. Not far away is the home where you grew up and the folks who love you. You hold down a respected position at the school. You have your own life here, Thea – the show ponies, the history group—’

  ‘Don’t they have all those things in Ireland?’ she interrupted. ‘Of course they do! Dominic, listen, just listen.…’ Thea’s voice wobbled on the brink of tears. ‘Don’t give up on us until you’ve thought this through. OK, things were tough for a while – but you’ve come through it. You’re still bruised by what happened through no fault of your own. Give it time to heal. Six months, a year. Whatever it takes. But please don’t say it’s over.’

  Dominic gazed at her, hating himself for the desperate look in her eyes, his mind struggling to accept what she was saying. He was achingly tempted to swallow his doubts, take her into his arms there and then and ask her to risk all at his side. Just in time, he stopped himself.

  ‘I’d be no good to you,’ he repeated. ‘Some men are cut out for going it alone and I must be one of them. It’s a solitary road but there it is.’

  Thea dragged her gaze from his and stared miserably into her barely touched drink.

  ‘In that case, there’s no more to be said,’ she replied quietly.

  It was late when Thea drove into the main yard at Woodhey. She hadn’t been able to touch a morsel of her food and bitter unhappiness had swamped her all the way home. If it hadn’t been for the weather, now working up to a sleety gale, she’d have taken her woes to the ponies.

  She saw, with sinking heart, that the lights were still on in the sitting-room, indicating her mother was still up and waiting for her return. Facing Mae, having to put on a brave front to avoid worrying her, seemed a near impossible task.

  Steeling herself, Thea went indoors, calling brightly as she crossed the kitchen floor.

  ‘Hello.… Anybody there? I’m home.’

  ‘Darling, hello,’ Mae responded from the far side of the house. She came into the passageway, looking flushed from the heat of the fire and much improved after her recent spell of ill health.

  ‘I was beginning to think you’d got lost. Do you want some cocoa? I was just about to make some.’

  ‘Not really, Mum, thanks. I’m absol
utely done in. Think I’ll go straight to bed.’

  She made to leave but her mother was quick, catching hold of her arm.

  ‘Thea, darling, what is it? You look dreadful.’

  ‘Oh … oh Mum!’

  Sympathy on top of what had happened was too much. All Thea’s control fled and the tears that had been held back now flowed unremittingly.

  ‘I’ve just seen Dominic,’ she said on a gulping sob. ‘Mum, he says we’re through and we’d b – barely started. But I know I love him and—’

  ‘Hush, now.’ Mae threw a cautious glance up the stairs where Chas was hopefully asleep and deaf to the world. She put a comforting arm around her daughter.

  ‘Come in by the fire and tell me about it. And I don’t want any nonsense about not wanting to worry me. Worry is all part and parcel of being a mum.’

  Sitting together on the sofa before a replenished fire, Thea told Mae what had happened. After the first bout of weeping had subsided, a strange calm settled over her. Thea barely recognized the dull tones of her own voice as she relayed the events of the past weeks, much of which had not been hers to broadcast and which she had kept closely to herself.

  ‘You already knew why Dominic left Ireland to take up that vacancy with the practice here,’ she began. ‘It’s true there was a big doping case and Dominic was implicated, but the evidence was flawed. It seems he took the blame to protect Aisling Cleary – well, they were engaged at the time. She wasn’t guilty, though. The true culprit was a man called Murty Miles.’

  ‘The jockey? Didn’t he win the Dublin National three times in succession?’

  ‘That’s right. Murty was seriously ill and wanted to put his house in order. He managed to contact Dominic through Aisling and, well, to cut a long story short, Dominic’s name has now been cleared by the Irish Jockey Club.’

  ‘But … darling, that’s wonderful!’ Mae cried.

  ‘Isn’t it just.’ A bitterness crept into Thea’s voice. ‘Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m delighted for Dominic. Mum, I really love him. This is different from how I felt about Geoff. It’s … it’s all-consuming. I can’t imagine life without him. I know that sounds clichéd and melodramatic but it’s how I feel. And he says he feel the same about me.’

  Mae looked justifiably bewildered.

  ‘So what’s the problem? If Dominic’s been exonerated, his career can now blaze ahead. And it will. He’s a brilliant vet, everyone says that. And if this other girl no longer features in his life but you do, why can’t the two of you give it a chance?’

  Thea dabbed her eyes.

  ‘Dominic doesn’t see it that way. He’s got this thing about being fated for things to go wrong. He says he’s dogged by ill luck and he doesn’t want to drag me into it. It’s rubbish.’

  Mae heaved a sigh.

  ‘Oh, dear,’ she said slowly. ‘He’s taken this hard, hasn’t he? Maybe in time—’

  ‘I said that, but he’s so stubborn, Mum. What’s more, he’s been offered his old job back in Ireland and he’s going to take it.’

  ‘But couldn’t you go with him?’

  ‘He gave me a load of nonsense about it all being too difficult over there and how I’d be leaving all my family here and so on.’

  ‘His confidence has really taken a beating, hasn’t it? He seems so self-assured.… What’s he doing over here all of a sudden? Working out his notice?’

  ‘Not yet. Freddie Barnes wanted him to operate on a horse, a specialist procedure that Dominic’s perfected. An animal from the Perrit yard.’

  ‘Well, let’s keep our fingers crossed that it’s a success, love, which I’m sure it will be. What a feather in Dominic’s cap! Good news for the practice too. They’ve lost quite a bit of trade lately, and all through that vicious gossip. I hope Bob Perrit is thoroughly ashamed of himself!’

  She sounded quite fierce and Thea smiled wanly.

  ‘Mum, what am I to do? I can’t give Dominic up, I just can’t!’

  Mae reached out and touched her daughter tenderly.

  ‘Darling Thea, if it were me I think I’d follow him.’

  ‘You mean, give up my job and everything and move to Ireland?’

  ‘I know it sounds drastic and there’s a huge risk involved but … oh dear! Men can be so stubborn! They get these notions and often it takes drastic measures to make them see sense.’ She paused. ‘Tell me. Would you have done this for Geoff? Given up everything?’

  Thea shook her head.

  ‘No … no, I don’t think so.’

  ‘But you’d do it for Dominic?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Thea fervently.

  ‘Well, over the Christmas break, why not give it some thought, then?’ Mae patted her daughter’s hand decisively. ‘Now for that cocoa. Fancy some nice hot, buttered toast? Believe me, darling, things won’t seem as bad in the morning.’

  After the gruelling day Thea half expected a night disturbed by dreams. It didn’t happen. Next morning, she woke to the knowledge that she had slept the dreamless slumber of sheer mental and physical exhaustion – and she was thankful.

  It was six o’clock and in spite of the very late night, she felt rested. To judge by the halogen lights of the yard streaming through the crack in the curtains, Chas was already up and about.

  Leaving the bed, Thea pulled on her working clothes and went downstairs and out to attend to the first task of the day, the ponies.

  ‘Hello, ponies,’ she called as she trudged across the field in the early morning dark. During the night the wind had changed direction, bringing a biting frost that sent her feet slithering over frozen mole hills and clumps of rimy grass.

  A chorus of whinnies answered her from the shelter of the stable. Letting the ponies out, she threw them some hay and set about making good the floor in the light of the overhead lamps.

  She had finished clearing out and was shaking down some fresh straw, when something glinting over in the corner caught her eye.

  It was her keepsake!

  Pouncing on it, turning over the tiny pebble of glistening white crystal, Thea felt a strange lift of hope. Gladly she hugged the pebble to her, before stowing it carefully away in her trouser pocket. Now she had it back, would her luck change?

  ‘Something’s got to go right, Dancer,’ she murmured to the little mare who had come back inside to investigate her pockets for titbits.

  Thea rubbed the pony’s furry ears and warmed her chilled hands under the thick mane. Then, aware of time passing, she checked the water trough and hurried home for a shower and breakfast.

  All that day at school and in the long, boisterous hours of the children’s party afterwards, the thought of the tiny semi-precious stone found by Dominic on the wind-swept Irish beach comforted and soothed her.

  She had missed his endearing and energizing presence more than she had believed possible. Now, some vital ingredient seemed to have been restored to her. Driving home again in the black December evening, she found herself wondering about John Royle of long ago.

  His circumstances hadn’t looked good either. Had his fortune changed? Would she ever find out?

  She didn’t have long to wait.

  After supper she opted for an early night. The characters in that long-ago play appeared the moment sleep claimed her.

  ‘Where … where am I?’ Polly murmured, forcing open sweat-slicked eyes. Her head throbbed, her throat felt raw and her whole body ached. She was aware of a rustling of starched petticoats and the healing scent of lavender. In the candlelight, a figure bent over her.

  ‘Hush, child. You had a fever but it’s broken now. I’m Meg Shone. You once saved me from a watery end. Do you remember?’

  ‘I … yes … you were trapped on the marshes. I remember … what happened to me?’

  There had been battering rain, a terrible weakness in her limbs, a confusing sensation of being both hot and cold and a deep unquenchable thirst. She had been drifting on the edge of darkness when strong hands lifted her and she knew no more
.

  The wise woman bathed Polly’s face with cool water and offered a cup of strong-smelling beverage.

  ‘Drink this. Slowly, mind. It tastes bitter but it will help.’

  Polly drank, and presently she was able to sit up in the narrow truckle bed. She found she was in the small houseplace of Meg Shone’s cottage on the heath at Thirstaston. Bunches of herbs hung from the smoke-blackened rafters and a bright fire crackled in the hearth.

  ‘I came across you sheltering under a hedge,’ Meg explained, straining some hot broth into a bowl. ‘A few more hours and it would have been the end of you. Now then, child. Can you sup this broth?’

  ‘I think so,’ Polly said.

  After she had taken the nourishing meal, Meg broke the sad news that Polly’s mother had died.

  ‘She’s out of pain now, poor lady, and that is how you must look upon it. It’s coming to my ears that your papa is taking it badly. Did you know he’s lost his licence to trade? No, I thought not. He had a visit from the revenue men.’ She gave a cackling laugh. ‘That’ll put an end to his tricks!’

  Polly said nothing. Mama dead, Papa a broken man. What sort of homecoming was this?

  ‘What of my brother?’ she whispered.

  ‘Edward? Oh, he’s fine and dandy. Got himself betrothed to the clergyman’s daughter and looking to the law as a career. Seems he’s done with his wild ways and turned out a very personable young fellow. Your ma was proud of him.’

  Her voice softened.

  ‘Don’t be sad, maid. These things happen and we must face them with courage. Set your mind on getting your strength back. Your papa will be overjoyed to see you.’

  Polly had her doubts on that score. But when, several days later, she was strong enough to make the final leg of her journey to Parkgate and found her father slumped dejectedly in the deserted tap-room of the tavern, she was astonished at the smile that lit his clouded features at the sight of her.

  ‘Polly, oh, my precious girl! It was your mama’s dying wish that you’d come home and it’s been granted!’