Across the Sands of Time

by Kavanagh, Pamela

  He made a muttered comment to Mae, who put a restraining hand on his arm. Chas freed himself and came striding up. Richard was aware of Tracey’s nervous intake of breath, of the dancing couples stopping one by one, of astonished faces and the music throbbing on regardless.

  ‘Well, I don’t know,’ Chas said broadly. ‘Look what the wind’s blown in!’

  ‘Hi, Dad,’ Richard replied, offering his hand.

  Chapter Twelve

  Chas gazed at his son, his robust country face working with emotion. Around them the room was falling to stillness but for the dance music on the player which pounded on. Thea moved to switch it off, and suddenly the busy crackle of the huge log fire in the grate and the slow tick of the grandfather clock seemed very loud in the silence.

  All eyes were on their host. Everyone knew what a difficult time Chas had gone through since Richard had abandoned the farm to follow his own path in life. Most could see both sides of the coin, but knowing Chas – and those present knew him very well indeed – expectations as to which side the penny would fall didn’t rate the younger Partington.

  Richard was aware of holding his breath.

  ‘Hello, Richard,’ his father said gruffly. ‘What a surprise. New wife, as well. Hello, Tracey, lass. You’re looking prettier than ever. It’s good to see you both.’

  And grasping his son’s hand, Chas shook it soundly.

  An audible sigh of relief rippled throughout the company. Chas, his eyes suspiciously moist, took his new daughter-in-law into his arms and kissed her cheek.

  The room exploded once more into life. Mae was hugging Richard, laughing and crying at the same time. Bryony and Geoff – holding hands, Richard saw with surprise – came up to take their turn at welcoming the prodigal home.

  Thea switched the music back on and the dancing started up again.

  ‘Recognize it?’ Tracey asked Richard.

  ‘How could I not?’ He grinned, hardly able to contain his gladness and relief at the turn events had taken. ‘It’s us!’

  ‘Well, who else?’

  That was Bryony, an older, slimmer and decidedly more pleasant-faced Bryony than the one he had left. Spotting the diamond on her finger, Richard’s grin broadened.

  ‘What’s this? Don’t tell me Geoff has let himself in for it! And I thought him a man of taste!’

  ‘Oh – you!’ Bryony beamed at her brother. ‘The ring was Geoff’s idea. Cool, eh?”

  ‘Very, Geoff, this is just great. I hope you’ll both be as happy as we are, right, Tracey?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  The hugging and kissing continued a little longer. When the hubbub had died down and Richard had ushered Tracey to sample the delights of the refreshment table, it struck him that Thea’s welcome had been restrained. His eyes roved the room, seeking her out, but she didn’t seem to be amongst the laughing throng.

  ‘Look after this a minute,’ he said, handing a laden plate to Tracey. ‘I want a word with Thea. Won’t be long.’

  Picking up his glass of wine, he headed off through the wide hallway where more food was laid out on trestles and through to the kitchen. A keen gust of air from the lobby directed him to the yard, where his sister stood gazing out into the frosty, star-filled night, a soft woollen evening shawl clutched about her shoulders.

  ‘Thea? Are you OK?’

  She turned sharply. Richard saw the glisten of tears on her cheeks.

  ‘Oh, it’s you, Richard. Yes, of course I am.’

  He gave a disbelieving grunt.

  ‘Look, sis, I’m sure I don’t have to remind you what my credit rating is for observation, but even I can tell that things aren’t what they should be. It’s Dominic, isn’t it?’

  ‘Well.…’ She pushed a lock of hair back from her forehead. ‘Richard, do you mind if we don’t talk about this right now?’

  ‘Yes, I’d mind lots. Tonight’s been a massive breakthrough and—’ He broke off, surprise and joy rushing through him afresh. ‘I never expected Dad to come up trumps. Do you know, he’s even asked what our future plans were for the band.’

  ‘Well, with half the world looking on, what else do you expect? I know what you mean, though, and I’m really glad for you, Richard. And for Tracey, of course.’

  ‘Thanks, sis. You’ve been great all the way along. I don’t know what we’d have done without your support … but this isn’t what I wanted to talk about. Listen, Thea, I saw quite a bit of Dominic in Ireland. From what he said I understood you two had rather a good thing going. Early days after the Crash, I know—’

  ‘Crash?’

  ‘You and Geoff. It’s what Tracey called it. She never did think you were right for each other. No spark, and all that.’

  ‘Richard, please.…’

  ‘Give over. Putting on the schoolma’am hat won’t work with me. This is a night in a million. I want everyone milking it to the full, including my big sister. So what’s Dominic done to make you so down-in-the mouth? If he’s chucked you over for that scheming ex-fiancée—’

  ‘He hasn’t, so stop jumping to conclusions. These are things you know nothing about.’

  ‘So? Last thing I heard Dom was coming back here to operate on a horse. I told him the Parkgate practice couldn’t do without him and I was right. So where is he?’

  ‘I wouldn’t know. His house is on the market, so I suppose he’s in the throes of packing up. Please Richard. Dominic and I are going our separate ways, so let’s leave it at that. How’s Tracey’s mum taking your news?’

  ‘Oh, she doesn’t know yet! But she takes things as she finds them. She’s got this zen approach to life. Tracey’s got it, too. Lucky girl!’

  ‘Well, I must drop her a line. Is she still living at the same address?’

  ‘Little rented place at Willaston, yes. We’re going there tomorrow.’ Richard consulted his watch. ‘Soon be time to see out the old year. Coming?’

  ‘Right.’ She shivered. ‘ Oh, the wind’s changing. We could be in for more snow.’

  Hugging her shawl more tightly around her, Thea gave her brother an over-bright smile and accompanied him back to the festivities.

  Driving home from school, Thea made an impulse decision to call in at the Harbour House and check it out. It had been ages since she’d been there. What with one thing and another, the time had flown – or so she told herself. Being busy was as good an excuse as any for putting off visiting the place that had once held so much promise, and was now a white elephant of massive proportions.

  What was to be done with it?

  The snow had gone and the house stood out bleakly on the headland; a spacious dwelling, staunch, white-walled, intended for the thrills and spills of family life. For children and dogs, fishing tackle in the lobby and good cooking smells in the kitchen. Instead, there was emptiness.

  Leaving her car on the paved forecourt that still bore remnants of building work – a pile of unused bricks, an old door flung against the wall, a heap of sand – Thea fumbled for her keys and went inside to the waiting silence of the old house.

  Somewhere upstairs a mouse scuttled for cover, bringing a frown. Not quite empty, then, but giving more reason than ever for finding a solution to the problem.

  Thea walked through the stone-flagged hall into the lounge, her footsteps echoing on the planked floor. In the original stone fireplace that Geoff had discovered when they were renovating, the apple logs she had put there back in the summer of last year still awaited a match.

  Thea went on to the kitchen and sat down in the window seat that overlooked the estuary. This was where she had experienced the first of those strange waking dreams that spoke so graphically of the past, the dreams that caused her so much consternation.

  In her coat pocket, her mobile jangled with a shrillness that grated on her nerves. She pulled it out.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Thea, it’s me. Bryony. Is it OK to talk?’

  ‘Yes, fine. I’m at the Harbour House, actually. Just giving it the on
ce-over, you know.’ She kept her voice deliberately light. ‘I’ve been into school.’

  ‘Oh? I thought the new term started on Monday.’

  ‘It does. This was a preparation morning. Anyway, it’s chilly in here. What was it you wanted?’

  ‘Well, it’s about the wedding. Thea, I know this is awkward for you. I keep putting this off.’

  ‘Out with it, then. Is it bridesmaids and so on?’

  ‘Yes. I’m having Liz for one. The other should be you, but—’

  ‘Oh, I think we can safely bypass that little detail. Why not rustle up another of your mates?’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Absolutely. A seat with the family will do me fine. Mum and I agreed to do the shops together one weekend. That’ll avoid the possibility of our turning up in things that clash. Nothing looks worse on the photographs than shouting tones of fuchsia pink.’

  ‘Mum, in pink?’

  ‘Only joking. She’s actually thinking along the lines of ice blue. Rather striking, I thought.’

  ‘Sounds lovely.’

  ‘Quite. Problem solved?’

  ‘Y … yes,’ Bryony said hesitantly. ‘Thea, you really don’t mind?’

  ‘Not at all. This is going to be a beautiful wedding, so just go ahead and enjoy it. Mum’s in seventh heaven. The binge of all binges to prepare for! Parkgate will never have known the like. She and Helen spend hours on the phone every night, swapping catering notes.’

  ‘I wish Mum would leave the food arrangements to us. I don’t want her wearing herself out and getting ill again.’

  ‘She won’t. This is a dream come true for Mum. Don’t spoil it for her, Bri.’

  ‘I won’t – daren’t!’ She trilled a laugh, worries forgotten. ‘Right, then, see you soon.’

  It seemed quieter than ever after her sister had rung off. Sitting there in what had at one time been the rough and ready environs of a quayside tavern, Thea tried to visualize what life had been like then. According to her dreams, the kitchens had opened directly on to a coaching yard.

  Stables could be glimpsed through the open doorway. Travellers stood in chattering groups on a straw and dung littered yard. The blast of a horn and the clamour and rattle of iron-shod hoofs and carriage wheels heralded the arrival of the public coach from Chester.

  Thea shut her eyes tight to try to blot out the images that were taking over, but the act had the opposite effect. Dropping from wakefulness to sleep, the pictures came as they always did; vivid, powerful, real.

  The roar of the wind and the oily slap of the tide against the quay cut through the air, and yet the small group at the grease-spotted wooden table seemed not to hear the noise, so flattened were they by the circumstances they had found here.

  ‘You’ve a suggestion to make? A solution to … to all this?’ Polly directed a despairing gesture at the ramshackle scullery and deserted tap-room beyond.

  ‘John, tell us, do!’

  For a moment John Royle hesitated, as if he could not find the words.

  ‘Out with it, man,’ Edward said with forced cheerfulness. ‘Any ideas would be welcome, no matter how unlikely they might appear.’

  ‘My idea would require your combined approval and efforts … and a great deal of trust.’

  The gleam of ambition appeared in John’s steady grey eyes.

  ‘You know how for some time now I’ve been seeking premises to start up a school for boys? It’s what I’ve wanted for long enough, but so far my every attempt to acquire one has failed. Until now.’

  Polly and her brother stared, realization dawning.

  ‘You mean … you’re thinking of turning the Harbour House into a school?’ Polly clapped her hands together in delight. ‘Oh, John! What a perfectly splendid idea!’

  Edward was impressed.

  ‘It couldn’t be more opportune. All would benefit. With your good self at the helm and Polly to see to the boys’ comfort and good health.… But what of Father?’

  ‘Wallace Dakin knows this place better than anyone,’ John said. ‘Someone will be needed to see to the outside chores and stoke the fires and so on. Wallace might well agree to the role of caretaker. What better way to make him feel needed and useful once more? And safe from the long arm of the law!’

  Polly nodded in total understanding.

  ‘You are right, John. A school with all of us running it. I’m in agreement.’

  ‘As am I,’ Edward said firmly.

  ‘The sooner we make the necessary arrangements, the better.’ John addressed Polly’s brother. ‘Edward, this is your area. Could you draw up the legalities? They’ll need to be foolproof, mark you. We don’t want the revenue people finding a loophole.’

  ‘Indeed not. Yes, I’m sure it can be done. We keep the property in the family name and draw up a rental agreement for your good self. That way you will be held responsible for what goes on within these four walls. No black mark against your name, I would assume. The proceedings can go ahead with a clear conscience.’

  ‘I shall be for ever in your debt.’ John looked as if he had been given the world. ‘I won’t let you down, you have my word on it.’

  Polly’s hazel eyes dreamed. Her mind went back to a few moments earlier when John had turned up in the tavern yard and she had once more experienced the joy of his embrace. Had it been merely a gesture, or did he still love her? She hoped so.

  She knew she would need to summon patience. First and foremost came the securing of her home … and John was a man with an idea. Knowing him of old, the school and the well-being of his pupils would take precedence.

  Polly went to seek out paper and quill to pen a list of requirements for her new position of housemother to a lively bevy of schoolboys.

  Over the next few weeks, work went ahead. At the firm of lawyers in Neston the updated set of deeds was duly convened, signed and witnessed. Wallace, wrenched from his stupor by the sheer weight of enthusiasm around him, took up hammer and paintbrush and began working on the house.

  At Fernlea, Jessica Platt put in her support, raising money for investment in the new venture. With the proceeds John acquired books, desks, beds and linen. Hanging up his fisherman’s oilskins for good, he had the tailor fashion a suit of clothes for his chosen profession.

  John Royle, to all intents and purposes, had realized his dream.

  Polly, however, hid a sad heart. In the hope he would recognize her motives for what they were, she had put all her energies into John’s scheme. She accepted that she owed him a great deal – her home secured, her papa a changed man, herself able to hold up her head amongst her peers.

  But oh, how she longed for John to whisper the words she wanted to hear.

  Remembering the lad with sea-tousled hair and the love in his eyes for her, Polly’s spirits sank. Somewhere along the way that love must have dwindled and died, for John had become a distant figure, whilst her feelings for him had strengthened – uselessly, it would appear.

  ‘Polly?’

  She looked up from the cauldron of beef broth she was preparing for the boys’ midday meal. Her father stood there, staunch and workmanlike in his leather breeches and stout boots, his freshly-laundered shirt open at the neck. She knew the boys thought much of him and she chose to turn a blind eye to the sweetmeats and other treats that sometimes found a way to the dormitory for midnight relish.

  ‘Why, Polly, lass. That was a great sigh from the prettiest maid in all Parkgate. Is ought amiss?’

  Polly shook her head.

  ‘No, papa, not as such. I was merely thinking.’

  ‘Of wedding bells and pretty gowns, no doubt. Susanna made a bonnie bride, did she not? Edward made a good choice there. Who’d have thought it, Polly? Wallace Dakin’s tearaway lad wed to the parson’s daughter!’

  ‘And very happy they are, too. May they have a long life together.’

  ‘Amen to that. Your mama would have been proud – God rest her soul.’ Briefly his face clouded, then he brightened. ‘Have you
heard the latest news, Polly?’

  ‘No, though I’m sure I’m about to. Papa, I vow you are becoming quite a gossip!’

  ‘Not I!’ Wallace gave his daughter a smile of deep affection. Neat and trim in her blue dress and white apron, she looked a picture.

  ‘’Tis your aunt, Mistress Uppity Jessica of Fernlea! It would seem that she and George Rawlinson are about to tie the knot. Poor man, he has my sympathies. She’ll lead him a merry dance!’

  Despite herself Polly pealed with laughter.

  ‘Papa, you are incorrigible. It’s a perfect union and well you know it. Think what a handsome couple they’ll make. I for one am pleased for them and so should you be.’

  ‘Aye, well, happen I am, girl. She was a good sister to your mama. Where are you going?’

  Polly had set aside the iron pot of meat and vegetables and was reaching for her bonnet and shawl.

  ‘I thought to walk as far as the churchyard for a breath of air. I’ve picked some flowers for Mama’s grave. You know how she loved her roses.’

  ‘Put some on from me and make it red ones, lass. She was a beauty in her youth, was my Marion. She’d have put any flower in the shade.’

  Polly delivered a kiss on his bewhiskered cheek and left, walking smartly along the road and entering the lych gate of the little church where her mother lay.

  That was where John found her. She was bent over the white headstone, arranging flowers at its foot, and did not hear his soft tread over the grass.

  ‘Polly? Do I intrude?’

  ‘Oh, it’s you, John. No, of course not. What is it? Am I required for anything?’

  ‘No more than always, and certainly not urgently.’ John’s face was solemn. ‘Polly, may I ask you something?’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  She was mystified. What was he about to tell her? Was he … heaven forbid, was he thinking of getting wed? Two women in a kitchen.…

  ‘Polly. It’s been in my mind to wait a twelvemonth before saying this, but I find myself unable to hold out any longer.’

  ‘Why, John, what is it?’ Polly’s knees had gone weak.