Across the Sands of Time (22 page)

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!'

She ran to his side and that was all there was to it. Past differences were swept away by the shared sorrow of tragic loss, and a mutual gladness that ultimately, good feelings had been restored.

‘They've taken my living away from me, Polly,' Wallace lamented. ‘Devil take them! I can't trade any more. What am I to do? How will I earn a crust?'

‘You mustn't fret, Papa. It could have been far worse. We'll think of something.'

But what, Polly was at a loss to imagine.

The door from the kitchens opened to admit Edward. Smartly attired in the sober brown of the lawyer, a cravat at his throat and his boots buffed to a fine shine, he was a marked improvement on the lackadaisical youth she had left behind. Polly's heart warmed
towards the brother who, she was to learn, had saved their father and his shady dealings from a far worse predicament than this.

‘There are ways to avoid the law from acting,' he told Polly over a meal she hastily made from leftovers in the kitchen. They were alone together, Wallace having taken himself upstairs to sleep off his excesses and hopefully waken in a more positive frame of mind.

‘It's a case of knowing the system. Our papa had been playing with fire for some while and he was careless when in his cups. It was inevitable that the excise men would swoop.'

‘But they didn't take him away.'

‘No. I heard the men were on their way. We managed to empty the cellar in the nick of time. They couldn't pin anything on him, fortunately.'

‘I see, but—' Polly threw a glance around the cluttered and greasy kitchen. The tap-room beyond was no better and neither, she hazarded a guess, were the bedchambers above.

‘Edward, what are we to do?'

‘Pray for a miracle? Papa can't trade any more, not as a publican nor a hostelry keeper. He's still at liberty to use the stable yard for the public stage-coaches and the riders bringing the mail. That will bring in a small revenue. It's something, I warrant.'

‘Yes,' Polly replied on a sigh. It had been in her mind to turn the Harbour House into a hostel for travellers. Scrubbed from attic to cellar, the walls whitened and rafters swept of decades of dust and cobwebs, herself installed as housekeeper, it had seemed a way forward.

Now it appeared that this was barred to her.

They were still sitting there, pondering what to do, when hoofs rang out on the cobbled yard beyond. Through the grimy window they saw a rider, slim, darkly clad, familiar.

‘Polly,' Edward cried. ‘I vow our prayers may have been answered!'

Polly was already on her feet, running out of the door into John Royle's arms.

Thea swam slowly out of the realms of sleep. A strange gladness filled her heart, a certainty that for the lovers in her dream the problems were drawing to an end. Picking up the pebble from her bedside table, Thea clutched it tightly and willed the same for herself and Dominic.

 

It had been the most fantastic night out ever for Bryony. Geoff had taken her to the nightclub in Liverpool where they had danced until they dropped and feasted like kings on the grandly appointed dining floor above. Now, they were back at Roseacre.

There was no moon but the night was lit with stars and frost glistened on Helen's rose garden and the fields beyond.

‘Warm enough?' Geoff drew Bryony into the encircling warmth of his arms. Beneath her long woollen coat, the skimpy black dress was not best suited to the temperatures of the winter night, but here in Geoff's embrace she felt she would never be cold again.

‘I'm fine.' She smiled up at him. ‘I've had a most marvellous time, Geoff. Thank you, thank you for a wonderful evening!'

He laughed gently at her.

‘It's been my pleasure. You look beautiful tonight, Bryony. There wasn't another girl there to touch you.'

‘Flatterer! Wait till I'm back in my jeans and wellies doing the milking. It'll be a different picture then.'

‘You'll always look great to me,' Geoff said and, as if in agreement, a soft lowing from the winter cattle sheds carried over the air.

‘Bryony, this might be an odd place to bring you in the middle of the night but—'

‘It's the best place in the world,' she breathed. ‘It's Roseacre.'

‘Except the roses aren't out at the moment. Not to worry. They'll be in full bloom for the wedding.'

Bryony swallowed hard. Her heart was doing strange things in her ribcage.

‘Wedding?'

‘Ours, of course! Who else's?' Geoff was doing his best to make this a serious occasion but as always with Bryony, it ended in laughter. ‘You're impossible and I love you to bits. Now, I've
brought you out here to ask if you'll marry me and if you say no I shall pick you up and dump you in the—'