Harbinger of Spring (13 page)

Turning to another page of the paper, Sara read on idly for a few minutes, but her thoughts soon returned to Hugh. If only they had not quarrelled, she could have asked his advice about the land. But they had, and she could not see him apologizing as he so obviously thought himself in the right. As to herself—well, she simply did not have anything for which to apologize this time. When she had been in the wrong she had been
quick enough to say so.

Men, she decided, were all
insufferable egoists. Take
Des, planning the future with little
or no regard for her
wishes, and with her money, spoiling
an evening out just
because he had not bothered to
learn another style of
dancing. Then instead of ringing
an hotel, finding out
the time of the last train back to
London without even
mentioning it except casually, later.

Impatiently she flung the paper
aside and went to the
window. It had stopped snowing,
but the sky was a
leaden inverted bowl which seemed
to press down on a
dead-white earth. Sara hesitated,
then went to get her
heavy shoes, her jacket and
a scarf for her head. The
moment she stepped out of doors
she felt how bitingly
cold it was, but she crossed the
back garden and used
the same break in the
undergrowth she had used
before. Cracking sounds
came from beneath her feet,
but deliberately she forced a path
away from what had
once been a roadway and into
the thicket at the side of
it. After a few yards she found
the going easier as it
made rough paths between
fairly large trees. A wood,
she thought.
Her
wood.
Then she half tripped over an
unseen bramble shoot and
was reminded to tread care
fully. A few minutes
later a rabbit shot across her path,
leaving her at
least as startled as he must have been.
Later, she came
to what
was
almost a clearing with a
mighty, low-branched
tree
in
the centre of it. The cover
ing of snow on the ground
was thin here, but on the
gnarled branches above her
head it humped like soft
pillows.

Sara stopped and the absolute
silence and stillness of
the place gripped her with an
emotion she had never
felt before. She did not quite know
whether she wanted
to laugh or weep a little.

It was a few moments before
she could analyse the
feeling. Then she knew it for
pure but fleeting oneness
with the beauties of nature. Beauty of nature? With feet that were beginning to feel numb and a nose that was tingling with cold
?
Crazy, but there it was.

Suddenly the truth of the matter became startlingly clear. She had fallen in love with Fenchurch Mill and did not wish to part with it. Was it possible to keep it? She could, of course, end her partnership with Desmond. In fact she would probably have to do that if she wanted to live here. What then? Find some kind of a job in Norwich until she could open a business there—a boutique?

She gave a wry smile. Opening in Norwich had been Des
’
s suggestion and she had turned the idea down flat. Now she was thinking of doing it without his co-operation.

She began to retrace her steps. The fact was, she no longer wanted to work with Des. The loose link there had been between them had been broken by his visit here and she did not wish to mend it. The best thing she could do was make a generous settlement with him, but
—
and here she stopped walking. Hadn
’
t she said to herself that she would not use any of her aunt
’
s money for her business? Wasn
’
t she going to use it to help some good cause?

She kicked at a hump of snow and walked on. It was a pity she had ever seen this house. She had tried not to become too attached to it. Now she had grown to love it and would
have
to let a stranger live in it. She couldn
’
t go back on her decision about Aunt Esther
’
s money. She agreed with Hugh in that respect. Her great-aunt
would
‘
turn in her grave
’
, Sara was convinced of it. And she knew enough about rates and taxes to be able to say that her wages would never pay for the running and upkeep of Fenchurch Mill. There was nothing for it but London and the boutique once she had fulfilled the residential qualification. The only thing was she would never again have the same zest for buying or
selling trendy clothes to teenagers. That tawdry business, as Hugh had called it.

Back at the house she made and ate a lunch that seemed a miserable failure. Then she tried to interest herself in the newspapers again, each of which reported the function Hugh had attended.

He must be quite a famous man, she concluded. Perhaps if she had not been so preoccupied with her business—

She walked disconsolately about the house. On a bookcase was a pair of field-glasses. She picked them up and focussed through the window. Snow-draped reeds and other growth on the opposite bank came into close view, but there was nothing of any great interest. Then it occurred to her that the view from the top of the Mill might be worth looking at. At least it would fill in a little time. She put her jacket on and took the key.

It was deadly cold in the Mill tower, but she was warm enough by the time she had climbed the steps to the top floor, and there was an unexpected interest there. Hugh had left an easel on which rested a partly finished charcoal sketch. She looked at it closely, admiring the sweep of the river and the lacework of the bare branches lining the bank. Then picking on a particular tree she saw how accurately it was depicted and thought how marvellous Hugh
’
s eye was for detail. Knowing nothing about this kind of work, she wondered if he would eventually colour in some way the stark black and white.

Seeing Hugh
’
s sketch, she could have kicked herself. Why on earth hadn
’
t she bought herself a sketchbook? She could have tried some new designs. An occupation was something she was much in need of at the present moment. She went to the little window and looked out. In the distance where the river curved away out of sight was something she could not make out against the snow
-
covered bank. Something that was white, but not the
pure white of the snow.

Raising the field-glasses, she focussed on the object, then gasped and ran down the stairs. Heeled-over at what seemed a perilous angle was a cabin cruiser. Against the cabin top two figures were braced as if they feared they were about to slide off the deck.

Sara was almost out of breath as she reached her telephone. She dialled Ted Barker
’
s home number and tapped her fingers on the table impatiently as she waited for someone to reply, then her words came in a rush.

‘
Ted, there
’
s a cruiser near the bend past the Mill that looks as if it
’
s going to turn over. I thought as you were nearest I
’
d ring you.
’

‘
You did quite right. It could be mine, I have got one out—a honeymoon couple. It
’
ll take me about fifteen minutes to get there.
’

‘
Fifteen minutes!
I
’
ll
be there in less than that.
’

‘
Sara, you be care—
’

Sara put the phone down in the middle of his sentence and ran out of the house. She struggled with the half
-
frozen mooring lines, then jumped into the launch and started the engine. Wafer-thin ice broke up in front of her as she went down the narrow dyke, and the bow wave she set up hissed and creamed among the frozen reed stems.

In the open river she put the engine to full speed and within a few minutes she was slowing down to come alongside the cruiser. But now there was no sign of anyone on the steeply canted deck. Sara knew a feeling of panic. Suppose—her voice trembled as she raised a loud shout,

‘
Is there anyone on board?
’

To her relief a girl of about her own age came sideways out of the cabin, clinging to keep herself upright.

‘
Thank goodness someone
’
s come! There
’
s a sort of chalet further along the bank which looks as though it
’
s
occupied, and my husband
’
s
gone to see if he can get
help.
’

‘
Help is on its way,
’
Sara
said.
‘
I telephoned the
boatyard before I set out. How
on earth did your hus
band manage to get ashore? You seem
an awful long
way out from the bank.
’

‘
Tom
’
s a wizard jumper.
I had my heart in my
mouth when he did it, though.
’

Sara noticed the very shiny
wedding ring on the other
girl
’
s finger and from the pride with
which she spoke of
her husband, concluded that
they were indeed Ted
’
s
honeymoon couple.

A few seconds passed during
which both girls shivered
from the cold. Sara beat her
hands together and wished
she was wearing gloves. She
looked up at the other girl.
‘
You
’
d best wait inside where
it
’
s warmer.
’

‘
Couldn
’
t you—
’

‘
I
’
d better not try. It
’
s
quite an awkward climb.
You go. There
’
s no sense in
both of us being cold.
’
Sara noticed that her launch
was beginning to drift
downstream. She
started the engine and went ahead for
a few yards and was
able to guess what had happened
to the cruiser.
The
bow
mooring rope was made fast to
a large tree and
was strained so tightly it seemed almost
at breaking point.
Probably the couple had moored
when the tide was
full and now the receding water had
left them
high and dry. As far as she could see they
would have to
remain in that uncomfortable position
until
the
tide
rose again. Then she had another thought.
When Ted
Barker arrived, couldn
’
t she take them off the
cruiser and put
them up at the Mill house? At any rate
she would make
the offer.

The
sound
of a boat engine came to her, but not from the
direction she expected.
A few seconds later the bow
of a cabin-sloop with
a very tall mast appeared. It
carried
no
sails,
but came on fast under engine power,
and at the tiller was Hugh. Another man, presumably the girl
’
s husband, stood at his side.

Hugh
’
s hand went up in recognition. Then he waved her on with a deliberate sweep away from the cruiser. She made a wide half circle in obedience and watched
him
come alongside the cruiser and hold to it with a boat
-
hook while the girl
’
s husband clambered aboard. Then Hugh called to her.