Harbinger of Spring (16 page)

‘
I suppose it is better for you
when it
’
s hard.
’

‘
That
’
s bound to be. The old
‘
dozer can
’
t bog her
self.
’

Sara took his hat and leather jerkin
and indicated a
cushioned Windsor armchair.

‘
I think you
’
ll find
that
comfortable,
Sam.
’

She put biscuits and cheese on
a small table close to
the chair, then poured coffee
into breakfast cups. She
said little while he was eating and
drinking, but her eyes
widened at the huge amount of cheese
he evidently con
sidered a snack.

‘
How long will it be before I can bring
a car through
?
’
she asked as she refilled his cup.

‘
If it wasn
’
t for the surface being icy
now you could
drive through tomorrow.
’
He thought for
a moment.
‘
I
could salt it for you, then it
’
d be all
right till the next
fall of snow.
’

‘
Well, if you would do that for me
at least I wouldn
’
t
be entirely dependent on the river for
getting to and fro.
’

‘
No, but you need to be very careful.
Roads that
aren
’
t used regular can get
in
a real
muck. If you slide
off the hard-core—
’

‘
I
’
ll be properly stuck. Still,
I wouldn
’
t be very far
from the Mill. Put salt
down
for
me, will you, Sam,
and I
’
ll try it tomorrow.
’
She
paused.
‘
I
’
ve been a
little way into the woods and it wasn
’
t
as overgrown as
I thought it might be.
’

He laughed.
‘
You go there in two
or three months
’
time and you
’
ll
change your mind. It
’
s a proper hide
out for all the rabbits,
pheasants and wood-pigeons for
miles around. At
one time I could take my gun and—
’
He stopped and
his
already
ruddy face went redder.
Sara laughed.
‘
Do go
on.
I
’
m not a hard, grasping
landowner.
’

‘
I was going to say
I could
knock
off a rabbit or a couple of wood-pigeons. Do a lot of harm, they do, especially the little old pigeons.
’

‘
And the pheasants?
’

‘
Well, you don
’
t want too many of them. Stands to sense. There
’
s only so much food, and—
’

‘
I see. Nature
’
s law. Survival of the fittest. Well, if you want to knock off the odd bird or rabbit, you do so.
’

He shook his head.
‘
The way things are now it
’
s hard to get a good shot.
’

‘
You think some clearance ought to be made? I thought if things were left alone, nature would balance things out.
’

‘
Just let nature have a go at your garden for a few years and she
’
ll over-run it, then start on the house and Mill.
’

‘
I see what you mean, but I suppose we can do too much clearance?
’

‘
Hugh Cornish is the man to talk about that. He
’
s the only naturalist I
’
ve heard of who seems to realize there
’
s two sides to the question. Most times, we who
’
ve always lived here wonder what they
’
re all at. We get fair sick of planners. There
’
s one lot that want to grub out every hedge and tree in the country and another that wants to preserve every old weed that grows. But you don
’
t want to hear me going on about things like that, miss. You want to get your road open and when the time comes you
’
ll want to have your garden growing flowers, not filled with old nettles.
’

‘
But I
do
want to hear about the other things,
’
Sara said.
‘
I
’
ve heard about nature and wild life conservancy on the television and read a little about it in the newspapers, but this is the first time it
’
s really come to my notice.
’

‘
Then you have a good talk with Hugh Cornish. He really knows about it. It
’
s time for me to get cracking
again. Thank you for the coffee, miss.
’

Sara went to the door with him and watched him climb into his cab, but as the roar of machinery assailed her ears, she hastily closed the door again.

When she had washed and put away the coffee things, she looked at her watch and saw it was a quarter to twelve. Another hour and she would be on her way to meet Hugh. Time did not hang if you had someone interesting to talk with.

She went into the lounge and for some reason her thoughts switched to Desmond. She had thought she knew him well until he had visited Fenchurch Mill, but from the moment she had met him at the station he had surprised her by his indifference to anything except money-making. His remark that Norwich Castle should be pulled down and the site used for a department store had really shocked her. Yet, now that she thought of it, similar things had happened in other cities, even if not on such a sweeping scale. Des was not alone with ideas that a lot of people thought outrageous.

Conserve? Or destroy and re-plan? What were her own ideas? Honestly, she hadn
’
t any, but if anyone talked to her about pulling down the Mill and this lovely old house to make room for some other development, she would be really angry. The woodland, too. She would take advice about clearing some of the undergrowth and perhaps thin out some of the small trees, but no one was going to be allowed to make havoc with axe and saw.

A few minutes before one o
’
clock, Sara cruised slowly down the dyke. The sun was still shining, but it was bitingly cold and she was glad of her lifejacket although she thought it made her look something of a pudding.

She saw the yacht moored to the opposite side of the river, its sails hanging loosely, and when she came out of the dyke she crossed to pull alongside it. Hugh took
her mooring line and helped her from one craft to the other, then he guided the launch around the
stern
of the yacht and hitched it to a tree.

‘
What time do you usually lunch?
’
he asked as he manoeuvred around.

Sara thought he would not like an evasive answer, so answered as casually as she could.

‘
About now usually, but I
’
m not adamant about the time.
’

‘
I should have known. Almost everyone I know has regular habits. However, if you
’
ll put up with a scratch lunch before we start—
’

He opened the cabin door and a deliciously appetizing aroma wafted towards Sara. She looked up at him.

‘
Something smells good.
’

‘
Home-cured ham. You can get it if you know the right people and ask nicely. Take your lifejacket off and step inside.
’

She went in before him. The cabin was warm and had an intimate cosiness. She sat down and watched him turn over the gently sizzling ham—then deftly crack the eggs on the side of the pan and drop them in the fat.

‘
I expect it
’
s not very long since you had coffee,
’
he said over his shoulder.
‘
I would suggest a glass of lager with this.
’

She laughed,
‘
And I would heartily agree with the suggestion!
’

The meal did not occupy them for more than twenty minutes, but when it had been eaten, Sara realized that never before had she tasted really good ham or fresh eggs. Somehow, everything tasted different in the country. She offered to wash up, but the suggestion was brushed to one side.

‘
Some other time, perhaps. Not now. Time
’
s too precious. The wind might drop if we hang about. Put
your lifejacket on and have a look around the well and the foredeck. Getting to know the use of the various ropes is the number one lesson in sailing.
’

Sara did as he suggested. Various ropes were secured to cleats on the cabin top and ran for
’
ard to pulleys at the foot of the mast, then vertically to its peak to crisscross there in a manner which she could not follow.

She climbed out of the well by a single step and went gingerly along the narrow side deck holding on to the grab rail cautiously. Gazing up at the height of the mast and leaning backwards while she pulled tentatively at tightly stretched ropes, she saw the purpose of some of them. A thick, cottony rope attached to a shining steel wire was obviously used to haul the mainsail up the mast and a similar, but thinner one did the same for the triangular foresail. But the purpose of some of the others she could not understand.

Going back to the well, Sara was fingering the varnished mahogany tiller when Hugh ducked out of the cabin.

‘
Right. We
’
re all shipshape and Bristol-fashion, so we
’
ll away. Did you make anything of it?
’

‘
A little. I
’
ve
’
discovered the ropes for hauling up the sails.
’

‘
Ah, yes. The halyards, those. Main and jib. Anything else?
’

‘
I
’
m not sure, but wasn
’
t this boom thing about horizontal when I saw you sailing?
’

‘
It was, but it
’
s angled up now so that the wind can
’
t do any more than flap the sail about. In sailing parlance the boom is topped and the sail scandalized. Now I
’
ll go for
’
ard and cast off and you just watch what happens.
’

He moved quickly and was back at her side within a few seconds, but in that short space of time the yacht had half turned and begun a backward drift. Hugh
snatched at a rope and from being a slackly flapping triangle, the jib sail filled into a beautiful swelling curve. The backward drift ceased and a slow forward movement began.

‘
Hold the tiller in the centre while I lower the boom,
’
Hugh said.

She did as she was told, and as the boom was lowered gently until its weight stretched the mainsail she felt the tiller become alive and try to pull away from her. The yacht picked up speed and a rippling sound came as the sharp bow cut through the water. Hugh handed her the cotton rope he was holding.

‘
This is the main sheet. It pulls the boom inboard or lets it out. Hold it in your left hand. Use the tiller with your right and see if you can steer a straight course along the centre of the river.
’

Sara concentrated fiercely in the beginning, but soon she felt the thrill of the yacht listing slightly as it made almost silent progress and obeyed every clumsy movement she made.

The river was straight for almost a mile and the light breeze steady. Prompted by Hugh, Sara soon learned to steer a course which was not too erratic. Then with a little help she came about and sailed in the opposite direction until she passed the boatyard and came to a long curving bend. Here, Hugh gave more instructions and Sara hauled the boom in until it was almost above her head, the sheet straining hard in her grasp and the ripple of water at the bow changing to a hiss as the yacht took on more speed.

Hugh directed her attention to the tiny flag at the top of the mast.

‘
Keep an eye on the burgee. It shows the angle at which the wind is blowing. Ahead of you the river is curving away. That
’
ll mean hauling in the boom a little as you enter the curve, and even more so as you follow
i
t.
’