Rafferty's Legacy (15 page)

After lunch Michael and his father left for Bathurst, both leaving instructions that should the rain come, Teresa was to make tracks home right away if they weren't back by five, and Mr Oates gave her a key so that she could lock up when she left and not worry about the office being unattended.

Michael was still issuing instructions about how she should close all the windows in the chalet when she got home when his father yanked him out of the office, leaving Teresa smiling and thinking how very lucky she was to have such considerate employers. To be honest, she wasn't sorry to be on her own for a little while. The office was cosy, and she felt at home there. She now knew enough about the job to be able to get on with her work without having to ask questions about it. Not that she had much to do that afternoon. The following day was auction day, and things got a bit hectic from then on until the middle of the week, then quietened down again until the next auction.

When she had finished the work in hand she started tidying the filing index, which was apt to get a bit chaotic after Mr Oates had 'borrowed' it, and as he had had it that morning, Teresa was certain it was in dire need of a little reorganising. It was not a job that called for much concentration and her

mind followed its own leanings while her fingers were busy, and she went back to thinking of something that had rather puzzled her the night before when she had unpacked her cases. Her wedding gown had not been in either case, and she concluded that it was still hanging in the wardrobe of the guest room at Sunset Ridge. Whoever had packed the cases could not have realised that, yet she had the strangest conviction that it had been Carl himself, and if so he had deliberately omitted to pack it.

Teresa had so far not been able to come up with a plausible explanation as to why he should have made the omission, for one would have thought the sooner such an item was out of his house, the better. He had of course paid for the dress, and thinking about it now, it did occur to her that perhaps he was of the opinion that she might put it to a use other than the one he had originally intended. In other words, for her marriage to Michael!

This explanation, however, failed to satisfy her. She couldn't honestly believe that he would credit her with such mercurial, if not downright bad, taste. In the end she gave up the puzzle; it was something she might never know the answer to, and perhaps it was better that way.

The telephone rang shortly before five o'clock and the caller told her he had a message for her from her uncle, who had got bogged down on a place called Hatty's Hill, and would she collect the van and pick him up.

Teresa stared at the receiver in her hand. For one thing, she didn't know where Hatty's Hill was, and

for another, surely her uncle had meant the caller to get in touch with the firm from whom he'd hired the lorry? She sighed.

`I'll contact the hire firm,' she told the unknown caller, 'they'll know what to do.'

The answer she received to this was that her uncle had particularly said it was his niece he wanted to be contacted, and no one else. It appeared he had taken a short cut he shouldn't have taken, and would land himself in trouble if the hire firm got to know about it.

It all sounded distinctly odd to Teresa, and she was about to ask the caller why he hadn't given her uncle a hand, when he rang off. Well, she thought wryly, she hadn't much choice in the matter, and she wondered what he'd have done if she hadn't been able to drive, and was glad she had had a few experimental excursions in her uncle's van soon after she had joined him.

Locking up the office, she made her way to the back of the premises where she knew her uncle parked the van. If the van was locked then that would be that, but she was not at all surprised to find that it was not only unlocked, but the keys had been left in the ignition switch. That sort of negligence would have raised brows back home, she thought with a grin, but here it appeared to be normal procedure. Of course the premises were private, and there was little chance of the van being picked up by youths on a joyriding stunt, which was about the only serious crime the town was likely to come up against. The van was too dilapidated to evoke any such leanings, and Teresa herself had had grave

doubts of getting it back in one piece when she had first driven it. However, she had discovered that it looked worse than it was, and was in good running order.

On the way back to the chalet she pondered on the message she had received from her uncle, and wished Michael had been there at the time. For one thing, he would have been able to tell her just where this Hatty's Hill was, and for a second, would probably have gone with her. Thirdly, and more important, she could trust Michael not to mention the trip later, for it could have serious consequences for her uncle. The hire firm's rules were very precise, and she had often heard her uncle grumble about some of them; such as passing through stretches of land owned by certain landowners—in other words short cuts; which was precisely what he had taken. It wouldn't be the first time he had flouted the rules either, she knew, and his views on the subject were well known to her. 'Sure, if I played it by the book I'd be on the road all day. And I'm not the only one,' he had said.

Teresa sighed at these thoughts. No, he probably wasn't the only one, but he was the only one who had a running fight with the hire firm's manager, who wouldn't hesitate to read the riot act to him and very probably refuse to supply him with another truck. That, in effect, would mean the end of his working days, for he couldn't afford to buy the transport he needed for the job.

When she reached the chalet she got out all her uncle's maps of the district and searched for Hatty's Hill, eventually locating it on the outskirts of the

town. Not too far away, she mused, and it ought not to be too difficult to find. The next, thing she did was to search out a length of rope strong enough for the tow that would be needed, and placing it in the back of the van, she settled behind the wheel and was soon on her way.

By the time she had passed the 'township, she noticed with slight apprehension that it was getting darker by the minute and she knew instinctively that the long-awaited wet was about to descend. Remembering Michael's remarks on the volume expected, she automatically put her foot down on the pedal. If she got a move on, chances were she would reach her uncle before it broke.

Twenty minutes later a streak of lightning lit up the road in front of her, and was soon followed by an ominous clap of thunder. It seemed to Teresa that she was driving straight into the storm, for the further she travelled, the darker it got.

She passed the sign that stated Hatty's Hill lay some two miles further on, and gave a sigh of partial relief; it ought not to be too far now. Her relief, however, was short-lived, for the two miles passed and there was still no sign of a truck, and Teresa felt she ought by now to have found it.

The light was now non-existent, and the first drops of rain began to fall as she peered anxiously out of the screen window. In the distance she saw what might have been the shape of a lorry a little way ahead, and let out another sigh of relief. She had made it! and only just in time too, for the rain had begun in earnest now and beat with staccato rhythm on the roof of the van.

Borrowing her uncle's old oilskin cape, she threw it over her shoulders, and picking up the rope, she got out of the van and with head averted from the lashing rain made her way towards the dark shape in front of her, only to find on reaching it that it was not a truck, but an odd-shaped hill, rising as it were straight out of the ground. It was no consolation to Teresa that she was looking at Hatty's Hill, and she was too disappointed to wonder at the phenomenon in front of her, and certainly in no mood for a history lesson.

The rain increased its tempo, and she pulled the cape over her head and was forced to hold a hand over her eyes as she peered into the murky darkness all around her for some sign of her uncle's truck. It was then that she saw the light that sprang up at some point to her left, and held her attention in that direction. She could make out a but of some kind, and if it hadn't been for the light she wouldn't have seen it, for it lay among a thickly wooded area.

For a moment or so she hesitated, not sure what to do, whether to get back into the van and resume the search for the truck, or whether to make for the hut. From where she stood it was impossible to see if the truck was there, but it could well be, for the trees would camouflage it. In the end she decided to go on with the search; if she couldn't find Uncle Patrick, she would go back to the hut.

A short while later, after another fruitless search, Teresa had to abandon all, thought of locating her uncle, on Hatty's Hill anyway, and that left only one more place to try—the hut.

The light kept her steadily on course as she

guided the van down a gentle incline on to a rough track that was becoming steadily more difficult to negotiate as the rain pounded down, and it wasn't long before she came to the end of the track. By now the wheels of the van were barely holding the ground, and as Teresa slid to a halt, she knew it was the end of the line as far as transport went; she hadn't a hope of going on even if the track had not petered out at that point, and she only hoped that the occupant of the but wouldn't mind her seeking shelter there.

Her feet were now wet through, for she wore only light sandals, and the cape, though it protected her head and shoulders, only came to her waist, and within minutes she was soaked from the waist down.

Allowing herself a slight grin about her previous comment to Michael about not minding getting her feet wet, Teresa now had to concede that he had known what he was talking about, and could understand both his and his father's insistence that she should make tracks for home directly the rain came. Michael, she thought as she slithered her way down yet another slight incline towards the light, would be horrified if he could see her now. There was only one thing she could be grateful for at this time, and that was that the storm had passed, and the rain had well and truly taken over, for Teresa preferred rain any day to flashes of lightning, particularly as she was now surrounded by trees.

A little further on she came upon a low-slung bridge that spanned a narrow stream, and saw the light directly in front of her. She could now see that what she had thought was a but of some kind was in fact a cabin—a rather luxurious one, and she

doubted if it could be called a cabin either; it looked more like the ranch-type bungalows she had seen at home, the only difference being that this one was entirely made of wood.

As she crossed over the frail bridge, it went through Teresa's mind that her uncle might well have made his way there too. Had he been anywhere in the vicinity of Hatty's Hill, he couldn't have failed to see the light, as she had seen it. Once across the bridge, she had only a few yards to go to reach the cabin, and this was mostly uphill as the cabin was set on slightly higher ground and nestled into the hillside.

With a rueful glance down at her streaming sandals and clinging wet dress, she pressed the bell set into the framework of the pine doors, and waited with slight trepidation for her call to be answered, only too well aware of the mess she would make of the interior of such an establishment, particularly if it lived up to its outside proportions.

Extra light was thrown out as the door opened, and for a moment or so Teresa had to blink at the tall man who stood there, trying to accustom herself to bright light in front of her. Then she blinked again hard, and stared at Carl Elton. 'You l ' she whispered, as if trying to prove to herself that he wasn't a mirage.

His autocratic brows raised at the rather vehement reaction his appearance had produced on her, and he smiled wryly as he stood to one side, indicating that she should go in. 'Hardly the weather for visitors,' he commented dryly, 'but you're welcome anyway.'

Teresa had no choice but to go inside, although

she did fling a longing backward glance behind her in the hope that the rain had eased off and she could politely refuse his hospitality, but of course it hadn't, and seemed to be lashing down with even greater ferocity.

'In here,' drawled Carl, not a bit put out by the rivulets of water slowly trickling from Teresa and making damp patches on the expensive carpet as she squelched through the hall towards the door he held open for her.

She was about to enter the room, but stepped back smartly when she found it was a bathroom, and fixing a wary look at Carl she said rather unnecessarily, 'It's a bathroom!'

He nodded complacently. 'There's a drying cupboard in there too,' and he pointed to a bathrobe that hung behind the door. 'Put that on when you're ready.'

Teresa just stood staring at him; he didn't expect her to ... Apparently he did. His next words confirmed it. 'You can't,' he pointed out mildly, 'sit around all evening in wet clothes. You might as well make yourself comfortable, we've a long wait in front of us.'

'A long wait?' she echoed dully, very much afraid that she knew what he meant.

He nodded again, and there was a distinctly mocking light in his eyes, but his voice was still mild as if he was explaining things to a child. 'I very much doubt we shall be able to get out of the valley for at least three days.'

'Three days ' repeated Teresa in a stunned voice, then stared at him suspiciously. 'You're teasing me,