Stay with Me (18 page)

‘Do us good.'

‘West Pier it is,' agreed James. Catching his sister's eye he winked and then, in order to show consideration, added, ‘Acceptable to you, Olivia?'

‘It will have to be if you are all going,' she replied with little enthusiasm. ‘The sea will be running fast.'

She's trying to put us off, thought Lena, so said, ‘Lovely!'

They came on to St Anne's Staith from where they could see the waters of the river rippled by the wind. They cut through Haggersgate on to Pier Lane where they felt the wind freshening, but it was not until they passed beyond the protection of the cliff and the Battery that they felt the full force of the wind and saw the waves piling behind each other in long lines stretching as far as Sandsend as they ran in towards the coast.

This was what Lena wanted. She enjoyed the sea in this mood: racing towards the piers, pounding the stonework, roaring in anger, and sending spray high where it was caught by the wind before it fell in a clinging mist. The crests of the waves, streaming in towards the shore like attacking cavalry, curled loftily before crashing down to run fast over the sand until they could run no more and swirled back towards the sea, seeking to recover before making another assault on the shoreline. The powerful motion of wind and sea filled Lena with excitement, which heightened with every step she took towards the sentinel lighthouse, built in the shape of a handsome Doric column at the end of the pier.

They were halfway to the lighthouse when they were buffeted by a sudden gust that sent Olivia staggering and grasping at James for support. Tense with fright, she cried out, ‘I don't like it! Can we go back?'

‘Come on, you'll be all right,' countered Lena.

‘No!' Olivia grasped at her bonnet against the tug of the wind. ‘James, take me back.'

He was on the point of trying to persuade her otherwise when he saw the stricken look on her face. ‘All right, don't worry,' he said calmly and turned her round.

‘I'm sorry, James, but I . . . ' Her words faltered.

‘Just walk calmly off the pier. Come on, hold on to me.' They moved away, Olivia gripping his arm tightly.

Alistair started to follow.

‘You too, Alistair?'

Expecting them all to stay together, he was startled by the challenging tone in Lena's voice. ‘Well, naturally I'm concerned for Olivia. I think we should go with them.'

‘What about me?'

‘You want to go further?'

‘To the end of the pier.'

‘But it is blowing hard and the sea is . . .'

‘The wind won't blow us away and the sea can't reach us. This pier's solid enough. We might get wet from the spray but we'll be safe enough. I'm going on. You go back if you don't like it.'

Alistair bit his lip in exasperation. He glanced in the direction of his sister then back at Lena. There was challenge in her eyes. ‘All right. I can't say I like it, but I can't leave you on your own.'

She smiled. ‘You'll like it. You'll see.' He made no comment as he fell into step beside her. ‘Thank you, Alistair,' she said graciously.

Again he made no comment and she knew he was peeved by her stubbornness, but she had got what she wanted and that was enough for Lena. She slipped her arm through his and moved closer to him, a gesture calculated to wipe away any annoyance he might still harbour.

He glanced at her as they stepped out briskly towards the lighthouse, caught the laughter and joy in her eyes, and was happy that she was happy. His sister was forgotten; she was in James's capable hands and no harm would come to her. Although he couldn't enjoy it as Lena appeared to be doing, he had to admit the wind was exhilarating and there was something intoxicating about being on the pier alone, contesting the wild wind's desire to scour everything from its path.

Alistair stopped walking and Lena looked at him askance. He plucked his hat from his head. ‘I'm tired of holding that on.' He threw it into the air. ‘There, wind, you can have it!' he yelled, his eyes dancing with devilment.

Lena's laughter was torn away by the wind but it was still there in her eyes. She pulled at her bonnet ribbons. The wind took advantage and whisked it away. ‘You can have that too!' she shouted. Holding on to each other, leaning against the wind, they watched it float the bonnet like a kite over the river where it relented and, in a final buffet, dropped it into the water. They laughed out loud together, then turned and headed for the end of the pier.

The sea pounded at the stonework below as if its fury would triumph over whatever man had raised in its path. The waves broke hard, were thrown into the air to crash down on the pier, swirled over it and ran down the channels to seek their rightful home. Wave followed wave with endless ferocity.

Alistair stopped and restrained Lena. ‘Too dangerous to go on!' he shouted above the anger of the sea.

She frowned but knew he was right. Still she stood and watched, fascinated by the sea's power, ignoring the spray that was raining down all around them, soaking their clothes, sending water running in rivulets down their faces from sodden hair. She let her imagination take over - this was what it must be like on the deck of a ship, driving through a similar sea, except the deck would be unstable, unlike the solid stone of the pier. How she wished she could experience it . . . maybe, some day, on a ship of her own. The wind seemed to gather strength then and tear at her as if to say, Dare to venture into my kingdom and you'll see how destructive I can be. A defiant tremor ran through Lena.

Alistair felt that shudder but read it wrongly. He was thankful to be able to say, ‘We had better go,' and started to turn her away.

For one moment she was tempted to protest but then he stopped and matched the wildness around them with a kiss that abandoned all decorum. It was fierce and demanding. She gasped as she held that kiss. This was so unlike Alistair, usually the epitome of good manners and respectability. What else lay hidden inside him? Had the violence of the elements sparked his most desires?

He broke away, his face clouded with confusion and apology. ‘Lena, I shouldn't have done that . . .' Her mind was crying out, Why not? But the words would not come and he was faltering, ‘Please forgive me. I don't know what came over me.'

‘Alistair, don't apologise.'

‘But there is a time and a place . . .'

‘What was wrong with this time and place?'

‘In public?'

‘There is no one else here.'

‘That's as may be but . . . besides, strictly speaking, you are still in mourning.'

‘I chose to come out of it, and will be officially next week.'

‘I think . . .' But Alistair never finished. At that moment a giant wave broke heavily against the pier, sending a wall of water high up in the air before it crashed down. It sent them staggering, grasping at each other tightly to keep their feet. ‘We'd better get away from here!' Alistair grasped her hand and they ran towards safety.

Reaching the shelter of the cliffs they stopped and surveyed themselves - two people completely soaked by the sea, dripping water into pools at their feet. The exhilarating laughter that longed to break free from Lena was halted by Alistair's sombre expression. ‘You're drenched! The sooner we get you out of those clothes, the better. We don't want you catching cold.' He hurried her off without waiting for her reply.

Her desire dampened, she sighed to herself - always the doctor! Would she ever again experience the passion she had witnessed from him on the pier?

Reaching the house, Alistair bustled her inside and called for the maids. Mr and Mrs Nash and Olivia came hurrying into the hall, followed by James. All four of them stopped, wide-eyed at the sight of the two people who stood there, looking as if they had narrowly escaped from drowning. Two maids, wondering what was happening, came rushing into the hall as well.

Georgina Nash took command immediately. ‘Hot water for Miss Carnforth and Mr Nash,' she ordered. ‘Olivia, go with Lena. Alistair, off with you!' All three of them started for the stairs. ‘Leave your wet things outside your doors, they'll be collected in a few minutes and seen to,' she called after them. She turned to her husband and nodded then. He knew exactly what that implied.

‘James, come with me,' said Albert and headed for the dining-room where he made straight for the decanters and glasses set out on the sideboard. ‘Take them both a glass of whisky,' he instructed as he poured.

Mrs Nash eyed the glasses when James came from the dining-room and hurried to the stairs.

‘I don't know what Alistair must have been thinking, to go out on the pier in this wind and with the sea running so high,' commented Albert as he joined his wife.

‘Don't be too ready to blame him,' murmured Georgina. ‘From what Olivia managed to tell me when we were alone, it was Lena who insisted on going on. She can be headstrong at times. We'll say no more about it.'

They had re-entered the drawing-room as they were speaking and Georgina went straight to the bell-pull beside the fireplace while Albert stirred the fire and threw two more logs on to it. When a maid appeared, Georgina ordered tea and scones to be served as soon as all the young ones were down.

James returned after distributing the whisky. Alistair was the next to come into the drawing-room and was followed shortly afterwards by Olivia.

‘Has Lena all that she requires?' asked Georgina.

‘Yes, Mama. She won't be long.'

Ten minutes later Lena appeared, her face glowing after its buffeting by the wind. Noting she was the last to arrive, she apologised.

‘Not at all, my dear,' said Georgina. ‘You needed that warming bath.'

Before any more was said two maids arrived with the tea, and the foolhardiness of going out on the pier in such weather was not mentioned again.

As Georgina had promised earlier, they dined in splendour that evening and afterwards settled in the drawing-room. Georgina took out her embroidery, Albert his book:
Black Beauty
by Anna Sewell. Alistair challenged James to a game of chess, and Olivia and Lena contested their skills on the draughts board. It was a quiet, touching on sombre, evening compared to those enjoyed in the past. James could sense his sister's desire to liven it up but knew she would not go against his warning to do nothing to upset their hosts' plans . . . well, not this very first evening under the Nashes' roof.

On Christmas morning Lena woke feeling puzzled by a dream that involved two men who remained shadow-like presences. By the end of it she still did not know who she walked beside but felt alarmed by the upheaval that such a dream presaged. She was in low spirits as she dressed, but as she neared the bottom of the stairs she realised she must shake off this attitude or she would be questioned as to what troubled her. She paused at the dining-room door, took a deep breath and went in.

‘Good morning, everyone,' she said brightly. ‘I'm sorry I'm late.'

‘My dear, you are not,' Albert Nash hastened to reassure her.

‘We did not want to wake you unless it became necessary, ' said Georgina. ‘We still have plenty of time to get to the parish church for the morning service.'

So it proved. Lena was pleased to find conversation over breakfast light-hearted. As they climbed into the coach afterwards she felt the spirit of Christmas seep into her, and the feeling deepened as they were driven across the bridge and along Church Street to Green Lane where the coachman urged the horse to greater effort as it met the steepening gradient to the Abbey Plain. Leaving the coach between the ruined abbey and the church, Mr and Mrs Nash led the way inside to one of the box-pews.

The parson's words seemed to dismiss Lena's bad dream. Though she took in little of his sermon she relished singing the carols, recalling the peace and hopefulness of Christmases past.

After an enjoyable day marked by light-hearted laughter and a good rapport with their friends, an exceptionally pleasing Christmas meal and the exchange of presents which they had all taken care over choosing, Georgina suggested that their guest should play the piano.

‘Some gentle pieces,' she stipulated as Lena took her place.

Lena ran her fingers over the keys, producing no music in particular as she got the feel of the instrument. Then she moved into Chopin. The notes were clear and bright under her touch. A respectful silence filled the room.

Alistair's eyes never left her, taking in every detail as if he wished to imprint it indelibly on his mind, for fear of ever losing it. Though Lena would deny she was beautiful, to him her beauty filled the room. He knew that whenever he walked into it henceforth, she would be here for him and he would see her just as she was now, seated at the piano, her delicate fingers bringing joyous notes with every touch, features composed in concentration yet relaxed in the pleasure of making such beautiful sounds.

The last note faded. Lena stayed absolutely still, her fingers resting lightly on the keys.

For a moment there was a deep and complete silence as if everyone was absorbing what they had just heard and did not wish to mar its beauty. Then Georgina clapped her hands quietly, bound to show her appreciation. Her gesture broke the spell and everyone followed suit.

‘Beautiful,' commented Georgina. ‘Thank you.'

‘I wish I could play like that,' said Olivia.

‘You could if you practised as much as I suspect Lena has,' commented her father.

‘Wonderful!' exclaimed Alistair.

Lena swung round on the piano stool. ‘Thank you. I enjoyed playing for you again. It's a while since I have been able to.'